University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.

How long we remained thus, for how many
moments she clung thus passionately to my bosom,
I cannot tell. The sense of enjoyment seemed to
blind and render obtuse all the ordinary senses.
I saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing, was
conscious of nothing, but her sobs, her glistening
eyes, upturned and seeming to melt in the intense
gaze of my own, and that beating heart, which

seemed bursting to yield itself to the custody of
mine. In that moment we were torn asunder.
A strong grasp was laid upon my shoulder, and
I was hurled to the ground, half stunned, with a
heavy knee upon my breast. In the same instant,
the savage tones of Bud Halsey told me but too
truly whence came the assault. It was under
him I lay, with two of his myrmidons at hand,
busy in preparing the ropes which were to bind
me. Recovering from her first terror and surprise,
Helen clung to his arms, imploring my
release. But he repulsed her with rude hands
and bitter accents.

“Away, you are bold, wanton—do you not
blush—do you not hang your head in shame?
Have not my own eyes surprised you in the
embrace of this traitor?”

“Traitor!” was my exclamation.

“Ay, traitor—traitor and liar! We have discovered
you. You are found out.”

I did not speak. I struggled, but I need not
say how fruitlessly. I was in the arms of a giant,
and while he held me firmly, his two assistants
passed their lines about my wrists, securing my
arms behind my back. I was then permitted to
rise.

“There,” said my enemy, with a bitter laughter—“there,
Helen Halsey, behold your lover.
Oh! shame—shame upon you, Helen! What
will your father say?”

“My father! He is here!” she exclaimed,

with an accent in which delight and suffering
seemed equally expressed. “Oh, father! how
glad I am that you are come. Save him! Do
not let them hurt him—he is innocent!”

It was at this opportune moment that the father
made his appearance. She darted forward as
she beheld him, caught his arm and drew him
forward. His countenance was marked by doubt
and inquiry, and was grave to sternness. He
gave me but a single glance.

“Bud Halsey! what is this? Why have you
bound the youth?”

“The serpent! You have been harboring a
serpent in your bosom.”

`What mean you?”

“'Tis as I thought. This fellow is a traitor—
a spy upon us. He shall die the death of one.”

“Oh, no! no! He is no spy—no traitor.”

Such was the exclamation of the maid. The
uncle turned upon her like a hyena.

“As for you, Miss, you should he silent for
shame. Send her away, Bush Halsey—she has
no business here. I found her in the arms of this
fellow—close hugged—lip to lip! Ha! did I
not?”

“Helen!” exclaimed the father.

The girl's face was covered with her hands—
her head drooped—she seemed ready to sink into
the earth.

“Go home, Helen!”

She looked up timidly.

“Oh, father, you will save him? He is no
traitor! He is innocent!”

“Are you?” he demanded in freezing accents.

“Oh! my father!” she cried in tones of mingled
agony and reproach, as she threw herself upon his
breast, and hid her face in his bosom. For a moment
he seemed to press her there, then suddenly
pushing her from him, uttered sternly but the
single word—“Home!”

She receded from him, looked at me with a
glance of deepest apprehension, then clasping her
hands, as if in prayer, moved slowly out of sight.