University of Virginia Library

16. CHAPTER XVI.
MEETING OF BLOUNT AND ALICE.

The battle of Bladensburg, and the events which succeeded
it, produced intense excitement both in the South and in
the North. The fact that the soil of Maryland had been
invaded by a Northern army, although that army had met
with defeat, removed much of the repugnance to decisive
measures in the Convention at Richmond. From Mason
and Dixon's Line to Texas, there were rejoicings and illuminations
in honor of the victory; while the victor, General
Crook, was hailed as a hero and a deliverer. Nevertheless,
the Convention still adhered to the general of their choice,
and Blount was invested with almost dictatorial powers.
He might, at discretion, retaliate on the enemy by an invasion
of the North.

In the North, although Ruffleton had not acted with the
sanction of the representatives of the people, yet something
more than fifty thousand Northern men, under his command,
had been either killed or taken prisoners on the plains of
Bladensburg. The cruelties alleged to have been inflicted

by the Southerners, seemed to shock the sensibilities and
rouse the indignation of the population. And it was under
the influence of this state of public feeling, that the Convention
in Philadelphia decreed the establishment of a vast
military organization, and placed the distinguished General
Hudson at its head. Ruffleton was commissioned as his
second in command.

But, perhaps, the greatest sensation succeeding the astounding
disaster at Bladensburg, was caused by the singular
conduct of General Crook, in regard to his prisoners.
He marched them to Annapolis, and separating the three or
four abolition members of Congress, the many political parsons,
and the editors and reporters, from the rest, the larger
number, consisting of many thousands, were confined in
Maryland and Delaware; while the others, in imitation of
the mob at Boston, were shipped to Liberia in one of the
emigrant vessels sailing from the Chesapeake. The members
of Congress attempted in vain an escape under the plea
of privilege; the preachers prayed to no purpose; and the
editors and reporters drew up fruitless remonstrances.
General Crook was inexorable; and he became more implacable
still when it was ascertained that W—ll P—s,
who had escaped from the Boston mob, instead of being on
his way to Liberia, was among the prisoners. The Rev. Mr.
Blood, Rev. Mr. Carp, Rev. Mr. F—e, Rev. Mr. Cleaver,
and Rev. Mr. Aaron, were among the hundreds of clergymen
taken on the field of battle. Among the editors and
reporters were some of the ablest journalists and scholars
of the North. All were banished by the inflexible Crook
to the distant coast of Africa, where, as he remarked, when
they were about to sail, they might be satiated with the
“negro without annoying decent white people.”

Having disposed of his captives, General Crook marched
up the country to Havre de Grace, where General Steel
was resting after having thrust the invaders out of Maryland.
True to his promise, Crook did not follow Ruffleton
into Pennsylvania; but he wheeled to the right, and
marched through the northern part of Delaware and occupied
the town of Newcastle. Here it was not long before
his intentions became known. Blount, whose army had
been transported across the Chesapeake, to the eastern
shore of Virginia, was marching up the country through

eastern Maryland and Delaware, to form a junction and
assume the chief command. And from the vast number of
boats which had been collected, no one could doubt the
purpose to enter New Jersey. And this seemed the more
manifest from the fact that an army from New York and
New England was landing at Amboy, on the opposite side
of the same State.

Simultaneously with the junction of the Southern armies
at Newcastle, was the arrival in the same vicinity of President
Randolph, at the head of seventy-five thousand men,
one-third of whom were superb cavalry. He had likewise
one hundred and fifty cannon, with ammunition and provisions
in abundance, and all the equipments of a regular
army for a protracted campaign.

It was a pleasant moonlight night in June. The President,
having established his headquarters at an ancient farm-house
a few miles from Newcastle, awaited the arrival of
General Blount, who had solicited an interview. The only
guards in the immediate vicinity were the troop of Blue
Caps, and among these fighting Jack Bim had been incorporated
by the President, at the desire of Alice, upon learning
from Wiry Willy the generous conduct of the Captain
in Philadelphia.

“Alice,” said Randolph, striding to and fro across the
apartment, while his daughter sat in silence at the window,
her cheek resting on her hand, and the gold tassel of her
velvet cap touching her shoulder, “Alice, why are you so
pensive? Whence this dejection? There can be no necessity
for painful forebodings. From the day that the Executive
Power was left to take care of the Government, I have
never been so strong as at the present moment, and never
had more confidence in my ability to accomplish my purpose.”

“And that purpose, father?”

“Have not my words and actions manifested sufficiently
my intention to fulfil my oath? Did I not swear to preserve,
protect, and defend the Constitution?”

“But, father, what if that Constitution should cease to
exist. What would be that purpose then, father?”

“Alice, how could I be prepared for such a catechism as
this? You imagine impossible, or at least improbable
events, and then demand what will be my course in such

and such a contingency. It it dutiful conduct on your
part?”

“Father!” cried she, running to him and seizing his
hand, “forgive me! It did really seem like impertinence,
but it was not meant so.”

“I know it, Alice. And I knew it at the time, and should
not have expressed any doubt of the motive. But how can
I penetrate the dim and distant future? How foretell what
may be my thoughts and actions if this rupture becomes
incurable?”

“Will it not cure itself, if the hostile armies be kept
asunder?”

“I will endeavor to keep them asunder. Have I not
commanded the peace between the sections, or when an invasion
was accomplished, secured the defeat of the invader?
The only way to effect a cure is to punish every aggressor.
They will soon abandon such enterprises when only disaster
attends them. Both sections will grow weary of the strife,
so unprofitable and exhausting, and then—”

“And then, father? You pause.”

“The Executive Power will be vindicated. We are interrupted.
Here is Wiry Willy.”

The faithful messenger entered at that moment, wearing
a serious visage.

“And Edith, Willy!” exclaimed Alice; “where is she?”

“In Philadelphia.”

“Well? Is she well?”

“Quite well.”

“And would not come?” asked the President, pausing in
his walk.

“This letter, sir, to Miss Alice, will probably explain
everything,” said Willy, delivering the letter.

“But why are you so sad, sir?” continued the President.

“Because, sir, when I called at Mr. Langdon's hotel, I
met General Ruffleton there.”

“And that produced unpleasant feelings, did it?”

“Miss Edith took his arm, sir, when they descended to
dinner.”

“Ha! ha! And that grieved you? What would have
been your feelings, Will, if it had been Mary instead of
Edith?”

“God knows, sir! But I do not think I could have been

more surprised, knowing as I do Miss Edith's recent aversion.”

“There seems to have been a mistake, Willy,” said Alice,
“and it is fitting that you should know it. Edith writes that
the General has produced letters, signed by Major Trapp,
in which it is confessed it was the purpose of the Major
himself to abduct her. And she says the General has
offered a mass of testimony to prove he could have had no
other object than her preservation. Why do you smile,
father?”

“I was thinking what an intricate web all this will be for
Blount to unravel! And no doubt he expects to see his
affianced here, while she is dining with his enemy! Oh,
woman! Utterly enigmatical! And Edith knows that
Blount is near this place, and a meeting would be not at all
impracticable.”

“You did not hear all,” said Alice. “She adds that it
would be impossible to esteem the character of General
Ruffleton, however innocent he might be of any complicity
in the designs against herself; but that, in obedience to her
father's desire, it is necessary to evince some show of respect
for the General, who, she says, was slightly wounded
in the battle, and for whom much sympathy is felt by the
public. Nor is that all. She says that her father, like a
great many others in the North, cannot applaud the President's
partiality for the Southern side on the occasion referred
to; and, for that reason, she has failed to obtain permission
to meet me here.”

“Does she say anything of Blount? Willy, see who has
just arrived.”

“Yes, sir. She laments that he has not responded to any
of her recent letters—”

“Ha! The deputy postmaster at Philadelphia then, as
I have had reason to suspect, has joined the Northern party.
But I know the remedy!”

“And she implores me, if I can exert any influence over
General Blount, to dissuade him from a career of warfare
against her native country. She prays for him, and that's
all!”

“No—not all. She loves him, and he her, and they are
worthy of each other. They shall be reconciled. Never
fear, Alice. It is a great achievement on your part, my

child, to rise superior to your own woe, and feel only solicitude
for the happiness of your friend. Fie! be not so
pale—or is it the MARBLE again? I have spared you the
confession of the name. I will not demand it. Let it pass.
You shall see Edith in Philadelphia. And so they do not
applaud me for standing by Crook when the South was invaded?
That was foreseen. And I foresee that the South
will not applaud me for standing by General Hudson, when
the North is invaded. But no matter. I will be just!”

“And so may heaven prosper you, my dearest father!”
exclaimed Alice.

“Yes, I will be just, and fear not. And all my ends shall
be my country's—and that, too, Alice, whether the Constitution
stands or falls. But of this I am sure—when the
present Constitution is destroyed, there will never be another
securing a larger liberty to the people. Enough of
that. Willy, who is it?” he asked, seeing his faithful messenger
at the door, awaiting permission to announce some
one.

“Commodore Stout and Captain Early, with some prisoners,”
said Willy.

“What can this mean? Alice, if Blount arrives, you
must detain him while I am engaged with these gentlemen.”

Alice retired, and the visitors were admitted.

The President welcomed his faithful officers, but stared
in astonishment at Lord Slysir, accompanied by several of
the attachés of the British Legation.

“Pray be seated, gentlemen,” said he. “And now,
Commodore, can it be true, as my messenger informs me,
that his Lordship and these gentlemen are your prisoners?”

“It is so, sir!” responded the officer.

“But, Commodore,” continued the President, “are you
not aware that the representatives of foreign nations are
exempted from arrest?”

“But this is an extraordinary case, sir,” said Captain
Early.

“To cut the matter short, Mr. President,” said the Commodore,
“we took him on our own responsibility. If we
have done wrong, we can very easily be dropped from the
service, you know.”

“But what is the case, gentlemen?” demanded the
President.

“Making overtures to the South, sir, for an alliance, offensive
and defensive!” said the Commodore.

“And that is a violation of the Constitution, Mr. President,”
said the Captain.

“What proof have you of this, gentlemen?”

“They need not produce any, sir,” said his Lordship,
with an air of unconcern. “I have no hesitation in saying
that my government, in view of the probable separation of
the sections of this Union, is desirous of cultivating friendly
relations with the governments of both the new confederacies.”

“That may be the diplomatic mode of expressing it,”
said the Commodore; “but we have intercepted messengers
from the British fleet in the bay with dispatches to the
Commander-in-chief of the Southern army, tendering assistance,
&c.”

“Of course we can have no aversion to an alliance,” said
his Lordship, “since the Northern politicians have been in
communication with some of Her Majesty's turbulent subjects
in Canada.”

“These are very grave matters, gentlemen,” said the
President, glancing at the papers. “You have done well,
my friends,” he continued, addressing the officers.

“We know our duty, sir,” said the old Commodore.

“And we shall endeavor to perform it,” added the Captain.

“My Lord, you will excuse me for a brief space,” said
the President. Then rising, he led the naval officers into a
private closet, where they remained some time in confidential
consultation.

Alice sat alone in the parlor, the large glass doors of
which, at the southern extremity, opened on a narrow vine-clad
piazza. The moon floated in a cloudless sky, and
streamed her vestal light across the rich carpet at the
maiden's feet. She gazed out upon the lawn, with a forehead
as pale, if not as cold, as the marble vase at her elbow
redolent of flowers.

“They come!” said Wiry Willy, who sat in the piazza.

“He does not come alone then?” asked Aliee.

“There are three horses,” said Willy. “But I can see

that his two attendants are not officers of high rank—perhaps
they are common soldiers.”

“Admit him, Willy,” said Alice, adjusting the ample
folds of satin at her feet.

Willy walked out upon the lawn. Blount gave the
reins to one of his attendants and dismounted. The next
moment his tall form was seen by Alice advancing alone.
Willy met him, and was recognised. Blount, with a pale,
and almost haggard countenance, received his proffered
hand in silence, and they proceeded several paces together
before a word was uttered.

“Willy,” at length said the lofty son of the South,
“your pledge was nobly fulfilled. I have had an account
of your magnanimous exertions in my—in her behalf, up
to the time of your departure from the city. I thank you,
and will not forget your meritorious conduct.”

“I was in the city to-day, sir,” said Willy.

“To-day! Is Edith here, or does she remain in the
city?”

“Her father detains her in the city.”

“Her father! But no matter. Tell President Randolph
I am here, with the two attendants stipulated.”

“He is at this moment engaged on business of importance
with—”

“Proceed, without naming those with whom he is engaged.”

“He desired Miss Alice to receive you in the southern
parlor, yonder. You enter from the piazza. When
he can dismiss his company he will join you there.”

“Enough, Willy,” said Blount, striding on alone. When
he ascended the steps of the piazza, his glance caught the
glitter of a diamond on the alabaster forehead of Alice.
She arose and offered her hand, which was almost cold to
his touch. But her words expressed a warmer greeting.
And Blount, with the respectful demeanor of the high-toned
gentleman, occupied the chair to which she pointed.

“General,” said Alice, “the field does not seem so congenial
as the halls of legislation. You are paler, and seem
older, than formerly.”

“I am older, Alice—and may be paler. I have learned
more of evil, and that itself might blanch a ruddier cheek
than mine.”

“The world is full of evil. But a knowledge of its existence
does not often appal the military chieftain. A failure
to consummate the projects of ambition—ambition,
which is too often itself an evil—would be more likely to
cast a sickly hue over the face of a leader, than the mere
knowledge of the wickedness of the world. It was not
that, sir.”

“No—not that, in the sense you put it. Not the general
infidelity of mankind, but the—”

“Let me end the sentence—but the infidelity of one
woman. Is it not so?”

“I fear so!”

“You are mistaken.”

“Did she authorize you to say that?”

“No. But I say it on my own responsibility. Here is
a letter which I received this morning. Read it by moonlight.”

And as Blount did so, the eyes of Alice were steadily
fixed on his noble features. Having completed the perusal,
Henry's hand holding the letter sank down at his side, and
he gazed some moments in silence at the stars.

“I am incapable of doubting her words,” said he,
mournfully. “But, before heaven, she does me injustice. I
have written her many pages—”

“They were intercepted!” said Alice, quickly. “My
father intimated as much. He seems to suspect the fidelity
of the deputy postmaster, and I think has decreed his dismissal.”

“He, I mean your father, would be incapable of winking
at official misconduct. But what could be his motive?”

“To serve General Ruffleton.”

“Ruffleton! What need has he of the service of a third
party? Alice, I have correspondents in Philadelphia
whose letters have not been intercepted; and they inform
me that Ruffleton, once so repugnant to her, and so recently
defeated on Southern soil, is an almost inseparable
companion of Edith! Alice, you know we stood together
at the holy altar. You were present and a witness—and
now you behold the change!”

“I have not beheld a change of Edith's heart, General
Blount, if it be that you mean. And oh! be careful that
you do not cast a priceless jewel away, and become yourself

poor indeed. Think that although the words were
not uttered at the holy altar, your espousals were registered
in heaven where angels were the witnesses. Edith
false! Oh! speak not the word, conceive not the thought!
We were as sisters—but I the least worthy. Henry Blount,
Edith Langdon is true, if truth ever abideth in woman!
She is worthy of you, you of her, if you prove incapable
of wrong. For my part, I have often envied her—her
superiority—but if that were wrong, I could never—”

“Enough, Alice. The fates have severed us; and if it
be the will of heaven that we shall never meet again, then
heaven will be my witness how I loved!”

“You love her still! Else whence that pallid cheek, that
mournful tone, that sunken eye?”

“Alas! I love my country, and there is enough in the
ills it suffers, and is likely to suffer, to make her sons
weep tears of blood.”

“Henry! You have touched a sympathetic chord in
this poor breast of mine! Save my father, there remains
no object on earth for me to love, but my country.
And oh, I love it with all a fond woman's devotion! Henry,
save our country!”

“Would I had the power! But why not address your
father?”

“I have—and the answer, though satisfactory to the ear,
is still oracular to the sense. But great as he is—and good
—may not he be mistaken or unable—”

“No, Alice. Such men as your father do not commit
mistakes, though both friends and enemies may censure
them. They may be overcome by circumstances, but their
fall must involve the engineers of the ruin. May God protect
and guide that man of destiny! How willingly, were
he not President, would I, and all the South, glory in following
his triumphant banner.”

“Oh, man—thou Sphynx-like riddle! You tell me this,
and yet you are upon the eve of inflicting an incurable wound
on the bosom of your country! What greater triumph than
the reign of peace, and yet you are panting to become an
invader.”

“Have we not been invaded?”

“But that is past, and the aggressor punished.”

“The North is arming again. In war, the State which

awaits the enemy's blow is both ignominious and doomed.
We shall probably strike them on their own soil, and thus
avert many blows in future.”

“No—no! Every battle is but another dividing wedge
driven into the Union. The cruelties of war must inevitably
inflame the already excited animosities of the opposing
sections. Why not stand on the defensive?”

“And leave unavenged the ignominy perpetrated in Maryland.
The track of the invaders resembles the pathway of
a hurricane. The only way to prevent a recurrence of such
scenes, is to return the chalice to their own lips. And then
the time may come when both sections will realize the conviction
that they are too terrible and destructive to remain
apart and in hostility. Then they may be reconciled. But,
in the meantime, the sovereignty of the people, so wantonly
trifled with by their unfaithful agents, may vanish for ever.”

“That is what I fear,” said Alice, half abstractedly, and
through her tears. “And if strong men deem such a result
inevitable, what can weak woman do? We might suffer—
ay, woman can vie with man in that—but it is not those
who suffer, who accomplish most. My father comes. Promise
me that you will not cross over into the enemy's
country.”

“For my part, I had no such design,” said Blount, just
as the President entered the parlor, a lighted candle in one
hand, and a map in the other.

“General,” said the President, after a frank and hearty
salutation, “I hope I have not detained you long. I am
now entirely at your service.”

“I have sought this interview,” said Blount, as Alice
withdrew, “for the purpose of a free and friendly consultation
with you. You cannot be inimical to your native South,
and I know you are my friend. Your partisans in the Convention
proposed my name for the position to which I have
been exalted, and for this I must be grateful.”

“I am your friend, and of course I love my native land.
But the whole Union, as it was, and as it must be again, is
my country—” and seeing Blount startled at this phraseology,
he added—“my native land. You are quite correct
in attributing your nomination to my friends, and I will have
the candor to say that one motive was the apprehension
that another, more inimical, might be chosen, if they did

not unite on you. But in regard to this qualification they
have attached to your command,—what is your determination
about it? I learn they desire Crook to retaliate on
the North. If he chooses to invade New Jersey, and unless
you see proper to accompany him, he is not to be under
your authority.”

“Your advice in relation to this matter is the object of
this interview.”

“Without your aid, Crook cannot cross the Delaware, or
rather he would not venture to do so. Therefore you can
prevent it.”

“Shall I prevent it?”

“I cannot answer,” said the President, after a pause.
“But I would counsel you not to accompany him. Your
men are all true Southerners, and ought not to leave this barrier
defenceless. Crook's army is composed of men of all
the nations of the earth.”

“And yours?” asked Blount.

“Mine are pretty equally divided between the North and
the South, and I assure you they agree very well together,
just as all the sections would have remained harmoniously
united, if the Executive Power had been exerted for other
purposes than the distribution of patronage. I mean the
Executive Power antecedent to my election.”

“Subsequently to that event,” said Blount, with a faint
smile, “the Executive has not been distinguished for maidenly
timidity.”

“And it is not likely to be,” added the President. “Let
Crook lose his laurels in the sands of New Jersey if he sees
proper. You will not be reproached. Ruffleton is collecting
the remains of his rabble army for the purpose of cutting
off his retreat. He will menace this position, and may
invade Delaware.”

“Would you permit it?”

“My time has not yet come. But, if you remain on this
side of the river, I think you will be strong enough to
measure swords with him—provided you have any disposition
for the encounter.”

“Disposition! Let me once have an opportunity!”

“I think you will some day meet this Bombastes face to
face. But, Blount, how is this matter with the British
envoy? Take care you do not go too far!”

“In the event of an irrevocable separation, sit, we should
certainly cultivate friendly relations with England. By
consuming her manufactures we would be aiming a blow at
the North.”

“But the separation is not to be irrevocable, sir. And
Great Britain, at all events, must take no part in our domestic
quarrels. She must wait until she can treat with independent
sovereignties. But it seems she is not willing to
be an idle spectator. Before many days, perhaps, I may
find some employment for her!”

“I do not understand you, sir,” said Blount.

“True. I acquit you of any complicity. I intercepted
the overtures. Here they are.”

Blount read them. They were addressed to him. He
then said:

“I should have responded to them in a friendly manner,
because I believe it would be in accordance with Southern
sentiment.”

“It is premature. But I do not wonder at the impatience
of England. She would have, for a time, at least, a
monopoly of the great staple, as well as of manufactures
and commerce. But the project has been defeated. My
Lord Slysir, with quite a number of his attachés, has fallen
into the hands of the old Commodore. They have just
departed for our ships, and not Her Majesty's fleet, at
anchor down the bay. The old Commodore says they shall
be his guests, and you are not likely to receive any communication
from his lordship while Stout is treating him.”

Here the President was interrupted by the unceremonious
entrance of Wiry Willy. He panted for breath, and
had evidently been running.

“What is the matter?” demanded Randolph.

“As I was walking, sir, about a mile hence, to the left of
the encampment, I heard the approach of a body of horse.
I concealed myself in a hedge, and presently overheard the
guide who rode with the commander of the party, promise to
lead it hither, sir, without encountering any of the sentinels
of the army, provided no pistols were fired. The guide
was Samuel Carlisle, who brought General Blount's letter
to you, sir.” The President's quarters were a mile distant
from the army, and only one hundred of the Blue Caps were
on duty at the farm-house.

“What number of men followed?”

“Not less than eight hundred, sir,” answered Willy.

“Ho, there!” said the President, throwing open an opposite
window, and addressing a sentinel. “Inform Carleton
that we are about to be assailed by a detachment of General
Ruffleton's army—say they will be upon us in a few
minutes!”

Immediately the Blue Caps were in the saddle, and the
commotion having been observed by Alice, she re-entered
the parlor.

“Had we not better fly, father?” she asked, upon learning
the great superiority of the approaching force.

“It is me they seek,” said General Blount. “That
Quaker guide has betrayed me. They told me he was a
descendant of the Carlisle of the Revolution, a tory, who
was hung. But I will not fly.”

“We shall ensnare this Major,” said the President, Willy
having added that the leader of the party was the same
Major Snare who had abducted Mary Penford. He then
wrote a few words to General Valiant, and despatched
them by Willy, who proceeded thither under cover of the
hedges.

“We must surrender, General,” he added, smiling, “and
you may be marble, Alice, in perfect safety. Here is Col.
Carleton. Colonel, do you hear them yet?”

“Distinctly, sir.”

“They are eight to one.”

“But the Blue Caps will give them a hearty reception.”

“I will assist at the ceremony, Colonel,” said Blount.

“No—nor you, father!” said Alice, with great energy.
“Why should your lives be put in jeopardy with such odds
against you? Neither duty nor honor can require the
hazard. If the object be the possession of the person of
General Blount, it cannot be the design to destroy his life.
Then why should he rush upon certain death? You, father,
are not in arms against the North, and they durst not
molest you.”

“My brave little Knight of the Velvet Cap, General, has
the better part of valor.”

“Her discretion, sir, is by no means preposterous, when
we consider the odds. Still I do not despair. I see my
attendants approaching. I will mount.”

“No!” exclaimed Alice, interposing. “Rely upon my
father. His eye is too calm now for imminent danger to be
encompassing us.”

“What say you, Colonel?” demanded the President.

“If you, sir,” said the Colonel, “and Alice, and General
Blount, will permit me to encompass you with the Blue
Caps, I'll answer for your safety until we are in the lines of
our army.”

“No, Colonel; it is a mere foray led hither by a treacherous
guide—and led into a labyrinth from which there
can be no extrication. We will remain until forced to
yield ourselves prisoners to superior numbers. They come!
If we surrender, mark me! our captors will soon after sue
for mercy! Carleton, surround the house with your Blue
Caps, and await the result. They may deem it prudent to
retire without striking a blow.”

Major Snare, deficient in military experience, but proud
of his epaulettes, without pausing a moment to ascertain
what might be the effect of a peremptory summons, dashed
into the midst of the little band of defenders. Carleton's
men, better instructed in the use of the sword, soon cut
down several of the assailants. But they were borne
aside at last by the irresistible weight of numbers. The
assailants then formed a circle round the house, and
facing outward, became in turn the assailed, for the Blue
Caps, rallying, charged them repeatedly at several points,
but nothing less than superhuman power seemed capable
of penetrating so dense a mass of horses and men. And
that power appeared to be possessed by one—Jack Bim—
who, in several charges, never failed to cut his way through
the writhing mass; and he emerged as often unscathed on
the opposite side.

“Cease this strife! Forbear!” cried President Randolph,
from a window. It was the tone of command, and Carleton's
men obeyed the order.

“Now, what is your purpose, sir?” continued the President,
addressing Major Snare.

“We demand the surrender of General Blount and
Colonel Carleton, sir,” said Snare.

“The Blue Caps never surrender!” said Colonel Carleton.

“Not unless it be my pleasure, Colonel,” said the President.

“We shall obey you, sir,” said the Colonel.

“It is my will and pleasure, then, that the Blue Caps
sheathe their swords. Now, sir,” he continued, again
addressing Major Snare, “since we have a cessation of
hostilities, we can confer more deliberately. In whose name
is this demand made?”

“In the name of the People of the North, the demand
for General Blount. The demand for Colonel Carleton is
my own.”

“Will you ride with me to the end of the lawn, and
assert your manhood, point to point, sir—or do you still
prefer encountering helpless women?” said Carleton.

“Silence!” said the President.

“Is my demand to be complied with? I cannot delay,”
said Snare.

“Major Snare,” said the President, “General Blount is
my guest. If you take him you must likewise take me, and
all who are with me, else an ineffaceable stigma will sully
my honor. Will you assume that responsibility, sir?”

“I will. My orders were to capture General Blount,
regardless of consequences.”

“Very well, sir. We shall attend you presently.”

And in a brief space of time the President, his daughter,
and General Blount, were mounted on horseback. They
were surrounded, however, according to stipulation, by the
faithful Blue Caps; and in this manner they were conducted
in a north-western direction towards the Pennsylvania line.
But they had not proceeded far before the solution of the
President's “calm eye” and perfect equanimity became
apparent.

The word was given to halt, when they had advanced
about two miles. On the moonlit plain, and directly before
him, Major Snare beheld a dark line of horsemen, extending
as far as the eye could reach to the right and the left.
The Major, panic-stricken, wheeled to the right, and in a
few minutes the same spectacle of an interminable line of
cavalry confronted his vision. Again he paused, and wheeling
about, proceeded at a brisk pace to the south, and lo!
the same barrier of sabres arrested his progress.

“Turn back, Major!” said the President, with one of his
taunting smiles, so well understood by Alice, who rode at
his side. “Dismiss us with proper apologies and you may

escape. Are you prepared to pronounce our liberation?”

“No, sir! There is one course left.” He then attempted
to retrace his steps towards the farm-house, from which
there was a road leading up the river. But here, too, an
impenetrable hedge of horsemen hemmed him in!

The President, calling a bugler of the Blue Caps to his
side, ordered him to sound a charge. This was answered
by more than a hundred bugles. Then was heard the rush
of thousands of horses, coming from all directions towards
a common centre. In vain Major Snare galloped round
his men, seeking some avenue of escape. He was environed
on every side, and finally reined up his steed in despair.

“Now, Major,” said the President, “will you relinquish
your prisoners?”

“I submit, sir,” said the discomfited officer. “Here is
my sword.”

“Throw it away, sir, and buy a lath. This is the second
time you have been disarmed, and in both instances your
expeditions involved the liberty of a woman. If you must
be a warrior, learn to cope with men. Colonel Carleton,
send him under an escort to Georgetown, where he will be
tried by the civil authority for the abduction of Mary Penford.”

“A just decision,” said General Blount. “Nevertheless
the same exemption does not embrace the people of foreign
nations.”

“You allude to my Lord Slysir,” said Alice. “But
remember he is only a guest of the Commodore.”

“A guest under restraint. And I am a guest.”

“But under no such restraint, sir,” said Alice, “else we
had not shared your captivity.”

“General Valiant,” said the President, addressing his
faithful lieutenant, who commanded the splendid cavalry,
“you have convinced these gentlemen, I trust,” turning to
the followers of Snare, “that the Executive power of the
Federal Union is neither extinct, nor likely to be circumvented.
Take them beyond our lines, and dismiss them
unharmed. Then send a detachment of surgeons to my
head-quarters to heal the wounded which my mad caps—”

“Blue Caps, father!” said Alice.

“Blue and mad—left lying on the ground. But see that

no more expeditions of this nature pass between me and the
army.”

“And now, Mr. President,” said Blount, when the mighty
host had vanished, “I will take my leave of you here. I
see the camp fires of the Southern army, and they are
burning low. I shall be looked for at early dawn. Farewell.”

“I cannot detain you, sir,” said Randolph, grasping the
proffered hand.

“What shall I say to Edith?” demanded Alice when the
General turned to her.

“I do not know. Pray tell me—what should I say?”

“Have you a heart, and it does not prompt you?”

“I have a heart, but it is very sad. Take this ring. You
know the reason it was not placed upon her finger. Perhaps
the deed should have been accomplished amidst the
roar of cannon. It was not done—and lamentation cannot
avail. Say to her—Oh, Alice! what shall I say?”

“The ring!”

“Yes; if you know—if you see she is unchanged, and
has been wronged by me—give it her. If she wears it on
the finger I would have encircled with it, it will, at least—
I mean it might, if she desires it, signify—Alice, are you
ill?” he asked, seeing her lean forward and clasp her forehead.

“A slight pain, produced by the excitement,” said she.
“Proceed, I pray you. The ring!”

“Be you the judge. Give it, or retain it, as you deem
her worthy or unworthy. Tell her what your discretion
may suggest, and forbear what may seem imprudent. But
say I daily and nightly invoke heaven's blessings on her—
whether she be true or—Adieu. God bless you!”

And when Alice lifted her head he was gone, and the
hoofs of his steed, madly spurning the earth, were dying
away in the direction of the camp-fires, near the river.

“Ah, Willy,” said Alice, seeing the faithful messenger
of her father approaching on his pony, “I hope this
Northern General has ceased to mar your happiness.”

“No, Miss Alice. Mary only detests and fears him, it is
true; but I cannot be happy whilst he has access to any
whom I esteem. And when you go to the city, he will
appear before even you with many flattering speeches and

professions of profound respect for Edith, for Mary, and
for General Blount, against whom he doubtless planned
this base attack.”

“That may be, Willy—but I shall not be uneasy or
annoyed. He can grieve no one by his flatteries to me,
Willy, and I shall know their value.”

They were now in front of the farm-house, where several
of the wounded were still groaning in pain. Alice's sympathies
were excited, and the greatest part of the night
was devoted to the alleviation of the sufferings of those
who might have been considered her enemies.