The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1852-09-30

had silenced him and when reached the
spot, he was supporting the fanting form of
woman, whom he instantly placed in my arms,
saying, gaily There, SIR take her she is truly,
as father would say, the spoil of my bow and
spear. | promised myself and another that
would give her to you tonight, and ] have kept
nv word But, mount sir, mount he added,
running forward and catching the horse of my
dead guard, that was grazing quietly by the
roadside.
at was only then" continued the young
officer, with deep emotion, that | compre-
hended who it was that held in my arms
that it was my betrothed wife, from whom the
will of Mr. Andrews had 80 long separated
me. | tried to speak-to thank him-but he
cut me short by saying as he helped me into
the saddle, and placed the lady in my arms,
Don't stay to talk now this path will
| lead you out on to the main road, a mile or
two above here. Then, ride on, sir, in Heavens
| name, for--bark! the rascals have fought their
way through, and are flying down the road
| have a score or two to settle with some of
them yeti and, springing into his saddle, he
! sped back to join in the pursuit of the enemy,
who, as he said, were in full retreat down the
road
"The last person who can give any account
of him is Corporal Davis; and he says he was
then engaged in hand to-hand struggle with
Captain Lansing himself"
| A smothered groan burst from poor Molly,
while the young man added after pause
81 cannot give him up! He was favoritc
with the whole troop, and better, Drawer
soldier could not be found in the ranks"
"That is true though had said it myself"
| said Squire Lawton, striving to compose his
| Gel bo Cd tbo
sobbing maiden lay; "nor better SON He
was over-hasty; and Heaven knows, have
often looked for this He was all we had and
God alone knows how dear we held him; yet
had | dozen sons" he added, with a bitter
compression of the lips, the country Should
have them all ~
"Oh, no. no." sobbed Aunt Sara, think
of your wife, Squire! of the poor heart-broken
mother"
81 do, Heaven knows | do, neighbor Ora
ham; but better to die like my brave boy,
than live slave!"
"And it was only last night, only last night,
he promised me to be careful not to run into
danger" cried Molly, raising herself up and
gazing piteously in Squire Lawton's face.
"Oh, little did | think, as ! rode along last
night that was bringing him to his death.
thought he would praise me, and now-Oh,
Harry Harry why didn't die with you? %
Young Stanforth turned aside to conceal his
tears, while Andie Graham, with voice in
which reproof vainly struggled with pity strove
to recall the maiden to sense of submission
to God
Molly Molly, child" he said, "this is
wrong sefish-snful! Where is the faith
on which you have been taught to rely in the
day of adversely and trouble Let not the
potsherd strive against its Maker. Look up,
| my child and remember that it is in mercy
that He chasteneth the children of men, Rebel
not against your only REFUGEE
"The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken
away" began the maiden but grief was as
yet stronger than faith and, burying her face
in the pillows, she sobbed bitterly" Oh, |
cannot granther, | cannot say it! You do
not, cannot know how much he was to me ~
awe did know it. Molly, said Squire Law
ton, pressing her hand in his broad palm
+" little as you thought it, we did know it. And
we knew, too, how much he thought of you.
and we were proud-his mother and proud
and happy to look forward to the time when
we should call you daughter, and our lonely
old house be made bright by the presence of
our children. Manys the time that Eunice
and have talked it all over; and now-it's
dreadful thing to be left childless at a blow,
neghbors" he added, as he brushed aside the
fast scalding tears with the back of his Draw
ny hand
| at is, neighbour" said old Andie Graham,
with genuine sympathy but as our young
friend says, there is room for hope, still"
Squire Lawton shook his head, as he re-
piled" Few that see the inside of their pris-
ons come out alive neghbor"
"But he SHALL" cried the young officer, ear
nestlyn II will find him if he is alive, and
take no rest, night nor day, until ! give him
back to your arms, even if have to ransom
him with my own liberty This is the least
can do, he went on, turning to Molly, "to-
wards discharging the heavy debt that and
another owe to your generQns> kindness"
81 need not say how d hat other is ~
me- he added, in low tone but she longs
to see you, to thank you herself, and to sympa-
thize with you in this great sorrow. Oh be-
lieve me, we both feel that life itself is dearly
al do she replied H. calmly. "He was
always talking about you-tellng how good
and brave you were; and that was one thing
that made me 80 anxious to get News to the
camp | thought he would blame me if ! did
not BeAdes" she added with deep sigh
while the great tears fell over her cheeks, eve
knew about your and Miss Annie's affairs and
| often wished we could do something to help
you 1t was little we thought how it would
| end ~
Feeling that grief like hers must have its
! natural course, and that she would be better
left to the care Of her friends young Stanforth
| and Squire LawtOn rose to leave but not until
Molly had ascertained that Bill Glover had
taken no part in the skirmish though strongly
suspected of having n hand in the plot. twas
with some difficulty and only by pleading the
active services Of little Johnny that the grief
stricken girl drew from the young officer a
promise to leave him and his family unmolested
until he had further proof.
Young Staniorth nobly redeemed his prom
ise He spared no exertions nor expense in
his efforts to find out the place of Harry Law
toms Imprisonment if alive; and General Put
nam, who had by no means forgotten tho
young girls visit to the camp entered warmly
into the affair, and afforded him every facility
in his power But it was all in vain Sir
Henry Clinton and General Tryon both denied
all knowledge of such n prisoner and hope
gradually died out Of the most sangune heart
The young officer and bis betrOthed were
much at Andie Graham's. They were the last
persons who had seen and spoken with her
lover; for them he had perilled his life; and
the poor girl took kind of mournful pleasure
in listening to their voices as they dwelt on his
bravery and virtues.
Poor child she had struggled hard to bow
submissively to a stroke, which the rigid ten
in which she had been trained taught her to
view as a sore but kindly chastisement from
Heaven but there came hours when the hu-
man within her rose against this thought and
made the struggle exceedingly bitter.
One thing seemed to give her pleasure.
When young Stanforth, true to his promise,
sent messenger to Bill Gloyers, with fiddle