The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1862-01-10

cOuiQ procure access TO Cne Vlllage, was a
thought which caused her to shudder, and
grew pale. And aSnfor her future, it was
dark and dreary asher past; in this hour of
bitter agony. this melancholy Christmas
morning, she could discover not one single
ray of hope to penetrate the utter gloom of
her condition. - i3a3. 339 o
A knock at the door interrupted these
comfortless meditations, and opening it, she
were wrapped up to shield them from the
cold. but which as well prevented recogni-
ton, and both bore marks of severe labor
bestowed in breaking through the deep
drifts. The foremost said -
Phillip Flint is supposed to have left the
village of G. at a late hour last night in
the midst of the snow storm, to escape re-
cOgnition and arrest. Has any one passed
this way this morning?" ....-. E......
Who is Philip Flint ?" Margaret in
quired, as calmly as possible. s
HE was, some years ago, one OF the most
reckless highwaymen on the London roads,
and he has been, ever since, the confederate
of thieves and robbers. Have you seen
him 20 .. 49,. ?. .,..-
"Follow me-" Margaret requested in a
trembling voice, and leading them within,
she pointed to the corpse. J.---'9''
An exclamation of astonishment burst
from the strangers.
"It is he," the man who had before ad.
dressed Margaret, exclaimed, carefully sur
veying the face of the dead. eyes, it is he !;
he has met his doom at last, and my search
is at an end" 800 q. 81
WHO is it?'' the girl family inquired.
"Why, Philip Flint, of course And as
have made an end to my mission, I'll back
to the city as soon as possible and report
Saying this, the man unceremoniously de-
parted. But new agony had seized upon
the bleeding heart of Margaret. 9Looking
in sickly weakness upon the face of the
dead highwayman, she whispered uuo
"Ess child, his daughter robber and
felon! Great God, hast thou deserted me
have all deserted me in this hour?'' =.
"No, Margaret, not all -
The voice was that of the young stranger,
who still remained in the cottage. He had
laid aside his hat and cloak, and as Margaret
tur4soi toward him, electrified by his well
remembered voice, he stepped forward and
clasped her in his arms. Heaven had truly
not deserted her; Robert Allan, her sailor
lover, faithful to his word, had returned,
and all her grief seemed to vanish before
this one great joy.
From the multitudinOus explanations
which succeeded, it is only necessary to our
purpose to relate but few. Allan's ship,
bafded by contrary winds, had only arrived
at Southern port the previous week, from
which he had made all haste to meet his
betrothed. At G. ne had encountered
the officer who had accompanied him to the
cottage, and brief description of the man
he was in search of convinced Allan that he
was identical with Rufus Webb. Eager to
rescue Margaret from the inhuman treat.
ment to which he knew her to be constantly
exposed, the young man willingly Joined in
a plan to entrap the highwayman before he
left the village, for they had discovered his
presence there. The suspicious of Flint be-
ing aroused, however, led him to make a
precipitate flight, resulting, as has been
shown, in his tragic death. What were his
plans was of course secret with him, but
Robert more than limited that he contem-
plated fight with her through the cold
and storm of that terrible night.
"And if so," he continued, "I must say
that his death was most opportune."
"Still, he was my father" Margaret
sighed.
''He was NOT your father, Margaret ~
Robert Allen peremptorily answered. IL
have no proof of the fact, but have always
believed it, and shall go to the grave with
the same faith. There was nothing in COM
mon between you, either in face or mind;
for no parent ever yet treated his child with
uniform and constant brutality. Who are,
or were your parents, we cannot know. but
l am inclined to believe that Philip Flint
obtained possession of you in early infancy,
to further some villainous scheme, and fail
ing in this, retained you from motives of
revenge"
"Hark' Margaret interrupted. "What
is that?"
1t was the chime of the Christmas bells,
borne sweetly over the snow from the vii
lage seeming to speak as with living voice,
the words, "Peace on earth, good will to-
wards man."
The influence of the sound upon the lovers
was happy one. Kneeling side by side
upon the cottage floor, they prayed for the
repOse of the soul of the departed highway.
man, forgetting the many grievous injuries
he had wrought them, in the holy fervor of
the moment. And when they arose from
their knees, it was with sense of peace and
happiness which came like benediction to
the heart of poor Margaret. Together they
looked into the future, and pictured forth a
scene of quiet happiness. In any season,
the dreariest or the saddest, the cottage on
the moor could never be lonely to Robert
Allan and his wife, for it was, thenceforth,
lighted and cheered by an affection which it
had never known before. Although at times
Margaret may have sighed to learn the
strange secret of her birth and parentage,
yet it was but momentary feeling, and
with the prospect of her happy, though
humble home, and her husband and chill
dren, she was well satisfied that the mystery
should always continue to be such.
ti is perhaps unnecessary to add to the
above, that the grave which attracted my
attention, and elected this story from the
husband of Margaret, was that of Philip
Flint, the highwayman, unhappy in his
death as in his life.