No so good as squaw," answered the Tuscarora, senten. tiously, and not altogether without disgust in his manner. "We are seldom as good as our wives, and mothers, and sisters, Nick, else should we be angels on earth. But, allowing for the infirmities of us men, my father was just and good." "Too much flog," answered the savage, sternly; “make Injin's back sore.' This extraordinary speech struck the major less, at the time, than it did years afterwards, when he came to reflect on all the events and dialogues of this teeming week. Such was also the case as to what followed. til sundu "You are no flatterer, Tuscarora, as I have always found in our intercourse. If my father ever punished you with severity, you will allow me, at least, to imagine it was merited." nivel Too much flog, I say," interrupted the savage, fiercely. "No difference, chief or not. Touch ole sore too rough. Good, some; bad, some. Like weather — now shine, now storm." "This is no time to discuss these points, Nick. You have fought nobly for us, and I thank you. Without your aid, these beloved ones would have been mutilated, as well as slain; and Maud - my own blessed Maud-might now have been sleeping at their sides." Nick's face was now all softness again, and he returned the pressure of Willoughby's hand with honest fervor. Here they separated. The major hastened to the side of Maud, to fold her to his heart, and console her with his love. Nick passed into the forest, returning no more to the Hut. His path led him near the grave. On the side where lay the body of Mrs. Willoughby, he threw a flower he had plucked in the meadow; while he shook his finger menacingly at the other, which hid the person of his enemy. In this, he was true to his nature, which taught him never to forget a favor, or forgive an injury. CHAPTER XXX. I shall go on through all eternity; COXE. A FORTNIGHT elapsed ere Willoughby and his party could tear themselves from a scene that had witnessed so much domestic happiness; but on which had fallen the blight of death. During that time, the future arrangements of the survivors were completed. Beekman was made acquainted with the state of feeling that existed between his brother-inlaw and Maud, and he advised an immediate union. "Be happy while you can," he said, with bitter emphasis. "We live in troubled times, and Heaven knows when we shall see better. Maud has not a blood-relation in all America, unless there may happen to be some in the British army. Though we should all be happy to protect and cherish the dear girl, she herself would probably prefer to be near those whom nature has appointed her friends. To me, she will always seem a sister, as you must ever be a brother. By uniting yourselves at once, all appearances of impropriety will be avoided; and in time, God averting evil, you can introduce your wife to her English connections." "You forget, Beekman, that you are giving this advice to one who is a prisoner on parole, and one who may possibly be treated as a spy." "Nothat is impossible. Schuyler, our noble commander, is both just and a gentleman. He will tolerate nothing of the sort. Your exchange can easily be effected, and, beyond your present difficulties, I can pledge myself to be able to protect you." Willoughby was not averse to following this advice; and he urged it upon Maud, as the safest and most prudent course they could pursue. Our heroine, however, was so reluctant even to assuming the appearance of happiness, so recently after the losses she had experienced, that the lover's task of persuasion was by no means easy. Maud was totally free from affectation, while she possessed the keenest sense of womanly propriety. Her intercourse with Robert Willoughby had been of the tenderest and most confidential nature, above every pretense of concealment, and was rendered sacred by the scenes through which they had passed. Her love, her passionate, engrossing attachment, she did not scruple to avow; but she could not become a bride while the stains of blood seemed so recent on the very hearth around which they were sitting. She still saw the forms of the dead, in their customary places, heard their laughs, the tones of their affectionate voices, the maternal whisper, the playful, paternal reproof, or Beulah's gentle call. "Yet, Robert," said Maud, for she could now call him by that name, and drop the desperate familiarity of " Bob," "yet, Robert, there would be a melancholy satisfaction in making our vows at the altar of the little chapel, where we have so often worshipped together the loved ones who are gone and we who alone remain." 66 True, dearest Maud; and there is another reason why we should quit this place only as man and wife. Beekman has owned that a question will probably be raised among the authorities at Albany concerning the nature of my visit here. It might relieve him from an appeal to more influence than would be altogether pleasant, did I appear as a bridegroom rather than as a spy." The word "spy" settled the matter. All ordinary considerations were lost sight of, under the apprehensions it created, and Maud frankly consented to become a wife that very day. The ceremony was performed by Mr. Woods accordingly, and the little chapel witnessed tears of bitter recollections mingling with the smiles with which the bride received the warm embrace of her husband, after the bene diction was pronounced. Still, all felt that, under the cir cumstances, delay would have been unwise. Maud saw a species of holy solemnity in a ceremony so closely connected with scenes so sad. A day or two after the marriage, all that remained of those who had so lately crowded the Hut, left the valley together. The valuables were packed and transported to boats lying in the stream below the mills. All the cattle, hogs, etc., were collected and driven towards the settlements; and horses were prepared for Maud and the females, who were to thread the path that led to Fort Stanwix. In a word, the Knoll was to be abandoned, as a spot unfit to be occupied in such a war. None but laborers, indeed, could or would remain, and Beekman thought it wisest to leave the spot entirely to nature, for the few succeeding years. There had been some rumors of confiscations by the new State, and Willoughby had come to the conclusion that it would be safer to transfer this property to one who would be certain to escape such an infliction, than to retain it in his own hands. Little Evert was entitled to receive a portion of the captain's estate by justice, if not by law. No will had been found, and the son succeeded as heir-at-law. A deed was accordingly drawn up by Mr. Woods, who understood such matters, and being duly executed, the Beaver Dam property was vested in fee in the child. His own thirty thousand pounds, the personals he inherited from his mother, and Maud's fortune, to say nothing of the major's commission, formed an ample support for the new-married pair. When all was settled and made productive, indeed, Willoughby found himself the master of between three and four thousand sterling a year, exclusively of his allowances from the British government, an ample fortune for that day. In looking over the accounts of Maud's fortune, he had reason to admire the rigid justice and free-handed liberality with which his father had managed her affairs. Every farthing of her income had been transferred to capital, a long minority nearly doubling the original investment. known to himself, he had married one of the richest heir esses then to be found in the American colonies. This as unknown to Maud, also; though it gave her great delight on her husband's account, when she came to learn the truth. Albany was reached in due time, though not without encountering the usual difficulties. Here the party separated. The remaining Plinies and Smashes were all liberated, handsome provisions made for their little wants, and good places found for them, in the connection of the family to which they had originally belonged. Mike announced his determination to enter a corps that was intended expressly to fight the Indians. He had a long score to settle, and having no wife or children, he thought he might amuse himself in this way, during a revolution, as well as in any other. "If yer honor was going anywhere near the county Leitrim," he said, in answer to Willoughby's offer to keep him near himself, "I might travel in company; seein' that a man likes to look on ould faces, now and then. Many thanks for this bag of gould, which will sarve to buy scalps wid; for divil bur-r-n me, if I don't carry on that trade, for some time to come. T'ree cuts wid a knife, half a dozen pokes in the side, and a bullet scraping the head, makes a man mindful of what has happened; to say nothing of the captain, and Madam Willoughby, and Miss Beuly- God forever bless and presarve 'em all t'ree and, if there was such a thing as a bit of a church in this counthry, wouldn't I use this gould for masses? that I would, and let the scalps go to the divil!" This was an epitome of the views of Michael O'Hearn. No arguments of Willoughby's could change his resolution; but he set forth, determined to illustrate his career by pro curing as many Indian scalps, as an atonement for the wrongs done" Madam Willoughby and Miss Beuly," as came within his reach. "And you, Joyce," said the major, in an interview he had with the sergeant, shortly after reaching Albany; "I trust we are not to part. Thanks to Colonel Beekman's influence and zeal, I am already exchanged, and shall repair |