, for they
belonged to a gentleman and a Loyalist, and had conveyed to her arms the
precious offspring of her beatified sister.

Eustace, Isabel, and Constantia, scarce needed the bond of kindred to
ensure affection. Their ages, habits, manners, and principles, so well
accorded, that their liking was instantaneous. The only difference was,
that the young Evellins, "bred on the mountain's rough side," inured to
severer trials, and exercised in a daily course of rigid duty, displayed
an energy and self-dependence which agreeably contrasted the polished
sweetness and feminine sensibility of Constantia Beaumont. Isabel was an
admirable herbalist, and expert in supplying all the wants of a secluded
family; robust with health and exercise, yet neither coarse in her
person, vulgar in her manners, nor sordid in her mind. Constantia was
mistress of every elegant accomplishment; she painted, sung, touched the
lute with exquisite sweetness; melted at every tale of woe; loved all
the world except her father's enemies, and was willing, as far as her
slender frame permitted, to perform the lowest offices that would
promote the welfare of others. Eustace was a year older than the girls,
and just on the verge of fifteen, tall, and manly in mind and person,
panting for enterprize, full of hope that he was able to correct the
disorders of the times, and sure that his name would be recorded in the
annals of his country, as one who loved his church and his King, and
hated the Roundheads and Fanatics. He soon drew the attention of his
hearers by wishing he had been at Ribblesdale on the night of the riot,
vowing he would have beat the whole party, and tossed Davies into the
flames.

Constantia smiled for a moment, and then shuddered at the idea of the
suggested torture. "I make no doubt he would," said Isabel, "and then
have rushed in himself to pull the villain out again."

"But my dear Eustace," inquired Constantia, "what are you to be?"

"A soldier to be sure," replied the boy. "Have you not heard that the
King has set up his standard at Nottingham. My father has parted with
our farm, and raised a levy of troops among the mountaineers, and he is
going to follow them to the King, with all the money he has left, except
a little which he leaves for Isabel."

"I tell you, brother," returned the sister, "we will dispute that point
no longer. The King is to have every shilling; for I know how to support
myself by my own labour."

"She s