d pedestrian, nothing seemed
stirring, and as they neared the dingy old tavern at the Sign of the
Sturdy Beggar, Pompey pulled up his smoking, panting horses.

"Don't want to got too near dose lights," he said, pointing to the
swinging lantern which adorned the hostelry; "darsen't let nobody see my
young mistress; Massa Gulian would flog Pompey for shuah if dis tale
gets tole."

"You're right, Pompey," answered Oliver, springing up and flinging the
long dark cloak with which Betty had provided herself around his
shoulders; "take the ladies home slowly. Kitty, my beloved,
farewell--farewell, Betty, brave little soul that you are; I'll tell my
father how your quick wits came to my relief. Here I cross the river on
the ice, and, God willing, reach the commander-in-chief with the tidings
he desires by eight o'clock in the morning."

A sob from Kitty, a low "God guard you!" from Betty, and Oliver vanished
as Pompey turned his horses and proceeded leisurely back to Broadway.
The girls were literally too spent with emotion to do more than sink
down breathless among the fur robes, and not one word did they exchange
as they drove through Wall Street and finally drew up at the Verplancks'
door. On the steps stood Gulian, a tall and silent figure, awaiting the
truants.

"What does this mean?" he began sternly, as he lifted Kitty out. "Did
the hue and cry for that wretched, miserable Whig spy frighten the
horses? Clarissa is nearly distracted"--

"I will explain all to your satisfaction," interrupted Betty. "Meantime,
listen, and be thankful;" and as she held up a warning hand, they heard
through the stillness of the night the watchman's distant cry float down
the frosty air:--

"Half past three o'clock--and all's--well!"

CHAPTER XV

LOVE OR LOYALTY

"Do you mean to tell me that you, Clarissa's sister, had anything to do
with the escape of a Whig spy?"

"Even so," said Betty calmly, though her face was pale and her brilliant
eyes burning with excitement.

"Damnation!" retorted Gulian angrily. "Even your mistaken ideas of
patriotism could hardly carry a well-behaved maiden so far."

"Gulian! how _dare_ you!"

"What am I to conclude?" with a scornful wave of his hand; "your story
is somewhat disjointed. Kitty is taken ill; you suddenly decide to carry
her off in my sleigh without farewell of any kind to your hostess,
without paying your sister or me the respect to ask permission. Then you
state that a man--