ar as insisting upon her not mentioning the matter of Oliver's
escape to her mother. Exhausted as she was, mirth-loving Kitty was moved
to a smile as she listened to Gulian's labored sentences, in which he
endeavored to convince his listener and himself that what he considered
almost a crime against the King's majesty--permitting the escape of a
rebel spy--was, so far as Betty was concerned, a meritorious act. So
Kitty promised, with the utmost sincerity, that not one syllable would
she breathe of the matter to her mother, or, in fact, to any human
being, and hugged herself mentally as she thought of Gulian's horror if
he only knew what a personal interest she had in that night's mad race
for freedom. Clarissa, sweet soul, had lain down quietly, when told that
their horses had nearly run away, being badly frightened by the hue and
cry of an escaping rebel; and uttering heartfelt thanksgivings that
Pompey had brought the girls home in safety, she went fast asleep and
remained so long after Gulian had risen, breakfasted, and gone down
Maiden Lane.

Business was somewhat dull that morning, and Gulian was conscious that
each time his office door opened he feared some one would enter who had
learned, he hardly knew how, of his having been connected with the
hateful affair occupying his thoughts. It was therefore with a genuine
feeling of relief that just as he was preparing to lock up his books he
heard the outer door open, and a familiar voice inquire if he was
within.

"Pray come in at once, Yorke," he said, throwing open the door of his
private room with alacrity, as he held out a hand of welcome to his
visitor. "Did you rise early this morning? I am ashamed to own how late
I was, but the balls at De Lancey Place are promoters of sleep next day,
I find."

"I can usually plead guilty to sleep," replied Yorke, throwing off his
military cloak, and taking the chair which Gulian offered him, "but I
had to be stirring early to-day, for Sir Henry had pressing affairs, and
I was at headquarters before seven o'clock."

"Did you take horse in pursuit of the spy last night?" asked Gulian,
with somewhat heightened color.

"Not I," answered Yorke carelessly; "the poor devil had luck on his
wide, or doubled marvelously well on his pursuers, for I am told that
not a trace of him nor of his confederate, the little fiddler, did our
men find. It's well for them, as Sir Henry was much enraged and their
shrift would have been short, I