sed the detested
Maywood. As he approached he evidently saw the young soldier crumple in
his hand a paper he was reading, and hide it hastily about him. This was
no fancy, he repeated to himself; this was reality. He had seen the look
of confusion and trouble upon Maywood's face, the haste with which he hid
that paper at his approach. There was no longer any doubt. His hated
rival was in correspondence already with his faithless mistress; and the
contents of that written paper, what could they be, if not an acquiescence
in some demand, a rendezvous granted, a meeting at her window? With rage
in his heart, Gerald again longed to spring upon his rival and tear that
paper from his bosom. But again prudence prevailed over passion. He felt
that the life of his father depended upon his caution--his father--his
father, whom he alone perhaps could save, whose blessing was to be his
recompense. Swearing to tear for ever from his heart the vain, coquettish,
heartless girl upon whom his affections had been so ill disposed--for
thus, in his passion, he qualified his lady-love--he crushed down within
him the violence of his angry feelings, and determined to defer his
revenge, defer it only, until those few hours should be passed, those
hours which should witness his father's escape and ensure his father's
safety--and then die willingly, if such should chance to be his fate, in
securing his vengeance. Strange mixture of noble feelings and base
passions! Where were now the stern, strictly religious principles of his
uncle and instructor? The fierce nature of his hot blood prevailed for the
time over the better culture of his education.

At length the hour arrived when the soldiers were mustered in the outer
court, before the front of the mansion, and the names of those called over
who were appointed to the different watches of the night. How anxiously
and eagerly did Gerald's heart beat as the midnight watch in the
tower-court was named! Was it by a gracious and happy chance upon himself
that the lot would fall? The name was pronounced. It was _not_ his own.
The sentinel appointed to this post, the man upon whom depended the
destiny of his father, was another. But still, in spite of the first pang
of disappointment--for disappointment would arise within him, although the
chances had been so greatly against him--hope again revived in his heart.
The sentinel whose post he coveted, whom he had to seduce into an
exchange, whose watch he wa