ls have this combination, but it
is not uncommon among the Montforts; I myself had fair hair and dark
eyes. Phoebe was highly romantic, and when her lover went to war, she
gave him a sword-belt plaited of her own hair."

"Oh," cried Margaret, "like Sir Percival's sister!"

"Exactly! Very likely it was from that story that she took the idea,
for she was a great reader. However it might be, her mother was greatly
distressed at her cutting off so much of her fine hair, and did her best
to prevent it, but to no purpose, as you may imagine. Giles Hetherington
joined the army, carrying the braided belt with him, and they say he
never parted with it, night or day, but slept with it beside him on the
pillow. Poor fellow! He was killed in a night attack by the Indians, set
on by the British. He was in a hut with some other officers, and the
sentry must have slept at his post, they supposed. They were surrounded,
the house set on fire, and the officers all killed. One private escaped
to tell the dreadful story, and he told of the gallant fight they made,
and how Giles Hetherington fought for the life that was so dear to
others. He defended the door while two of his comrades forced the window
open, hoping to steal around and take the savages in the rear; but the
window was watched, too, and these officers were shot down, and then an
Indian sprang in at the window, and stabbed Hetherington in the back.
Ah, me! It is a terrible story, dear child! He staggered back to the
bed, the soldier said, and caught up the belt, that was lying there
while he slept. He was past speech, but he gave it to this soldier, who
was a lad from this place, and motioned him to the window; then he fell
back dead, and the man crept out of the window,--the Indians having run
around to the front,--and crawled off, lying flat in the grass, and so
escaped with his life. He brought the belt, all dabbled with blood, back
to Fernley, meaning to give it to Madam Montfort quietly, that she might
break the news to her daughter, but poor Phoebe chanced to come through
the garden just as he was standing on the steps with the belt in his
hand, and she saw it."

"Oh! oh, dear!" cried Margaret, clasping her hands. "Aunt Faith, it is
too dreadful! How could she bear it?"

"My dear, she could not bear it. She had not the strength. She did not
lose her mind, like poor Aunt Penelope, but really, it might almost have
been as well if she had, poor soul. When she woke from th