eral queried.

"That you will put us safely on British soil within a day after the
ladies have arrived," said he.

"It is irregular and a matter of some difficulty," said the
general. "Whom would you send with such a message?"

"Well, I should say some Frenchwoman could do it. There must be
one here who is clever enough."

"I know the very one," said I, with enthusiasm. "She is as smart
and cunning as they make them."

"Very well," said the general; "that is but one step. Who is to
capture them and take the risk of their own heads?"

"D'ri and I could do it alone," was my confident answer.

"Ah, well," said his Lordship, as he rose languidly and stood with
his back to the fire, "I shall send them where the coast is
clear--my word for that. Hang me if I fail to protect them."

"I do not wish to question your honor," said the general, "or
violate in any way this atmosphere of fine courtesy; but, sir, I do
not know you."

"Permit me to introduce myself," said the Englishman, as he ripped
his coat-lining and drew out a folded sheet of purple parchment.

"I am Lord Ronley, fifth Earl of Pickford, and, cousin of his Most
Excellent Majesty the King of England; there is the proof."

He tossed the parchment to the table carelessly, resuming his chair.

"Forgive me," said he, as the general took it. "I have little
taste for such theatricals. Necessity is my only excuse."

"It is enough," said the other. "I am glad to know you. I hope
sometime we shall stop fighting each other--we of the same race and
blood. It is unnatural."

"Give me your hand," said the Englishman, with heartier feeling
than I had seen him show, as he advanced. "Amen! I say to you."

"Will you write your message? Here are ink and paper," said the
general.

His Lordship sat down at the table and hurriedly wrote these
letters:--

"PRESCOTT, ONTARIO, November 17, 1813.

"To SIR CHARLES GRAVLEIGH, The Weirs, above Landsmere, Wrentham,
Frontenac County, Canada.

"MY DEAR GRAVLEIGH: Will you see that the baroness and her two
wards, the Misses de Lambert, are conveyed by my coach, on the
evening of the 18th inst, to that certain point on the shore pike
between Amsbury and Lakeside known as Burnt Ridge, there to wait
back in the timber for my messenger? Tell them they are to be
returned to their home, and give them my very best wishes. Lamson
will drive, and let the bearer ride with the others.

"Very truly yours,
"RO