e old disquieting dread of painful scenes.

Old Noah, jealous of the single duty that his years had left him, and
resentful of its frequent usurpation by Falconer's servant, always
stayed up to attend the door till the last of the family had retired.
We now heard him shuffling through the hall, heard the movement of the
lock, and then instantly a heavy tread that covered the sound of
Noah's. The parlour door from the hall was flung open, and in strode
the verification of our thoughts.

Ned's clothes were briar-torn and mud-spattered; his face was haggard,
his hair unkempt, his left shoulder humped up and held stiff. He
stopped near the door, and stared from face to face, frowning because
of the sudden invasion of his eyes by the bright candlelight. When his
glance fell upon Margaret, it rested; and thereupon, just as if he
were not returned from an absence of three years and more, and
heedless of the rest of us, confining his address to her alone, he
bellowed, with a most malignant expression of face and voice:

"So you played a fine game with us, my lady--luring us into the dirty
scheme, and then turning around and setting your husband on us in the
act! I see through it all now, you underhanded, double-dealing slut!"

"Are you speaking to me, sir?" asked Margaret, with dignity.

"Of course I am; and don't think I'll hold my tongue because of these
people. Let 'em hear it all, I don't care. It's all up now, and I'm a
hanged man if ever I go near the American camp again. But I'm safe
here in New York, though I was damn' near being shot when I first came
into the British lines. But I've been before General Knyphausen,[7]
and been identified, and been acknowledged by your Captain Falconer as
the man that worked your cursed plot at t'other end; and I've been let
go free--though I'm under watch, no doubt. So you see there's naught
to hinder me exposing you for what you are--the woman that mothered a
British plot, and worked her trusting brother into it, and then
betrayed him to her husband."

"That's a lie!" cried Margaret, crimson in the face.

"What does all this mean?" inquired Mr. Faringfield, rising.

Paying no attention to his father, Edward retorted upon Margaret, who
also rose, and who stood between him and the rest of us:

"A lie, is it? Perhaps you can make General Knyphausen and Captain
Falconer believe that, now I've told 'em whose cursed husband it was
that attacked me at the meeting-place, and alarmed