ctured, and
made of rough boards; these, with a single stool, composed the
furniture--if we except a few articles of cooking. A book that, by
its size and shape, appeared to be a Bible, was lying on the table
unopened. But it was the occupant of the hut in whom Frances was
chiefly interested. This was a man, sitting on the stool, with his
head leaning on his hand in such a manner as to conceal his features,
and deeply occupied in examining some open papers. On the table lay
a pair of curiously and richly mounted horseman's pistols, and the
handle of a sheathed rapier,[123] of exquisite workmanship, protruded
from between the legs of the gentleman, one of whose hands carelessly
rested on its guard. The tall stature of this unexpected tenant of the
hut, and his form, much more athletic than that of either Harvey or
her brother, told Frances, without the aid of his dress, that it was
neither of those she sought. A close surtout[124] was buttoned high in
the throat of the stranger, and parting at the knees showed breeches
of buff, with military boots and spurs. His hair was dressed so as
to expose the whole face, and, after the fashion of that day, it was
profusely powdered. A round hat was laid on the stones that formed a
paved floor to the hut, as if to make room for a large map which,
among other papers, occupied the table.

[Footnote 123: sword.]

[Footnote 124: overcoat.]

This was an unexpected event to our adventurer. She had been so
confident that the figure twice seen was the peddler, that, on
learning his agency in her brother's escape, she did not in the least
doubt of finding them both in the place, which, she now discovered,
was occupied by another and a stranger. She stood, earnestly looking
through the crevice, hesitating whether to retire, or to wait with the
expectation of yet meeting Henry, as the stranger moved his hand from
before his eyes and raised his face, apparently in deep musing, when
Frances instantly recognized the benevolent and strongly marked, but
composed features of Harper.

All that Dunwoodie had said of his power and disposition, all that he
himself had promised her brother, and all the confidence that had been
created by his dignified and paternal manner, rushed across the mind
of Frances, who threw open the door of the hut, and falling at his
feet, clasping his knees with her arms, as she cried: "Save him, save
him--save my brother; remember your promise, and save him!"