, amidst the blandishments of
friends and the allurements of gay society, I might make sure of
Mildred. There, cut off from all means of hearing of this Butler, and
swayed, as she must necessarily be, by the current of loyal feelings,
she would learn to detest his foul rebellion, and soon lose her favor
for the rebel. Then, too, the confiscation of his lands--but I am not so
sure of that!--she is rich and would make a merit of sharing her fortune
with a man whose brave resistance of oppression--for so, doubtless,
Butler persuades her it is--has cost him his wealth: the confiscation
should not seem, at least, to be my doing. Well, well, let her be
brought to Charleston. Any change were better than to remain here, where
anxiety and suspense and solitude nurse and soften her woman's
affections, and teach her to fancy her lover whatsoever her imagination
delights to think on. Then may not the chances of war assist me? This
Butler, all men say, is brave and adventurous. He should be short-lived.
Whatever ill may befall him cannot but work good to me. Yet Lindsay has
such a sickly caution--such scruple against involving himself in the
scheme--I could almost find it in my heart to have it told amongst his
neighbors that he is in correspondence with the enemy. Ha, that would be
a bright device!--inform against myself! No, no, I will not abuse his
generous nature. Let him come fairly into the fold, and I will guard
his gentle lambkin like a very shepherd. Then if we make him governor of
the province--that will work well. Mildred will thank me for my zeal in
that good purpose, at least, and I will marry her and possess her
estate, if it be only to enable her to be grateful to me. 'Twill be a
brave reward, and bravely shall it be won."

As Tyrrel ruminated over these topics, in the strain indicated by this
sketch, the noise of footsteps ascending the rugged stairway of the
cliff, and the opening of the iron wicket, but a short distance from
where he leaned over the parapet, roused his attention, and put an end
to this insidious and selfish communion with his own heart.

The cause of this interruption was soon apparent. Henry and Mildred
entered through the gate, and hurried along the path to that part of the
terrace where Tyrrel stood. The shade of the house concealed him from
their view until they were within a few paces. "Ha, Miss Lindsay! You
are a late rambler," he said, in a tone of gallantry. "The dampness of
the valley, at