as concluded the old man invoked a blessing
upon his household, and gave his orders that the family should betake
themselves to rest. Horse Shoe had already taken up his sword and was
about retiring to a chamber, under the guidance of Christopher Shaw,
when the door was suddenly thrown wide open, and in rushed Mary
Musgrove. She ran up, threw herself into her father's arms, and cried
out--

"Oh, how glad I am that I have reached home to-night!" then kissing both
of her parents, she flung herself into a chair, saying "I am tired--very
tired. I have ridden the livelong day, alone, and frightened out of my
wits."

"Not alone, my daughter!--on that weary road, and the country so
troubled with ill-governed men! Why did you venture, girl? Did you not
think I would send your cousin Christopher for you?"

"Oh, father," replied Mary, "there have been such doings! Ah! and here
is Mr. Horse Shoe Robinson; Major Butler, where is he, sir?" she
exclaimed, turning to the sergeant, who had now approached the back of
her chair to offer his hand.

"Blessings on you for a wise and a brave girl!" said Robinson. "But it
wouldn't do; we were ambushed, and the Major is still a prisoner."

"I feared it," said Mary, "and therefore I stole away. They are
bloody-minded and wicked, father; and uncle Adair's house has been the
place where mischief and murder has been talked of. Oh, I am very sick!
I have had such a ride!"

"Poor wench!" said the father, taking her to his bosom. "You have not
the temper nor the strength to struggle where ruthless men take up their
weapons of war. What has befallen? Tell us all!"

"No, no!" interposed the mother; "no, Allen, not now. The girl must have
food and sleep, and must not be wearied with questions to-night. Wait,
my dear Mary, until to-morrow. She will tell us everything to-morrow."

"I must hear of Major Butler," said Mary; "I cannot sleep until I have
heard all that has happened. Good Mr. Robinson, tell me everything."

In few words the sergeant unfolded to the damsel the eventful history of
the last two days, during the narrative of which her cheek waxed pale,
her strength failed her, and she sank almost lifeless across her
father's knee.

"Give me some water," she said. "My long ride has worn me out. I ran off
at daylight this morning, and have not stopped once upon the road."

A glass of milk with a slice of bread restored the maiden to her
strength, and she took the first opportunity to in