evotion to the principles upon which it was
sustained, he did not hesitate in the crisis before him, but heroically
determined to meet the worst that might befal. He, therefore, in the
present emergency, became a useful and efficient ally to Robinson, who
opened to him the full history of Butler, and the course of measures he
was about to pursue for the relief of that unfortunate officer.

We must now leave the sergeant holding watch and ward over his
vanquished foes, and shift our scene to Musgrove's Mill. The
family of Allen Musgrove were in a state of great disquietude. Horse
Shoe Robinson had disappeared before daylight; and when the miller and
his nephew left their beds, a little after the dawn, the only
intelligence they had of the departure of their guest was inferred from
finding the stable door open and the sergeant's horse absent. This fact
was explained when Mary met them at breakfast. Horse Shoe had set out
for Ramsay's to learn some tidings of John, and to enlist him in an
effort to liberate Butler. He had departed under cover of darkness to
avoid molestation from Innis's scouts, and she, Mary Musgrove, had
placed the key of the stable, the night before, in a place where Horse
Shoe might find it. Such was the extent of the maiden's information. The
day passed wearily upon her hand: she was anxious to hear something of
Butler--something of Horse Shoe--and something, we suppose, of John
Ramsay. Frequently during the morning she and Christopher Shaw held
secret conferences: they spoke in whispers: suspense, care, and doubt
were pictured upon her face; and as the rain pattered against the
windows she oftentimes stood before them, and looked out upon the
distant road, and across the wide fields, and then upwards to the
clouded sky. The sun at length appeared, and his rays seemed to shoot a
glimpse of joy into the breast of the maiden, as she walked forth to
note the drying of the roads, and to see the clear blue, which, in that
climate, outvies the mellow and rich tints of a Tuscan heaven.

The day waxed, and the birds sang, and nature was gay, but the maiden
was restless and unquiet: the day waned, and the sun rode downwards on
the western slope in gorgeous beauty; but Mary was ill at ease, and
thought little of the grand and glorious firmament. Her communings with
Christopher Shaw, meantime, became more eager: she and her cousin were
seen to wander towards the mill; then Christopher left her, and,
presently,