ffering
at the hands of his antagonist, and led the way back to the house. There
he expressed to Mr. Villars and his daughters the utmost regret and
indignation for what had occurred, and took Mr. Ropes aside to
remonstrate with him for such violent proceedings. His influence over
that fallen orator was extraordinary. Ropes excused himself on the plea
of his patriotic zeal, and called off his men.

"How fortunate," said Augustus, conducting the old man, with an
excessive show of deference and politeness, back into the
sitting-room,--"how extremely fortunate that I happened to be walking
this way! I trust no serious harm has been done, my dear Virginia?"

Bythewood no doubt thought himself entitled to use this affectionate
term, after the service he had rendered the family.

After he was gone, Toby, having recovered from his fright and the
fatigue of running, and got his clothes on again, rushed into the
presence of his master and the young ladies.

"I've seed Mass' Penn!" he said. "Arter Bythewood done got up from under
de fence whar I jumped on him, I seed anoder man a crawlin' away on his
hands and knees jest a little ways off. 'Twas Mass' Penn! I know 'twas
Mass' Penn."

But Toby was mistaken. The second figure he had seen was Mr. Lysander
Sprowl, now the confidential adviser and secret companion of Augustus.

XIII.

_THE OLD CLERGYMAN'S NIGHTGOWN HAS AN ADVENTURE._

Where, then, all this time, was Penn? He was himself almost as
profoundly ignorant on that subject as anybody. For two or three hours
he had been lost to himself no less than to his friends.

When he recovered his consciousness he found that he was lying on the
ground, in the open air, in what seemed a barren field, covered with
rocks and stunted shrubs.

How he came there he did not know. He had nothing on but his
night-dress,--a loan from the old clergyman,--besides a blanket wrapped
about him. His feet were bare, and he now perceived that they were
painfully aching.

Almost too weak to lift a hand to his head, he yet tried to sit up and
look around him. All was darkness; not a sign of human habitation, not a
twinkling light was visible. The cold night wind swept over him, sighing
drearily among the leafless bushes. Chilled, shivering, his temples
throbbing, his brain sick and giddy, he sat down again upon the rocks,
so ill and suffering that he could scarcely feel astonishment at his
situation, or care whether he lived or died.