t staff, Magdalen Brant rode away from Varicks'; and beside her,
alert, upright, transfigured, rode Sir George Covert, whose life she had
accepted only after she had paid her debt to Dorothy by offering her own
life to rescue mine.

Dim-eyed, I stared at the passing troops, the blurred colors of their
uniforms ever changing as the regiments succeeded each other, now brown
and red, now green and red, now gray and yellow, as Massachusetts
infantry, New York line, and Morgan's Rifles poured steadily by in
unbroken columns.

Wrapped in my chamber-robe, head supported on my hand, I sat by the
window, dully content, striving to think, to realize all that had
befallen me. The glitter of the passing rifles, the constantly changing
hues and colors, the movement, the noise, set my head swimming. Yet I
must prepare to leave within the hour, for the stable bells were ringing
for eight o'clock.

Cato scratched at the door and entered, bringing me hot water, and
hovering around me with napkin, salve, and basin, till my battered body
had been bathed, my face shaved, and my bruised head washed where the
Seneca castete had glanced, tearing the skin. Clothed in fresh linen and
a new uniform, sent by Schuyler, I bade him call Sir Lupus; who came
presently, his mouth full of toast, a mug of cooled ale in one hand,
clay pipe in the other.

He laid his pipe on the mantel, set his mug on a chair, and embraced me,
shaking his head in solemn silence; and we sat for a space, considering
one another, while Cato filled my bowl with chocolate and removed the
cover from my smoking porridge-dish.

"They beat all," said Sir Lupus, at length; "don't they, George?"

"Do you mean our troops, sir?" I asked.

"No, sir, I don't. I mean our women."

He struck his fat leg with his palm, drew a long breath, and regarded
me, arms akimbo.

"Mad, sir; all stark, raving mad! Look at those two chits of girls! The
Legion had gone tearing off after you to Schell's with an Oneida scout;
Sir George pops in with his tale of your horrid plight, then pelts off
to find his troopers and do what he could to save you. Gad, George! it
looked bad for you. I--I was half out o' my senses, thinking of you; and
what with the children a-squalling and the household rushing up stairs
and down, and the militia marching to the grist-mill bridge, I did
nothing. What the devil was I to do? Eh?"

"You did quite right, sir," I said, gravely.

He lay back, staring at me, shovin