l flaming and thundering; white powder-clouds floating away and
dissolving in thin air. They saw puffs of smoke burst from the heads
of the advancing columns and heard the rattle of muskets. Cannon-shot
plowed the ground and tossed up the gravel around the redoubt. Only
the six cannon of the provincials were replying. Nearer moved the
scarlet line. Again a rattling volley, with no answering musket shot
from fence or embankment. What the meaning of such silence? Suddenly a
line of light streamed from the river to the foot of the hill, and
like the lightning's flash ran along the embankment and round the
redoubt. A rattle and roar like the waves of the sea upon a rocky
shore came to their ears across the shining waters. Men were reeling
to the ground, whole ranks going down before the pitiless storm. The
front ranks had melted away. For a few moments there was a rattling
like scattered raindrops, and then another lightning flash, and the
British were fleeing in confusion.

Mr. Newville clenched his hands.

"I fear the king's troops are discomfited," he said.

Mrs. Newville with a long-drawn sigh covered her face with her
handkerchief as if to shut out the unwelcome spectacle.

"The redcoats are beaten!" Berinthia exclaimed.

"It is too soon to say that, daughter. The battle is not yet over; the
king's troops would be cowardly were they to give up with only one
attempt."

Like a statue, her hands tightly grasping the balustrade, her bosom
heaving with suppressed emotion, Ruth gazed upon the spectacle,
uttering no exclamation. Taking the telescope, she turned it upon the
scene, beholding the prostrate forms dotting the newly mown fields. It
was not difficult to distinguish Lord Howe, the centre of a group of
officers. He was evidently issuing orders to re-form the broken lines.
Colonels, majors, and captains were rallying the disheartened men. In
the intervals of the cannonade from the fleet a confused hum of voices
could be heard, officers shouting their orders. Beyond the prostrate
forms, behind the low stone wall and screen of hay were the
provincials, biding their time. Officers were walking to and fro,--one
middle-aged, with a colonel's epaulets, evidently commanding the
troops nearest the Mystic River. A subordinate officer of manly form
was receiving orders and transmitting them to others. Where had she
seen one like him? Long she gazed with unwonted bloom upon her cheeks.

Again the scarlet lines advanced,--