pears and
ripening apples; the soldiers had plucked them. Her father's face was
growing grave; her mother's step less elastic. There was sorrow and
desolation around her, and yet she was happy. She saw Berinthia
walking up the path.

"Come right up," the cheerful invitation from the chamber window.

"Oh, Ruth, I've something to tell you. He's alive!"

"Who?"

"Robert--a prisoner in the jail."

She told the story; he was still breathing, but dying. Her father had
been to get him, but no prisoner could be removed without an order
from General Gage.

"We will go to the Province House," said Ruth quietly, rising and
putting on her bonnet.

Her calmness, the manifest quiet, the business-like procedure of Ruth,
amazed Berinthia. They hastened to the governor's home. General Gage
received them courteously. He was pleased to welcome Miss Newville to
the Province House, and recalled with pleasure the evening when he had
the honor to escort her to her father's hospitable table.

"I have a favor to ask," said Ruth, "which I am sure your excellency
will be pleased to grant. One of your prisoners, Lieutenant Robert
Walden, in the jail, is a cousin of my friend Miss Brandon. I learn
that he is far gone with fever and seemingly has not many hours to
live, and I have come to ask if you will kindly permit his removal to
her home?"

"Most certainly, my dear Miss Newville; it gives me pleasure to do
this little office for you and your friend," he replied.

General Gage touched a bell and a sergeant entered the apartment.

"Sergeant, take two men of the guard, with a bier, and accompany these
ladies to the jail to remove one of the sick prisoners, as they shall
direct. See to it that the man is gently handled. Here is the order of
delivery for the officer in charge."

"You are very kind, General, and I thank you not only for Miss
Brandon, but for myself," said Ruth.

Never before had the people living along Hanover Street seen such a
spectacle as that a few minutes later,--a sergeant in advance, two
soldiers bearing a rebel officer, worn and wasted by disease, his life
ebbing away, and two ladies looking anxiously to see if the flickering
life would last a little longer.

In Tom's chamber the soiled uniform was removed, the matted hair laid
back, the parched lips moistened, the unconscious invalid clothed in
linen white and clean. A doctor came, bowed his ear to Robert's breast
to catch the beating of the heart, and mois