E AC1 TV 
 
 COL. GEORGE WASHINGTON FLOWERS 
 MEMORIAL COLLECTION 
 
 DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 DURHAM, N. C. 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 W. W. FLOWERS 
 
 m 
 
 JOSEPH RUZICKA 
 BOOKBINDERS 
 
 BALTIMORE. MO. 
 CWfcENSBOWO.NC. 
 WASHINGTON. O.C 
 

 - 
 
 
 
 
TXI TC. 
 
 BRITISH PARTIZAN: 
 
 TALE OF THE OLDEN TIME. 
 
 BY A LADY OF SOUTH CAROLINA 
 
 m:acost, OA.. 
 BURKE, BOYKIN k COMPANY 
 
 1804. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
 
 BURKE, BOYKIN A CO., 
 
 in the office of the Clerk of the District Court of Southern Georgia. 
 
THE FLOWERS COLLECTION 
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 
 The following beautiful Novelette appeared originally in the 
 pages of the "Augusta 3firror, n a literary periodical published 
 in Augusta, Georgia, some twenty-five years ago, and for which 
 it was written by its gifted author, a young lady of South Caro- 
 lina, in competition for a prize offered by the publisher for the 
 best romance founded on incidents in the revolutionary history of 
 Georgia and South Carolina: Through the medium of the " Mir* 
 ror" it acquired a popularity at the time only limited by the 
 circulation of that periodical, and what was remarkable in that 
 day of our. literary as well as commercial, if not political, vas- 
 salage to the North, it elicited the most flattering encomiums 
 from the Northern literary journals — the "Knickerbocker" declaring 
 that it approached more nearly to- the style and genius of Sir 
 "Walter Scott, than any novel that had yet been written this 
 side of the Atlantic. To meet the demand for the story an edi- 
 tion was printed in book form, only a small portion of which, 
 however, reached the public, the greater part of the edition hav- 
 ing beeu destroyed while in sheets by the flood which inundated 
 Augusta in 1840. Circumstances prevented the publication of a 
 second edition of the book, and in a few years the " British 
 Partizan," at first so much sought for, had passed out of print, 
 and in time out of the memory of the public. In reproducing 
 it now from the pages of perhaps the only copy of the ''Mirror" 
 extant, the publishers are actuated not less by a high apprecia- 
 tion of its literary merits, than by the belief that it is a story 
 peculiarly suited to the times in which we live. It is a tale of 
 true love, wrought out amid the stirring scenes and harsh vicis- 
 situdes of partizan strife, in which the actors are the representa- 
 tives of real characters, whose aspirations and passions, whose- 
 virtues and vices, trials and sufferings, triumphs and misfortunes, 
 are developed and portrayed in an ideal history of intenso dra- 
 matic interest. 
 
 27fi4fin 
 
4 TO THE RFADtiR. 
 
 But it is not our desire to forestall tl>e judgment of the reader, 
 r to anticipate the pleasure which we feel ia in store for him. 
 /ne remark more, and we leave the reader to judge for himself 
 how far we are correct in our partial estimation of the author. 
 The "British Partisan" was her first literary effort. Quite 
 young at the time, her first essay in the world of letters gave 
 promise of a literary fame second to that of no female writer of 
 America. But a second story — shorter but of equal merit — enti- 
 tled "The Rencontre," also published in the "Mirror" was her 
 last. In the very beginning of what must have been a most 
 brilliant and successful career as a writer of fiction, circumstance* 
 induced in her a resolve, from a conscientious motive, forever to 
 renounce a field of usefulness for which she was so pre-eminently 
 endowed. 
 
 Reader, as she leads you, as with the wand of an encluintress 
 through this beautiful romance of "the olden time" — as by the 
 way you dwell in ecstacy over her charming landscapes so viv- 
 idly set before the imagination, or with the mind's eye look 
 upon the varied characters with which she has peopled the 
 world of her creation — so real, so life-like — and take to your heart 
 tfie sound philosophy and elevated moral sentiment — not preached 
 to you in chapters, but which like gems are strewn at random 
 throughout these pages — you will, wo feel confident, unite with 
 us in the regret that one so gi r ted has not given to the litera- 
 ture of her country and the world, the fruit of her maturer 
 years. "W. T. T. 
 
 Savannah, June, 1&6*. 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 u Sweet Tiviotl on thy silver tide 
 
 The glaring bale-fires blaze no more ; 
 No longer steel-clad warriors ride 
 
 Along thy wild and willow' d shore ; 
 Where'er thou wind'st, by dale or hill, 
 
 Still all is peaceful, all is still : 
 As if thy waves, since time was born, 
 
 Had only heard the shepherd's reed, 
 Nor started at the bugle horn." Scott. 
 
 " I fall into the trap laid for me ; 
 Yet, who would have suspected an ambush 
 Where I was taken ? Shakspeare. 
 
 Who has seen and has not admired our beautiful 
 Savannah? It is ever lovely, whether dashing in 
 light ripples and foaming falls among the flowery 
 precipices and purple rocks of Habersham, or 
 whether spreading its broad bosom to the sea, still 
 and wide, where the shadows of painted barges and 
 smoking engines pass over it like the illusions of 
 the enchanters mirror. But in no place, perhaps, is 
 its beauty more striking, than where its placid current 
 stretches along the noble border of the District of 
 Abbeville, its loveliness being there hallowed by the 
 B 
 
 276456 
 
10 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 deepest and softest spirit of repose, which no. sound 
 is known to disturb, save the gush of song from a 
 thousand birds, or the occasional recurrence of the 
 wild and pensive notes of a boatman's bugle. For 
 many miles below the " Point" where the "Broad 
 River" of Georgia adds its tributary honors to the 
 stream, nothing can exceed the beauty of the banks, 
 whose massive foliage, relieved against a deep blue 
 sky, bend over with graceful elegance, and dip their 
 soft, shadowy archings in the untroubled waters. 
 The Georgia bank is high, and mostly rugged ; but 
 on the other side is a vast extent of rich and fertile 
 lowland, presenting at the time of which we are 
 writing, a thick wooded level, where the Indian girl 
 might well have loved to sit and weave her baskets 
 of cane and bamboo, relieving her light task with 
 songs, and twining chaplets of flowers. But even 
 at that time, the song of the Indian girl had long 
 ceased to vibrate in the echoes of that answering 
 river. Her native valleys had resounded to the 
 white man's axe, and her canes and flowers were 
 crushed beneath the- white man's foot. Poor child 
 of the forest ! In another land — if thy fabled Para- 
 dise is no dream — perhaps thou still wanderest by 
 the semblance of that beloved and gentle river — 
 happy that thou dost not see the reality ; for to thee 
 and to the nymphs of that stream there is no longer 
 a home in its sun-burnt and rifled valleys. The 
 genius of civilization has trodden upon thy sacred 
 haunts, and with the materials of thy poetic inspira- 
 tion built up altars to insatiate wealth — teaching this 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 11 
 
 lesson : that whilst we are improving on the natural 
 or physical creation, we lose in beautiful simplicity 
 what we gain in art. 
 
 But, at the time of which we write, the "settle- 
 ments" were principally remote from the river. A 
 few families only had fixed their residences on its 
 margin, and held by grant all those rich lands which 
 have since proved of such invaluable consequence. 
 The war of the revolution had been long raging, 
 but the thunder of its cannon had only been heard 
 in this remote situation, like the rumblings of a far 
 off tempest; and though some of the most gallant 
 spirits among the inhabitants of this district of 
 country had gone to defend the Southern frontier, 
 the many remained quietly at home, expecting that 
 the storm would have spent its force ere it reached 
 them. The event proved that these theorists were 
 but little read in the politics of their own society ; 
 for the spirit of rude rebellion and love of plunder, 
 owing to the divided interests and jealousies of a 
 people so lately thrown together, without law, or 
 attachment to bind them, had prepared Carolina for 
 those scenes of fierce contention and domestic horror, 
 . which stand without a parallel in the page of history. 
 
 But man, in the pride of his heart, seldom values 
 the " evidence of things unseen, " and the miseries 
 of the war which was deluging the Northern colonies 
 with blood had not as vet visited the senses of the 
 Southrons. It was owing to this circumstance, per- 
 haps, that the hatred of the British was at this time 
 less violent here than elsewhere. Their aggressions 
 
12 THE BRITISH PARTIZAX, 
 
 had been spared, and when at length they came 
 with flatteries and promises, and unfurled the blood- 
 stained , banner of the mother county, they reaped 
 their full reward of treachery and sedition. 
 
 It was during the deceitful calm immediately pre- 
 ceding these convulsions, that a youth was, one bright 
 morning, wending his way up the eastern bank of 
 t]je river, in the vicinity of the scenery which we 
 have just sketched. He was passing over ground 
 which is now hallowed and memorable ; for every 
 particle of it is peopled with the invisible shadows 
 of an acted romance. But the recollection of these 
 scenes of horrid interest, is gradually fading away 
 with the witnesses, and will soon exist only in the 
 whispered traditions of their grand-children 5 yet 
 there are some now living, who will recognize in 
 the portrait which we are about to draw, the original 
 of one, who, by deeds of wild and unequalled 
 prowess, incorporated his name with the scenery of 
 his native district, though it deserved no lasting 
 record on the historic marble of his country. 
 
 The muse of history has woven her chaplets for 
 the valiant and noble — she has even given to dishon- 
 orable fame the names of some of those, 
 
 " Whose treason, like a deadly blight, 
 Came o'er the counsels of the brave;" 
 
 but how many, both noble and ignoble, have gone 
 down " unhonored and unsung, " their memory and 
 deeds alike forgotten, except in its private records of 
 affection or dislike ! 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 13 
 
 There was at this time, however, nothing in the 
 appearance of that youth, which could warrant the 
 supposition of his future dark and wild career. His 
 mien was gay and careless, and he whistled merrily, 
 as he pushed with a light step, bold and free, through 
 the patches of cultivated grounds and thickets of 
 matted vines and canes, which in these degenerate 
 days would be deemed impervious to anything but 
 an Indian warrior or a rattlesnake. There was a 
 determination in his step which bespoke a resolution 
 that had never been " sicklied o'er by the pale cast of 
 thought." It seemed rather the promptness of 
 eager and untamed spirit, acting upon a mind natu- 
 rally haughty, and impatient of restraint. There 
 certainly was a princely superiority in his manner, 
 as of one born to command, which would have 
 seemed strange in a rude untutored child of the 
 American forest, but that nature confines not her 
 gifts to birth or station. The wild flower expands 
 with greater luxuriance than that which is pent up 
 if the gardens «of princes — and the tall, almost 
 gigantic person of this youth, in the power of its 
 fullness and strength, and *the beauty of its free, 
 unrestrained gracefulness, might have shamed the 
 kingly court of an Alexander amid the flower of its 
 Athletce. His garments, though rude, were worn 
 with a native elegance worthy of his aristocratic 
 bearing; and the manner in which a pair of silver 
 buckles drew his small clothes tightly round the 
 knees, displayed no common degree of vanity m in 
 those manly and graceful proportions. His neck 
 
 B* 
 
14 THE BRITISH PARTISAN. 
 
 bore further evidence of mighty strength — it might 
 have become a gladiator — and it appeared broad 
 and fair where the daflv brown hair curled up over 
 the edge of a fur cap thrown carelessly on one side 
 of the head. The tout ensemble of the youth might 
 have been considered foppish, if his features had not 
 been so manly in expression, so classically beautiful : 
 the broad open brow ; the eye, full, clear and hazel ; 
 the finely curved lip, so proudly daring. But his 
 eye, though hazel, had none of the soft character- 
 istics of that color ; it was fierce and sparkling, and 
 seemed to aid the expression of scorn and daring, 
 which mingled so strangely with the good humor 
 that the power, and strength, and glory of early 
 youth had settled into joyousness on his lips ; for 
 despite his mighty strength and stature, he was 
 scarcely eighteen. His cheek, though slightly em- 
 browned by exposure to an ardent climate, still 
 retained much of its youthful softness. 
 
 It was early summer, and the brightness and 
 bloom on the face of nature, seemed indeed to testif}^ 
 how much " this was fashioned for a perfect world " 
 From the thick branches of the lovely syringa and 
 clustering snow-drops, and from the leafy arbors, 
 suspended like castles in mid-air, on the dark majes- 
 tic trees, the sweet birds were sending up one unani- 
 mous exhalation of love. The white flowers were 
 covered with bees and butterflies, and above their 
 buzzing was heard the monotonous whirl of the 
 tiny humming bird, as it pierced its slender bill into 
 the rich horn-like flowers of the trumpet vine, which 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 15 
 
 hung in festoons from the highest trees. Occasion- 
 all y, through an opening, might be caught a glimpse 
 of the river, just touched by the morning sunbeam ; 
 and in its stiTl retreats, the silver trout would ever 
 and anon break the surface of the water into rings 
 of circling eddies. It was indeed a scene of harmony 
 and peace, and it spoke to the heart of the youth 
 with a familiar voice. As he advanced, with the 
 dews and flowers falling around him, he appeared to 
 feel an accustomed delight in the freshness of that 
 early hour, which seemed to excite in him a S}^mpa- 
 thy for the vilest thing that could also enjoy it; for 
 when the lazy moccasin crept slowly from beneath 
 the fallen limbs in his path, or the wily rattlesnake 
 glided off amidst the damp grass, he turned smilingly 
 away and harmed them not. Sometimes he would 
 surprise a humming bird in its flower-cup for the 
 pleasure of restoring it to liberty, and once or twice 
 he stopped to level the light rifle, which he carried 
 in his hand, at a bird perched upon a high bough — 
 the bird would wing its flight unharmed, but the 
 bullet had grazed the spot where it rested. He was 
 too happy to take life wantonly, but he prided him- 
 self as a marksman. And true it is that there was 
 not another as sure of eye and steady of aim in all 
 that country ; for, like Hudibras l in logic, with his 
 bullet he could 
 
 "Divide 
 A hair 'twixt south and south-west side. " 
 
 He walked on for some hours, and the sun was high 
 above his head, when emerging from a thick copse 
 
16 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 of wood he came upon a smooth green plain, and 
 before him lay the little village of Vienna — if five 
 or six houses, rising in two rows from the river's 
 bank, might be so called. On the border of this 
 plain, where it slopes gently down to the river, stood 
 a little vine-covered cottage, the refuge of a French 
 •'migrant, one of the many who fled from intolerance 
 in their own country, hoping to find peace and the 
 quiet worship of God in the shades of the great new 
 world. Vain hope, alas! But as yet the emigrant 
 had been undisturbed in his humble avocations, and 
 was enabled to support, by the steady -industry of 
 his class, himself and an only child. This child 
 planted his choice flowers, sang his favorite songs, 
 and enlivened the little cottage with all the pretty 
 playfulness and charming gayety of the peasant girls 
 of *her own Ausonia. She could not have been hap- 
 pier had she been born a princess; for the wants of 
 a false refinement had never invaded that humble 
 dwelling with the longings, the discontents, and the 
 jealousies of a vain ambition. The homage of one 
 fond heart was enough for the simple wishes of 
 Annette Bruyesant. 
 
 Thither our hero now directed his steps, lie had, 
 from earliest boyhood, marked this fair flower for 
 his own, and with a gallantry which seemed to keep 
 pace with his rapid growth, he had sought her love. 
 No hand but his could gather her fruits and flowers 
 from -the wildest bough, and certainly no arm so 
 well as his could swing the light canoe with such 
 joyous rapidity along their native stream. But the 
 
THE BRITISH PAKTIZAN. 17 
 
 gay devotions of the boy had changed into the com- 
 paratively silent entrancement of the lover, and 
 many and many were the days that under the pre- 
 text of hunting, he had wandered on and on, until 
 he found himself seated with his pretty Annette, by 
 the cottage on the lawn. 
 
 "Oh, Ralph, I'm so glad you have come ! " said 
 the young girl, running forward to meet him, and 
 then, as if ashamed of her eagerness, she stopped 
 and hid her face in her hands. 
 
 "Are you so? " exclaimed he in the low, concen- 
 trated tones of impassioned love ; and in the next 
 moment he stood on the threshold, had caught the 
 blushing girl in his arms, and pressed a saucy kiss 
 upon her lips. They were so like twin cherries, an 
 anchorite might have been tempted to the deed. 
 
 " Ralph Cornet ! " said she angrily ; for what 
 young lady can bear to be kissed before witnesses ? — 
 it is so much like assuming power over her. "Ralph 
 Cornet, who gave you authority to take such liberj 
 ties with me ? I shan't submit to it — I won,'t !" 
 
 "Who gave me authority?" repeated Ralph, mis- 
 chievously*^ " why, yourself, dearest, when you 
 promised on that beautiful evening to be Mrs. Ralph 
 Cornet. Don't you remember, as we sat by the wil- 
 lows on the river ? Oh, I have been so happy ever 
 since! And say, father," continued he, as Annette 
 turned off from him, " did you not give her to me ? " 
 
 "Mafoif" answered the old Frenchman, in a 
 ludicrous mixture of French and broken English, 
 " she would be sorri vcri moch to dispute of dat, my 
 
18 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 son — ha! ha! ha! mais c'est egal ; ncvare mind, 
 Ralph — de y on g demoiselles know alway, quand elks 
 sont jolies. JS^est-ce ^>as, Annie!" 
 
 Annette pouted her pretty lips, and plaeed herself 
 with her back to the company, affecting to resume 
 her work, but really with the intention of hiding 
 the smile which she could not suppress. Ralph 
 Cornet pursued her averted face with a smile which 
 was wickedly fraught with the consciousness of power. 
 
 " Nay, now, Annie, don't be so prudish," said he, 
 coaxingly. " I beg your pardon for it. But didn't 
 you say you were glad to see me ? " 
 
 " Well, Ralph, " she replied, looking up gracefully 
 in his face, " true enough ; but you did not wait to 
 hear all. The fact is, the village is full of strangers, 
 and it was only last night that one of them came here 
 dressed so fine and talked a great deal of nonsense 
 
 to me, such as I don't choose to repeat, Ralph 
 
 Oh, it all amounts to nothing, " said she, hastity, as 
 she saw the rising choler of her lover, "but I 
 thought I should feel better if you were here. " 
 
 "He shall pay for it!" muttered Ralph between 
 his clenched teeth. 
 
 i' How, Ralph ? " exclaimed the girl with an in- 
 credulous laugh, "you wouldn't challenge a British 
 officer ! " 
 
 ■" Ha ! " almost shouted Ralph, starting from his 
 chair, "British! — did you say British'? " 
 
 " Oui, " replied the old man, "Jest lien vrais — dey 
 come here wid de compaigne of light horse^ — dey 
 look so fine — mais! dey scare de poor peoples half 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 19 
 
 out of all clere sens. Dey drink tout le vin — dey 
 talk beaucoup — dcy sing. mon Dieu ! Que des 
 British sont mediants ! " 
 
 Kalph Cornet sat for some time in deep thought. 
 u Ah, if I had but fifty men !" said he, as if thinking 
 aloud. 
 
 " Eh! quoi? Vat you shall say, Kalph?" asked 
 the old man. 
 
 " Oh, nothing, " replied he, " only I was thinking 
 what fine sport it would be to drive these rascals 
 from the country. " 
 
 u Oui, oui, " said the old man, impatiently, " if it 
 could be done. But dey come here temps en temps — 
 dey grow strong, veri strong. " 
 
 Kalph Cornet rose and walked the floor, and at 
 that moment a party of four or five men were seen 
 approaching the house. "They wore the British uni- 
 form, and their swords and epaulets, as they glistened 
 in the sun, filled the fancy of the old man with 
 images of horror. 
 
 u mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, with 
 -clasped hands, " nous sommes perdu — helas! I come 
 here to find de peace, an' I shall find de trouble. 
 Mais je sais mourir. Fuyer ! my son, fuyer ! " 
 
 "Be quiet, father," said Kalph, who, with his 
 rifle in hand, stood in the door, a very imposing pic- 
 ture of resolute defiance. 
 
 The party halted within reach of Ralph's rifle. 
 " Hallo ! there, young man ! " exclaimed the 
 leader ; " in the King's name, what do you mean ? 
 You will not shoot at friends, I hope ? " 
 
20 THE BRITISH PARTIZAK. 
 
 Ralph dropped the end of his rifle to the ground, 
 and the officer advancing entered the house. Seat- 
 ing himself without ceremony, he cast a hasty glance 
 round the apartment, and a shade of disappointment 
 seemed to pass over his pleasant features; but it was 
 succeeded by an expression of curiosity and surprise 
 as his eye fixed upon the fine, manly form of Ralph 
 Cornet, who stood yet leaning on his small silver- 
 mounted rifle, regarding the scene with an eager and 
 dangerous excitement. There was something noble 
 and pleasing in the aspect of the British officer, and 
 to Ralph's unpractised eye there could be nothing 
 more seducing than the grace with which the glitter- 
 ing sword and epaulets sat upon his elegant form. 
 The penetrating officer observed this effect on the 
 artless countenance of the young man, and turning 
 to the old Frenchman, who sat in sullen submission, 
 with his hands folded before him,, he said : 
 
 " Well, old man, is this your son ? Faith, he's a 
 fine fellow; and I'll be sworn he has spirit enough, 
 too. " 
 
 " Aye, aye, and true enoff, " cried the old man, 
 drily. "Mais, he not be my son, for all dat. " 
 
 "Ah!" replied the officer, pleasantly, "a lover, 
 then, for your pretty daughter, I suppose. I'll wager 
 my chapeau that she does not run from him ! But, " 
 continued he, seeing the frown that was gathering 
 on Ralph's countenance, "I beg your pardon, young 
 man • we all have our weaknesses, and I confess that 
 a pair of the finest black eyes that I have ever seen, 
 drew me here this morning. Mais nHmporte, as our' 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN". 21 
 
 old Frenchman here would sa}^ ; we all have our 
 crosses in love as in war; and, besides, this is no 
 time to play with mammets, or to tilt with lips ! 
 However, I suppose you never read Shakspeare? " 
 
 " I am not much accustomed to reading, " said 
 Ralph, surprised out of his proud reserve, by the 
 frank and courteous bearing of the young officer, 
 " but when it comes to riding, running, wrestling, or 
 fighting, there is not the man in this country whom 
 Ralph Cornet fears to face, hand to hand. " 
 
 "Ah ! " I knew you were a brave, fellow. What 
 a shame it is that you should sit here idle, when there 
 is so much fine work doing in the country. You 
 should wear a sword and plume now, and command 
 a fine body of troopers. How devilish handsome 
 you would look in regimentals ! " 
 
 Ralph's eye sparkled as it caught the gaze of the 
 stranger — 
 
 "I should like it of all things, " said he, "if I 
 came by it honestly. But " 
 
 " You shall have it, by Jove ! " interrupted the 
 officer, eagerly ; " you shall have it ! With a few 
 more such as you, we shall frighten the silly rebels 
 to obedience, I hope, for I hate bloodshed. " 
 
 " Grand Dieu ! " exclaimed the old man, quoting a 
 passage from scripture in his original tongue, 
 " Ralph, tires tes pieds des pieds des mediants ! n 
 
 Ralph had been conversant with the language from 
 
 infancy, owing to its prevalence among the French 
 
 settlers in this district, who clung with fondness to 
 
 this last relic of their native country. The officer, 
 
 c 
 
22 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 turning to the speaker, replied in an elevated voice : 
 "Old man, I am spreading no snares for my 
 young friend here. A little reflection will show you 
 that it is the best thing he can do for his country. 
 What is the use of resistance ? Our arms are victo- 
 rious everywhere. Savannah is ours — Augusta is 
 ours — and Charleston, your capital, will shortly be 
 in our hands. The sooner we put down the few 
 rebels left, the sooner will peace be restored to the 
 country, and much misery spared. " 
 
 The old man shook his head, and groaned audibly. 
 But the officer had spoken with enthusiasm ; perhaps 
 he had deceived himself into the belief of his own 
 sophisms, or thought that the dignity of his cause 
 justified the means which he employed in its service; 
 perhaps he knew that he was deceiving. But alas 
 for poor KalphI His youthful reason, which had 
 never been taught to raise its eagle eyes to the sun 
 of truth, was blinded by the splendid illusions con- 
 jured up by this master spirit, and his ardent imagi- 
 nation had already caught something of the ambition 
 which burned in the eyes of the English officer. 
 They were both so. young, and congenially proud 
 and fierce. But Kalph Cornet thought of his aged 
 father whom it was his duty to protect — of his 
 brother, absent in the American army, of Annette ! 
 That thought was last and dearest, and he turned 
 coldly away from the fascinating gaze of the stranger. 
 The British officer was not a man to be easily 
 .turned from his purpose. Though young, his well 
 educated and disciplined mind had an order and 
 
THE BRITISH PARTTZAN. 23 
 
 design to which he trusted for swaying the fierce 
 natural temperament of this unsophisticated youth ; 
 for he knew that even the lion may be tamed by the 
 power of the mind. He rose from his seat, and 
 laying one hand familiarly on the shoulder of the. 
 young American, with the other he took the rifle and i 
 examined ft with the eye of a connoisseur. 
 
 "By heavens, it is a fine weapon, " said he; "I, 
 did not expect to see anything like it in this new r 
 world. It reminds me of such treasures as I have : 
 seen in the armory of England. " 
 
 "It has slain many a deer in your parks, " said': 
 Ralph, smiling. "My father is an Englishman, and 
 did not come to this country without transporting ; 
 some such treasures as you speak of. " 
 
 There was a slight show of boasting in this speech, . 
 which gave the officer a new key to the heart of 
 Ralph. He smiled, and said complacently : 
 
 " Well, we must be better friends. But tell me \ 
 what is the most you can do with this beautiful little ; 
 thunderer. "' 
 
 "Do? " said Ralph, archly, "I expect you would 
 scarcely like to stand the trial of all I can do with 
 it. " 
 
 " Oh, I'm a fine shot myself, " answered the i 
 other. "I should like to try a mark with you.. 
 Pray, how often can you strike the centre of a target, 
 at a fair distance? " 
 
 " I can come twenty times within the eye, without 
 missing, " said Ralph. 
 
24 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 "Gad! then you can bring down a bird on the 
 wing? " 
 
 " Yes, or drive the feather from the top of a pole 
 fifty feet high. " 
 
 "Fore Heaven! you are the very man for me. 
 Come, I shall stay here a few days, and we mast 
 make a trial of our skill. If you do not go with me 
 now, I shall say that you cannot make good your 
 boast. " 
 
 What entreaties or commands could not have done, 
 this threat effected ; for honor, with limited and 
 ungoverned minds, is ever inconsistent. It halts at 
 small matters and oversteps the greater. Thus 
 Ralph Cornet to preserve his character as a marks- 
 man, betrayed himself into the hands of the British, 
 even as the bird goes blindly into the share that is 
 set for it. Ralph knew not that he was going to his 
 ruin, for with a cheerful smile he promised the old 
 man that he would return that evening. In the easy 
 familiarity of the. stranger, he had forgotten that 
 they were foes, and when he had joined his society, 
 the gay life which the British affected to lead, added 
 to the flattering promises of the officer, completely 
 ensnared his youthful imagination, and he forgot his 
 promise of returning to the cottage. If he had felt 
 any regrets, the pleasant and accomplished Colonel 
 Ferguson was just the man to dissipate them. He 
 treated him as a friend ; for there was in the frank 
 bearing and undoubted bravery of Ralph, a dignity 
 he was obliged to respect— but he left him no time 
 for thought. For many days the British were seen 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 25 
 
 riding through the neighborhood in light parties, 
 and ever was Ralph Cornet mounted on a beautiful 
 black horse, his own matchless Rover, by the side of 
 the English Colonel, who entertained him with the 
 
 ^' Pomp and circumstance of glorious war, " 
 
 without any of its concomitant evils. Perhaps being 
 young and enthusiastic, he knew them not himself. 
 
 One day the British disappeared altogether, and 
 Ralph Cornet was absent for the first, time from his 
 native woods. 
 
 C* 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Oh, she had yet the task to learn 
 How often woman's heart must turn 
 To feed upon its own excess 
 Of deep, yet passionate tenderness ; 
 How much of grief the heart must prove, 
 That yields a sanctuary to love." L. E. L. 
 
 M Oh, namlet, what a falling off was there 1 " 
 
 Shakspearb. 
 
 Poor Annette, the tender and feeling girl, wept 
 the loss of her lover with the greatest bitterness, 
 because, for the firSt time in his life, he had deceived 
 her. Ah, those only who have permitted the stream 
 of their affections to wear for itself a deep and pow- 
 erful channel, can tell with what a sickening con- 
 vulsion its whole weight is thrown back upon the 
 heart, and how worn and dreary seems the course 
 which it has hitherto pursued I In that first moment 
 of exquisite anguish, a lifetime is compressed. The 
 earth has nothing left to compensate for the trusting 
 fondness of the heart's early innocence, or to return 
 its withered pulses to their freshness again. The 
 spring may bloom in vain, and the summer's sweets 
 be felt not ; for the soul can cast its own dark; shadows 
 over the fairest sky. 
 
 Thus thought and felt Annette, as she sat one 
 evening on the green lawn before the cottage door. 
 The light, yellow leaves of the beech trees were fall- 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 27 
 
 ing softly around her, as the breeze of Autumn 
 
 whispered through them 
 
 •I 
 " In cadence low, a melancholy sound. *' 
 
 The river rolled within ten steps of her feet, washing 
 the edge of the grassy slope on which she sat,' and 
 beautifully reflecting the rich masses of purple clouds 
 which the evening sun had skirted with gold, as it 
 shed through their irregular openings a soft luxurious 
 light. 
 
 But the scene had never been so painful to An- 
 nette ; for all the fond recollections of her whole life, 
 from its glad infancy, were connected with it. And 
 now, as the stream of memory flowed back upon her 
 soul, its waters were- bitter as the fabled Achem. 
 Her lips were compressed with an effort of grief, and 
 her eyes fixed in abstraction on the western bank of 
 the river, which presented one dazzling array of gem- 
 like hues; for the slight frosts of Autumn had just 
 tinted the maple and birch with the ruby and topaz, 
 whilst the emerald oaks and evergreens — the latter 
 now and then laden with scarlet berries — and the 
 purple wild grape, dipped their nodding plumes into 
 the clear lake-like stillness of the water. But An- 
 nette's thoughts were far away, in search of him who 
 had made the soul of this scene for her, and who, by 
 his defection, had spread a pall over its beauties. So 
 truthfully has a sweet poetess felt, when she said 
 
 "It is our feelings give the tone 
 To whatsoever we gaze upon. " 
 
 Yet Annette wept not so. much the absence of her 
 
28 THE BRITISH PAKTIZAN. 
 
 lover as what she imagined to be his honor's apos- 
 tacy. The soft exterior of the French girl covered 
 a heart high and proud, which Ralph Cornet had in 
 some measure formed in his own likeness — so natu- 
 rally do proud hearts assimilate — but being more 
 dispassionate, and with less ambition, she had clearer 
 views of honor than he ; and in the uncertainty and 
 mystery in which he had left her, she trembled with 
 horror at the thought — than which there can be none 
 more deeply fraught with bitterness — of finding the 
 object of her supreme affection unworthy of that 
 love. The voice of fame was already busy with the 
 name of Ralph "Cornet. Several times had armed 
 men been to the cottage in search of him, and curses, 
 mingled with the word traitor, sometimes came to the 
 ear of Annette. But she scorned the accusation 
 with indignant unbelief; for the fond girl deemed 
 not that the mind which she had ever looked up to 
 as a master spirit, could be so warped from its native 
 nobleness. Time wore on, and doubts, fearful 
 doubts, forced themselves upon her mind.. Why 
 should he absent himself from her? and that, too, at 
 a time of such danger ; for the tories had began their 
 nefarious works of pillage and oppression. Why 
 deprive her so suddenly of his confidence? 
 
 As Annette sat gazing thus on the opposite bank 
 of the river, entangling herself more and more in a 
 maze of wildering and troubled thoughts, her atten- 
 tion was arrested by something moving among the 
 bushes, and she thought she perceived the figure of 
 a man swinging from a bough over a little narrow 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN". 29 
 
 inlet where the high bank opened like the jaws of a 
 crocodile. Presently the water seemed to be shaken 
 in that still retreat, and a canoe emerged thence and 
 shot rapidly' across the stream, the feathery bark 
 seeming scarcely to require an effort of the vigorous 
 arm that impelled it. The figure which appeared 
 was dressed in the British uniform, and a tall plume 
 added to the giant reflection of his person, which the 
 lengthened shades of evening threw on the broad 
 mirror of the river. His coat, which was more than 
 usually ornamented with gold lace and buttons, was 
 turned off at the sleeves and collar with crimson vel- 
 vet, "and a sash of the same, very finely embroidered, 
 girded a sword to a waist of strong but graceful de- 
 lineations. 
 
 Annette rose and leaned eagerly forward. The 
 hat, with its nodding feather, was drawn far over his 
 brow, so as nearly to conceal his face. But could 
 she be mistaken in that form ? It was he ! 
 
 The heart of the poor girl throbbed with contend- 
 ing emotions : love, joy, fear, contended there with 
 a violence that was too much for its strength, and 
 sinking powerless, into, her seat, she covered her face 
 with her hands, and wept as if that heart was break- 
 ing. In the meantime Ralph Cornet had sprung to 
 the bank and knelt beside her. 
 
 "Annie, my love! — my Own Annie! What, 
 what is the matter ? " he asked in tones of the deepest 
 concern. 
 
 But Annie wept more bitterly than before. 
 
 "Gracious Heavens!" exclaimed he, in alarm. 
 
30 THE BRITISH PARTIZAX. 
 
 "has anything really happened, Annette? Is your 
 father ill ? — or has any one " 
 
 "No, no, no," interrupted the weeping girl. 
 "But you, Ralph — how can you ask that question ? 
 Were you not my all? — and have you not ruined 
 yourself and me ? " 
 
 "My own darling, precious Annie I " said the 
 youth, as he placed his arm around her waist, and 
 drew her near him. " How can you say so ? Do I 
 not love you as much, yea, a thousand times more 
 than I ever did ! What can distress you so ? " 
 • Annette's cheek flushed high with unwonted 
 energy, as she sprung from his embrace, and standing 
 a few paces from him, -she pointed to the plumed 
 hat which lay on the grass with the last ray of the 
 evening sun sparkling in its jeweled clasp — 
 
 " Ralph Cornet, what does that mean? " she asked 
 in a firm tone. 
 
 "Mean, Annette?" replied Ralph, a little con- 
 fusedly, " why, simply that — that I am a British 
 officer ! " 
 
 For the first time in his life his eyes sank beneath 
 the bright glance of hers. 
 
 "Then what they say of you is true. You aided 
 Ferguson in raising the tories in this neighborhood. 
 You have accepted a commission under him, and you 
 are " — she continued with rapid energy, whilst her 
 whole frame quivered with emotion — "you are a 
 traitor to your country ! " 
 
 " There lives not the man who dare say that to 
 me ! " replied Ralph, proudly. " They who tell you 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZA]*. 31 
 
 « 
 
 these things, Annette, are no less traitors to their 
 country than I ; they have destroj^ed its peace and 
 happiness by spreading rebellion over it; and if I 
 have accepted a commission in the king's army, it is 
 with the hope of restoring its tranquility. " 
 
 " Oh, Kalph ! " she exclaimed with clasped hands, 
 "how could your noble mind be blinded with these 
 falsehoods ? You, who have been taught to love the 
 very air of liberty ; you, who have a brother now 
 fighting for the cause of freedom ! " 
 
 "Freedom!" said Ralph, "and are we not all 
 fighting for the cause of freedom? But what think 
 you, my little politician, is the freest state, the rule of 
 one good master, or the lordship of a dozen petty 
 tyrants ? — for most like if we throw off the yoke of 
 the kin or such will be the case. " 
 
 Annette was not prepared to answer this equivo- 
 cal argument. All her senses were bound up in "the 
 one anguishing thought of Ralph's degradation. 
 She continued, without seeminsr to hear him — 
 
 " And then to be classed with the vile creatures 
 who go about stealing and mufclering. Oh, God ! to 
 be a lory ! " 
 
 "By Heaven!" he exclaimed, with a furious 
 gesture, " if I knew who had told you this !— - — 
 Annette, I am not one of the vile things you mention. 
 No, thank Heaven and my grandfather, I am rich 
 enough of myself. I ask favors of no man. But if 
 I was as poor and miserable as most of thoee abom- 
 inable wretches, J should no less abhor their hellish 
 spirit of gain. We fight for principle, but they 
 
82 THE BRITISH PARTIZAX. 
 
 have no motive save to enrieb themselves by plun- 
 dering. Do you not see the difference, Annette? " 
 
 " But you join them, Ralph ; you excite them — " 
 
 " Our design, " interrupted Ralph, quickly, " is to 
 engage them in a fair field, so as to prevent their 
 midnight pillage and murders." 
 
 A silence of some minutes ensued, only interrupt- 
 ed by the sobs of Annette. In that time Ralph 
 Cornet's countenance had changed from its first' ex- 
 pression of joy and triumph to one of sadness and 
 perplexity — just as some fair landscape is shaded 
 suddenly by a morning cloud. He knew not what 
 to do with this strange and unyielding humor of 
 Annette ; but seating himself at her feet, he took 
 her hand and endeavored to draw her thoughts from 
 that painful subject back to the peaceful scenes of 
 their happy and united childhood. It had a magical 
 effect. Her hand remained passive within his own, 
 and her e}'es were raised with a sort of half smile to 
 his face. They dwelt there fondly for a moment. She 
 had never seen him so handsome or so interesting as 
 uow, when he sat there in that brilliant uniform, un- 
 folding a chain of bright remembrances, every link of 
 which was riveted in her memory by thoughts of 
 him. Encouraged by that smile, Ralph Cornet pro- 
 ceeded, but no sooner did he begin to talk of the 
 future, than she withdrew her hand, and turning 
 away her head, she said, in a voice so low as scarcely 
 to be audible : 
 
 "Ralph Cornet, you must talk to- me no more of 
 love. " 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 33 
 
 " Not talk to you of love, dearest? " said he, pas- 
 sionately, " when this tongue refuses its office, then 
 shall I cease to talk to you of love. But surely, 
 now, you jest, Annette ; you did not mean to be so 
 cruel ? " 
 
 11 1 leave Heaven to decide which of us has been 
 the most cruel, " replied Annette, sadty. " I loved 
 you, Ralph Cornet. I cannot hate you now, though 
 I confess you have lowered yourself in my esteem. 
 But you have placed a barrier between us. You 
 will be despised and sought for by your countrymen. 
 Even now, your stay here is dangerous, if they should 
 discover you," Annette looked cound fearfully. 
 "And my father," she continued, with a quivering 
 lip, "who loved you so well before — he has forbid 
 me to mention your name in his presence." 
 
 " Ha I " is it come to that, already ? " cried Ralph, 
 starting to his feet w'th an angry gesture. But. 
 turning immediately to Annette, he said in a tone of 
 persuasive tenderness, "But you, Annette, will not 
 change, though all the world forsake me? I know 
 you will not. You will fly with me out of the reach 
 of that cruelty which distresses you so much ? " 
 
 " Never, Ralph — never will I forsake my father 
 while he lives. Besides, to follow you, would be 
 worse than rash ; for disguise it as you will, you 
 have but an outlaw's life to offer me, " 
 
 " No 1 no! Annette. I have plenty of resources; 
 and if these should fail me, my right arm will not. 
 I fear no danger, Go with me, my love, and then 
 let them come, one and all. " 
 D 
 
34 THE BRITISH PARTIZAtf. 
 
 <: Talk no more of it, Ralph Cornet. It cannot 
 be," interrupted Annette, in a voice so calm and 
 passionlt-ss, that it chilled even the eager enthusiasm 
 of the ardent lover ; and he felt that no word of his, 
 however warmly breathed, could prevail against the 
 Bober convictions of her judgment. 
 
 But, as if she had spoken the sentence which was 
 to separate them forever, Annette commenced weep- 
 ing afresh at the lonely and loveless future which 
 presented itself to her view, and by an irresistible 
 and impulsive weakness, her head drooped upon his 
 bosom. What a situation for Kalph Cornet ! The 
 night was fast approaching, and he had promised to 
 set his company, which lay on the other bank of the 
 river, in motion by dark. But how could he tear 
 himself from Annette? He knew that the faithful 
 girl had not aggravated the dangers which surrounded 
 him. He knew that every moment of his stay was 
 perilous. He knew that he could not prevail on her 
 to go with him ; indeed, he scarcely- wished that he 
 might do so ; for brave as he was, he trembled at 
 the hazards to which she might be exposed in a rude 
 and reckless camp. But it is true, though it is 
 strange, that love can beguile the heart of man of its 
 heaviest affliction ! Even in that moment he was 
 happy, most exquisitely happy. His arm was 
 wound around her waist, and his lips were bent to 
 hers in one long, long kiss of love. 
 
 But alas! 
 
 " How fleeting few are pleasure's moments I 
 The brightest still the fleetest "— 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 35 
 
 That moment of entrancement was interrupted by 
 the noise as of a struggle in the house behind them, 
 and the next instant the report of a pistol was heard. 
 
 11 My father ! oh, my father! " screamed Annette. 
 
 Ralph Cornet stayed to hear no more. He sprang 
 to the door, and bursting it open, stood with drawn 
 sword fronting a scene which was but too common in, 
 those days. The dim twilight discovered old BruyeV 
 sant stretched on the floor and a ruffian standing;; 
 with one foot on his breast, apparently deliberating/ 
 whether or not he should dash out his brains with the 
 butt end of a pistol which he held over him. The 
 next moment the uplifted arm fell powerless by hi* 
 side, and the wretch fled with a howl through the. 
 opposite door, where his two companions sat on: 
 their horses awaiting him. 
 
 This was one of the slightest effects which the- 
 false doctrines of Colonel Ferguson had produced in 
 that neighborhood. The country was in a crude and ; 
 uninformed state, ripe for sedition and outlawry. 
 Perhaps no where could have been found a greater 
 number of desperadoes than the extreme western 
 part of this district, aided by the Georgia side of the 
 river, afforded; men who eagerly accepted the favor" 
 of the British as an excuse for indulging their lawless 
 propensities. The few Whigs that had been left in- 
 die neighborhood were unable either to awe or 
 subdue them, because, like prowling wolves, thev 
 only left their hiding places in small parties and at 
 the dead hour of night, incited by the love of plun- 
 der, revenge, or wanton cruelty. Though the cottage 
 
36 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 of old Bruyesant could offer but little to tempt their 
 cupidity, lie was no less persecuted by them as being 
 an honest man, and an avowed Republican ; for, 
 notwithstanding his unprotected situation, the old 
 man had expressed himself very boldly on the true 
 side, a species of conduct which never failed to meet 
 the prompt vengeance of the tories. BesideB, Mr. 
 Bruyesant had once very harshly refused his daughter 
 to one of their number, and Ralph Cornet, though 
 he knew it not, saved his Annette from a worse fate 
 than she had ever yet anticipated. 
 
 That night Ralph reaped bitterly the first fruits of 
 the cause he had espoused. When he raised the 
 insensible form of the old man to place him on a 
 bed, his hand was dabbled with blood, and on pro- 
 curing a light, he found that the bullet which had 
 entered the arm had fractured the bone. Annette, 
 with her hands clasped, in speechless horror, knelt 
 by the bed-side, watching for the first glimpse of 
 returning life; but when it did return, it was with 
 the frenzy of madness. All night long the sufferer 
 was in a raging delirium, occasione.l by the fever 
 and anguish of his wound, and the spectre which 
 seemed to haunt his distorted fancy was Ralph 
 Cornet. Sometimes he called him by even endear- 
 ing name, and would seem to be warning him from 
 the brink of some dreadful precipice ; then his voice 
 w r ould sink into low and muttered curses, and he 
 reviled him with the epithete of villain, traitor, mur- 
 derer, and called upon Annette to swear that she 
 would never marry him. It was evident that Ralph 
 
THE BRITISH PAKTIZAtf. 37 
 
 was associated in his mind with the idea of his recent 
 assailants, for whenever he approached the bed-side 
 for the purpose of binding up thet^ound, the ravings 
 of the afflicted man would cease, and he would shrink 
 back, cowering and trembling with terror. 
 
 Groaning in spirit, Ralph Cornet sunk into a 
 remote corner of the room, and awaited the light of 
 day with the fever of impatience. Though he knew 
 that daylight would bring no peace of mind to him, 
 yet he felt oppressed by the darkness. 
 
 What a night was that for these two young lovers \ 
 They whose affections had been fanned into vital 
 existence by the wings of that " unknown seraph, " 
 which, it is said, can make a paradise of anj' spot on 
 earth, now found themselves together without the 
 power of receiving any comfort from the beloved 
 presence. Not one word of consolation or condo- 
 lence passed between them. There was something 
 so awful in that lonely night's watching by the side 
 of a maniac! 
 
 Wearied, pale, and motionless, Annette lay at her 
 father's feet, and closed her ears to shut out the 
 sounds of that awful laughing and gibbering, whence 
 reason's light had flown. The springs of hope and 
 comfort had dried within her; and Ralph Cornet, 
 dared not approach her, for he had none to offer.. 
 With his face buried in his hands, he sat apart 
 revolving his darkened and perplexing thoughts. 
 He had already broken his word to his men and to 
 his superior officer. They would move without him, 
 yet he was equally incapable of leaving Annette m, 
 
38 TUE BRITISH PARTIZAft 
 
 this forlorn situation, and of going to seek assistance 
 for her from his countrymen, for he would be rushing 
 to imprisonment or death. 
 
 Near the hour of morning, the old man, from 
 perfect exhaustion, fell asleep ; and rendered nervous 
 by the close air of the room and his unpleasant 
 thoughts, Ralph rose and opened the door which 
 looked out upon the river. 
 
 The first grey dawn of morning was rolling away 
 the mists of darkness which lay like a folded curtain 
 on the west, rendering just perceptible a thick vapor 
 from the river, which seemed to rest like a dark 
 column against the trees. As he stood watching its 
 slow and regular ascent; with the cool breeze of 
 morning blowing on his brow, Ralph Cornet con- 
 cluded his first lesson in reflection. During the 
 whole period of his happy life, he had never before 
 had cause for one thought beyond the present, and 
 his naturally strong mind had suffered from the 
 enervation of a thorough indulgence. But that one 
 night of experience had been to him more than years 
 of common life — such rapid strides can the mind 
 make under the stern proofs of adversity — and he 
 stood there "a wiser, if not a better man. " 
 
 But, in the meantime, a plot was in process of 
 formation against him. In the village of Vienna, 
 Lieutenant*Pickens had that night quartered a small 
 party of militia, which he was raising for the State. 
 At a very late hour a rap was given at the Lieuten- 
 ant's door, and he was informed that a British officer 
 
THK BKITISII PARTIZAN. 89 
 
 was at that time in the cottage of old Bruyesant, and 
 might become an easy prize. 
 
 When the door was opened the informant was 
 gone, but with the first light of morning the Lieuten- 
 ant proceeded cautiously to the cottage. A noise at 
 the door disturbed the reflections of Ralph Cornet — 
 
 " Who's there ? " he asked. 
 
 11 Friends, " was the reply. 
 
 Ralph hesitated. "They cannot know that 1 am 
 here," he said to himself, "and if tin* tories have 
 returned, I will not leave this spot. " 
 
 But what Was his surprise on opening the door, to 
 find himself confronting four men, whom in the im- 
 perfect light of morning, ho discovered to be in the 
 American uniform, and well armed. For a moment 
 they stood there motionless — the seekers and the 
 sought — and not a word was passed on either side. 
 But m that moment Ralph Cornet had resolved upon 
 what was to be done. Turning hastily to Annette, 
 he whispered — " Farewell ! " and seizing his hat and 
 sword, which lay on a chair, bounded through the 
 open door. 
 
 It was yet too early to distinguish features, but 
 his superior stature and the boldness of his move- 
 ments-had awakened his enemies to the truth. 
 
 " It is Kalph Cornet ! " passed from one to the 
 other, and then there was a rush on both sides of the 
 house. 
 
 " Shoot him I — shoot the d — d traitor! " were the 
 words that reached the ears of Annette Bruycsant, 
 as she lay in a half-stupefied bewilderment on the 
 
.40 THE BRITISH PART1ZAN. 
 
 bed. In a moment she comprehended the whole of 
 that fearful scene, and she sprang to the door with a 
 wild, terrific cry. Bat they had passed on, and as 
 shot after shot rang in her ears, the poor girl fell 
 senseless to the ground. 
 
 Ralph Cornet reached his canoe in safety, and the 
 thick fog favored his escape. His baffled pursuers 
 heard the dash of his oars, but they had no boat in 
 which to follow him, and they were obliged to limit 
 their revenge to the discharge of their pieces in that 
 direction. Ralph, however, contrived a feint to 
 deceive them, and his shout of triumph- reached them 
 from afar, where he had landed down the river. 
 
 When Annette opened her eyes she was lying on 
 a bed in the cottage, and a fair-haired, delicate young 
 man was bending over her, with an expression of much 
 concern on his intelligent features. A plain military 
 coat was buttoned tightly around his slender and grace- 
 ful figure, and a sword was buckled around his waist. 
 
 "Thank Heaven! you have recovered at , last, 
 Miss Bruyesant, " said he, drawing a long breath, as 
 of a person much relieved. "Your syncope was so 
 long and deep that I feared for 3'our life." 
 
 Annette looked up wildly. A feeling of painful 
 confusion thrilled her heart on seeing herself thus 
 watched by a stranger, and she covered her face, to 
 which the blood had rushed violently, with both her 
 hands. But as a recollection of the past events 
 dawned upon her mind, she lost all thoughts of her- 
 self— 
 
 M Is he — is he ? " she gasped. 
 
THE BRITISH PAKTlZAN. 41 
 
 "lie is safe, Miss Bruycsant, " said the stranger, 
 .soothingly. "'He has escaped us this time. God 
 only knows how much evil will ensue from it! n 
 
 "Thank God! O, thank my God!" she exclaimed, 
 fervently, as she half arose, and raised her eves and 
 clasped hands to Heaven. 
 
 The young man regarded her with a look of 
 mingled pity and admiration, as she remained for 
 some moments in this posture, with the silent tears 
 trickling down her pale cheeks. The whole truth of 
 her love for Cornet flashed upon his mind. 
 
 "Alas! young lady, " said he, "how much worthy 
 you are of a better fate! Has not this unfortunate 
 youth done enough to forfeit your esteem ? " 
 
 " He is so brave and noble, " said Annette, warmly. 
 " He saved my father's life last night, though he 
 knew that he was his bitterest enemy." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed the young officer in surprise, 
 and he looked round for the first time to where old 
 Bruycsant lay, yet in a profound sleep. " Something 
 must be done, " said he, when Annette had related 
 the scene of the past night/ "You cannot remain 
 here thus unprotected, Miss Bruycsant. " Then, 
 after a moment's pause, he continued: "I know a 
 friend's house where you will be kindly received. " 
 
 By his orders the soldiers prepared a litter, on 
 which they laid the still insensible form of the old 
 man. Wearied nature had sunk into a stupor, from 
 which it seemed impossible to arouse him, 
 
 Touched by the kind and delicate consideration of 
 the young Lieutenant, Annette in weeping silence 
 
42 THE Biillisn FARTIZAN. 
 
 followed his directions for leaving that dear cottage 
 for the first time in her life. It was now an unsafe 
 residence, but it had been the scene of her child- 
 hood's innocence, and the sighs she gave were not 
 only for her present distress, but for those "days of 
 old," now hallowed by sorrow — 
 
 " For long remembered hours, when first 
 Lovo on her dawning senses burst. " 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 '• For there was breathing round him all the charm 
 Of high devotion to his country's weal ; 
 And the bright panop^^f gold and steel 
 That mailed his breast and glittered on his brow, 
 Gave proud assurance of a soldiers vow. " 
 
 He came to bid adieu - 
 
 In a grove of beautiful trees, about a mile from 
 the river, stood a building, which, for the early days 
 of which we have been writing mi^ht have been 
 considered splendid. It was large and lofty in its 
 proportions, and though of rude and unfinished 
 workmanship, from its superior size, the beauty of 
 its grounds, and the richness of its furniture, it had 
 that air of aristocratic pride which belongs essentially 
 to the English gentry, whether on this or the other 
 side of the Atlantic. 
 
 But it was not more the seat of wealth and taste, 
 than of kindness and hospitality, and in these 
 troubled times the wretched found a shelter there 
 from oppression. Yet it had not itself escaped the 
 curse of that despicable species of civil warfare. 
 All around was silent and lonely, where active indus- 
 try and cheerful life reigned hitherto. The slaves 
 were scattered like sheep without a fold, and the 
 deserted farm -yard and broken fences of the trampled 
 corn fields, bore evidence of predatory incursions. 
 
 A short time after the events recorded in the last 
 
44 THE BRITUri PARTIZAN. 
 
 chapter, two voting girls were standing in the loftiest 
 balcony of that building, which sat airily among the 
 green branches of the majestic oaks, and looked out 
 through their openings upon a landscape which 
 extended to the river, and bounded itself by the 
 hills of Georgia, in all their rugged and varied aspect 
 The river wound round tj^he north, and lay like a 
 lake, with the waters sparkling in the sun; and a 
 little farther on, where they through "arching wil- 
 lows stole away," a column of smoke, suspended 
 over the rich trees, revealed the site of Vienna. It 
 was a beautiful, picture, in all its varieties of river, 
 vale and hill, as viewed through the mellow light of 
 a September morning. But the fair beings in that 
 balcony seemed too much engrossed with more 
 earthly feelings to enjoy the serenity, almost divine, 
 of that aspect. Tt was evident that one of them had 
 been weeping, and as the arms of the other encircled 
 her, the afflicted one's head rested on her bosom. 
 
 " My dear Annette, " said the fairer but not more 
 beautiful of the two, u forget him ; he is unworthy 
 of you. " 
 
 Annette Brnyesant, for it was she, raised her head 
 from the bosom of her friend, and regarding her 
 with a steady, sorrowful glance, she said in a tone 
 which was embittered by a slight reproach : 
 
 "Selina Anderson, you have never loved! " 
 
 A crimson flush overspread the features of the 
 fair girl thus addressed, even to her neck and temples. 
 She turned hastily away, and her bosom heaved 
 convulsively ; but at length she threw her arms 
 
TM BRITISH PARTIZAN. 45 
 
 round Annette, and pressing her cheek to hers, she 
 said in a soft, low voice — 
 
 "Forgive me, Annette, if I have seemed to dis- 
 trust the strength of woman's love. Ah, I know 
 its fidelity, through peril, disgrace, and aye, some- 
 times through coldness and neglect. " Then sinking 
 her voice still lower, as if afraid to hear her own 
 confession, she continued : "I, too, love — one that 
 
 is brave, honorable, and respected — but" . She 
 
 stopped and blushed still deeper - r for it was the first 
 time that the proud heart of Selina Anderson had 
 confessed this much. Gifted with a mind above the 
 ordinary portion of her sex, she possessed powers of 
 endurance and concealment which gave a proud 
 dignity to her manners ; and those who sa^ her only 
 in the friendly but reserved intercourse of social 
 life, never dreamed that she sighed over a cherished 
 but uninvited passion. 
 
 They had not left the. balcony when a horseman 
 rode into the yard. He was in military dress, and 
 armed for traveling, as appeared by 'the pistols at his 
 saddle-bow and the sword which hung in its polished 
 sheath at bis side. His slender, graceful form had an 
 air of uncommon neatness and gentlemanly elegance, 
 and his very handsome features expressed a singular 
 union of feminine softness and masculine pride. 
 But there were times when that doubtful expression 
 fled before the noble daring of his high natural tem- 
 perament. When he perceived the ladies, he reined 
 up his fine steed, bowed low, and then springing 
 from his seat, in a few moments was by their side. 
 E 
 
46 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 '" Fair ladies," said be, speaking in a tone of playful 
 chivalry, which was rendered almost timid by his 
 native bashfulness, " I have come to render you your 
 knight's last homage before his departure, " and he 
 made, a motion of lowly reverence. 
 
 Annette held the hand of her friend, and on look- 
 ing into her face perceived that she had suddenly 
 become very pale, and unable to speak. With the 
 true instinct of a woman's heart, she instantly com- 
 prehended t}ie feelings of Selina Anderson, and 
 rinding it necessary to say something, she enquired 
 of the young man whither he was bound. 
 
 "I go, Miss Bruyesant, " said he, "to join my 
 brother at the block-house. We shall be called 
 upon sodft to co-operate with General Morgan, and I 
 have come to beg the charms of your prayers against 
 the dangers of war; for surely, " he continued, with 
 playful badinage, "the prayers of love can avail 
 much. " 
 
 Annette could not refuse a smile to this piece of 
 ironical gallantry. 
 
 " You speak lightly of a very serious matter, Mr. 
 Pickens, " said she, " but if the prayers df a grateful 
 heart can avail, you will go unharmed. I cannot 
 forget that 'tis to you I owe my father's life, and the 
 ipeace and security I now enjoy. May God bless 
 you, sir 1 ] " 
 
 The smile vanished from the lips of Lieutenant 
 Pickens, and he replied warmly : 
 
 "Speak not of it, Miss Bruyesant; it was but 
 . doing my duty to my country to succor the dis- 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 47 
 
 tressed ; and may God forget me, when I forget her 
 calls ! But Miss Anderson, " hq continued, in a voice 
 which softened involuntarily, "has she no word to 
 encourage a warrior in the hour of battle? " 
 
 Selina Anderson had hitherto stood leaning against 
 a column, with her fingers wound in a braid of her 
 own fair hair; but on hearing this, with a faint- 
 smile, she broke a sprig of the oak which played 
 around her head, and said with forced gaiety : 
 
 " Take this — and remember that Selina Anderson 
 believes that you will deserve it ! " 
 
 "Dear type of heroic deeds," said he with play- 
 ful enthusiasm, as he received the branch, " may 
 I never do aught to impeach the judgment of the 
 fair one who bestows thee ! " 
 
 A few moments afterward, and the young Lieu- 
 tenant stood on that balcony with Selina Anderson 
 alone. Annette had somehow or other disappeared. 
 His manner now evinced an embarrassment but little 
 short of awkwardness, and very different from its 
 former gay and easy tone. There is nothing more 
 trying to a shy man than a tete-a-tete with a lady under 
 common circumstances, and Lieutenant Pickens had 
 for a long time, most unaccountably to himself, expe- 
 rienced a secret uneasiness in the presence of Selina 
 Anderson. Perhaps it was owing in part to the 
 high and unmoved dignity of the young lady's man- 
 ners. He did no* analyze his feelings, but he felt 
 that when called upon to address her by a single 
 word he .was more than usually reserved, and he 
 avoided the slightest allusion to iove. But the 
 
48 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 greater the effort to conceal itself, the more evidently 
 is love betrayed. As has been most wisely observed^ 
 by one who possessed a key to its thousand mysteries, 
 
 " A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon. 
 Than love that would seem hid ;" 
 
 and it is doubtless a consciousness of this fact that 
 makes even the bravest of men appear very cowards 
 before the objects of their affection. The pride of 
 the human heart is so easih'' alarmed — so sensitive! 
 
 Selina was the first to speak ; for nothing oppresses 
 woman more than silence in such a situation. 
 
 "You go so soon, Mr. Pickens?" 
 
 "To-morrow, Miss." 
 
 " And perhaps we may never see you again," said 
 Selina, with mournful earnestness, as if she had 
 involuntarily spoken her thoughts aloud. 
 
 The eyes of the young man fixed on her for a 
 moment steadily, until they became tender in expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " And will Miss Anderson regret me?" he asked, 
 in a low voice. 
 
 The tone of that question restored Selina Ander- 
 son to herself again. The rich blood crimsoned her 
 cheek as she thought of the warmth she had 
 betrayed, and she answered with her usual proud 
 indifference. 
 
 " Mr. Pickens would be regretted by all who 
 know him, and certainly I, who claim the title of 
 friend, might mourn his loss." 
 
 Her frigid coldness dissolved the enchantment to 
 which he had for a moment yielded, and recalled the 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN, 49 
 
 .young officer back to the stern but high path which 
 duty had marked out for his contemplation. 
 
 " It would be glorious to die thus, beloved and 
 regretted," he said, musingly. » But, Miss Ander- 
 son," he continued with rising animation, "it is not 
 the dream of a vain and selfish ambition which 
 actuates our spirits. We are no tyrants treading on 
 the empires we have crushed. Our country calls- 
 it is the voice of reason, of humanity, and of free- 
 dom ; and, in life or death, we are her's." 
 
 The young lady seemed to have caught something 
 of his high enthusiasm, for her eyes sparkled through 
 the tears which hung like dew drops on her silken 
 lashes. 
 
 "Goon!" said she. "I feel that you will con- 
 quer at last; for certainty none but the God of 
 battles has inspired that high and holy patriotism!" 
 " I doubt not of victory," he replied, with a smile, 
 " though' the prospect is at present discouraging. 
 The friends of libert\ r will die in the cause; and 
 such perseverance does not often fail of success. For 
 myself, I go forward in the confidence of right, and 
 if it demands the sacrifice of my blood, it shall not 
 be withheld penuriouslj'. Freedom must be estab- 
 lished at whatever cost." 
 
 11 Alas P said Selina, "how much noble blood 
 must be spilt to rear that sacred edifice! And those 
 who have labored most may least enjoy its benefits." ■ 
 
 " Yes, Miss Anderson. But the friends of liberty 
 would answer you in the words with which our noble 
 Washington replied to the suggestions of the Gov- 
 
50 THE BRITISH PARTISAN; 
 
 ernor of Virginia," and the young oiYicer's eyes 
 brightened as he repeated that beautiful sentiment: 
 
 "What if I fall? ray country's praise 
 Will grant my memory honor still ; * 
 
 And if they fail to recollect, 
 The God of Justice never will ! " 
 
 Selina's heart beat thick and fast, and she held 
 her breath painfully as she replied with outward 
 calmness. 
 
 "Far be it from me to chill that glorious virtue. 
 If I had a warrior's arm it should be among the first 
 to strike for liberty. But life should not be thrown 
 rashl}' even into a noble cause — and — and " — she 
 hesitated a moment, and then continued rapidly, 
 with downcast eyes; -'and remember, Mr. Pickens, 
 there are those who wish you to guard yours next to 
 vour sacred honor." 
 
 A bright glow overspread the marble brow of the 
 young officer as he turned quickly and took her 
 hand. 
 
 "Selina — Miss Anderson," he commenced: — the 
 confusion on his cheek grew deeper — t he hal f formed 
 words of passionate declaration, which seemed to 
 tremble on his tongue, died away unheard, and, 
 pressing her hand to his lips, he rushed down the 
 stairs and was out of sight in a moment, 
 
 "And is^he gone? — on sudden solitude, 
 How oft that fearful question will intrude." 
 
 Selina Anderson stood with her eyes strained in 
 the direction of his flight, and w ? hen she had assured 
 uerself that he was indeed gone, her woman's nature 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 51 
 
 conquered her forced and proud philosophy. She 
 sat down and wept long, long. It was but a moment 
 past, and he stood there with the confession most dear 
 to her breast, trembling on his lips, and now, as he 
 vanished from her sight, with the melancholy proba- 
 bility that she might never see him more, it seemed 
 to the poor girl that she was tottering over a dark 
 gulf, from which a ray of sunshine had suddenly 
 withdrawn. 
 
 At the same time the high-hearted young soldier, 
 as he was pursuing his lonely path, felt an emotion 
 not much less lively than her's. He mused upon her 
 words and alteiidn's^enicttt, so different from her 
 usually dispassionate exterior, and a delicious sensa- 
 tion thrilled his heart with the idea that he was 
 beloved. Ilia own feelings, long repressed or unre- 
 cognized, arose with full force in his breast ; but now, 
 as he sped onward in the path of duty, he felt that 
 he had 
 
 " A rougher task in hand 
 Than to drive liking to the name of love ;" 
 
 and with warlike philosophy he endeavored to banish 
 the tender thoughts which oppressed him. 
 
 But that which nature was insufficient to accom- 
 plish fate contributed to effect. The road he was 
 pursuing was a lonely, retired path, leading over a 
 ridge of hills for some miles, now descending into a 
 valley where the world seemed bounded to a span, 
 and again ascending to the summit of a hill as high 
 aa the tallest trees of the dell. As he was entering 
 one of these proibund hollows, Lieutenant Pickeus* 
 
52 THE BRITISH PARTI ZAN. 
 
 stopped suddenly, struck with surprise at the sight 
 of a beautiful lrorse which was picking the tender 
 grass where a little stream struggled along, dash- 
 ing against the roots of a tree, or foaming among 
 the masses of rock scattered through the ravine. 
 The young officer was a great admirer of this noble 
 race of animals, and a perfect connoisure in their 
 excellencies, and he thought he had never seen a 
 specimen more superb than that he now beheld. It 
 was a horse of prodigious size and strength, but 
 without the clumsiness that usually attends these 
 attributes. On the contrary, the flexibility and grace 
 of his limbs seemed to embody the 4t speed of 
 thought." His flowing mane waved on the ground 
 as he grazed, and his coat was black and shining, 
 but as he lifted his head and recognized the approach 
 of a stranger, by throwing back his small ears and 
 snuffing the air with his wide nostrils, a white cres- 
 cent appeared in his forehead, which relieved the 
 uniformity of his color. Fascinated at the sight of 
 so beautiful an animal, Lieutenant Pickens did not 
 at first observe a man, who, enveloped in a horse- 
 man's cloak, with a cap drawn over his brow, stood 
 in apparently deep thought, leaning against a tree 
 not far off. When the horse by a natural instinct 
 testified that they were not alone, the unknown 
 raised his head with a start, and his hand instinct- 
 ively grasped his sword. As he did so the glympse 
 of a British uniform aroused the suspicions of the 
 Lieutenant, and fully impressed with the belief that 
 it was- one of the many emissaries sent out by the 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 53 
 
 British to incite the insurgent royalists, he deter- 
 mined not to let him pass unnoticed. 
 
 He first hailed the man, but receiving no answer 
 he took a pistol from his saddle-bow, and advancing 
 near him — for Lieutenant Pickens knew no fear — 
 he demanded his name and motives, or the surrender 
 of his arms. The next instant he felt himself in the 
 fierce grasp of the stranger, and the contents of the 
 pistol were -lodged in the tree by which he had been 
 standing. The slender form of Hhe brave Pickens 
 was as a reed in the hands of the other, but though 
 thrown upon the ground with* a drawn sword sus- 
 pended over him, he asked no quarter. 
 
 The cloak, had fallen and revealed the British 
 dress of the stalwart conqueror, and as he looked 
 down with a haughty smile upon his prostrate foe, 
 he said in a slow and measured tone : 
 
 11 You have attempted my life, without knowing 
 aught evil of me ; but you are brave and a soldier, 
 and I give you yours, now it is at my mercy. But, 
 beware how you tempt again the desperate hand of 
 Ralph Cornet ! " 
 
 Pickens, who had begun to be touched by this noble 
 conduct, sprang to his feet on hearing that name, and 
 stamping on tho ground in a fierce, ungovernable 
 rage, he drew his sword, exclaiming : 
 
 " God ! I will not owe my life to so vile a creature I 
 Defend yourself t" 
 
 Ralph Cornet parried his first lunge, and ere Pick- 
 ens had time to make a more successful thrust, the 
 
54 THE BRITISH PAETlZAN, 
 
 knee of Cornet was again on his breast, and his face 
 for the first time appeared convulsed with passion. 
 
 " Rash man ! " said he, in a quivering voice, 
 " Have I not said beware? Will you now promise 
 peace, or shall I be obliged, for the first time, to dip 
 my hands in the blood of a count^man ? " 
 
 " No ! " said Pickens, sullenly. "I acknowledge 
 your superior strength ; but we shall ever be foes." 
 
 " It is enough," replied Kalph, at the same time 
 releasing his grasp. "I can expect nothing else. I 
 do not ask for friendship ; but remember, Mr. Pick- 
 ens, that the man who has twice given his life to a 
 bitter foe does not deserve the epithet of vile. 
 
 Lieutenant Pickens seemed to be struck with these 
 sentiments in a man whom he had hitherto regarded 
 as a ruffianly traitor ; for he had never known him 
 personally, and fame, in blazoning the bold deeds 
 and evil principles of the young Cornet, had forgot- 
 ten to speak of his youth, his inexperience, and his 
 gentle blood. The American officer was no less 
 surprised at these sentiments of honor than at the 
 extremely youthful appearance of the man, com- 
 pared with his gigantic strength. A feeling rose in 
 his mind, mingling regret with indignation, jo see 
 this extraordinary work of nature perverted from 
 its nobler purpose ; and he said, with strong empha- 
 sis, in reply to Cornet's last remark : 
 
 u But you will acknowledge, sir, that you have 
 deserved the hatred of your countrymen, not only 
 for the evil you have done, but for the good -you 
 have left undone. You might have been ~" 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 55 
 
 M It matters not what I might have been," inter- 
 rupted Ralph, impatiently. " I will abide the con- 
 sequences of what I amy 
 
 ■" Unhappy man ! " answered -Pickens. "If not 
 naturally bad, you have been wofully misled. But 
 even now, if you wish well to your country " 
 
 " I might deserve the name of traitor, which you 
 give me," said Ralph, with a smile full of scornful 
 bitterness, supplanting the thought of Pickens. 
 
 The officer would have added something more; 
 but the other turned from him, and calling his horse 
 by name the animal walked up to him, when he 
 threw on its accoutrements, mounted and departed. 
 
 Pickens waited until he was gone, with mingled feel- 
 ings of anger, shame and interest. That bold man had 
 so proudly subdued and scorned him, and with such 
 lofty pride, too ! But his bitterest thought was that 
 he owed him the debt of a life doubly risked, and 
 was bound by the laws of honor to take no measures 
 against him. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 11 A fellow by the hand of nature marked, 
 Quoted and signed to do a deed of shame." 
 
 That night, as Lieutenant Pickens sat in his apart- 
 ment in Vienna, looking out upon the river and 
 revolving in his mind the strange events of the day, 
 an individual was ushered into his presence. 
 
 lie was a man in the bloom of life, yet in that 
 period of its bloom when the fully expanded graces 
 of summer are rich and pliant with the freshness 
 and vigor of youth. He was short in stature, but 
 slender and active, and his limbs seemed disposed, in 
 a strong, wiry, fox-like suppleness. His face, which 
 was ruddv and manly, might have been considered 
 handsome but for a forehead " villainously low," 
 and the sinister expression which very black, heavy 
 brows gave to a pair of small, restless grey eyes. 
 His florid complexion was very strikingly relieved by 
 a thick mass of black curling hair and an Herculean 
 beard. His nose was straight and well formed, and 
 his full, rich lips, opened upon a set of teeth strong, 
 white, and beautifully even. But there was nothing 
 noble or elevated in his physiognomy ; on the con- 
 trary, a smile of servility sat affectedly on his thick 
 lips, showing that he .was accustomed to work 
 his way through the world by waiting the wind 
 and tide of events ; and his restless eye had fur- 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN, 57 
 
 tive glances of cunning and treachery. He had 
 not the air of a man who has much confidence in 
 himself. His step was light and elastic, but it had 
 more of the stealth iness of the cat than the self- 
 importance even of the surly mastiff; and he had a 
 habit of glancing suspiciously round him when he 
 walked. 
 
 As he presented himself before Pickens he was 
 dressed very plainly, with no mark of distinction, 
 except that he wore the American badge, and his 
 arm was bound in a sling. 
 
 "Well, sir, what is your business ? " asked Pickens 
 in the haughty tone with which he usually addressed 
 men whom he did not respect. 
 
 u I have something very important," replied the 
 man, casting an inquisitive glance round the room. 
 
 "Never mind, Bates," said the Lieutenant, with a 
 smile of irony. "Say on ; there is no one here of 
 more doubtful character than yourself." 
 
 " Your honor means to be merry at my expense," 
 he answered with an unruffled countenance. " There 
 is not a better whig in these parts than Hugh Bates." 
 
 u As occasion serves, I suppose. But when the 
 tories are up to their elbows in plunder, and no fear 
 of hanging, there is no better tory than Hugh Bates. 
 Eh! have I not hit it?" 
 
 A dark scowl passed quickly over the countenance 
 of Bates, which Pickens did not observe, and he 
 continued : 
 
 u But what is the matter with your arm, Bates ? 
 We have had no encounter lately, I think." 
 F 
 
58 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN". 
 
 u 0h, its only a scratch that I got fighting with a 
 tory," replied Bates, carelessly. "The devil was 
 making off with the best horse in my stable. But 
 I guess I peppered him — he I he ! he ! " 
 
 " Umph ! umph ! " said Pickens incredulously. 
 "Well, it is all one, so you stick to the right side in 
 future. But beware how you change coats again. 
 You hear that, Bates. And now to your business. 
 What is it?" 
 
 11 I'm glad your honor has not forgotten it," said 
 Bates, much relieved to escape from the other sub- 
 ject. " It is a matter of no importance to me, but 
 of very great interest to the true cause. Colonel 
 Ferguson has been seen in this neighborhood, and 
 Kalph Cornet— " 
 
 " Ha! what of him?" interrupted Pickens impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "Your honor looks as pale as if you had seen his 
 ghost," said Bates, with something of the "laughing 
 devil of a sneer." " Do not fear, sir," continued he, 
 still, laughing maliciously, "that villain of a tory, 
 bold as he is, will hardly attack us here. He is only 
 "helping Ferguson to collect the royalists in this neigh- 
 borhood, and then they are to be off for North 
 Carolina. But if your honor is not afraid to meet 
 ithis lion, I can show you where you can grab these 
 two friends and put all their plans to sleep." 
 
 The sinister countenance of Hugh Bates winced 
 Vbeneath the withering look of contempt and scorn 
 '■which Pickens cast upon him as he uttered this 
 ilast speech. Notwithstanding the characteristic soft- 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 59 
 
 ness of the young Lieutenant, he was subject to fits 
 of arbitrary passion. 
 
 " Wretch ! " said he, rising and stamping furiously 
 on the floor, "dare to mention that word fear again 
 to me, and you stand not there alive! I doubt 
 much," he continued, as he paced the floor, u if you. 
 have not some other reason for wishing this man 
 hanged besides your immaculate patriotism ! " And 
 his proud lip curled with ihe strong expression of 
 his scorn, until it displayed the ivory teeth. " Ha I 
 
 I remember now. Were you not the man who- 
 informed me that Cornet was at the house of old 
 Bruye*sant on the night that he was attacked by the 
 tories ? " 
 
 A slight change came over the face of Bates, and 
 his eye sunk beneath the penetrating gaze of his 
 officer as he replied humbly. 
 
 u I was, your honor; I thought it right to inform 
 vou of it." 
 
 " And how long have you known this man Cor- 
 net, eh?" 
 
 " Oh, bless your honor," said Bates, reassured — 
 
 II we have been friends of old — he! he ! " 
 
 11 And you wish to obtain the benefit of that 
 friendship by betraying him into our hands. Ah I 
 I see it all/' said Pickens as he walked to a window. 
 
 "Yes, d — n your eyes,"" muttered Bates between 
 his clenched teeth as the Lieutenant's back was 
 turned to him ; and his eyes, as they fixed upon 
 him, assumed the deadly glare of the tiger when 
 about to spring upon its prey. 
 
60 THE BRITISH PARTIZAPT. 
 
 But in these few moments of meditation the young 
 officer had formed a resolution which very materially 
 changed the face of the matter. It was evident to 
 his mind that Bates had some personal revenge to 
 gratify in his persecution of Ralph Cornet ; but he 
 felt it his duty to have these men arrested r and as he 
 was himself prohibited from leading the attack, he 
 resolved to trust Bates with the affair; for the 
 thought occurred to him that his enmity would be 
 the surest warrant of success. Turning suddenly tu 
 where Bates was yet standing, he said with haughty 
 calmness : 
 
 " Well, sir, how many men wiH you take for the 
 enterprise ? " 
 
 " Me ? your honor/ 7 exclaimed Bates in real sur- 
 prise, while a gleam of satisfaction lit up his eyes 
 with savage ferocity. "If your honor would trust 
 me in the business, I warrant that with four stout 
 fellows I ^ould take any two British officers in his 
 Majesty T s — I mean in this country. n 
 
 "Well, you shall have your choice; but remember 
 that your head will stand forfeit for the lives of my 
 men, if you run them needlessly into danger. When 
 and where do you propose taking these men ? '] 
 
 "Between this and daylight," said Bates. "The 
 lories are to meet a little above here, at the upper 
 ferry. Ferguson, in order to join them, will pass 
 along the public road ; for Cornet, not satisfied to go 
 off without seeing that girl, Annette Bruyusant, has 
 been down on a fool's errand to search for her in the 
 French settlement, and they are separated from their 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 61 
 
 party. I will station myself on the road and wait 
 for them ; and when we have these two leaders, what 
 can. the tories do, your honor? " 
 
 " By heavens I" said Pickens with a sneer, "your 
 patriotism is truly self-sacrificing. Do you know the 
 danger of meeting these men ? Ralph Cornet is said 
 to hold a heavy hand ! " 
 
 " I- have tried him before," said Bates, with a 
 fiendish grin, and then continuing with an inward 
 exultation as if forgetful that he spoke aloud, M and 
 he shall feel the claws of the old fox yet ! " 
 
 " What r s that?" asked Pickens in an authorita- 
 tive tone. " These men are to be taken alive ; you 
 understand, Bates — no harm done if possible. Alive, 
 on your peril — you hear that? " 
 
 " Your honor shall be obeyed," said Bates, bowing 
 himself off; but as his back was turned the whole 
 of his broad teeth were exposed in a malicious sneer, 
 and, clutching the paper by which he held his com- 
 mission for that night firmly in his hand, he 
 exclaimed: "D — n the preaching fool! Dead or 
 alive, he is now mine ! " 
 
 Penetrating as was the American officer, he had 
 not calculated on the full malignity of the heart of 
 Hugh Bates, and he imagined that by limiting his 
 powers he should restrain him from committing 
 any outrage against humanity in the business with 
 which he had trusted him. It is a remarkable fact 
 in the history of these lawless times, that however 
 great the hatred to the British might have been, an 
 act of inhumanity against them was ever revolting to 
 F* 
 
62 THE BRITISH rARTIZAW. 
 
 the feelings of the American officers, and though 
 Ralph Cornet had excited a bitterer feeling still r 
 Lieutenant Pickens could not resolve to see him 
 wantonly murdered. 
 
 But Hugh Bates had succeeded beyond his most 
 sanguine hopes in his interview with his officer, and 
 he went forth triumphantly and boldly to fasten his 
 net around his intended victim. For many years he 
 had been the deadliest foe of Ralph Cornet, and if 
 he had concealed his hatred, it was for the fell pur- 
 purpose of working out a surer method of revenge. 
 From his earliest youth, Ralph had been a serpent 
 in his path, which he wished, yet feared to crush. 
 Until Ralph Cornet had grown into manhood, Hugh 
 Bates had been the theme and boast of every gather- 
 ing in the country. No man could contend sue^. 
 cessfully with him in running, wrestling,. boxing r 
 throwing the quoit, or in an} r of.those games of 
 strength and manhood in which the new world had 
 established her gymnasium. But in every encounter 
 with Ralph Cornet the latter had borne off the palm ; 
 and from the first time that he brought the back of 
 the proud bully to the ground, the enraged Bates 
 vowed in his secret heart that nothing less than the 
 death of the young man could wipe away the stain 
 of his disgrace. With every successive triumph his- 
 curses deepened to see with what lordly pride Ralph 
 Cornet spurned the laurels which he had torn from 
 him. 
 
 nis evil genius in love as in ambition, Ralph had 
 also won the affections of the only being who had 
 
THE BKITISH PARTIZAN. 68 
 
 ever touched the vitiated but not insensible heart 
 of Bates. But from the moment that old Bruye*sant 
 had indignantly refuse*! to admit his addresses to his 
 daughter, the fierce passion with which he had loved 
 her was turned into a hatred, which called loudly for 
 revenge on all who had come between him and his 
 wishes. 
 
 He dissimulated his feelings until he could makeaf 
 sure spring upon his prey, and his hatred germin- 
 ating in the depth of his burning heart, produced a 
 strong and living principle of revenge. He fed upon 
 it — he slept upon it— he aggravated it day by day* 
 At length the war opened an agreeable theatre for 
 the views of Hugh Bates. The lawless rule of the 
 loyalist party was congenial to his brutal licentious- 
 ness; besides, it was opposed to the family of Cornet, 
 and without sufficient sentiment to become a partisan, 
 he was a tory in the vilest sense of the word. We 
 have seen him at the cottage of old Bruyesant, where 
 Ralph Cornet, by a- fortunate interference, again 
 stepped in his path and thwarted him of his dearest 
 revenge. Ralph Cornet's concurrence with the roy- 
 alist party, instead of canceling the debt of hatred 
 which he owed him only seemed to place him more 
 securely in his power, and when on that night he fled 
 from the cottage with a broken arm, he conceived 
 the base plan of betraying^ him to the American 
 militia, as already stated. 
 
 The failure of that scheme was not sufficient to 
 withdraw tbc ferocious Bates. He dreaded to meet 
 Oornet in a personal encounter, but he imagined that 
 
04 THE BRITISH I'ARTJZAN. 
 
 by joining the whig militia he could make them a 
 party to his revenge, by working upon their natural 
 indignation against the royalist leader. Accordingly 
 he appeared before Pickens and enrolled his name 
 with the company then enlisting. The actions and 
 principles of Bates had been so secret that this new 
 step excited but little notice among the whigs. 
 Vickens, from his connection with the cottage scene r 
 suspected more of his real character than any one 
 else knew. Thus secured in this point, Bates kept a 
 strict surveilance upon the actions of Ralph Cornet 
 fey mingling with the tories, who revealed to him 
 unhesitatingly their plans and operations, and by 
 this tortuous course he was enabled to spread his 
 toils for his enemy. 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 "Then Hafed, if thou lov'st me, fly f 
 I pray thee, if thou- lov'st me, fly I 
 East, west alas ! I care not whither. 
 So thou art safe I" Scott. 
 
 Aftek the departure of the young Lieutenant 
 Annette Bruyesant, on returning into the baleony, 
 found her friend weeping. It had now become her 
 part to console, or rather to weep in sympathy. 
 
 The human heart, when left to indulge its sorrows 
 in inactivit}", sinks under them, and 1 ' it is no doubt 
 owing to the fact that in these perilous times the 
 minds of the softer sex were kept in the constant 
 exercise of active duties, that they showed uncom- 
 mon strength for exertion and endurance. 
 
 A more than common share of tire duties of life 
 at this time devolved upon them. All honest men 
 of strength and capacity had volunteered to meet 
 the foe which was entering the country, and the 
 aged and infirm left at home were afraid to venture 
 out. The few slaves then in the settlement had 
 lx3Come worse than useless property, and those that 
 were not scattered through the woods were obliged 
 to be kept concealed to prevent them from falling 
 into the hands of the tories. In this emergency the 
 fair daughters of the land — those tender scions hith- 
 erto guarded with sorh gentle, care, whom even the 
 " winds of heaven had fiot been permitted to visit 
 
66 THE BRITISH PARTIZAtf. 
 
 too roughly "—undertook, for the relief of their suf- 
 fering families, the most menial offices, and performed 
 them with unshrinking bravery and cheerfulness. 
 
 There are some situations in life, when the nerves 
 being .strained to their utmost tension, give a tone of 
 hardihood to the weakest system ; and there are 
 many instances in the private histories of the fami- 
 lies of those left open to the aggressions of thetories, 
 of this latent fortitude, or as it might be better named 
 necessitous courage. 
 
 Annette Bru3'esant and her friend had not long 
 indulged in the luxury of grief, when they remem- 
 bered that the breadstuff had been exhausted since 
 the last night, and there was nothing to provide for 
 the wants of the famity. What was to be done ? 
 Relief might be procured from a mill some miles off. 
 But old Bruydsant was lying at the house, still dis- 
 abled from the injuries he had received, and the only 
 boy in the family, a lad of ten years, was sick of a 
 fever. Then there was Clary, faithful old Clary, the 
 only servant remaining to them ; but she might be 
 stolen or murdered by the tories. " We will go!" 
 said the. heroic girls. And now behold the two 
 beings, who but a few moments before had nearly 
 lost themselves in a maze of cloudy reveries, mounted 
 on a little vehicle, half between chair and cart, to 
 which was attached the only horse left them, and 
 proceeding cheerfully if not merrily on their novel 
 errand. The amusing varieties of the situation in 
 which they found themselves divested the memory 
 of their so recent griefs, so 'perfectly unnatural it is 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAS. 67 
 
 for the young and innocent mind to he sad while 
 pursuing the path of duty. Enjoy while ye may, 
 young creatures, for ye hav^ yet much to endure ! 
 
 They had seen nothing to alarm them on their 
 route, and were returning with feelings of almost 
 triumphant gayety to their home. They felt that 
 they were bringing comfort to the sick and hungn', 
 and joy to all by their gladdening presence. But 
 scarcely were they arrived in sight of the house, 
 when they stopped, and looking at each other with a 
 kind of wild affright, the expression of their speech- 
 less countenances seemed to say, "the tories have 
 been here!" No living creature was visible, but 
 the broken windows, the mutilated furniture scat- 
 tered in/ragments over the yard, and the contents of 
 the feather-beds filling the air, told the tale at a 
 single glance. When they had partially recovered 
 from their first exclamations of horror, the poor girls 
 proceeded with slow and unwilling steps to the house, 
 expecting momentarily to encounter the murdered 
 bodies of their friends ; but as they continued the 
 search over these lone and desolated apartments, 
 hope arose once more in their bosoms. Not a mark 
 of blood was to be found, and the family had 
 doubtless escaped. But they had left no trace of 
 their refuge. 
 
 It was fast becoming night — a night of pitchy 
 darkness — for the moon, which was by this time 
 risen, found it impossible to struggle through the 
 thick clouds which were distilling a slow but heavy 
 mist upon the chilly breeze. In the pitiful and dread 
 
68 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 uncertainty of these eircu instances, Annette and 
 Selina wandered through the deserted place, search- 
 ing vainly for a light or morsel of food. The work 
 of destruction had been complete. Everything val- 
 uable had been carried off, and that which was not 
 portable wantonly destroyed. Scarcely a piece was 
 left of the elegant mirrors in which at morning these 
 lovely girls had viewed themselves. The shelves 
 were empty of plates. In one room a table was 
 strewed with the fragments of a feast, mingling with 
 broken glasses and dishes stamped under feet. 
 
 It was like haunting the chambers of the dead to 
 them, and rather than remain amid that fearful 
 desolation, the}' submitted themselves to the dark- 
 ness of the night. Without light or guide or mark 
 by which to steer their course, they took the direc- 
 tion of the river, supposing that their friends might 
 have hid themselves in some one of the natural 
 recesses of the deep wood. On they wandered, 
 through the tangled mazes of the thickety vales and 
 marshes. But no light broke on their straining eye- 
 sight. All around was darkness — silent, dreadful, 
 profound darkness. Sometimes, indeed, as they 
 scrambled through the deep hollows, an owl would 
 send up his fiendish laugh over their heads, but no 
 other sound came to lC vex the drowsy ear of night." 
 Fear, wild, agonizing, supernatural fear took posses- 
 sion of their hearts ; their tongues seemed glued in 
 their mouths, and every nerve strained and shrink- 
 ing from the awful echo of their own footsteps. At 
 length they sank on the ground, wearied and dis- 
 
THE BRITISH PAKTIZAN. $9 
 
 heartened, and a stupor, occasioned by fatigue and 
 the damp air, was fast steeping their senses in forget- 
 fulness. But in that moment of death-like stillness, 
 a sound of voices, very faint and distant, came 
 to their ears. Nerved by hope, they, sprang to 
 their feet, and ran on in that direction. But the 
 sounds seemed hollow and deadened as if they came 
 from some subterranean abode, and often did the 
 poor wanderers stop to assure themselves that they 
 were in the right course. At length they seemed to 
 be ascending a hill, and suddenly to their sight a 
 broad glare came up from the earth, spreading a 
 ghastly } T ellow glow over the leaden sky and the 
 sombre foliage of the giant trees ; but what was their 
 horror on discovering beneath them the very objects 
 from which they were flying! 
 
 The hill or bank on which they stood extended 
 round for many feet perpendicularly below them, 
 forming a kind of circular barrier for the river which 
 in high water overflowed the enclosure. Tall trees 
 grew up from the loamy soil, but the undergrowth 
 was wanting, and the space beneath was strewed 
 with fallen trees, dried sticks and leaves. Its natu- 
 rally gloomy aspect was now rendered fearfully wild 
 by the effect of the various lights scattered through it, 
 around which sat or stood about thirty or forty fero- 
 cious looking beings, in every variety of grotesque atti- 
 tudes. Several groups of four and five were seated 
 at cards round an old log or stump, in which they 
 had placed a rosin torch, very ingeniously sheltered 
 * from the night air by a piece of bark — and every 
 G 
 
70 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 few minutes they stopped to curse their luck, or the 
 rain, which fell occasionally in soft showers, wetting 
 them through by slow degrees. Some had burnt 
 coal fires under the logs, by which they sat cooking 
 and eating; and others had kindled blazing fires by 
 piling up heaps of the dried sticks and faggots, 
 around w^ich they circled in irregular measures, 
 singing, shouting, and brandishing their empty 
 bottles over dark countenances, which were rendered 
 fiendish by contrast with the red handkerchiefs tied 
 carelessly around them. 
 
 Fascinated by a spectacle so novel, the poor fugi- 
 tives crouched closely behind a large tree in breath- 
 less curiosity. Just beneath them, on the ground, 
 sat two men, who seemed, by some marks of distinc- 
 tion, to be the leaders of the band. Their swords lay 
 beside them, and hats with red feathers sat jauntily 
 on their rugged, sun-burnt features, which were 
 strongly illumined by the light. 
 
 "Ha ! ha! ha ! " laughed one of them in a coarse, 
 rough voice, so near that the frightened girls heard 
 distinctly every tone, " How these rascals do gig it," 
 said he, " they would sell themselves to the devil for 
 a bottle of whisky." 
 
 " Damn it, Johnson ! " said the other, " you needn't 
 say a word ; we've all had our share of the fat things 
 ■ at the big house yonder, to-day. How the poor 
 • devils did run! But as for belonging to the old 
 .fellow below there, that you speak of, I think I 
 l.know somebody who will be apt to go there himself, 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 71 
 
 to pay for a barrel of jewels and trumpery which the 
 old woman had buried on the river bank," 
 
 "Ha! ha I" again laughed the brutal Johnson. 
 " That was the best thing I ever done, Georgie, 
 except it was skinning that old black rascal alive, 
 when he wouldn't tell me where his master was." 
 
 " Yes," replied the other, who was known by the 
 familiar title of Georgie Long, "and if you are not 
 damned for that, you will be for blowing out the 
 brains of the little brat who caught hold of the 
 blanket you was pulling off of him;" 
 
 " Well, Georgie," said he, rising from his elbow 
 with an unmoved and hardened smile, " we have both 
 done enough to damn us ; but no matter — its high 
 time we were moving. You know we promised to 
 meet Ferguson at the ferry, and if we wait till day- 
 light we might chance to fall in with some of the 
 d — d rebels. I'll be sworn they have the scent of 
 us by this time." 
 
 " And Cornet, Captain Cornet, is to lead us into- 
 North Carolina," said Long. " He seems to be in 
 high favor. But do you feel like knocking under to 
 this proud, beardless " 
 
 A deep groan from the top of the hill^irrested this 
 speech. . 
 
 " Who ? s there?" shouted the two men, as they 
 sprang simultaneously to their feet. 
 
 In a few moments one half the tories had scoured 
 the hill. But the unfortunate objects of their alarm 
 had fled, with footsteps winged by fear, far from the 
 tory camp. 
 
 * 
 
72 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 Their feet were bruised, their garments torn, but 
 they knew not where to stop ; and in the delirium of 
 their fears and confusion they ran on and on, far as 
 possible from the direction they had at first taken, 
 until one of them stumbled over something and fell 
 with a scream to the ground. 
 
 " Mercy I mercy ! ye wad na take an auld man's 
 life ? " said a voice in a broad Scotch accent, as some- 
 thing seemed struggling from the grouud. 
 
 "Heavens be thanked f." said Annette Bruyesant, 
 with a long, deep inspiration of her suspended 
 breath. "It is the voice of old Andrew Morrison, 
 the miller ! " 
 
 " Yes, it is auld Andrew Morriso-n/' said the man, 
 whose senses were not yet clear of the vapors of 
 sleep, "and what harm has puir auld Andrew ever 
 din ye, I maun ask?" 
 
 " For shame, Andrew, rise. It r s I, Annette Bruye*- 
 sant." 
 
 " Oh, an' is it yersel', Miss Annie? Then itcanna 
 be the tories I Guid be praised for a r his mercies I 
 Bless yer bonnie face," he continued, "how-caum ye 
 here, yer lone sel 7 , this waefu 7 night 1 Hae ye nae 
 beem hame, syne?" 
 
 "Yes, Andrew, but the tories have sent our 
 friends to the woods, and we did not know where to 
 find them ? " 
 
 " Bless the puir childer I And ye hae na hame, 
 then?" said the kind hearted Andrew. "I guessed 
 some e*il wad come to ye. Sae when yc had left the 
 mill aboon, I said to mysel', I maun see the bonny 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 73 
 
 leddies safe hame ; but jist as I was ganging on the 
 road hard bye, I heard the tramp o' feet, and as I 
 dinna ken whether frien or fae, I turned in here a bit 
 
 to rest mysel' 'til day . But the Lord defend us, 
 
 Miss Annie, wha's here ? " continued old Andrew, as 
 he stooped and raised from the ground the form of 
 Selina Anderson, who, through fatigue and fear, had 
 fainted. 
 
 Annette supported her in her arms, and seeing she 
 did not speak, the old man groped about for a stream, 
 which he knew was close by, and bringing the water 
 in his hat, threw some in her face. When she had a 
 little revived, he spread his coat on the grass, and 
 begging them to lie down and rest he started off, 
 saying kindly — 
 
 " Ye maun bide here young leddies till I come 
 back. I will bring ye to yer freins." 
 
 Worn out with fatigue, the poor wanderers folded 
 in each other's arms, sank into a deep sleep. When 
 they awoke morning had opened on the horizon, and 
 was chasing, with successive shades of rose and 
 orange, the dark clouds of the night away to the 
 west. Then all rolled off, and no stain was left on 
 the delicate azure, whence the bright, beautiful star 
 of morning looked down upon them, like the smiling i 
 and benignant eye of the All-seeing One. 
 
 Chilled with the damp air of the night, they arose 
 and walked out into the road. The old man had not 
 yet returned. Of course he had not found their 
 friends, and, accustomed to act for themselves, and 
 wearied of suspense, they determined to follow the 
 G* 
 
74 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 road until they reached Vienna, where they might 
 expect to find assistance. 
 
 They had not proceeded far when they were over- 
 taken by two horsemen. One hasty glance behind 
 assured them that they were in the uniform of British 
 officers, and the poor girls turned modestly aside to 
 suffer them to pass. But that one glance had been 
 sufficient — in the next moment Kalph Cornet was 
 kneeling before Annette. lie had forgotten the bit- 
 terness of their last meeting, his own circumstances, 
 and the presence of witnesses, in the surprise, the 
 rapture, the agony of seeing her again. 
 
 He caught her hand between both his own. " Oh, 
 Annette I " he said, M where have you been ? I 
 have sought you everywhere." 
 
 With a faint scream, Annette's head sunk on the 
 bosom of her friend, and she made an effort to with- 
 draw her hand. Kalph relinquished it, and turned 
 away his head, much aggrieved — 
 
 " You will not speak to me, Annie ? " he said in a 
 tone of reproof so touching that she burst into tears. 
 
 " Young gentleman," said Selina Anderson, who 
 was vexed at Annette's distress, " if I judge rightly 
 you are Mr. Cornet ;. if so r you had best leave us. 
 This is a dangerous place for you. As for Miss 
 Bruyesant, whatever kind remembrances she may 
 have for you, she can never look with favor on the 
 man who herds with the destroyers of her country, 
 and who gives his countenance and support to the 
 merciless robbers that send her friends into the woods 
 penniless wanderers." 
 
THE BRITISH PARTI Z AN, 75 
 
 "Heavens!" said Ralph eagerly, "you are not 
 thus?" 
 
 u Yes r ' r replied the young lady r with bitter empha- 
 sis, " thanks to the courtesies of your friends, we 
 have been all night seeking ours from whom we have 
 been separated." 
 
 Ralph Cornet stood for a moment with his brow 
 knit and his lips compressed, until he scarcely seemed 
 to breathe. Perhaps till that moment he had never 
 known the bitterness of his situation ; for he felt that 
 he could not revenge that outrage. But he. turned 
 round calmly — 
 
 " I am not the ruffian you take me for," said he, in 
 a subdued voice. " If they have driven you from 
 your homes, it is my duty to restore you to them. 
 Your friends have taken to the woods, did you 
 say?" 
 
 Selina answered proudly, a3 if she would have dis- 
 dained the proffered service, but Ralph affected not 
 to notice it. 
 
 " Colonel Ferguson," said he to the officer who sat 
 on horseback, viewing the scene witli eager interest, 
 u you can either await me here, or go on. ,r 
 
 " Heaven forbid, Cornet, that I should prove so 
 recreant a knight as to retire from such a gallant 
 enterprise," exclaimed the accomplished English- 
 man, leaping from his saddle. " If," continued he, 
 bowing gracefully, " if these young ladies will accept 
 my serviceH " . 
 
 u Nol no!" Ralph Cornet, you shall not go I " 
 
76 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 exclaimed Annette, starting up wildly. u They hate- 
 you 1 — they seek for you 1 You go to certain death I" 
 
 "I fear no danger for my young friend but that of 
 your presence, Miss Bruj-esant." said Colonel Fergu- 
 son. " For all others I would trust his ingenuity and 
 daring." 
 
 " Trust me, Annette," said Ralph, with a bitter 
 smile. "I will see you in safety before I die. I 
 know these woods — follow me." 
 
 Ralph Cornet led the way, and Colonel Ferguson, 
 with the rein of his bridle thrown over his arm, 
 walked by the side of Selina Anderson, whom, in 
 spite of her prejudices, he had already began to 
 interest by the graces of an elegant mind and noble 
 soul. 
 
 "You are the sister of an American General," said 
 he at length, " and you are worthy of being so. 
 You will be surprised, } r oung lady, to hear that I 
 respect your feelings and your pride; but hereafter, 
 whenever you hear the name of Ferguson men- 
 tioned, do him the justice to say that he admired the 
 enemy it was his misfortune to oppose.'! 
 
 They had, however, proceeded but a short dis- 
 tance in this way, when they were met by old An- 
 drew Morrison. He had found the camp and was 
 returning. The old Scotchman stopped short on 
 seeing them ; but Ralph advanced and shook him 
 cordially by the hand. 
 
 " Ah. Ralph, Ralph ! " said he, in reply to that 
 familiar salutation, "Sic waefu times I sic waefu 
 times I Wha wad hae thought to hae seen yer 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 77 
 
 manfu' limbs in British gear — ye that waur aye sae 
 kind to a' " 
 
 " Hush, hush ! Andrew, for Heaven's sake," said 
 Ralph, impatiently. 
 
 u Na, na !' I wadna hush,. Ralph, when yer ain life 
 is at stake. Turn back this instant and flee ; for the 
 tories hae been up at their e'il doings and the militia 
 men are out. They will be here fu' sune, for they 
 hae heard that ye wad pass this way. Flee, Ralph, 
 fleet A'e moment mair and I dinna ken what may 
 betide." 
 
 "I've sworn to see them safe," said Ralph sullenly f 
 " and I will die in the attempt." 
 
 "Wha? these bonny leddies? Bless yer kind 
 heart, they are safe enough wi r auld Andrew. The 
 camp is hard by. Dinna gang there, boy. On the 
 word of an auld man, wha has lo'ed ye frae the time 
 ye hae sat on his knee, a canny child — awa! awal 
 Ye waur aye. kind to an auld body, an' .■ " 
 
 At that instant the tramp of horses' feet was heard 
 on r the dry sticks and leaves of the forest. 
 
 " Whist t whist 1 my boy f Wat ye wha's coming?" 
 continued old Andrew, fearfully. 
 
 Ralph seemed to rouse himself painfully from a fit 
 of musing. He turned and wrung the hand of the 
 old man. 
 
 "They are safe r you say, Andrew Morrison ? " 
 
 "Awa't awa' I Ralph, for your life!" repeated- 
 Andrew, in a toneof the most impatient alarm, for 
 the tramping came nearer and nearer. 
 
 Ralph's presence of mind never forsook him in the 
 
78 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 hour of danger, and though* in the obstinate daring 
 of his nature he would have faced a host, and died to 
 serve the object of his love, he was clear-sighted 
 enough to perceive the utter folly, the madness of 
 drawing himself and his friend into further peril. 
 Without more deliberation he sprung into his sad- 
 die, and motioning the astonished Ferguson to do 
 the same, he made for the road they had left, with- 
 out trusting himself with even a look at the wonder- 
 ing girls, ifut it was too late — the Americans were 
 near enough to catch a glimpse of British uniforms, 
 and already a sharp report rang through the woods, 
 
 " Great God ! " exclaimed Ferguson, as his horse 
 fell under him in the convulsive motion of death? 
 "lam lost!" 
 
 Ralph Cornet looked behind him and sprang to 
 the ground. 
 
 u Here, Ferguson ! Take this horse, and fly for 
 your life!" said he. 
 
 " God of Heaven ! " exclaimed Ferguson, passion- 
 ately, " and leave you to perish? " 
 
 " Not one word more," said Ralph, with solemn 
 earnestness. " Fly ! or we are both lost; for I swear 
 not to quit this spot till you are gone ! Fear not for 
 me — but take care of Rover till I see you." 
 
 Ferguson looked vexed and puzzled at the stub- 
 born resolution of Ralph. But by this time the 
 foremost man, who discharged his gun, was grap- 
 pling with Ralph, and as Ferguson saw him dash his 
 opponent to the ground. and fly through the woods, 
 he mounted that good steed, for the others were close 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 79 
 
 at his heels. Two men followed him, but there were 
 few horses in those days that could compete with 
 Kalph Cornet's well-trained Hover, and they soon 
 returned to join the chase of the other fugitive. 
 
 Hugh Bates, for it was he whom Cornet had again 
 foiled, sprang lightly to his feet, and his face was 
 livid with rage. He grasped only the sword of 
 Kalph Cornet, which he had borne away in the 
 struggle. Mounting his horse, he struck his rowels 
 into its flanks, and, with a shout to his comrades, he 
 flew after his adversar}'. Once they came in sight of 
 him, and to make " assurance doubly sure," every 
 gun was leveled and discharged ; but with a bound 
 like the deer that bears his death wound, Kalph fled 
 with greater speed than before. Able at any time, 
 on fair ground, to distance the fleetest runner, the 
 thick woods and broken country were now an advan- 
 tage to the wounded man. They lost sight of him 
 altogether, but like blood-hounds they followed on 
 that bloody track. 
 
 Once again they saw him on the border of a corn- 
 field, and as he turned to look he staggered. The 
 pursuers rushed on with a shout of exultation. But 
 when they had struggled through the cane-brake to 
 the banks of the river, he was nowhere visible. 
 There were fresh tracks on the soft soil, and a bloody 
 glove lay close by the edge of the stream. A canoe 
 was also lying there, half buried in the leaves which 
 carpeted the surface of the quiet river, upon which 
 the early sunbeams were glancing, betraying not by 
 
80 TTIE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 a single ripple that any object had lately disturbed 
 its tranquility. 
 
 What a contrast was that placid river to the boil- 
 ing blood of those hot pursuers! But theirs were 
 not the "high hearts" to see and feel its "eloquence 
 and beauty." 
 
 All night long they had ridden on the pursuit, and 
 now, in the fury of their baffled revenge, they 
 scoured the banks of the river. But there was no 
 trace of Ralph Cornet on land, and supposing that 
 he might have resorted to the stratagem of diving, 
 they stationed themselves on each side of the stream, 
 prepared to shoot him down as he emerged from the 
 water. 
 
 All day, so bitter was their hatred, did they watch. 
 But night came, and they departed sullenly, to 
 spread the report of his death. Arguing from the 
 impossibility of his having crossed the river ere they 
 reached it, they believed that he must have drowned 
 himself in a fit of desperation or exhaustion ; and 
 for many days, Hugh Bates, whose enmity reached 
 beyond -the limits of death itself, searched along 
 that river for the body. 
 
 Ferguson, who had arrived safely, and met his 
 company at the appointed rendezvous, lingered a 
 day or so ; but his emissaries all returned with the 
 story of Ralph's mysterious disappearance, and the 
 British Colonel led on where his duty called him. 
 But he reproached himself with the misfortunes of 
 that brave, misguided youth. He did more — he 
 shed for him the manly tears of sympathy, for he 
 
THE BRITISH PAETIZAN. 81 
 
 bad discovered the worth of the noble heart which 
 he had been instrumental in corrupting. 
 
 In his own neighborhood, Ralph Cornet's death 
 was currently reported, attended with supernatural 
 awe among the ignorant and superstitious. Some 
 said that an evil spirit had carried him off', and his 
 name was used to frighten children. Bat there was 
 one who heard these things with indignation. She 
 believed not the tale of her lover's death; so great 
 was her confidence in his powers, and so easily can 
 the young heart be illumined by the slightest ray of 
 hope. Conviction only, feeling, sensible conviction 
 alone can extinguish it. 
 
 •For a length of time Annette wandered out every 
 day alone. She shunned even the company of Selina 
 Anderson v Something whispered to her heart that 
 Ralph was yet alive, that he would seek an interview 
 with her. But one da}^ she came upon the place 
 where he had fled before his pursuers to the river. 
 The traces of blood remained there still, and even 
 the glove had not been removed. 
 
 These mournful tokens seemed to bring to the 
 mind of the affectionate girl the conviction she had 
 so long shunned, and she sat down and wept over 
 them in bitterness of soul. She forgot his errors and 
 his degradation. She thought of him only as the 
 brave and beautiful boy — the sweet companion of 
 her childhood — as the manly youth — the elected 
 husband of her young affections. V\ ho could blame 
 that young girl if in such a moment she forgot that 
 he had been unfaithful to his country ? 
 H 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "Let laurels, drenched in Pernassian dews, 
 Reward his mem'ry dear to every muse, 
 Who with a courage of unshaken root, 
 In honor's field advancing his firm foot, 
 Plants it upon the line that justice draws, 
 And will proceed or perish in her cause." 
 
 " They sin who tell us love can die 1" 
 
 Months rolled on, and nothing was heard of Ralph 
 Cornet. He had ceased to be. classed among tile 
 living ; but his memory had not passed away with 
 all. In one heart the altar of his worship was still 
 fed with the daily sacrifice of prayers ana tears ; and 
 as its fire burnt on in secret the fair priestess seemed 
 to become less and less earthly. Her mind, like that 
 dove which hovered over the wide waste of waters, 
 found no green leaf for a resting place on earth, and- 
 it dwelt among the invisible shadows of the past. 
 
 Yet Annette Bruye'sant refused to believe in the 
 death of her lover. She had not seen him die ; and 
 in the slow, torturing fire of unlimited suspense, her 
 once rosy cheek paled, and her rounded form became 
 every day more and more attenuated.and sylph-like. 
 
 The spring was far advanced — that dreadful spring 
 of 1781. The tories who had escaped from the fatal 
 rencontre of King's Mountain, had returned into the 
 neighborhood, and literally ravaged it with fire and 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 83 
 
 sword. The whigs were led on by desperation to 
 return the aggression, and murders were committed 
 and revenged, until many of the families of the- 
 whigs, who were far in the minority, were left with- 
 out protectors and without food — the crops of the 
 last year having .been destroy ed^-and despair seemed 
 to have benumbed the energies of the wretched sur- 
 vivors. 
 
 At this crisis an individual came to the relief of 
 the suffering inhabitants, and with a generous assi- 
 duity, a self-sacrificing zeal, to which history has not 
 and never can do justice, he succored the destitute 
 women and children. Many a " verdant offering to 
 his memory n has been perpetuated in the children 
 of those who felt his protecting benevolence. This 
 man was Gen. Pickens. 
 
 On the bank of- the river,* a little apart from 
 Vienna, may yet be seen the remains of a fort which 
 was built for the defense of the early settlers against 
 the Indians. Its walls were built of stone, and 
 formed ten feet high, with port-holes and other appli- 
 ances of stout resistance. Here Gen. Pickens sup- 
 ported his dependents, and old age and infancy 
 flocked daily to his protecting care. But thanks to 
 the cowardice of the tories, and their successive 
 defeats in open combat, this weak garrison was in no 
 danger of attack. It was more like the residence of 
 a pleasant family than a warlike station ; and during 
 his occasional visits the "good General," as he was 
 affectionately called, added to the charm of an 
 universal cheerfulness ; for he was not more eminent 
 
84 THE BRITISH PARTI Z AN. 
 
 for the soldier-like qualities whiclr gained him the 
 distinction of an officer, than for the gracious affa- 
 bility by which he won all hearts. 
 
 The victory of the Cowpens had giv.en a breath- 
 ing space to the militia of the General's, brigade. 
 Most of them had returned on parole to their fami- 
 lies, and the General took occasion at this time to 
 visit Fort Charlotte, which was the name given to 
 the fortress by the loyal subjects of his Majesty, 
 George the Third. * 
 
 The concentration of the British on the other side 
 of the District lulled the inhabitants into an easy 
 security, and the fort was consequently under but 
 few of the restraints which martial discipline imposes. 
 General Pickens was walking one night alone and 
 meditatively, on the outer side of the wall, when he 
 perceived the figure of a man leaning against it, in 
 the deep shadow which the dark trees opposed to the 
 moonlight. Having hailed him several times and 
 received no answer, the General took a pistol from 
 his pocket and walked up to the spot to assure him- 
 self that he had not been deceived. 
 
 u Speak, or you are my prisoner/' said he, as he 
 approached the stranger. 
 
 The man made no show of resistance, but as the 
 General was about to lay his hand on his shoulder he 
 retreated a few paces, and folding his arms on his 
 breast, answered doggedly : 
 
 " Shoot, if you will. I will be no man's prisoner.'^ 
 
 As he stepped back, the moonlight streamed clear 
 upon a majestic form, and showed the bold outline 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 85 
 
 4 
 
 of a countenance which looked pale and melancholy, 
 in that pensive light. 
 
 General Pickens looked at him a few moments in 
 silence. The subdued and sad expression of his 
 features and. attitude seemed to have awakened in 
 his heart some feeling of commiseration for the 
 youthful and apparently unhappy stranger. 
 
 "Young man," said he, in a softened tone, "who- 
 ever you are, or whatever may be your business 
 here, it is my duty to have you arrested, but it 
 would be more congenial to my feelings if you 
 would spare me that trouble, by telling me frankly 
 your name and intentions." 
 
 " My name can interest no one," said the man, in 
 the same tone in which he had at first spoken, "and 
 I have no business except to seek one who has been 
 long lost to me." 
 
 " You speak haughtily, sir," replied the General. 
 "Have you then no interest in making friends? 
 Know you not that you are at this moment in my 
 power ? " 
 
 "Friends! " repeated the other with sad emphasis. 
 " I care not for friends, since I cannot call back the 
 lost. I am alone in this world. As to the rest I 
 defy even the power of General Pickens!" 
 
 " Ila ! " said the General, "you know me then? " 
 and for a moment he cast his eyes in deep thought to 
 the ground. When he looked up, the mysterious 
 stranger was gone. 
 
 This little incident dwelt in the mind of the Gen- 
 eral. His feelings had been strangely interested by 
 H* 
 
86 THE BRITISH PARTIZA2T. 
 
 the appearance and language of the unknown ; but 
 he imagined that he must have some evil design in 
 lurking round- the fort. Why else should he be so 
 mysterious? Perhaps he was a spy sent by some 
 foraging party of British, who supposed that the, 
 stores of the fort might become an easy prey. At 
 this last thought, General Pickens determined to 
 place a stricter guard, and immediately sent out a 
 body of men to scour the neighborhood. But they 
 returned with the intelligence that not a single person 
 had been found stirring within a mile of the Tort. 
 
 It was a custom of General Pickens to make a 
 circuit of the fortress every morning, to look into 
 its welfare and attend to its little wants and necessi- 
 ties. At such times he had a smile and a passing 
 word for every one. 
 
 "How goes it, Andrew, this fine morning?" he 
 enquired of an old man, whose silver locks still curled 
 up from the broad fair forehead, which a serene 
 temper and healthful exercise had kept smooth and 
 unwrinkled. 
 
 "Vera weel, yer honor," said he. " Gaid be 
 praised for a' His mercies, and thanks to yer honor 
 besides ! Yer kind heart has been a blessin' to this 
 country, an' " 
 
 "Well, Andrew," interrupted the General, smiling 
 at the grateful garrulity of the old Scotchman. " No 
 flatteries between friends. It is the cause — the cause. 
 The meanest soldier that fights for liberty deserves 
 the same praise." 
 
 " Na, na, yer honor," said the old man. " It's na 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 87 
 
 that ye fight for liberty sae weel, but that ye pity 
 the puir." 
 
 " Every man should do the same," said the Gene- 
 ral. " It is bad enough fighting, but it must be 
 worse starving. And now that I think of it, An- 
 drew," he continued, " I would advise a stricter watch 
 kept over* this place. I must go hence to-morrow ; 
 my presence is required before Ninety-six, and I can 
 leave but a small garrison. You have only to keep 
 close and be on the alert. There may be no harm 
 meant, but I saw a very suspicious looking man 
 prying round these walls last night, who answered 
 me very haughtily,, and refused' to tell his business." 
 
 u Lord bless yer honor, what kind a' mon was 
 he ? " asked Andrew Morrison. 
 
 " lie was tall and good looking as far as I could 
 judge," said the General, " but his manner was proud 
 and melancholy, and he disappeared very suddenly, 
 I sent out men immediately in pursuit of him, but — " 
 
 " Heaven defend us ! " exclaimed the old man in 
 a low and rapid enunciation. "Belike it was Ralph 
 Cornet, or aiblins his ghaist I " 
 
 The General was not superstitious, but he seemed 
 struck with a new thought ! " 
 
 "Cornet!" said he. "What I that Capt. Cornet, 
 who rendered himself so famous among the British? 
 I thought he was killed or drowned in this neigh- 
 borhood some time ago." 
 
 " It was believed sae, yer honor," said Andrew, 
 " but I carina think sae. Why he was lil^e a wild 
 duke in the water, because, yer honor,, if he gacd 
 
88 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 never sae monj times to the bottom, he aye came up 
 alive and weel. But if the puir boy be dead, I ken 
 weel his ghaist wad be haunting this place for " 
 
 " You say this Cornet is a comely person ? " said 
 the General, interrupting this speech with an irre- 
 pressible smile at the old man's simplicity. 
 
 " A braw, handsome lad, as yer honor ever saw," 
 replied the Scotchman, who was delighted at this 
 opportunity of speaking the praise of one for 
 whom his heart overflowed with love and pity — 
 " yist like a young poplar, fu' sax feet high, and 
 portly. There was nae the lad in a' the country sae 
 Strang, sae bonnie, or sae kind as the young Ralph. 
 Wae's the day when the British blinded his young 
 e'en wi' a sword and plume. He has been soor and 
 mournfu' like ever since ; for he had plighted his 
 troth wi' a sonsie young leddie here, an' her father, 
 wha has been sinking to the grund ever since the 
 tories — fuil fa' them — brak his arm, winna hear o' 
 the match." 
 
 "Who? the old Frenchman's daughter? Ah! I 
 see it all now," said the General musingly. 
 
 "What is't your honor sees? " inquired Andrew 
 respectfully. 
 
 " Why, Andrew, the man that I saw last night 
 must have been this same Cornet, from your descrip- 
 tion. I took him for a spy. But it is likely that his 
 ghost, as you will have it, was seeking an interview 
 with this young lady." 
 
 " Like eneugh ! like eneugh ! " said the old man 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN". 89 
 
 eagerly. "The puir boy, dead or alive, would rin 
 a' risks to catch a glint o r her bonny e'en." 
 
 "I must look to it," said the General as be walked on. 
 
 " And sae rnaun I," said the Scotchman to him- 
 self. " If the puir boy hae escaped ance mair, it 
 maunna be tauld that the bairn o' my auld freind 
 has na ane freind in a' this land.' 7 
 
 As the General passed on he next entered a tent 
 in which was sitting a lady, yet in the bloom, of life, 
 whose vivacity of manner betokened a spirit which 
 no misfortunes could conquer. She was caressing a 
 little boy of five or six years, whose brown, curling 
 head lay on her lap, while at her feet a little cherub 
 girl was lying asleep. As the happy mother looked 
 up smiling from her babies, her radiant face afforded 
 a striking contrast to the thin pale features of a 
 young girl who sat not far off, with her head leaning 
 on her hand. 
 
 " Good morning, madam," said the General, pleas- 
 antly, addressing himself to the elder lady. " Your 
 countenance is truly agreeable in these gloomy times. 
 It is always sunshine."' 
 
 " Why, General," said she, with perfect ease and 
 good breeding, " thanks to your care and that of the 
 tories, Fve nothing left to cry for. My husband — 
 God bless him — is fighting in the true cause, and if 
 I had a dozen husbands, I should wish them all so 
 employed." 
 
 "But suppose they were all killed?" said the 
 General, with a wondering smile. 
 
 " Then I should teach mv little Willie here his 
 
90 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 duty to the British," said she, twining her fingers in 
 the long silken curls of the pretty boy. 
 
 "Well," replied the General, "with many such 
 mothers as you America would become another 
 Sparta. But can't you inspire my little friend here 
 with some of your heroism ? " 
 
 " Bless you, no," said the lady, with privileged 
 sauciness. "She is as mopish as an old owl in- a 
 hollow tree. There she has been sitting for the last 
 half hour, poring over a lock of hair which she 
 found by the wall, very curiously wound — into a 
 love knot, I suppose — Heaven knows how it came 
 there. But, General, I have been planning an excur- 
 sion to amuse these sentimental young ladies." 
 
 " I should rather you would not go out," said the 
 General. " There was a strange man prowling about 
 here last night, and " 
 
 As the General commenced speaking he had fixed 
 his eyes with an expression of curiosity on Annette 
 Bruyesant, who sat seemingly regardless of what 
 was passing, but he stopped short, alarmed at the 
 deep emotions his words had excited in her. The 
 blood seemed to have forsaken her fair face, and 
 every blue vein was plainly marked in her closed 
 eyelids as she sank back in her seat, with her arms 
 clasped tightly together. 
 
 Her white lips moved unconsciously, and the words, 
 "It is he! it is he!" though murmured passion- 
 ately, were rather read than heard by the General. 
 
 A frown passed over his countenance, but it was 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 91 
 
 quickly succeeded by an expression of pity, and 
 turning to the elder lady, he observed : 
 
 " I shall be obliged to leave the fort to-morrow, 
 and I would advise you ladies to keep as close as 
 possible during my absence." 
 
 The lady" he addressed would have demurred to 
 this, but the General asked to be admitted to the 
 presence of old Mr. Bruyesant, who was confined to 
 an inner part of the tent. What passed between 
 them was never known. 
 
 General Pickens departed next morning, leaving 
 orders with the small garrison,, which remained for 
 its protection, that no one should leave the fort 
 except on business, and that no stranger should be 
 admitted. But who, by arbitrary measures, ever 
 forced a woman into a sense of her duty. Ere three 
 days had elapsed, the gay Mrs. Cornet had rebelled 
 against the orders of the General. 
 
 u Come,, girls," said she, one fine evening u let 
 us play them a trick! I'm sick to death of this 
 dull place, and despite the old General and his ghost 
 story, what say you to a little fun ? Eh, Lina, what 
 say you to a raid on the river now ? Annie, I must 
 give you a little fresh air, or a certain some one that 
 shall be nameless will not know you when he returns 
 from the war." 
 
 " But how shall we escape?" asked Selina Ander- 
 son, looking up listlessly from her sewing work. 
 
 " Oh, ho ! leave that to me," said the lively crea- 
 ture, with a significant nod, as she tripped off towards 
 
92 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 the gate, where a soldier stood, true to the orders he 
 had received. 
 
 Annette and Selina were well acquainted with the 
 mischievous tricks of this lady, but whilst they stood 
 now wondering what she would devise to amuse the 
 vigilance of the gate keeper, she had walked up and 
 was screaming in the ears of the man with a tone of 
 well affected surprise — 
 
 " Mr. Dobson, are you deaf?" 
 
 " Madam 1" said the little .man, staring at her in 
 amazement. 
 
 "I say, are you deaf, that you stand here so 
 unconcerned, when your wife has been calling you 
 for the last half hour ? Run, for pity's sake," .con- 
 tinued she with the deepest concern, tl I would not, 
 for the world, be in your place. You know Mrs. 
 Dobson." 
 
 " I didn't hear it, ma'am ! " said poor Mr. Dobson, 
 who first fidgeted a little uneasily, and then ran with 
 all his speed to a tent on the opposite side of the 
 enclosure. Besides the tories, there was nothing on 
 earth the poor little man had so good reason to fear 
 as his wife. 
 
 The gate had been opened to fill a provision cart, 
 which now half filled the entrance. 
 
 " Quick, quick, girls! follow me! " said the lady, 
 who was almost dying with laughter at the success of 
 her scheme. 
 
 In a moment more they had all glided through the 
 opening unperceived.; and the girls ran on following 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 93 
 
 their gay guide, until she threw herself on the grassy 
 bank of the river, in a perfect helplessness of mirth. 
 
 "Fie, Mrs. Cornet," said Selin a Anderson gravely, 
 " how could you be so wicked ? " 
 
 " Heavens! what a little fool you are, Lina; you 
 will never do for a warrior's wife," she replied. 
 
 Selina blushed and turned away her head. 
 
 " Bless your heart, child, don't you know { all tricks 
 are fair, in love and in war?' But then, poor Mr. 
 Dobson!" she continued, " how he will fret and 
 fume when he find's out that he has been quizzed. 
 But no matter ; if the little man is hen-pecked, sure it's 
 not my fault. And, Willie, you are here, too, my 
 little General," said she, on perceiving that the child 
 had followed them. a If you don't mind we'll give 
 you a ducking, my boy." 
 
 "You can't do it," said the child saucily. "Pa 
 learnt me how to swim, and uncle Ralph used to 
 throw me in the water sometimes." 
 
 "Hush, child," said his mother, in a low voice, 
 aside to him. " Didn't I tell you not to talk of your 
 uncle Ralph ? " 
 
 " I don't care," replied the boy, with a grieved 
 expression of countenance. " Annie Bruye*sant says 
 I may talk of him." 
 
 Annette turned deprecatingly, and took the lovely 
 child in her arms as if to hush him; but in spite of 
 her efforts the silent tears trickled down on his 
 young head, to which her cheek was pressed. 
 
 With all her vivacity, Mrs. Cornet had too much 
 real feeling not to understand and appreciate that 
 I 
 
.94 THE BRITISH PARTIZAW. 
 
 emotion. But it was her nature to banish care, and 
 now springing up from the bank on which she had 
 been seated, she ordered the girls into a canoe that 
 was lying there, and springing in herself after them, 
 pushed it off into the stream. 
 
 A wild and frolicksome creature was that Mrs. 
 Cornet. She cared not-at what expense she fol- 
 lowed the bent of her fancy, and all difficulties were 
 but trifles before the vigorous impulses of her lively 
 and independent spirit. As she sat in the stern of 
 that little vessel and propelled its light motion by a 
 scarcely visible effort, with those two beautiful maid- 
 ens at her feet, and the little cherub boy leaning over 
 the vessel's side, she might have passed for Amphi- 
 trite in her ocean shell. On, ion, they flew, and her 
 clear musical laugh rang over the waters like the 
 touch of some fine instrument, redoubled and reflected 
 in mocking silvery tones from those fancied water 
 nymphs, the invisible echoes. At length the light 
 bark moored itself on the point of a rock in the mid- 
 dle of the stream. In a moment more the delighted 
 Mrs. Cornet had gained the flat 'summit of the rock, 
 and gaily invited her less ardent companions to 
 follow. 
 
 It was, indeed, a beautiful position, and well wor- 
 thy of an evening's frolic. For many miles above, 
 the broad bosom of the river swelled on the eye,, 
 until it&wept down and divided its chrystal waters 
 against the rocky base of the island. Not a speck 
 or stain marred the bright reflection of the pure 
 spring-time sky. The blessed sun only was there, 
 
THE BRITISH PARTISAN 05" 
 
 " careering in its fields of light," and throwing its 
 myriads of diamond sparkles on the rippling water. 
 The blue rocks which covered nearly one-half the 
 extent of the island, and dotted the stream on each 
 side, were strewed with mosses and the lovely flow- 
 ers of a thousand little twining, fibrous roots, whilst 
 behind them rose a thicket of all that is sweet and 
 fair in the American forest. There were the lovely • 
 jessamines and woodbines in clustering garlands over.^ 
 every tree and bush. The queenly flowers of the- 
 rose laurel, sitting so proudly on their emerald stem s r 
 
 the beautiful white acacia, and the long featl °^rjen~ 
 
 1 - 
 dants of the gray ash, with the sweet wild nSney- 
 
 suckle in its delicious freshness, were there, forming 
 a wilderness such as Eden must have been in its 
 first creation. 
 
 Mrs. Cornet felt all the wild delight of a native 
 child of the forest newly enfranchised, and even her- 
 young companions forgot the subject of their grief 
 for a time. The heart must be, indeed cold and 
 callous, in which the freshness and beauty of nature 
 cannot awaken a corresponding, tone of gladness. 
 With smiles half of pleasure and half of wonder, 
 Annette and Selina watched the motions- of their 
 sportive guide as §he leaped like a chamois over trie' 
 rocks, .now bending from a high point over the 
 glassy stream, and again leaning most perilously 
 from a bow to gather flowers. After a time she stole 
 away unperccived, and when they looked, on hear- 
 ing her gay voice, they beheld her apparently cling- 
 ing to a rich garland of jessamine, which hung from 
 
96 THE BRITISH PARTIZAK. 
 
 the branches of a large oak, far in the midst of the 
 island. The girls screamed involuntarily with sur- 
 prise. How had she got there, unless she had the 
 wings of a fairy ? 
 
 The island was, to all appearances, perfectly unfre- 
 quented. Not a pathway, not a broken bush, not 
 even a footstep, marked the place where any living 
 thing had penetrated. The luxuriant canes filled up 
 the interstices of the giant trees and flowering shrubs, 
 rendering it all dark and inaccessible. But there she 
 stood, with the flowers clustering around her face, 
 which^fy *bed with exercise and brilliant with excite- 
 ment, idoked the fairest flower there. 
 
 The mystery was soon explained. The trunk of 
 a large tree had fallen across another, supporting its 
 farthest end on the edge of the rock, and thus 
 forming a kind of natural bridge over the tangled 
 maze below. The young ladies proceeded along it 
 ■ to where Mrs. Cornet stood at its extremity ; but 
 scarcely had Annette, who was foremost, reached 
 her, than she turned deadly pale, and her eyes seemed 
 riveted in the glassy gaze of horror on some object 
 before her. She would have fallen to the ground, if 
 Mrs. Cornet had not caught her and supported her 
 against the tree by which she was leaning. 
 
 " Lord have mercy on us ! " she exclaimed. 
 " What is the matter with the child ?" 
 
 Selina Anderson, who was too much terrified to 
 discover the cause of Annette's alarm, began to weep 
 with affright. But the little boy, seizing his mother 
 by the dress, exclaimed with delightful eagerness : 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 97 
 
 " La, ma ! here's Rover ! Ma, do look at Rover! " 
 
 Following the direction of the child's eyes-, they 
 saw a large black horse rising slowly from the ground. 
 The canes and shrubs for a small space around him 
 had been trodden down, and the ground was pawed 
 into holes in many places. How he came there was 
 a mystery ; for there were no marks of ingress or 
 egress, but a trough was fastened to a tree, where it 
 was evident he had been fed for some time. 
 
 " Gracious, heavens ! Can it indeed be Eover? 
 What then has become of poor Ralph ? Or may- 
 be he is about here," said Mrs. Cornet, looking 
 round a little wildly. 
 
 At the mention of that name so fraught with ter- 
 rible remembrance, an undefined awe seized the 
 minds of the adventurous females. They clung 
 closer together, seeming for the first time to* feel alone 
 in that unfrequented place. 
 
 "Let us go from here," whispered Annette faintly. 
 
 But before they turned to depart,, Mrs. Cornet, to 
 assure herself that it was indeed the horse of her 
 husband's ill-fated brother, called him by name, and 
 the animal, familiar to the sound of her voice, walked 
 up to her and evinced his recognition of her by 
 many mute but intelligible signs of joy. 
 
 A musing spirit seemed to have seized Mrs. Cor- 
 net. She left her store of gathered flowers to wither 
 on the rock, and resumed her station in the canoe in 
 silence. At length she said, almost unconsciously : 
 
 "If Ralph Cornet is about here we shall soon see 
 
 L* 
 
96 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN, 
 
 him. But then," she continued, " the horse seems- 
 to have been a long time on the island." 
 
 For the first time in her life she appeared to be 
 puzzled, and she said no more. 
 
 A sigh from Annette was the only answer she 
 received. That speech had aroused the poor girl 
 from similar thoughts. They returned in perfect 
 silence to the fort, for Selina Anderson had not suffi- 
 ciently recovered from her fright to be conversable, 
 and the little boy had cried himself to sleep on his 
 mother's lap at the thought of leaving his favorite 
 Kover behind. 
 
 Mr. Dobson, the much abused gate keeper, whose 
 goodness merited better treatment than he received, 
 admitted them with perfect good humor ; for he had 
 learnt a very sad lesson of forced submission to a 
 woman. But the little man resolved in his inmost 
 heart to be fast enough for them next time. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 " How dear the dream in darkest hour of ill, 
 Should all be changed, to find thee faithful still j 
 Be but thy heart like Sclim's firmly shown, 
 To thee be Selim's tender as thine own, 
 To soothe each sorrow, share in each delight, 
 Blend every thought — do all but disunite." 
 
 It had become a settled conviction in the mind of 
 Annette that Ralph Cornet was still living. In the 
 lock of hair found within the wall, she recognized 
 some of her own which had once been in his posses- 
 sion, and this circumstance, connected with the words 
 which General Pickens had spoken in her presence, 
 confirmed in her the suspicion that Ralph had em- 
 ployed this as a certain and plain telegraph to her 
 heart. The discovery of his horse awakened her to 
 the keenest and most distressing suspense. The 
 reflection that he was in the neighborhood, , and 
 obliged to conceal himself in the midst of dangers, 
 was rendered still bitterer by the thought that he had 
 not a single being on whom to rely for comfort; for 
 his father had been killed by the tories long since. 
 In this desolate situation, she, too, had apparently 
 deserted him ; and the affectionate girl felt that it 
 would be some consolation if she could only see him 
 and assure him of the violence her coldness had done 
 to her feelings. But after that wild sally from the 
 fort, the garrison was proof against the stratagems or 
 
100 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 entreaties of the ladies, and Annette despaired of 
 seeing the object of her solicitude. 
 * Fate was, however, accomplishing her wishes by 
 the severest test of her affections. In a few weeks a 
 funeral procession emerged, from the fort, and Annette 
 followed as chief mourner that humble coffin. Her 
 father had never recovered from his first attack. 
 Besides the wound in his arm he had received an 
 injury in the chest, which brought on a pulmonary 
 affection, and he declined gradually — so gradually 
 that no alarm was conveved to the heart of Annette 
 until near the last moments. 
 
 Nearly the whole garrison followed the remains of 
 Pierre Bruyesant, that humble but devout supporter 
 of truth ancl liberty, to the grave. He was buried, 
 according to his own request, under an elm tree 
 near his cottage. The last sod was replaced over the 
 spot where the grassy turf had been disturbed, and 
 the procession moved back to the fort \ but Annette 
 could not be torn away. 
 
 " Leave me for a moment alone with him," she 
 begged, and there were none hard hearted enough 
 
 IT 
 
 to refuse that sacred request. 
 
 When they had all gone, Annette threw herself 
 on the newly made grave, in that agony of a young 
 spirit when first it feels alone and desolate. In all 
 the world she knew not of one being who shared 
 the blood of hqr veins. 
 
 " None that with kindred consciousness endued* 
 
 If she were hot, would seem to smile the le83.'' 
 
 And she sobbed aloud the endearing name of 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 101 
 
 father, in the despairing accents of the shipwrecked 
 mariner who sees his last hope, the shattered plank 
 on which he had borne himself, sink down beneath 
 the wave. How long she remained thus insensible 
 to all but the weight of her afflictions, she knew "not, 
 nor was she aware that the child of Mrs. Cornet had 
 lingered with a kindly instinct near her,, until he 
 clung to her, screaming with affright. 
 
 Aroused by the cries of the child, Annette raised 
 herself, and as she looked up she saw the object of 
 her alarm in a man who was standing within three 
 feet of them. It was Ralph Cornet, but so pale, so 
 wan, so different from his former self, that it was no 
 wonder the little boy did not recognize him. He 
 was dressed, plainly in a suit of dark cloth, which 
 rendered almost ghostly the expression of his pale, 
 sad countenance, and a frightful scar extended over 
 his left eyebrow. 
 
 The surprise, the shock of his appearance, was too 
 much for the weakened nerves of the poor girl, and' 
 she would have fallen again to the ground if she 
 had not been caught in the arms of her lover. 
 
 How wildly did he call upon her to look upon him 
 once more — and how passionately did. he kiss the 
 pale face which hung like a drooping flower on his 
 arm ! But the warm blood soon flowed back in 
 fitful gushes to her cheek, and her eyes opened upon 
 him ; but she did not this time withdraw herself 
 from his embrace. Her mind was impaired by grief 
 and long suffering — she had no more the power of 
 resistance ; and besides, in the heart-weary loncli- 
 
102 THE BRITISH PARTIZAIT. 
 
 ness of her situation, she felt that the breast on 
 which she leaned was the onlj link that bound her 
 to the dear memories of the past. Who so well 
 could sympathise with her in her joy's decline as he 
 who by the sweet enchantment of his presence had 
 given them their gladness ? 
 
 But while Annette, with woman's natural faith- 
 fulness to her hallowed memories, fondly reflected 
 on the past, Ralph Cornet thought only of the 
 future ; and as he recounted to her the series of mis- 
 fortunes which had befallen him, while her head 
 rested quietly on bis shoulder, he felt " the rapture 
 which kindles out of woe." 
 
 The tones of his voice were like a delicious strain 
 of music to Annette — music long and well remem- 
 bered. It is true they had lost the lingering joyous- 
 ness of other and better days, but they had now the 
 subdued and yearning tenderness which sorrow 
 wrings from the heart. Strange it is that its pure 
 worth is never known until tried in the fire of afflic- 
 tion ! The- gay know not the wealth of their affec- 
 tions, or the touching softness, the fervor, the fidelity 
 which spring up from the bruised heart ; for passion 
 is the rebel offspring of disappointment. 
 
 " And now, my darling Annie, " continued 
 Ralph Cornet — in a voice which came, ' o'er her ear 
 like the sweet South wind which breathes upon a 
 bank of violets' — "we are alone in this world; why 
 should we be separated more ? It is true, as you 
 foretold me, I am a dishonored man, feared and des- 
 pised by my countrymen. Yet for all that I care 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 103 
 
 not/ since you do not hate me I It has been the 
 consequence of my early errors, and I am not a man 
 to weep idly over what is past. But, my own love, 
 though there is no longer a place of peace and safety 
 for us here, we need not despair. In the distant 
 regions of the far West, I have heard them say there 
 are lands richer far than this, and spots more beauti- 
 ful, where the Indian lives all the year round with- 
 out toil or trouble, with his feathery bow and his low- 
 ing herds. There, by some pretty stream, we will build 
 •a little cottage which shall remind us of this, and 
 there we will be all the world to each other." 
 
 Annette wept on in silence. Her griefs were too 
 fresh and strong, and disappointment had weighed 
 too heavily on her mind for her to be able yet to 
 realise the bright creations of this day-dream. 
 Ralph, who in the elastic buoyancy which love had 
 imparted to his mind, felt the springing hopes which 
 he so vividly pictured, seemed hurt that she did 
 not participate in them. 
 
 11 You do not speak, Annette ; you do not say that 
 you will go with me," said he, mournfully. u Sure- 
 ly I have not deceived myself in the dear hope that 
 when the world grew dark around me, and every 
 face was averted from me, there would be one heart 
 unchanged, one smile, which shining as a beacon of 
 hope, would lead me back to the peace and happi- 
 ness I had lost'i 
 
 Annette raised her head and looked up in his face. 
 The flush which excitement had brought into his 
 cheeks, was fading away before the deeply mournful 
 
104 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 expression of his thoughts, and she felt pained at the 
 memory of all her coldness must have wrought on 
 his sensitive souL 
 
 " Ralph Cornet, yon have sworn never more to 
 take up arms against your country ?" she asked 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Never, my love, so help me God, except in my 
 own defence ! " he replied. 
 
 "Then," said she, "here on this sacred altar, I 
 renew my former vow to be unto you what I have 
 ever been, true in heart ; to leave all, yes, even this 
 precious spot of earth; to follow " 
 
 Sobs choked her utterance, and as the young man 
 knelt and folded his arms around her, tears came into 
 his own eyes — tears of sublime emotion. 
 
 " It is enough," he whispered. " My own love. 
 You are what I always thought you, the truest and 
 best of womankind. It is true I once feared that 
 you had permitted those around you to estrange 
 your affections from me. But forgive me, love — I 
 suffered enough for that thought." 
 
 Ralph went on again to picture the bright hopes 
 which he had imagined of an elysium in another 
 land, where malice and treachery could not reach 
 them, and where without any law but nature, or 
 other guide than love, they should enjoy the ease 
 and happiness of the primitive inhabitants of earth. 
 
 " Why should we wait any longer ? " said he. 
 " We have nothing left to bind us to this spot." 
 
 A blush crimsoned over Annette's pale features, 
 and she answered, hesitatingly — 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN* 105 
 
 " But, Kalph, I cannot go except as -as your 
 
 wife." 
 
 " I, too, I have thought of that, my love," said 
 ae, smiling fondly. " I saw Andrew Morrison this 
 morning, who informed me that he would be here on 
 this mournful occasion. Something whispered me 
 that you would be true, and the plan which I have 
 fust revealed to you of leaving the country, then 
 occurred to me. There is in the fort with you a 
 French minister, a good and kind man, who, for the 
 love he bore your father, might be prevailed on to 
 do us this service. I will engage Andrew to bring 
 aim here — even to-morrow night, if you " 
 
 "What, so soon Ralph? And my poor father 
 just buried to-day 1 " And Annette burst into a fresh 
 passion of tears. 
 
 " My beloved Annie, do not grieve so — you shall 
 have it as you please. But I am becoming very 
 cowardly since you have rendered life so dear tome; 
 and there is no safety for me here." 
 
 "Well, Ralph, well," said Annette resignedly. 
 " But I must return to the fort ; and how shall I 
 escape again ? " 
 
 " Why return, my love 1 I can place you in 
 safety until to-morrow, and then I shall bid them 
 defiance forever." 
 
 " No, no ! " said Annette, who was becoming 
 alarmed for his safety, "that must not be. My 
 absence from the fort would excite suspicion — they 
 would search for us, and then all would be lost." 
 
 " Do not fear, Annette," said Ralph, smiling at 
 J 
 
106 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 her earnestness. " No power on earth shall tear you 
 from me now. But return to the fort as you have 
 prudently suggested. Andrew Morrison is my 
 friend — you may depend upon him — and I will be 
 ready with a rope ladder on the western side of the 
 fort, to receive you. Here, where we have enjo} r ed 
 so many years of happiness, we will be wedded ; and 
 then we will bid farewell forever to all that can 
 remind us of sorrow." 
 
 The little boy, who was alarmed at the first sight 
 of Kalph, had been sitting at their feet listening with 
 perplexed interest to this conversation ; but by this 
 time he seemed to recognise him, and clasping him 
 by the knees, he said : 
 
 "And I will go, too! May I not go, uncle 
 Ealph ? " 
 
 Ralph had left him hitherto unnoticed, but he 
 now sat him on his knee and caressed him fondly. 
 
 "No, Willie, no!" said he, "you must stay to 
 take care of your mother." 
 
 The child was not insensible to these caresses, and 
 he threw his arms around his uncle's neck, as he was 
 wont to do — 
 
 " Where have you been gone so Jong, uncle 
 Ralph? Annie Bruyesant has cried so much for 
 you," said he, in infantile simplicity. 
 
 "But Annie Bruye'sant will cry no more now," 
 said Ralph, with a smile, whilst putting aside the 
 curls to kiss the brow of his little relative. 
 
 Willie made no reply. His attention seemed to 
 be fixed on something opposite to him. They were 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 107 
 
 very near the deserted cottage, which, since it had 
 been rifled by the tories, stood with its doors open or 
 broken down — 
 
 "Look, uncle Ralph, look ! " said he. " Yonder is 
 a man peeping through the door! " 
 
 Ralph looked up hastily. 
 
 "Ob, no, Willie, you are mistaken," said he. 
 
 But the child would not be satisfied till Ralph 
 went with him to search the house. There was no 
 one visible. Annette, however, had become alarmed, 
 and after a few more whispered words she took the 
 hand of the little boy and returned with trembling 
 steps to the fort. 
 
 Ralph Cornet waited until tjje last glimpse of her 
 form was hid from his sight by the thick trees, and 
 then he turned awav also. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 11 Ambition is at distance 
 A goodly prospect, tempting to the view. 
 The height delights us, and the mountain top 
 Looks beautiful, because 'tis nigh to heaven. 
 But we ne'er think how sandy's the foundation — 
 What storms will batter, and what tempests shake it." 
 
 In the meantime the British officer had been ful- 
 filling a wild and bitter destiny. When on that 
 eventful morning he fled before his pursuers to the 
 river, he found that he had but one resource. The 
 pursuers were close at hand, and he could not have 
 reached the other bank in safety if even his wound 
 had not incapacitated him from swimming. But 
 from a boy he had acquired great proficiency in the 
 sport of diving, and was noted for the length of 
 time he could remain under the water. Ralph now 
 turned this talent to good account. With his hand- 
 kerchief he first bound tightly the orifice where a 
 bullet had entered his thigh, and jumping into the 
 water, he contrived, by swimming and diving, to 
 reach a place where its transparency would least 
 betray him, and where a body of leaves had drifted 
 up against an old log which* extended far into the 
 river, where he concealed himself with just enough 
 of his face above the water to insure* respiration 
 through the friendly covering of the leaves. When 
 his enemies reached the bank he heard the curses of 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 109 
 
 disappointment, the dreadful imprecations uttered 
 against him ; but deeper than the bitterness of all 
 this was the sickening feeling of contempt with 
 which he discovered the treachery of Hugh Bates. 
 "And it is with such men that /am classed!" he 
 said to himself, as he lay all day under that close 
 watch. Nature was nearly exhausted ; but Kalph 
 Cornet would sooner have given himself as food to 
 the fishes than to have become the prize of those 
 desperate men. But when the electric waters con- 
 ve} 7 ed to him the last echoes of their retreating foot- 
 steps, he raised himself and looked around. 
 
 The moon was riding high on a sky of that soft 
 exquisite blue which belongs purely to the American 
 autumn, and as its bright rays fell upon the river, 
 seemingly setting the liquid element on fire with a 
 flood of silver light, it appeared as if a new heaven 
 and earth were created within that immense reflec- 
 tion. The bright yellow and red tints of the autumnal 
 trees, mingling with the fadeless hues of the majestic 
 evergreens on the western bank, lay mirrored there 
 in a dream-like repose, which the stillness of night 
 and the deeply contrasting shades around rendered 
 almost fearful. Ralph gazed a few moments ; but in 
 those few moments what years of agonised thought 
 were comprised ! Not that he had never viewed 
 that scene before. He had looked on nature in all 
 her varied and beautiful forms, and held communion 
 from his infancy with river, rock and hill. He was 
 nature's foster child. From her whispered teachings 
 he had gleaned aH the knowledge he possessed, and 
 J* 
 
110 THE BRITISH PAKTIZAN. 
 
 in the days of his innocence he had loved her voice. 
 But now, from the depths of that awful volume, a 
 tone went to his heart, which for the first time, 
 awakened remorse. He felt that he was not what he 
 had been; that he never could be that free, that 
 happy, that joyous thing again. 
 
 As a sense of his utter wretchedness, of his degra- 
 dation came over him, the illusions which had dazzled 
 his youthful imagination faded away and revealed 
 to him the meagre skeleton he had embraced. 
 Hunted like a wild beast by the best part of his 
 countrymen, betrayed by the other, with whom his 
 spirit seemed to mingle — and 'she, even sJw had 
 deserted him. 
 
 Oppressed by all these thoughts, faint from loss of 
 blood, and benumbed with cold, Ralph Cornet sank 
 on the ground. This man of pride, and strength, 
 and daring, now that there was nothing left to live 
 for, resolved to die there alone and in darkness. 
 Cold shivering fits came over him, succeeded by a 
 feeling of suffocating heat which brought the cold 
 perspiration to his brow, and soon he would have 
 been in a raging fever, but that guardian angel 
 which guides the children of mercy through storm 
 and darkness whispered a word of hope which drew 
 the wretched man from the verge of despair. 
 
 u There is yet one being left to pity me," said he. 
 " I will arise and go to my father. I have wronged 
 him, but he will pardon me." 
 
 He arose and followed the thickety bank for some 
 miles, insensible alike to pain, fear or danger. But 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. Ill 
 
 the cool air and exercise moderated the excitement 
 of his blood, and his senses gradually became clearer. 
 He had arrived within a mile of his home when he 
 heard the splashing of oars in the water. Every 
 stroke of the paddles became fainter, and he stooped 
 down to the bank just in time to observe a party of 
 four or five men landing on the Georgia side from 
 the kind of canoe then commonly in use. 
 
 "What can ttfese rascally Dooly s have been 
 after?" thought he. "They are no friends to our 
 family ! " and Ralph's step quickened involuntarily 
 as he thought of his father's lonely and unprotected 
 situation. 
 
 His worst fears were confirmed, for the first sight 
 which greeted him was a column of black smoke 
 streaked with fitful gushes of red flame rising from 
 his native dwelling. He gave not one glance to the 
 ruin around him, but rushed into the house, calling 
 loudly on the name of his father. His voice was lost 
 in the loud roaring of the devouring element; but 
 by the horrid glare which overspread the room, he 
 recognized a bed in one corner, from which hung the 
 body of a human being, as if- it had fallen in the 
 attempt to escape. Ralph Cornet staid not to assure 
 himself that it was his father. He staggered for- 
 ward, and seizing the body bore it from the devour- 
 ing flames. He laid it upon the grass in the bright 
 moonlight, and threw himself upon it in bitter an- 
 guish ; but scarcely had he done so, when he started 
 up suddenly, exclaiming : 
 
 "Oh, God! he lives!" And placing the head 
 
112 THE BRITISH P.tRTIZAN. 
 
 upon his knee, he put back the silvery hair from the 
 high, pale brow. 
 
 The blood began to stream afresh from a wound 
 in the shoulder as the fresh air revived him, and 
 Ealph observed that a bullet had passed quite through 
 it, causing a great effusion of blood, which, indepen- 
 dent of the suffocating effects of the burning house, 
 would have occasioned a swoon. fl?he young man 
 ^shuddered at the thought that but a few minutes 
 later and he would have seen only the ashes of his 
 father's funeral pyre. But as he reflected that a good 
 angel had guided him there for the purpose of saving 
 his father's life, he felt that he was not quite a wretch. 
 AVith something of joyful alacrity he- bound up the 
 wound, and seeing his father's lips move at the pain 
 which the action occasioned, Ealph bent his ear close 
 to catch the sound 1 . 
 
 "Begone!" said the old man, faintly. "Let me 
 die in peace ! " 
 
 M Father ! " said Ealph fondly, " you may yet live." 
 
 The father's eyes opened. " James, is it you, my 
 son ? " he asked. 
 
 " No, father, it is your poor Ealph." 
 
 The red glow of the flames threw a vivid light 
 upon that spot, and the old man looked up long and 
 earnestly in the pale countenance that was bending 
 over him. His own was not more ghastly. As if 
 slowly recollecting something painful, his brow gath- 
 ered into a dark frown, and he made an impatient 
 gesture with his hand. 
 
 " Go, go ! " said he. " I cannot bear you." 
 
THE BKITISH PARTIZAN. 113 
 
 " Father!" said Ralph, in an agony of imploring 
 tenderness^ "surely you do not hate me too? " 
 
 " Yes, I hate you," replied he in a hollow and 
 shivering tone of wrath. " I hate you as much as I 
 ever loved you before. You were my darling, my 
 youngest born — the last gift of your mother who is 
 above. In all this country there was none like you. 
 I saw in you the glory of my own youth revived, 
 and I prided in you. But you have disgraced — you 
 have humbled me. You are the first traitor of my 
 blood I " And, exhausted by this torrent of passion, 
 the old man sunk back, with his head on the grass, 
 and gnashed his teeth in anguish. 
 
 11 Take back the word — take back the word ! " said 
 Ralph. " I have betrayed no trust ! " 
 
 " Boy ! " said the old man, raising himself with a 
 violent gesture, and pointing with one hand to the 
 house, the timbers of which had just fallen in with 
 a loud crash, and sent up a strong lurid flame to the 
 sky. "Boy, behold your work ! Freedom, freedom 
 was your trust, and behold one of her many pillars 
 fallen through your means. You first neglected and 
 then raised your own arm against her. Call you not 
 Hiat treason ? " 
 
 " Oh, God ! " said Ralph. " Must I bear all this ? " 
 
 The last drop of his cup was full. His heart was 
 humbled as a child's, and he burst into tears. 
 
 The proud father turned suddenly to him, as if 
 doubtful of what he heard, and as he regarded him 
 a few moments, the ferocity which gleamed in his 
 eyes subsided into a calm and concentrated gaze of 
 
114 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 contempt, the strong impulsive bitterness of .which 
 convulsed his features with a ghastly and unconscious 
 smile. 
 
 "Miserable boy!" said he. "What has become 
 of the strength of your glorious patriotism t Traitors, 
 at least, should never weep. They should have that 
 one virtue — the power to bear. Go ; you are not of 
 nry blood. I disown you ! " 
 
 "Father!" said Ralph fiercely, "cease your re- 
 proaches. Whatever may have been my early errors, 
 I have wept for them in tears of blood." 
 
 " Then why not redeem them, boy ? " 
 
 " And act a double treason ! " said Ralph. " No ! 
 I will die in the faith I have sworn." 
 
 " Then leave me," said the old man. " Leave me 
 forever ! " 
 
 "Not 'till have placed you in safety, father ! " 
 said Ralph, mournfully. " The tories will return to 
 see if their work prospers, and they must not find 
 you here." 
 
 " And is it you who would,protect me against the 
 tories ? " said the father sneeringly. 
 
 Ralph bit his lips until the blood gushed from 
 them. But without trusting himself to reply, he 
 seized the feeble frame of the old man in his arms 
 
 and totterecl with it to the brink of the river. A 
 
 i 
 
 canoe was quietly playing there in an eddy of the 
 stream — Ralph's own canoe — the bark of his boyish 
 sallies! Somehow, amid all the changes that had 
 passed, it had been spared. Perhaps, like modest 
 worth, it could flatter no passion, serve no interest. 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 115 
 
 Just as he had left it it remained, locked to a wil- 
 low. The key was lost, but Ralph wrenched away 
 the piu, and placed his father in it, and having given 
 one last look to the painful % scene behind him° where 
 the fiery streaks were fading away on the horizon, 
 he breathed a bitter curse on those who had wrought 
 this destruction of household wealth, this utter deso- 
 lation, and then guided his little canoe swiftly and 
 - noiselessly . down the stream. He remembered a 
 hanging rock, beneath which he had once taken 
 shelter from a storm on the river. It was a retired 
 place, completely hid by the rising ground and trees, 
 and only accessible by means of a lagoon which 
 backed up from the river. The eyeof mortal man 
 seldom visited the spot; indeed, it was so entirely 
 hemmed in by the swampy verdue of the two hills 
 which, enclosed it, and was besides so dark and 
 gloomy that it offered but little to tempt the curiosity 
 or daring of the boldest. But where was it'Kalph 
 Cornet had not penetrated ? There was not a single 
 creek or inlet, for many miles along that river, which 
 he had not explored in his indulged and adventurous 
 childhood, and every dell and cave had opened its ' 
 secret treasures to his eye ; for, as the heir of an 
 independent estate, his aristocratic father had fostered 
 in him the bold and daring spirit which led him to 
 rove unshackled through nature's wide domain, and 
 perfect himself in all the hardy branches of her 
 science, r«*her than submit to the dull trainings of 
 domestic labor. This the father had never regretted 
 until now ; for though his proud boy had the strong- 
 
116 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 est arm, and the lightest and merriest heart in the 
 whole country, there were none more passionately 
 fond, more considerately kind. Even his wild, un- 
 governed passions had a tone so generous and ele- 
 vated that every one predicted that young Cornet 
 would be a blessing to his country. His father 
 listened, and wound him still more closely around 
 his heart. When the time came that his eldest son 
 volunteered for the service of the State, though he 
 saw the fire of ardor burning in Ealph's eye, he 
 could not resolve to give him up. How different 
 would have been his course if he could have fore- 
 seen that in so short a time the self-governed spirit 
 of the youth would betray the imperfections of his 
 judgment to his ruin. 
 
 Now he was " fallen, fallen, fallen from his high 
 estate," and the dregs of that father's immeasurable 
 love were stirred into anguish not unmingled with 
 remorse, but the pride which had so qualified that 
 affection, now in its mistified bitterness, deceived the 
 old man into the belief that he really felt the hatred 
 he expressed for his son. Yet in that moment Ralph 
 Cornet would have died to save his father! He 
 understood by nature's sympathy how the strength 
 of his love betrayed itself in the violence of his 
 hatred, and as an atonement for its justice, which he 
 felt, he resolved to devote himself with humble and 
 filial duty to his protection. Ralph well knew the 
 unsleeping vigilance, the untiring wolf-like ferocity 
 of his father's enemies. He hardly thought of his 
 own perilous situation, but he conducted his light 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAX. 117 
 
 canoe, freighted with the almost insensible body of 
 his father, to the wild spot before mentioned, as the 
 only place of refuge for them both. 
 
 The moon was sinking behind the western bank 
 of the river, but it threw its last ray obliquely into 
 that gloomy retreat, and by its light Ealph gathered 
 a couch of dried leaves under the rock, and laid his 
 father upon it. He also took off his coat — that coat 
 ofately so fine with the trappings and badges of his 
 relations with the royalists, but now tarnished sadly 
 by the day's misfortunes — and formed a pillow for 
 the haughty republican's head! 
 
 For many days and nights Ealph watched him 
 there in secret, and his tender assiduities, his untiring 
 patience through the reproaches and fretfulness of 
 sickness and anger, at length won nature back to 
 his father's heart. 
 
 "Bless you, bless you, my boy!" said he one 
 morning when Ralph, having returned with fresh 
 water and dressed his wound, placed some food before 
 him. "Surely such a kind heart as yours must be 
 brave and noble, however it may have been duped. 
 But how pale you look, my son ! I fear confinement 
 in this horried place will kill you. Better you had 
 left me to be burnt alive, for those rascals will have 
 me at last. They can never rest since that unfortu- 
 nate shot with which I killed their brother as he was 
 carrying off my English mare. The thieving dog! 
 he was paid for it." 
 
 "No, father," said Ralph. "You are safe here 
 fbr a time, I trust. No one but old Juba knows of 
 
118 THE BRITISH PART] Z AN. 
 
 our existence, and he is not likely to betray us. We 
 can remain here until these troublesome times are 
 over, for, sure as there is a God above, our wretched 
 country will rise sometime from under the rule of 
 the wicked." 
 
 "That's spoken like my son," said the old man, 
 with a fond and almost cheerful accent. 
 
 That day, contrary to his usual custom — for he 
 only ventured out in the darkest hour of night-f* 
 Ralph rowed his canoe for some distance up the 
 steep and narrow gorge of the lagoon until he found 
 a place where he might land. As he clambered up 
 the bank the branch of the tree to which he had 
 clung broke off and fell into the stream, but he 
 heeded not the circumstance, and having gained the 
 summit, he took a circuitous route across the woods 
 to the hut of the old African, from whom he had 
 hitherto received the supplies which sustained his 
 father and himself in their exile. This old negro 
 had l<3ng been supported by his father for the good 
 he had done, and though he now lived to himself, 
 and was actually free, he gloried in the relation of 
 master and servant, and still retained the warm affec- 
 tion for his master's family which time had strength- 
 ened into a habit in his faithful nature. He would 
 sooner have been flayed alive than have betrayed 
 them, and cheerfully shared with them the daily pit- 
 tance which he either earned or begged, for he had 
 saved but little from his master's stores. It was a 
 lonely, long and unfrequented way which Kalph had 
 to traverse, and the sun was setting at evening, whe^i 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 119 
 
 he again entered his canpc. As the little vessel 
 heaved up and settled its point upon the sand, Ralph 
 was alarmed by the sight of many footsteps and 
 marks of violence, and rushing into the cave he fell 
 on his knees before the horrid spectacle of his father's 
 bloody and mangled corpse. Wildly he raised the 
 head to assure himself that life was indeed gone, and 
 that he was all alone. Then his brain seemed to 
 whirl round, and he held his brow with a maddening 
 clasp, until tears came to his relief. 
 
 During the night he scooped a shallow grave 
 under the rock where, without other shroud than 
 his tattered garments, he laid the violated remains of 
 his deeplyjoved parent. The tears which he had at 
 first shed relieved the weight on his heart, for they 
 were lightened b}^ the reflection that he had soothed 
 the sufferings of that parent, and that his last words 
 had been a blessing. Perhaps, too, he consoled him- 
 self that those eyes were closed on a world where 
 they woul^ have seen only sorrow. But that awful 
 burial of the murdered — there, alone, and in dark- 
 ness, was an outrage too shocking to the feelings of 
 a son, and as he proceeded in the bitter task the tears 
 became congealed on bis eyelids, and a stern rancor 
 poured over the latent softness of his heart. He went 
 forth from that cave harsh and unpit}nngas a savage, 
 vowing to match the blood of a Dooly with that so 
 freely shed. 
 
 The old man had spoken truly from an intimate 
 knowledge of the character of these fierce men. 
 They could not rest while they thought their 
 
120 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 brother's blood cried to them from the ground, and 
 when they had shot his destroyer in his bed, and set 
 fire to the house over his head, after having secured 
 to themselves everything valuable, they believed 
 their revenge consummated. It was generally sup- * 
 posed that old Cornet had perished thus, and they 
 had no suspicion of the fact of his escape, until as 
 they were passing down the river the fated morning 
 of Ralph's absence, a green branch floating on the 
 mouth of the lagoon excited their curiosity so far as 
 to lead them to investigate the mystery. As the man 
 who believed he had killed some poisonous reptile, 
 and seeing it again move its fangs, springs upon it, 
 and ends not until he has crushed it from the form 
 of nature, thus the}' sprung upon that weak old 
 man, and mangled him with wanton and beastly 
 cruelty. But, as if in confirmation of the truth that 
 "murder will out," they left by mistake a gun behind 
 them, which they had stolen from his father, and by 
 this means Ralph, if he had doubted it before, would 
 have been able to identify the murderers. 
 
 They would doubtless return soon to look for it ; 
 at least Ralph judged so, and he lingered there with 
 the hope that they would come, that he might on 
 that spot satisfy the manes of his father. But to- 
 wards daylight he grew impatient and left the cave. 
 A new and fierce ambition had seized him ; it was 
 the desire of drowning his sorrows in the noise of 
 battle — of revenging on his kind some of the misery 
 which maddened him. He had now no tics for 
 good or evil ; but he remembered the friendship of 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 121 
 
 Ferguson, who had not appeared ungrateful for the 
 assistance he had rendered him, and he resolved if 
 possible to join him in his operations as he origi- 
 nally intended, and resume command of a company 
 which he had undesignedly relinquished. 
 
 It was, as I have said, near daylight when Ralph 
 Cornet, without scrip or staff, except the gun which 
 had been left by the rock, boldly began his journey. 
 
 lie took no secret turns, no winding waj r s, to 
 avoid detection, for his heart was filled with a strange 
 longing, a thirst for human blood; and he watched 
 eagerly for his enemies, but no creature crossed his 
 path. It happened, however, that his route lay 
 near the old African's dwelling; and as he was pass- 
 ing within half a mile of it, his attention was 
 aroused by screams, or rather by sounds which 
 appeared to be the involuntary and irrepressible 
 outpourings of agony. His heart smote him with 
 having forgotten that humble friend, and he quick- 
 ened his steps in that direction. As he approached, 
 the sound of a lash was distinctly heard, and occa- 
 sionally laughter and curses contrasted mockingly 
 with the scream which attended each stroke. 
 
 Ralph stood by a tree outside the little enclosure 
 of corn and potatoes which surrounded the hut,, 
 whence he had a plain view of the scene, which 
 made his blood to boil once more. There was his 
 faithful Juba, hanging by the arms from a log which 
 extended from a corner of the hut, and a man was 
 still inflicting the punishment of the whip, accom- 
 panying every stripe with an injunction and threat 
 
122 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 about something which the old negro refused to 
 reveal, the nature of which Ralph could not at first 
 determine. Two other men stood by with drawn 
 swords, laughing fiendishly at the manner in which 
 the negro winced from the cruel torture of their 
 companion ; but every now and then, enraged at 
 his stubborn silence, they ran up and thrust the 
 points of their swords into his flesh, or seized him 
 by the short kinks of grey hair, threatening to flay 
 him alive if he did not tell them where Ralph Cornet 
 was at that moment. The blood of the African 
 streamed over his ebon skin, but no expostulation 
 or entreaty escaped him. His white eyes rolled 
 disdainfully upon them, and his thick lips were 
 closed in perfect silence. He refused to utter a 
 single word. 
 
 Ralph heard all that passed, and unable to contain 
 himself any longer he examined the priming of the 
 rifle and resting it slowly and steadily against the 
 tree he took deliberate aim at the man who held the 
 lash, for as he had once turned round and discovered 
 his face the dark joy of revenge rose in the breast 
 of Ralph. With the report of the gun the man 
 sprang at least three feet into the air, and fell, like a 
 lump of lead, with a groan. His companions, so 
 taken by surprise, jumped over the fence and fled 
 as if a legion had been at their heels. 
 
 Ralph staid only to release the negro, and whis- 
 pered "farewell!" The morning sun rose on him 
 many miles distant. 
 
 It was the third day of his travel that somewhat 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 123 
 
 exhausted with so many miles journeying on foot, 
 and almost without food or sleep, he sat down to 
 rest by a little mountain stream near the border of 
 North Carolina. He knew not what to think, for 
 the last night and day he had met parties of men, 
 some of whom seemed to be flying either on horse 
 or foot, and others pursuing. Neither party had 
 any marks by which he could distinguish friend or 
 foe; for, knowing that the soiled British uniform 
 which he still wore would render him liable to sus- 
 picion, he kept at a distance. But he judged that 
 some army had been routed, and he feared much for 
 Ferguson from whom he had as yet received no 
 information. 
 
 As he sat with his arms folded on his breast 
 revolving these thoughts, a man approached him on 
 foot who appeared also to be a traveler. He stood 
 for some time regarding Ralph with an expression of 
 much curiosity, who, when he had lifted up his 
 head, testified no less surprise and emotion in dis- 
 covering him to have been once a member of his 
 own company of militia. The fugitive soldier sat 
 down there and told the stor}' to his newly-arisen 
 Captain of their conflicts with the mountaineers — of 
 the death of the valiant Ferguson — and of the total 
 rout and capture of his army. Ralph listened in 
 silence to this relation which brought annihilation to 
 his hopes and destruction to his day-dream of glory. 
 But when the man went on to state that Ferguson, 
 on report of his death, had given his horse to the 
 new Captain who headed his company, and that this 
 
124 THE BRITISH FAKTIZAN. 
 
 man together with the horse were now with a part 
 of the other prisoners remaining not far off, Ralph 
 started to his feet and shouted as if that cr}' had 
 sounded in the ears of an army instead of the lone 
 woods — 
 
 a To the rescue ! — to the rescue ! " 
 
 The soldier, who had a brother among the priso- 
 ners, eagerly entered into the bold design of Ralph, 
 which was to rally the flying royalists — of whom he 
 felt assured there were yet many wandering on the 
 mountains — and endeavor to recover the prisoners by 
 surprise. 
 
 The attempt succeeded beyond his expectation, 
 for he soon found himself at the head of twenty or 
 thirty men, wild, desperate, daring tories, who know- 
 ing that their lives were ahead} 7 staked on the no 
 longer doubtful contest with their countrymen, threw 
 themselves recklessty into the adventure. 
 
 Under the limb of a large tree, near to what 
 appeared to be an American encampment, a rude 
 scaffolding was erected, around which were bustling 
 many men in lively preparation for some uncommon 
 event. All seemed to be ready for moving when 
 this should have been accomplished. There were no 
 signs of tents or baggage wagons T but arms and 
 knapsacks lay about in heaps, and several fires were 
 yet smoking. To the left a number of horses, ready 
 equipped, were tied to the dwarfish shrubs, whilst 
 between them and the scaffold sat or reclined that 
 part of the captured royalists which had been com- 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 125. 
 
 mitted to the care of Colonel Shelby, bound and 
 secured by means of chains to the trees. 
 
 These had been detained some few days after the 
 departure of the rest by the indisposition of the 
 officer, and their captors, without fear of molestation, 
 were making read}' to offer offended justice an expi- 
 ation for the blood of many innocent victims. From 
 the ranks of the prisoners, one after another, a man 
 was loosed and hung from the limbs of the tree ; 
 and it was not the first time that the Whigs were 
 provoked to that method of retaliation. But whilst 
 these executions were going on, amid laughing and 
 shouting, which mocked the screams of the victims, 
 a noise was heard behind, and it was observed that 
 the remaining captives were loosed and running 
 down the hill in the rear. There was swift snatch- 
 ing of arms and mounting of horses, and the last 
 victim, with the cord yet unbound around his neck, 
 was left alone. But in the meantime Ralph Cornet, 
 with the eye of a lynx had espied his horse among 
 those ready bridled and saddled, and having slyly 
 loosed and mounted him, he warmlv met and 
 charged the pursuers in front of the better half of 
 his men, in the deep copse-wood of the valley. The 
 mountaineers pressed on furiously, but Ralph covered 
 the retreat of the prisoners to a rude defense he had 
 thrown up in one of the fastnesses of the mountains, 
 and the retreating fire he kept up obliged the pur- 
 suers, who had set off hastily and without order, to 
 return and rally their forces. 
 
 The situation which Ralph had chosen was per- 
 
J26 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 fectly secure from attack, and be might have main- 
 tained his position there for any length of time, if 
 famine had not obliged him to abandon it. He 
 knew that Colonel Shelby, strongly reinforced, was 
 watching them, and under these circumstances he 
 found it necessan' to make a" push for the lower 
 countr}\ The} 7 sallied out one night, but they had 
 not proceeded far when they were attacked in the 
 rear. This was what they had expected, and each 
 man by the light of the clear, cold starlight, turned 
 and grappled with his foe. The conflict was stern 
 and desperate, but not long. The numbers were 
 now unequal, not more than half of the tories had 
 arms, and every man but Ralph was either killed or 
 captured. When his last comrade fell fighting by 
 his side, Ralph Cornet,- who was himself stunned by 
 a blow on the head, turned and fled. For a long 
 time he imagined he heard the tramp of ieet behind 
 him, but when at dawn of day he pulled up his good 
 horse to breathe, on the top of a high hill, he looked 
 around, and he was alone, A wide landscape 
 stretched out to the west in successive variation of 
 undulating slopes, over which the blue mists of 
 morning spread a soft and hallowed repose. The 
 wearied and misanthropic^ spirit of Ralph yearned 
 towards its still and apparently untrodden solitude. 
 He gazed back for a moment to the gentle vales of 
 the South — 
 
 "My country!" he said aloud, "it is in vain that 
 we struggle. You will he free — but I — / cannot see 
 iti" 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 127 
 
 And plunging down the bill, he was soon thread-, 
 ing the lovely vales of the Toogula, But all was 
 too soft and beautiful there to sympathise with the 
 harsh tenor of his thoughts. He sought for the 
 stern and terrible, that he might hide from himself 
 in the subduing presence of that nature which had 
 ever been his god. At length the dark-green moun- 
 tain tops rose above him, and scarcely less than a 
 madman, he wandered by the u beetling brows " of 
 precipices, and through the gloomy grave-like hol- 
 lows. His horse fed beside him on the green ver- 
 dure of the sheltered spots; but it was many, many 
 days that Ralph Cornet forgot the cravings of nature 
 except to snatch instinctively the wild grapes and 
 berries that hung to his hand. No sign of human 
 habitation was there, and only once an Indian 
 hunter had crossed his path, casting on him a sly 
 inquiring glance. The wolves howled around where 
 he struck his fire of nights, and not unfrequently a 
 bear ran off at sight of him. He still carried his 
 gun, and the leathern pouch on his shoulder had 
 some few charges of ammunition remaining. But 
 the wild deer played around him unharmed, and 
 watched him with their timid eyes in wondering 
 innocence. 
 
 One day he found himself on the edge of a rock 
 where a little stream, swollen by the autumnal rains, 
 came rushing down from the dark brow of the 
 mountain, through rustling leaves and chiming cas- 
 cades, and he nearly precipitated himself over the 
 brink before he was aware of the gulf that yawned 
 
128 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 j beneath him. Then, suddenly as the lightning 
 scathes the living tree, the full sublimity of that 
 mountain cataract ran through the nerves of Ralph. 
 He fell prostrate on the rock, and gazed down into 
 the yawning abyss and drank in the roaring of the 
 waters, until his strained eyes ached almost to burst- 
 ing, and his brain whirled round with ecstasy. 
 Scarcely could he refrain from throwing himself 
 headlong, in sympathy with the torrent, down, down 
 into its eddying pool — so fascinating, so impelling to 
 his soul were these elements of the beautiful and 
 terrible. 
 
 Long, very long, he gazed, and then winding 
 around to the foot of the mountain, he entered the 
 amphitheatre of the precipice, and seating himself 
 by the circular pool, looked up nearly two hundred 
 feet to where the water poured over the rim of the 
 rock. His mind was over wrought by the novel 
 excitement, and he laughed loud and exultingly as 
 the strong breeze brushed the hair from his brow 
 and the cool spray dashed in his face. 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" he shouted, "these are my com- 
 panions!" And he stooped down and kissed the 
 rocks, and shouted again, and clapped his hands in 
 the ecstasy of insanity. 
 
 It was a fearful moment; for he was about to 
 plunge into the dark and un fathomed basin of the 
 torrent. But a stream of lightning, for several 
 seconds in succession, blinded his eyes and a clap 
 of thunder broke on the rock so vividly that, pained 
 by the shock, he sunk down on the ground, with 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN* 129 
 
 his head buried in his arms. A silence succeeded of 
 such long continuance that Ralph ventured to look 
 up, and his eyes caught the inky surges heaving like 
 the waters of a boiling cauldron on the sky. Pre- 
 sently he heard a low rumbling, like a thousand 
 chariot wheels afar off, and the wind whistled shrilly 
 through the dry leaves of the forest above him. But 
 soon after the discharge, as of a cannonade, rattled 
 through the hollows in reverberating peals, and the 
 winds la,shed the sides of the mountain, and roared 
 and swelled, until the hoary trees on the mountain's 
 brow tossed their arms in distraction, and groaned and 
 creaked as their trunks were twisted off and hurled 
 like leaves through the air. Ralph threw himself on 
 the ground and prepared to die, in trembling terror; 
 for man, though he dares to defy his Maker, shrinks 
 from an exhibition of His Almighty power. But 
 the war of elements passed on — the rain ceased, and 
 subdued by the voice of Him who speaketh to the 
 tempest, Ralph Cornet's madness departed and he fell 
 on his knees and gave thanks for a life preserved. 
 
 He had returned to himself and felt his wretched- 
 ness; but he went forth an humble and a reasonable 
 man. The spirit of murmuring was quelled, and 
 his mind was strengthened in its sadness. Impelled 
 by hunger, he sought and obtained food, and then 
 wandered farther into the heart of the mountains ; 
 for the poetry of his nature was breathing out after 
 their beautiful mysteries. 
 
 Ere long, of necessity, he came upon the rich 
 shadows of Tallulah, garnered up there in the wild 
 L 
 
130 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 depths of the forest as a thing too precious for the 
 eye of man to profane, where lights and shades f 
 and colors were blended so harmoniously and so 
 gracefully with all that is mighty and terrible in 
 magnificence, and all appearing as new and fresh 
 and beautiful as if an admiring God, enchanted of 
 his work, had exempted it from his decree against a 
 fallen world. It burst a glorious vision on the eyes 
 of Ralph, as if a scroll of darkness and error had 
 been suddenly withdrawn from his mind, and the 
 happy buoyancy of his dreaming time harmonized 
 with the soft brilliancy of the scene. 
 
 For weeks he wandered along those lonely cliffs, 
 which for many miles enclose that chrystal rivulet 
 into the sweetest prison house that nature ever formed. 
 Sometimes he would stand for hours gazing from the 
 dizzy heights, and then he would descend perilously 
 a thousand feet down into the chasm, and look nearer 
 on those painted walls, where they lost themselves in 
 the forest trees just a little below the sky, until he 
 drank his fill of beauty. He was there alone amid 
 the grandeur of nature, with no evidence before him 
 of fallen man — no wonder that he forgot the curse 
 of his being. His heart was softened, his mind puri- 
 fied and exalted by the mysterious process of assim- 
 ilating to God through his works, and he began 
 again, as in the days of his innocence, to weave 
 sweet dreams of intercourse with his kind. One 
 morning, in a fit of musing, he turned his horse's 
 head, almost involuntarily, towards his once happy 
 .home. 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 131 
 
 Ralph did not deceive himself with regard to the 
 danger of returning again to the haunts of men. He 
 hoped that the rancor of his enemies was somewhat 
 abated by his long absence, but he could only expect 
 forgiveness from one. To her his heart yearned the 
 more tenderly, because her image was connected 
 with the only things pleasant in his bitter memory,, 
 and was, beneath the sky, the only light that shone 
 on his darkened spirit. He was riding along leisurely 
 through the- scenes which reminded him of all he^ 
 had hoped and lost in the course of one year, when 
 a man passed by him at full gallop, but he thought- 
 no more of the circumstance, and had arrived safely 
 near the river, indulging in a strange sweet reverie — 
 very strange for one who was approaching his coun- 
 try without a place to lay his head. But he was 
 thinking of her, that soft and loving being who had 
 been always ready to excuse his errors since child- 
 hood. It is true she had, at their last dreadful meet- 
 ing, appeared cold, and that coldness had nerved his 
 heart for deeds of desperation. But it would have 
 been madness to doubt her at that moment, when he 
 was returning with a heart so wearied by desire for 
 sympathy. Ralph Cornet refused to do so. Already 
 he was with her in spirit — a tender smile sat on her 
 lips, the first it had worn for months, and once he 
 stretched out his arms to embrace her — he thought 
 she had forgiven him. From the luxury of this 
 dream he was aroused suddenly b} r a pistol shot, 
 the ball from which whistled not two inches above 
 his head. Before he had time to conjecture whence 
 
132 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 it came, he was set upon by three men who rushed 
 out from a dark wood, and^endeavored to drag him 
 from his borse. Maintaining with difliculty his 
 position, Ralph laid about him lustily with the end 
 of the gun he still carried. One of ftie men wan 
 soon laid on the ground with the blood spouting from 
 his nostrils, but the other two returned furiously to> 
 the attack with drawn swords. Thus pressed upun 
 both sides, he bore up under several wounds, and 
 kept his seat in spite of the curvetings of his fright- 
 ened horse; but at length he was run nearly through 
 the body, and was obliged to clasp his arms around 
 the horse's neck to prevent falling. The assailants 
 now made sure of him, and seized the horse to stop 
 his plunging, but Ralph, with all his remaining 
 strength, struck the spurs into his sides, and the 
 enraged animal broke away with a terrific snort t 
 dashing those who held him to the ground, and the 
 next minute the waters hissed and foamed where he 
 plunged in and beat them like something mad or 
 wild with terror. 
 
 Ralph held on mechanically during the passage of 
 the river, but when the horse bounded to the bank 
 and shook the water from his flanks, his stiffened 
 limbs were loosed, and he fell motionless to the 
 ground. The men on the other side, who, having 
 been advised of his return by one who had rode on 
 before him, had waylaid him there with determined 
 revenge, now seeing him fall dead as they supposed, 
 took no further interest in the matter, and Ralph 
 Cornet would have died there as he lav if Provi- 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 133 
 
 dence had not so ordained that the African slave, 
 who had moved his dwelling higher up the river 
 since his master's death, should discover him as he 
 was out that evening gathering wood to warm his 
 lonely cabin. 
 
 Poor old Juba let his fagots fall, and lifted up 
 his hands and eyes in amazement at the sight of that 
 bloody and inanimate form. At first he sat down 
 and wept over him, bat perceiving that the heart 
 still beat, he made an effort to bear him off. The old 
 negro stopped almost in despair at finding how incom- 
 petent he was to the task ; but he could not give up 
 his beloved young master to die there in the sharp, 
 wintry night air, and after a long time, by lifting 
 and dragging, he brought him to his dwelling. 
 There he laid him on a pallet of fresh straw, and 
 warmed him and dressed his wound with a care, 
 which, if it was not surgeonly, was at least tender 
 and kind. 
 
 Ralph awoke in a delirious fever, which raged 
 many days. His faithful servant was terrified at his 
 incoherent words and the violence of his gestures ; 
 but he was discreet enough not to hazard his chance 
 of recovery by apptying to his enemies for relief. 
 He took the horse into the island, where he fed him 
 secretly, and then went on his way as usual to escape 
 suspicion. He applied the herbs and roots of which 
 the simple pharmacy of his country is composed, to 
 the wounds of Ralph, and trusted to his strong natural 
 system for the rest. It was triumphant at last, and 
 after some time he looked around and knew where 
 
134 THE BRITISH PAKTIZAN-. 
 
 t 
 
 he was ; but when he attempted to rise he fell back 
 powerless. Many weeks he lay there in the slow, 
 lingering torture of recovery. He heard the birds 
 singing without, and felt the fresh breeze of spring, 
 but could not drag his weakened limbs to the door. 
 
 His suspense with regard to Annette rather retarded 
 his convalescence. He had learnt that she was in 
 the fort not far off, and he pined at the thought of 
 being so near without being able to see or hear from 
 her. His da} r s and nights were taken up in contriv- 
 ing some method of informing hej of his existence,. 
 with which, however, he could trust no one but him- 
 self ; and his first impulse, soon as he was able to 
 crawl out, was to watch around the fort. On the 
 night that General Pic£ens saw him there,, in that 
 sad and feeble condition, he had ventured to throw 
 a lock of Annette's hair, which he had preserved 4 
 through all his trials, over the wall r feeling assured 
 that if she saw it she would not fail to recognize it» 
 But after that interview, he deemed it necessary to 
 ohange his dwelling, for he supposed that a search 
 would be instituted for him, and he was no longer 
 able to resist if discovered. 
 
 He built a camp far in the woods, where Andrew 
 Morrison, who had been in search of him for a 
 week, came upon him on the morning of the burial. 
 Ralph's heart melted down at the relation of the for- 
 lorn and affecting situation of Annette, and as he 
 heard the kind and soothing words of the old Scotch- 
 man, he began to feel the reviving influence of hope. 
 "I will see her at all risks ! " he said. Accordingly 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 135 
 
 he stationed himself where he could watch the course 
 of the burial, naturally supposing that she would be 
 the last at the grave ; and her stay offered him the 
 opportunity, which he was determined at all hazards 
 to seize. 
 
CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 "There's a divinity that shapes our ends 
 Rough hew them how we may." 
 
 Such was the tale of his varied fortunes, which 
 Ralph Cornet recounted to the gentle and pitying 
 girl. She could not but feel how different he was 
 from the light-hearted being who had first fascinated 
 her young fancy. How changed in heart and man- 
 ners even from the proud and brilliant officer, who 
 six months before sat almost on that very spot at 
 her feet, so handsome, so buoyant with hopes ; but 
 never,' never in the sunny days 1 of their unclouded 
 love, had he felt so endeared to her as now. Like 
 the gentle Desdemona, she " loved him for the dan- 
 gers he had passed," and though she saw him 
 thwarted in his prospects, sad and subdued in spirit, 
 friendless and homeless, she would not have left him 
 for the proudest prince on earth ; for the deeper the 
 desolation the more does woman cling to the for- 
 saken. 
 
 'When Annette returned to the fort, she buried 
 herself in the seclusion of her tent, and asked advice 
 of no one on the important step she was about to 
 take. She did not repent of having promised to fly 
 with him, but the future presented to her view a 
 dark uncertainty, which even love, in her present 
 mournful state, could not cheer, and she awaited her 
 destiny in a kind of gloomy apathy. If it is true 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAtf. 137 
 
 that "coming events cast their shadows before," it 
 was a forerunner of the dreadful despair she was 
 doomed soon to experience. 
 
 Selina Anderson was near her, with all the com- 
 fort that a tender heart can suggest for such deep 
 affliction, but Annette turned from her and wept. 
 She could not resolve to discover to that proud and 
 noble girl that she was about to marry the disgraced 
 and exiled man. 
 
 Mrs. Cornet, who was necessarily in the secret, 
 strengthened Annette in the resolution. It would 
 be hard to say what were the feelings of this lady 
 towards her unfortunate brother-in-law. She had 
 always loved him, and notwithstanding her elevated 
 spirit scorned the part he had acted, she was pleased 
 to hear that he meditated an escape from the dangers 
 which surrounded him. She felt a tender friendship 
 for Annette, but nature spoke still stronger in her 
 heart for him, and she was soothed to think that his 
 exile would not be solitary. 
 
 Before night Andrew Morrison was observed to 
 leave the fort with the French Minister, and return 
 alone into the tent of Annette Bruyesant. This, 
 though,, was no unusual circumstance and excited no- 
 suspicion. * 
 
 Everything seemed to be propitious for their escape. 
 The gate was closed, and the garrison had retired 
 early to rest. It was a dark night, excepting the 
 faint light of the stars, for " the moon's sweet cres- 
 cent" was only seen glimmering through the thick 
 trees on the water's edge. 
 
138 THE BRITISH PARTIZAK. 
 
 Ralph bad appointed to come early, and already a 
 rope was thrown over the wall, which Andrew Mor- 
 rison fixed to the ground by a stake, and then cau- 
 tiously helped the trembling girl to ascend. From 
 the top of the wall they observed two men standing 
 in the dark shadow below, and scarcely had Annette 
 set her foot on the ground, when one of them rushed 
 forward and seized her. * 
 
 Not a word had been spoken on either side, but 
 Annette gave a faint scream, and old Andrew noticed 
 as they moved off with her, that neither of them had 
 thestature of Ralph Cornet. The old Scotchman stood 
 transfixed with horror, and his first thought was to 
 alarm the garrison ; for what could he do, an old 
 man, with those desperate ruffians? 
 
 But the avenger was at hand 1 Ralph Comet was 
 also approaching, when he heard the scream, and in 
 an instant he was on the spot. One brief word of 
 alarm and he was flying off in the direction of the 
 river ; but at that moment two men, who had been 
 placed there for the purpose, advanced' from the wall 
 and seized him. Ralph felt for his sword, and dis- 
 covered that he was perfectly unarmed. In the rap- 
 turous excitement under which he had set off, he had 
 forgotten even the dagger*he thought it prudent to 
 wear usually. But he shook off the grasp of those 
 men as Samson did the Philistines, who seeing him 
 thus escape, discharged their muskets after him by 
 an appointed signal. At the same time on the banks 
 of the river stood the man who yet grasped Annette 
 with his left arm, and the poor girl's head leaned 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 139 
 
 against bis shoulder, for she had fainted. The light 
 of the moon's silver horn fell clear upon the features 
 of Hugh Bates. They were fearfully agitated. 
 
 " Quick, quick, Miller, and be damned to you ! " 
 said he. " Don't you hear those guns ? lie is 
 coming!" 
 
 There was some difficulty in unfastening a canoe. 
 One moment more and Hugh Bates had forever bid 
 him defiance ; but Ralph Cornet was now standing 
 face to face with his deadliest enemy. His fierce 
 grasp was on the shoulder of Bates, and with the 
 other hand he seized the insensible form of Annette. 
 
 "Villain ! " he exclaimed, in a voice hoarse with 
 rage, " yield her to me ! " 
 
 The eyes of Bates blazed like a wolf's in the dark. 
 
 "In death, then!" he muttered, gnashing his 
 teeth, and a dagger gleamed in the moonlight over 
 the breast of Annette. 
 
 But Ralph Cornet saw the flashing of the blade, 
 and letting go his hold of Annette, he seized the 
 uplifted arm, and with his other hand grasped the 
 throat of the murderer. Bates writhed under the 
 pain, and in an effort of desperation he turned his 
 pliant limbs around the form of Ralph and drew 
 him to the ground. Long and desperate then became 
 the struggle for the dagger. Bates, strong and active 
 at any time, was in the healthy vigor of manhood, 
 almost too much for the enfeebled strength of Cor- 
 net. Once in the contest the dagger dropped on the 
 ground, and the quick hands of Bates had seized it, 
 and aimed with deadly precision at the throat of his 
 
140 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 adversary. But Ralph grasped his wrist with both 
 hands, and directed it to his heart! The limbs of 
 Bates slowly relaxed their clasping hold, and he lay 
 there a stiffening corpse. 
 
 When Ralph Cornet rose from that awful conflict, 
 his first thought was of Annette, but she was gone ; 
 and possessed of a madness such as he had never 
 before experienced, he rushed to the fort. Already 
 he was mounting the ladder which had been left 
 there, but the still vigorous arm of Andrew Morrison 
 was laid upon him. 
 
 11 Haud, baud, man ! wad ye rin to yer destruc- 
 tion ? " said he. 
 
 11 Begone ! " exclaimed Ralph, impatiently dash- 
 ing the old man aside. But he still laid hold of him. 
 
 " Are ye mad?" he asked. "Ralph Cornet, do 
 you wish to die in ane moment mair? If not for my 
 sake, for the sake o' her wha loes ye, forbear. She is 
 nae there, it may be." 
 
 It was the first time that Ralph had thought of 
 that. He sunk back to the ground, and a fierce 
 convulsive shaking seized him. He looked as if 
 he were finding refuge in death. Andrew Morri- 
 son wiped the cold perspiration from his brow, and 
 as he unbuttoned his collar to give him air, he per- 
 ceived a stream of blood upon his bosom. 
 
 " Mercy!" exclaimed he, in surprise. "Ye hae 
 been wounded then, my puir bairn ? " 
 
 " It is the blood of Bates ! " said Ralph, shivering 
 as he related the distressing event which had oc- 
 curred. 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 141 
 
 Every hour of his life seemed to bring curses on 
 the head of the unfortunate man. But the bitterest 
 drop in that bitter cup was the mysterious disappear- 
 ance of Annette, and his own disability to seek for 
 her and revenge the outrage done to her. 
 
 The old man, seeing the pitiful situation into which 
 he had fallen, attempted consolation, and endeavored 
 to inspire a hope which he hardly felt himself. 
 
 u Tak' heart, tak' heart, my boy I* said he. " Ye 
 shall hae her yet ! On the word o' an auld man, ye 
 shall hae her yet ! That Bates was an awfu' man, 
 an' yer mortal enimy. Ye hae done weel in ridding 
 the airth o' a villainy. Besides, ye could nae help 
 what ye hae done, when the black wretch was draw- 
 ing, as ain may say, the verri lifers bluid o' yer 
 heart. But be thankfu', my lad ; he canna disturb 
 ye mair, an' ye shall ha*e her yet." 
 
 But Balph could not wipe away from his memory 
 that stain of blood. He was shocked at the dire 
 necessity which imposed it on him, and maddened 
 that it involved the destruction of his plans. He 
 dared still less than ever to appear before his coun- 
 trymen, for few of them knew as well as he the black 
 villainy of Hugh Bates, and still fewer, he was 
 assured, would look with unprejudiced eyes on the 
 circumstances attending his death. 
 
 Ralph Cornet knew not himself the whole extent 
 to which that villainy aimed in its accomplishment; 
 he, as well as Annette, was ignorant of the agency 
 which Bates had had in her father's death, and his 
 appearance at this time and interference in a plan 
 M 
 
142 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 which Ralph believed he had projected in secret, was 
 a mystery which he could not unravel. Had Ralph 
 been quick enough in that last interview by the cot- 
 tage, to have heeded the words of the child, that 
 mystery might have been explained, or rather anti- 
 cipated. There was an eye upon those lovers — not 
 less envious, not less malicious, than* that with which 
 the serpent regarded the first two that ever found a 
 paradise on earth, and that was the eye of Hugh 
 
 Bates. 
 
 After that unsuccessful pursuit of Ralph Cornet, 
 when he had given him up as lost, Bates maintained 
 the character of a good whig by following the 
 American army. In this he had literally no choice, 
 since to be shot as a deserter on one side, or as a 
 traitor on the other, was equally impending if he 
 had been captured. But \*hen, after the battle of 
 Cowpens, he returned into the neighborhood, he was 
 left by his own request with the guard of the fort. 
 There, from often seeing Annette, his former passion 
 had revived, and he dared once more to look upon 
 her with an eye of love. But seeing that the gentle 
 girl treated him with a scorn she never exhibited to 
 others, he only waited an opportunity to revenge on 
 her this contempt for his passion. The death of her 
 father he imagined would place her more securely 
 in his power, and he was laying a train, for her in 
 his mind on returning from Vienna, after having 
 calmly attended the burial of him he had sent to the 
 grave, when he heard voices back of the cottage, 
 and crept up closely to reconnoitre. There he saw 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 143 
 
 the man whom he believed dead, with his arms 
 around his intended victim, and heard her vow to be 
 another's. If he had been armed with a rifle, that 
 would have been the last moment of Ralph Cornet, 
 but he had no arms except the dagger which he 
 always wore; and though fierce as a tiger when 
 roused, he dreaded nothing more than a personal 
 encounter with Ralph. He held his breath gasp- 
 ingly as the plot of Annette's escape was revealed to 
 him, and clenching his fist firmly, he muttered be- 
 tween his grinding teeth — 
 
 " To-morrow night I— then to-morrow night I shall 
 be avenged f " 
 
 He returned to the fort, and permitted things to- 
 pass off in their usual course; for Hugh Bates knew 
 well the art of dissembling. But in the meantime 
 he was busily maturing his plan, which was to anti- 
 cipate Ralph in carrying off Annette. 
 
 " I, too, can fly with her," said he. " When we 
 are off she shall be mine in spite of her, and I shall 
 be gloriously avenged on both." 
 
 With these views he informed the garrison that 
 at a particular place they might take Ralph Cornet, 
 whom they had believed dead, and having excused 
 himself from the party on the plea of private busi- 
 ness, he left the fort a little before dark, with one 
 man, to whom he entrusted his scheme. He felt 
 very certain that the enmity of the men "was suffi- 
 cient to ensure the death of Cornet, but he advised 
 them if there was any danger of his escape to fire 
 for assistance. 
 
144 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 As to his own private matter — determined that 
 his revenge should be felt even in spite of death — 
 he directed Miller, the man who accompanied him, 
 in case anything happened to himself, to fly with 
 Annette to some place of concealment. 
 
 The next morning the body of Bates was found 
 and buried on the spot. His fate excited but little 
 sympathy with those who believed in his guilt, as 
 the story was told by Andrew Morrison ; but a 
 vigorous search was instituted for Ralph Cornet, and 
 the place of Annette's imprisonment kept closely 
 veiled. 
 
 On the same day of Bates' burial intelligence 
 arrived at the fort of the death of the gallant Lieut. 
 Pickens. He was picked off by a rifleman before 
 the siege of Ninety-six. As he had expressed it, he 
 died " beloved and regretted," but he did not live 
 to see the victory for which he had so nobly con- 
 tended. The mournful pressure of events which 
 immediately followed his death almost erased the 
 memory of his loss ; for the lonely spot where his 
 grave was dug soon became a burying ground for 
 soldiers like himself. But there was one heart which 
 raised a proud monument to his name. As the fresh- 
 ness of grief wore away in the bosom of Selina 
 Anderson, the pride of his memory rose in her soul. 
 Yes, she could bear to talk with a tearless eye of 
 him who slept, 
 
 " As sleeps the brave who sink to rest. 
 By all their country's wishes blest. 1 ' 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Why, let the stricken doer go weep, 
 The hart ungalled play; 
 For some must watch, whilst some must sleep — 
 So runs the world away." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 "She's won I we are off, over bank, bush and scaur, 
 They'll have fleet steeds that fallow,' quoth young Lochinvar." 
 
 It was a day of public rejoicing at Vienna. Some 
 part of the scattered remnant of the American sol- 
 diery had returned from Eutaw into that neighbor- 
 hood. The victory was nearly decided, and the voice 
 of exultation, which rose over the wail of widows 
 and orphans and drowned the groans of the dying, 
 told to every surrounding echo that the country was 
 free ! 
 
 What a day was that for the small remnant of 
 whig militia — that firm patriotic band, which had 
 withstood temptations and distress, poverty and hard- 
 ships of every degree — men who left their families 
 in the hands of a murderous banditti at home and 
 went forth to meet the foe — 
 
 "Firm as a rock of the ocean that stems 
 A thousand wild waves by the shore " — 
 
 and who having now returned to witness the woful 
 devastation created in their absence, could only clasp 
 their few remaining treasures and say, " These are 
 mine own I " It was both a proud and a bitter day 
 M* 
 
146 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. • 
 
 for them ; but they were conquerors. The foe was 
 retreating from the country, and with the natural 
 sympathies of men who have been associated, and 
 come safely out of some dangerous enterprise, they 
 met with hearts and tongues overflowing with the 
 dangers they had passed. 
 
 The day wasyn sultry June, and tfie burning sun 
 which had seemed to set on fire the low painted roofs 
 of the houses of Vienna, shed an oblique radiance 
 upon the western windows, which were now opened 
 to admit the cool' breeze springing up from the river. 
 The single street as well as the houses was thronged 
 with men — under the shade of trees — in the piaz- 
 zas — sitting, standing, walking, laughing and shout- 
 ing — in ever}' variety of rude and careless happiness. 
 Some stood about in groups resting on their guns, 
 which from long habit had become necessary to 
 their comfort; whilst some one of the number, 
 swelling with the importance of fancied advantage 
 over the rest, told .with a boastful air the tale of fyts 
 " deeds in arms," how he had fought in such a battle, 
 or how he had gulled such a tory. All of which 
 his auditors approved by loud laughing and signifi- 
 cant gestures. But it was observed that none laughed 
 so loud as those who had the most doubtful right to 
 sympathise with the speaker ; for though the pride 
 of the whigs, together with the recent wrongs they 
 had suffered at their hands, caused them to scorn all 
 offers of friendship from the crest fallen tories, there 
 were yet very many among that class, who, by a 
 prudent caution, had reserved themselves a place 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZA'N. 147 
 
 among the conquering party. Many of these now 
 mingled with the under class of whigs who filled the 
 grog shops with bacchanalian revelry, and it was not 
 uncommon to see a boasting whig who had advanced 
 into the highest state of quarrelsome intermeddling, 
 step out, and rolling up the sleeves from his brawny 
 arms, challenge another man to prove himself not a 
 tory. It was all a scene of noise and bustle — a true 
 picture of the disorders and license of a state of 
 recent warfare, and a natural evidence of the haughti- 
 ness with which man assumed power. Some others 
 of the younger men even, who had rested their guns 
 against the houses, and engaged in the peaceful game 
 of running, wrestling or ball-playing, whenever a 
 man was seen passing along the road at a distance, 
 or skulking under the bushes, would shout the word 
 " Tory ! " from one to the other, and chase him out 
 of sight, with the loud laugh and broad haloo of 
 childish delight. As the fox which has been the 
 terror of the farm-yard, after having been run down 
 and disarmed of its power by the huntsman, is crowed 
 and cackled over by the delighted fowls, and pelted 
 with stones and pulled about by the revengeful child- 
 ren, thus these deluded beings, no longer feared, were 
 become the butt of the conquering party — objects 
 merely deserving the indignities of con tempt. •There 
 was only one, who by the high character of his bold 
 and lofty defiance, seemed to be worthy of their 
 resentment. He had baffled and evaded them. His 
 indomitable spirit refused to sue or submit, and 
 though he had committed fewer deeds of abhorrence 
 
148 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 than any one of the vile class with whom he had 
 been associated, his countrymen hated him with the 
 deepest and most deadly hatred ; for the tyrannical 
 heart of man is too haughty in the hour of victory 
 to suffer any defiance. But Ralph Cornet, by ths 
 superior finesse of his motions, had as } 7 et eluded 
 their grasp. They hunted him as the wild beast is 
 hunted in the wilds of Africa, with sword and spear, 
 but though he was known to be yet in the neighbor- 
 hood, no hand could be laid upon him. 
 
 Thus thwarted, his enemies had but one way of 
 revenging themselves. It is true they had seized 
 his broad lands on the Savannah by sequestration, 
 but they knew that the only way to wring the soul 
 of Ralph was to deprive him of his betrothed — his 
 beloved Annette. And, however strange it may 
 appear, it is no less true that this arbitrary measure 
 against an innocent and unoffending girl, was put 
 into rigid execution. 
 
 As the evening advanced, however, a party of the 
 conquerors, a part from these, were preparing for a 
 more refined species of enjoyment. A large room of 
 a house on the bank of the river, was filled to 
 crowding with people of both sexes. It was the 
 same room in which the brave Pickens sat a few 
 months before when he gave audience to the wily 
 Bates. They were both gone ; the noble patriot and 
 the vile intriguer had alike sunk into the vortex of 
 the stream which deluged their country, and theVe 
 upon the very spot where they had concerted plans 
 of such vital interest to one of them at least, their 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 140 
 
 survivors, with that strange insensibility to death 
 which always attends times of danger, were making 
 merry. A ring was cleared in the centre of the 
 room for dancing, and as the fiddler entered and 
 began the tantalizing exercise of calling into order 
 his rebellious strings, giving every now and then an 
 encouraging twitch of the elbow over the shrieking 
 catgut, the young men j umpedup in eager anticipation 
 and capered about the room. Some were in white 
 stockings and pumps, with yellow small clothes, which 
 they had just purchased from some itinerant mer- 
 chant peddling through the country;. but most of 
 them wore their high-heeled boots, with yellow tops 
 turned over from the tights of Kersey or homespun, 
 which had perhaps borne the brunt of war. Never- 
 theless, each one felt himself irresistible in the eyes 
 of the young ladies, who, silly creatures, simpered 
 and whispered among each other, still casting timid 
 and lively glances at their invincible warriors. 
 
 But there was one countenance in that assembly 
 which moved not for all that merriment, no more 
 than if it had fallen on the dull, cold ear of death. It 
 was the pale face of Annette Bruyesant, who sat in 
 one corner, far as possible from the revellers, in the 
 stiff and rigid attitude of marble. No motion be- 
 trayed the vitality which animated that statue. No 
 tear, no sigh, no glance evinced the sensibilities of a 
 wounded spirit. But her eyes were fixed upon the 
 opposite window in the cold glassy gaze of despair, 
 and her hands were folded in her lap in the mute 
 eloquence of submission. 
 
150 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 As the dancing went on she was left alone. No 
 one was sufficiently hard-hearted to insult her misery 
 by asking her to join them. She had only been 
 forced to attend her guardians there, for fear some 
 effort should be made for her escape in their absence. 
 
 The time was past when that sweet girl could make 
 any resistance, and she was now perfectly passive in 
 the hands of her persecutors. If she felt, she showed 
 no resentment towards them. She might perhaps 
 have approved the justness of Ralph Cornet's con- 
 demnation — she never for a moment thought of for- 
 saking him. No, the more wretched an outcast he 
 became, the more did that faithful girl believe it her 
 duty to cling to him; and as she sat in that appa- 
 rently apathetic posture, her thoughts were bound 
 up in a painful dream. But it was not of herself 
 she was thinking. It was of him — of Ms griefs, and " 
 loneliness, and dangers. Could she have thrown 
 herself in his arms at that moment, the language of 
 her heart would have been : 
 
 " Thou hast called me thine angel in moments of bliss, 
 Still thine angel I'll be 'mid the horrors of this." 
 
 But despair, despair of ever seeing him was doing 
 its dreadful work there, and her heart continued to 
 weep its drops of blood. In this situation she did 
 not perceive that any one approached her until she 
 felt herself touched lightly on the shoulder, and, 
 turning round, she met the eyes of Andrew Morri- 
 son for the first time since her captivity, who, with 
 a cautious look around them, dropped a piece of 
 paper in her hand. Annette grasped the paper and 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 15 1 
 
 turned her back instinctively on the company. A 
 fearful change came over her face as she devoured 
 the scrawl. It merely contained the words in rude 
 characters — 
 
 "Beat the window an hour hence. I shall be there" 
 
 The blood rushed into Annette's face until it be- 
 came lurid, and her veins swelled until they were 
 visible on the surface of her beautiful forehead. 
 Then again she became ghastly pale, and gasped for 
 breath. As she turned to speak to the old man the 
 words died away with a choking noise in her throat. 
 But Andrew Morrison had left her side. The wary 
 old man knew that suspicion already rested upon 
 him, and upon his caution now depended the success 
 of his undertaking. 
 
 At this time a very different scene was acting in 
 a house exactly opposite that in which the ball was 
 going on. There a wounded man lay upon a pallet 
 on the floor to get the cool air of evening, and his 
 head rested on the bosom of a handsome woman, 
 who was pulling back the thick masses of raven 
 hair from his brow. As she did so, the tears fell 
 from her heavy eyelids on the worn and wasted fea- 
 tures of the dying man. 
 
 u My own Ellen ! " said he, as he wiped off the 
 tears from his face, " do not weep so, you will kill 
 me before my time by your grief." 
 
 "Oh, James!" said she, in a voice which was 
 racked with anguish, " how can I help it, to hear all 
 this noise and rejoicing,]and you lying here? " 
 
 a Do not let that disturb you, my love," replied 
 
152 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 her husband, with a faint attempt at smiling. " It is 
 the nature of man to forget in prosperity the mea'ns 
 by which he gained it. Why should I think to be 
 remembered more than the thousands who lie on the 
 field of battle?" 
 
 " Oh, but James, they might respect you while 
 that } t ou are living — you who are dying for them, as 
 I may say." And she burst into a fresh agony of 
 tears. • 
 
 " No, Ellen, no," answered the dying man with 
 fervor. "I die for the cause — the glorious cause! 
 And — ," he continued, his faded eyes sparkling with 
 some of their wonted brilliancy, " and we are free ! 
 thank heaven, we are free ! " 
 
 As the glow of enthusiasm died away from the 
 hollow cheek of the soldier, he sunk back exhausted, 
 and lay for some time silent. It was evident his 
 hour was fast approaching. His breath at times came 
 thick and gaspingly, and his eyes rolled upward. 
 But the sobs of his w.ife seemed again to disturb 
 him. 
 
 "Ellen 1 " said he, almost in a whisper " my good 
 Ellen — you have always been kind to me ! Do not 
 grieve so if you would have me die contented. I 
 
 could have wished but no matter. It is God's 
 
 will, and I have but one wish on earth — it is to see 
 my poor Ralph before I die. It is too late now. But 
 you said that Annette Bruye'sant was here. Send 
 for her that I may tell her — tell her I forgive him." 
 
 A few minutes after Annette had read the paper 
 .and resumed her seat with apparent calmness, a little 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 153 
 
 boy made his way through the crowd and threw 
 himself on her lap, crying bitterly. All that could 
 be extracted from him was that his father was dying 
 and wished to see Annette Bruye*sant. It was a 
 sight to have melted a heart of stone, and these 
 hearts already softened by the sweetness of Annette's 
 temper, coui-d not refuse her this sad duty. She 
 followed the child across the street, almost surprised 
 at the liberty granted her. 
 
 So soon as she was gone Andrew Morrison also left 
 the room, but there was no heed given to his actions — 
 the amusements went on unabated. 
 
 By the time Annette reached the house some of 
 his former friends were gathered round the pallet of 
 the dying soldier; but he paid them no attention. 
 His gaze was fixed on Annette as she knelt beside 
 him, her eyes, before so cold and motionless, now 
 •streaming with tears. He clasped her hand with all 
 his remaining strength and his lips moved, but An- 
 nette heard no sound until she leaned her ear close 
 to his face. 
 
 "You will see him," said he, in broken sentences; 
 "tell him — my brother — that — I loved him to the 
 last!" 
 
 He now struggled for utterance — a low gurgling 
 sound was heard in his throat, and his wife threw 
 herself in distraction on his breast. But he opened 
 his eyes — 
 
 " Ellen — my boy — where is Willie ? " The child 
 crept up, and put his little hand into that of his 
 father. " Make him a soldier — you hear that, Ellen — 
 N 
 
154 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 and — raise me a little higher, love — it is dark here— 
 
 and — do not — let bim be — a — a traitor — to — to ." 
 
 His voice failed him, and his head sunk on his breast. 
 
 In a few minutes the soldier's children were or- 
 phans ; for James Cornet lay there a corpse, one of 
 the noblest victims to the battle of Eutaw. 
 
 Annette threw her arms around tfoe widowed 
 mother — the kind soother of her own bereavement — 
 and wept long with her. At length she arose and 
 walked out upon the piazza. The street was still 
 busy with its crowd, and the sound of that music 
 with the heavy tramp of the dancers came to her 
 ear. Her heart sickened, and she leaned against a 
 column for support. Then the thought of her own 
 uncertain destiny came over her mind with agonizing 
 force, and she envied the man who, in that Chamber 
 of death, was released so easily and happily from a 
 world which appeared so dark to her. 
 
 At that moment a horseman was seen ascending 
 the hill of that thronged street, in full view of the 
 windows of the ball-room. He was riding a horse 
 of prodigious size and beauty, which seemed to yield 
 to every motion of the rider, as his graceful swan- 
 like neck obeyed the impulse of the rein. 
 
 Annette raised her clasped hands to heaven, and 
 
 stood with her lips apart, all her blood curdling with 
 
 surprise and terror. Sjhe remembered the paper 
 
 ; she had received. It was the appointed hour, and it 
 
 . could be no other than Ealph Cornet. But would 
 
 ( even he dare thus much ? 
 
 .The men who filled the streets stood regarding the 
 
THE BKITISH PARTIZAN. 155 
 
 approaching stranger with surprise greater than her's. 
 The hand of every man dropped on his gun, but 
 remained there motionless, and a death-like silence 
 reigned where all before was confusion — so great was 
 the curiosity and. awe which that majestic horseman 
 excited 1 as he galloped fearlessly as it were against 
 the very bayonets of his enemies. The keen eye of. 
 Ralph had descried that well known form* and' in 
 an instant he stood by the door, all unconscious how 
 nearly he was connected with the painful scene 
 within. " Haste, haste, Annette! " said he, and he 
 pulled the fainting form of the poor girl to his saddle- 
 bow. One touch of the rein, and the proud animal, 
 as if conscious of his master's triumph, arched his 
 high neck, and with a bound flew towards the river 
 bank. Then, as if some spell of enchantment had 
 been loosed, the men moved from every part of the 
 village. Every gun was raised, and curses rang on. 
 the name of Ralph Cornet. But by the time they 
 reached the river's side the noble horse was beating 
 the waters with his broad breast, far into the middle 
 of the current. 
 
 Why did not these men fire ? There was not one 
 but knew from the first that it was Ralph Cornet. 
 Was it a sympathy with the beautiful and simple 
 boldness of this action which deterred them ? Or, 
 was it the native horror which man has against inter- 
 fering with anything already in the hands of God? 
 Certain it is that they saw those two beings, wholiad 
 suffered so long, piteously struggling there in the 
 midst of that wide river, and not a gun was dis- 
 
156 THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 
 
 charged. Bat when that noble animal bounded, 
 trippingly, on the opposite shore, with his brave 
 and beautiful burden, a low and suppressed murmur 
 of admiration and astonishment ran along that crowd 
 of men, which only a few moments before were 
 breathing curses. 
 
 For a moment did Ealph Cornet pause and turn 
 his gaze upon the spot he had left behind. Annette 
 lay with her arms around him, and he bent over and 
 kissed her cheek as it were in defiance. A wild, a 
 joyous, a triumphant laugh rang over the waters as 
 the horse wheeled round and was seen bounding 
 along, for some distance, under the dark shadowy 
 trees, extending out from the high grassy bank. 
 Ralph Cornet had turned his back forever on his 
 country. 
 
 In a sweet sequestered spot, where a little stream 
 wound along through grassy banks, and where a 
 rustic bridge was half overhung with a canopy of 
 pendant vines, Andrew Morrison, that faithful friend, 
 was awaiting them with the French minister. The 
 sun was just sinking below the trees, and the sweet 
 birds, lifting up their voices in the chorus of evening, 
 sang the marriage hymn of Ralph Cornet and his 
 Annette. After so much suffering and trial, he felt 
 himself amply compensated when he clasped her to 
 his bosom — his own ! 
 
 They then bid those last and dear friends adieu, 
 and' were turning to depart, when a strange and 
 somewhat ludicrous figure started up from against a 
 
THE BRITISH PARTIZAN. 157 
 
 tree, exclaiming, in an humble but reproachful ac- 
 cent : 
 
 " Massa Ralph, no Iebe ole nigger stay here, eh ? r 
 
 " No, my good Juba, no/ r said Ralph. " You 
 shall go if you wish it." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " laughed the Afriotfn. " Ole nigger go 
 for true. No stay here for dam tory gun — whiplash. 
 Juba follow hia massa to eend ob de world." And 
 slinging his huge bundle on a stick across his shoul- 
 der, old Juba trudged on after the only being he 
 loved on earth. 
 
 The world of Ralph Cornet's acquaintance was 
 lost in conjecture. ■ Even his enemies would have 
 given up their resentment for some knowledge of 
 that bold and extraordinary man. But the old 
 Scotchman was the only depository of that secret, 
 and to his dying day he never revealed the place 
 where the British Partizan carried his bride. 
 

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