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passed upon him, inasmuch as he never offered his ser- | another hour or two that sun would shine upon him no vice to you, nor in any way disguised his intentions; more for ever, that he should be sleeping in the dark, cold but, on the contrary, made no secret that he had thrown grave, and Bertha left alone in her tears. He looked up up his commission in the royal army on my account, to at the sunlight broken by the massy iron bars, and serve me and mine. Had he drawn his sword on your through it to that great mustering ground beyond the behalf, or pledged himself to support your cause-bad grave, and had faith that he should again meet her and evil as I believe it to be still had he once done there, when all tears would be wiped from her eyes, this, then held communication with a royal garrison, and the sound of sorrow never more be heard. He felt and endeavored to obtain a force from it, to attack those it was hard to die, and leave one he so dearly loved amid whom he had enlisted, then I would myself have behind, harder to sit and count the minutes, and to adjudged him deserving of death as a spy, a traitor, and know that by the time the sunlight had fallen upon the a double-faced enemy. But he has done none of these chink of the third stone from the wall, he should he no things, and if he did assume a false and friendlike more. He could see the shadow move while he gazed; appearance, it was surely pardonable in the face of such it had but to pass over three more stones, and then the a force, and under such circumstances as he had to con- hour would arrive, when the last sounds he would hear tend with. He who offends his king to serve his friend, would be the ringing of the arquebuses, and all would will not be one of the first to go over and join that be over. Why had he not fallen in the field of battle, in friend's enemies." As he ceased speaking, he looked at the heat and hurry of the strife, where men had no time the prisoner a look that told him how much he to think of death, but with their own hand hewed their regretted ever having thought otherwise, and which way to glory or the grave? Oh! how different from called up a smile to the countenance of Thurlby, who, being shot at like a dog, with no power to turn upon throughout, had stood calm and collected, more like a the enemy. What would he not give to have one final spectator than the victim that was to be sacrificed. struggle with Thrapstone, even without weapons, and Only the tears of Bertha had moved him, as they fell his enemy armed to the teeth! He rose under the one by one on his fettered hands, and that was when he emotion, and felt that only with his bare hands he could forgot, for the moment, his manacles, and endeavored tear his hypocritical enemy limb from limb. He looked to raise them to wipe the fast-flowing drops from her terrible in his anger, with his flashing eyes and clenched beautiful face. He offered no defence, and the few fists, and in his deep excitement heard not the door of words he uttered were expressive of the contempt he the prison open until he saw his own beautiful Bertha felt for his enemy, for the colonel had not the courage standing by his side. Whaley had admitted her without to meet the gaze of his flashing and angry eyes. Hav-consulting his colonel, and he was so much beloved by ing ordered the soldier, who acted as secretary during his men, that not one would refuse to obey his orders. the trial, to see the sentence carried into execution at It was a painful meeting-heart-breaking to know that the hour he had named, he commanded Thurlby to be on this side of the grave they would never meet again! led back to prison, and prohibiteď the admission of any So young, and so much as they loved each other, all the visitor without his written permission. more fondly, all the more madly, through knowing that they must now part for ever-that he would never more look into the clear heaven of those beautiful eyes, that she should never again clasp his manly form nor hang any more round his neck; he, that he should no more feel the weight of that sweet burden; she, that the warm heart, which then beat against her, would soon be cold, and motionless, and dead. Oh! it was pitiful! very pitiful! and as he held her weeping in his arms, he saw the shadow creeping towards the edge of the fatal stone, which marked the limit of his life, which, when the sun had passed over, would leave him, like it, in shade and darkness, on that dim and mysterious borderland. Kisses, and tears, and sobs, and hopes of heaven, and glimpses of the great hereafter-what more could there be? He could scarcely turn his thoughts to heaven, with so much to love beside him; no, he would rather have remained with her, than have occupied the throne of the highest angel. Oh, love! oh, death! while they stood entwined together, as if they never more could part, the stern sentinel threw open the ironstudded door that grated harshly on its rusty hinges, and exclaimed, "It's time;" and so he unwound her beautiful arms, he saw where the shadow fell upon the stone, and he placed her gently and senseless beside it, before he was led out to execution.

Bertha had fainted away in her father's arms, before her lover was removed, and when she recovered there was only Sir Cuthbert and her tiring-maid in the apartment; all the rest had departed, the colonel to meditate upon the measures he should take against Whaley, and to pass away the feverish hours as he best could, until the sentence was executed, for he resolved not to be present at the death. The troopers seemed discontented, and those that were told off and commanded to hold themselves in readiness with loaded arquebuses, when the sun marked the hour of twelve upon the dial, went away sullen and silent, having no heart to do what their favorite lieutenant disapproved of. A gloom and a melancholy seemed to have settled upon the sentinels that were stationed about the Hall, which the sunshine of that sweet June morning was unable to dispel.

Without, all was sunshine and song, for nature catches not the stain of crime, nor the feeling of sadness, caused by the deeds of man. The bee went humming in and out between the sun-dyed woodbines, and the plashed moss-roses. The murmur of the bees and the singing of the birds came in with the sunshine through the grated window of the prison, under which the young Cavalier sat, low, sad, and silent, as he thought that in

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WITH a quivering lip, his head half averted, and turned, with a mournful look, in the direction where he had left Bertha senseless, Reginald Thurlby passed out of the Chase-prison, without a feeling of fear at meeting the death he was doomed to receive, though sad pangs were gnawing like vultures at his heart, at the thoughts of the bitter and hopeless misery in which she whom he so fondly loved, and from whom in this world he had for ever parted, would be left. Stepping into the sudden sunshine dazzled his eyes for a moment, and he would have come in contact with the stem of a tree, at a turning of the embowered walk which led to the lawn, had not one of the troopers placed his hand on his arm. That slight touch recalled him to himself, and in a moment he stood upright, and walked with as firm a step as the boldest soldier that guarded him. When he reached the centre of the smooth velvet lawn, he found Whaley and the old clergyman ready to receive him; for, although the brave lieutenant had sworn that he would take no part in the execution, he could not resist being present.

"I have not the power to reverse this unjust sentence," said Whaley, speaking with an emotion to which

he was a stranger. Thurlby made an attempt as if to raise his hand and press that of the kind lieutenant; but he could not, as his arms were pinioned. Whaley saw his intention in a moment, and bade one of the troopers release his arms, as he exclaimed, "Cut those base cords-a brave soldier who dies doing his duty needs not dragging to his death, bound like an ox. The trooper gladly obeyed him, while the soldier who held a commission below Whaley, and who had been appointed by Thrapstone to see the sentence executed, said, "But this is against the colonel's commands, who ordered me on no account to unbind him."

"Then obey his commands," said Whaley, placing his hand on his heavy sabre. The soldier drew back. "The time is expired," said he. "Arquebusiers form the line."

"The time is, when the prisoner says he is ready, and not until then," exclaimed Whaley.

"Then I shall retire from the command, and report to our colonel, that"

"I kicked you out of your commission like a cur and a time-server as you are," said the lieutenant, uplifting his foot as he spoke, and sending him half across the

lawn with his heavy jack-boot, then bidding his arque- bling in every limb, could give no commands, and busiers form in line.

After such an explosion the fiery lieutenant appeared more calm, and, retiring to the opposite side of the lawn, he paced thoughtfully to and fro, leaving Thurlby and the pastor to their meditations, out of hearing of the troopers, though still within range of their fire

arms.

Sir Cuthbert had retired to a room at the back of the Hall to pass the time in prayer until the fiery knell rung upon his ears, for he could not muster courage to see his young companion die.

"It is a journey we must all take, my dear young friend," said the clergyman, addressing Reginald, as he held the closed prayer-book in his hand; "the only difference is, that thine is a quicker passage; preferable, perhaps, after all, to a brave heart and an impatient spirit, to the days and nights of agony and suffering which the afflicted have often to endure as they toss to and fro on their restless couches, and think the time long coming that bringeth the end."

The pastor then persuaded him to kneel beside him, and offer up a prayer to Heaven. Reginald did so, and when the pastor arose, he still remained kneeling with closed eyes, and the troopers with levelled arquebuses drew a few strides nearer, then paused, and looked towards Whaley for the signal to fire; but the lieutenant waved them back, for he saw Thrapstone and the soldier whom he had so unceremoniously dismissed approaching, and it needed no second glance to tell that the colonel was overboiling with rage.

Whaley stood grimly looking on, resolved that the responsibility of the defeat should fall where it belonged, and Thrapstone's cowardice be thoroughly exposed in the proper quarter.

The capture was so rapid, and the rescue so entire, that in a few minutes Thurlby was returning the warm and friendly grasp of Cleveland.

"Body o' me," exclaimed he, "I deemed not that thou wert so near falling into the clutches of death's head and cross-bones as this. Why, thy pretty bird in bower would have wept out her bright eyes, an we had been a few minutes later. But this sharp ride has whetted our appetites. I will but give an order to shoot the whole of these crop-eared Puritans, then see if the Chase larder is still worthy of its former good name."

And he was about to turn round and give an order for the execution of the Parliamentary troopers and the preparation for dinner in the same breath, when Thurlby interceded, and by a few words interested the colonel in behalf of Whaley.

Only one life was lost, amid the random shots fired by the Royalists, and not one of Whaley's troops regretted it, as the bullet struck the time-server whom Thrapstone had promoted and the lieutenant chastised. He fell dead on the very spot where Thurlby had knelt a moment or two before.

"What an uncouth Mercury you sent on so important a mission," said Cleveland; "the fellow had neither hat nor boots, and confessed to stealing the sorry nag he was mounted on, which was without either saddle or bridle. Not but what he got a taste of the latter, for appearing before a royal fortress in so sorry a plight, and it was the loud objection he made to the reward offered that first drew my attention to the fellow. He said he had escaped from the Chase-prison, and he had the hang-dog look of a thorough jail-bird."

The dark spot gathered on Whaley's brow, and the cowardly colonel trembled as he looked upon it, while the brave words he was about to utter clave to his tongue, and the lieutenant was the first to speak, which he did by drawing his sword and saying, "There is my answer for what I have done. Are you ready to receive it? For the rest I shall answer to General Cromwell." "Soldiers, advance, and make Lieutenant Whaley pri- have escaped," said Reginald. soner," exclaimed the colonel.

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Keep in your ranks, my brave companions," said Whaley; "you were never backward to obey my commands in battle, though he," pointing to the colonel with a look of contempt, was never present to lead you on."

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"Then my messenger, who was intercepted, must

"He did so, by the aid of a young wench about the Hall-his sweetheart, I believe. He stole out barefooted and bare-headed, and away he ran in this condition until he found a bare-backed steed, when he came over hedge and ditch, catching a stray horse every now and then as he could when he had ridden the others. down, and, most unfortunately for his own back, the last one he mounted, and which he rode up to Greythorpe, belonged to a sturdy yeoman, one of my own troopers, so that he came up to the fortress 'red-handed,' and was receiving punishment for the well-intentioned theft, when his cries assailed my ears-fortunately for your and your pretty bird-and I soon understood enough to sound the trumpet to 'boot and sadBut my throat is husky, and I trust these crop-eared rascals have not emptied every flask in the cellars."

At that moment a shout was heard, accompanied by the clatter of hoofs, and the clang of steel. Thurlby sprang to his feet. Whaley gave a rapid glance down the valley, and then rushed to the head of the troops. Thrapstone turned deadly pale. The sounds drew nearer. Thrapstone saw that his revenge was endangered. He mustered courage to act. "Fire!" shouted he; "soldiers, do your duty!" "At your peril !" thundered Whaley. "The enemy dle,' and here we are. are upon us."

The approaching horsemen now came dashing up the avenue, headed by the Royalist Colonel Cleveland. In an instant the Parliamentarians were surrounded. The force was an overwhelming one, and the resistance was but faint and scattering. Thrapstone, terrified and trem

And so this brave and reckless soldier ran on, talking as carelessly of matters connected with life and death as he did of women and wine, for he was as ready to draw his sword and rush into the heat of battle at

a moment's warning, as he was to sit down and empty | if he would have liked to kick him to conceal his a flask. emotion.

The ringing of the shots aroused the good old knight, Sir Cuthbert Clipstone, from his prayers, and he came forth like another Priam to beg the body of his Hector -for Reginald Thurlby was then as dear to him as his own son had ever been; and as the old man came down the Hall steps wiping the tears from his tears, the heart of Cleveland heaved, and his voice faltered as he embraced him. Bertha had long before been borne away senseless to bed: the parting from her lover had been more than she could endure, and for many hours her life was despaired of, though the old Leech never once quitted her chamber.

After embracing Cleveland, the aged knight threw himself into Thurlby's arms and wept like a child; and there was more than one among the Parliamentary prisoners who turned aside their heads at that painful meeting, and thanked Heaven that their arquebuses were still loaded, although they had surrendered to the Cavaliers.

Down Whaley's sun-browned cheeks the tears trickled like summer rain, and he looked on Thrapstone as

We must pass over the meeting of Reginald and Bertha. The poor girl could scarcely at first comprehend the extent of the good news that was brought to her; but when he was led to her, the joy that flooded her heart and soul was almost too much for her to bear. She fell fainting at his feet. She awoke raving, and so continued many hours. Sense, however, dawned at last. A calm, rich, full joy followed.

"I thank thee, Heaven!" she muttered many times. I need not tell you how Reginald and Bertha became united; how they lived many, many years at Clipstone, happy and devoted to each other to the last; nor need I follow the fortunes of the other characters. Thrapstone was disgraced by Cromwell before the whole army. Honest Whaley got to be a colonel eventually himself, and Sir Cuthbert lived long enough to see a brood of happy grandchildren around him.

Clipstone Hall still exists, crumbling now, and overgrown with ivy-uninhabited, visited only by the curious-an object of interest for its great antiquity, and as a fine specimen of the ancient manor-house.

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"FOUR o'clock," said my father, "and there comes "Don't know, Imy. It's very strange all 'round. the carriage over the hill. Exact to a minute, as he ever | A very old friend, father says, but it is denced queer I was!" never heard him mention his name until within three weeks. I'm a little puzzled, I must confess."

"Bless me! what an odd-looking carriage!" burst out my sister Imogene, who had hastened to the window, and was peeping through the blinds.

"Odd enough, and old enough," said the supercilious I, flinging down my pen upon the page which I was writing, and turning to watch the approach of the vehicle; "and I suppose its contents will prove equally ancient and rather more odd."

"Young gentleman," replied my father drily, "I have known men of fifty, who could have tripped the heels of Master Mark Adonis, even at that inconceivably old age.”

"Bear that in mind, Mark, by all means," roguishly put in my sister, "your vanity is really beyond expression."

“Oh, then you condescend to be curious, like the rest of us."

"Don't shoot those blunt little arrows, Imy. They hurt nobody."

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Blunt, perhaps, but they hit the mark."

Bless me, Imy, is that meant for a pun?" "Isn't it a good one?"

"Puns, my dear girl, are poor wit."

"So everybody says who can't make them. But do tell me, Mark, about Mr. Clarefield. Don't you think Harold singularly handsome?"

"I can't say I do. He's singularly like his fatherthat's all I noticed."

"Beautiful eyes, Mark, and such a sweet, sad expres

"Pon my soul, Imy, like the fugitive, you cry thief sion." the loudest of the crowd."

"Good gracious, you don't mean to call me vain ?" "Put up your foils, you clumsy bunglers," interrupted my father, "here they are at the door."

The carriage was a high, swinging, huge barouche of the time of the Revolution-cumbersome, capacious, seedy, and uncomfortable. A negro was on the box, and upon the open seats were two personages-a man of about fifty, and a youth of not more than eighteen. My father went out upon the piazza to receive them. The eldest sprang from the carriage and took my father's hand. He was tall, dark, hollow-cheeked, holloweyed, with iron grey locks, and a sad, calm, manner. He bowed his head in response to my father's words of welcome, but did not speak. I observed, however, that the hands of the two men remained for some moments in each other's grasp, and I could see that our visitor's manner was in some way understood and appreciated by my father.

The stranger now turned, and taking by the hand his companion, who stood on the gravel-walk leaning upon the carriage door, presented him to my father.

The relationship between the two new comers was very evident. It needed but a single glance to see that they were father and son. The boy possessed the elder's features and cast of countenance—the sunken eyes, the forehead covered with thick locks, the pale, thin cheek, the compressed, sad lips, even the same reserved and gloomy manner.

My father led them in, but to my suprise, not into the apartment where we had all been gathered. "Mark, who is Mr. Clarefield?" exclaimed my sister, abruptly turning to me.

As she spoke, the door opened, and the subject of her remark appeared in the doorway. He stepped into the room and lifted his hat from his head. He was slightly embarrassed, and cast furtive glances about the room.

"I am sent," said he nervously, "by Mr. Harlow-" "And I am Mark Harlow," said I, jumping up and going over to give my hand, "and this is my sister, Imogene."

He shook hands in a nervous, impulsive manner with both of us, but without speaking, and then sat down. I could see then, that if not handsome, there was a peculiar fascination about his features, that caught and held magnetically the eye that looked upon them. I have said that his cheek was pale, but that word hardly expresses the strange pallor which overspread, and almost animated his countenance--a paleness that was lustrous and lit up by an inward light, and over which his large dark eyes, which at one moment were shadowed in blankness, at another, flashing up like a blaze in a forest, seemed to fling shadows of sorrow and thought. I have never looked upon a face that so entranced me. I could not withdraw my eyes from it, and became so absorbed in its contemplation as to forget my duties as a host. Imy (everybody calls her Imy, and so I prefer to have the reader do so) was the first to speak. She said a simple word or two about his journey, fatigue, &c., to which he answered briefly, almost curtly.

"Our northern country compares unfavorably with your tropical scenes," said I, after another moment's silence.

"I don't know. I am familiar with the South

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