"To her! Why, she has a husband already." "Oh, but she thinks he has been killed." "Killed? Good heavens! Is that really so? Poor old Russell! Oh, heavens! The villains! They'd do it, too.” find no more words to express his feelings. Besides, although all the words, ejaculations, and exclamations above reported were uttered with as much caution and in as low a tone as were consistent with his excited feelings, still they made more noise than was wise under the circumstances, and there were signs that some of the sleepers were restless. These at last attracted the attention of the two, and Hor-interrupted their conversation. Several heavy sighs from a remote corner of the room showed that some one was awake or And Harry thought of the bonds and the search after them. It seemed to him not at all unlikely that they had killed Russell so as to get at these, or perhaps to punish him for not giving them up. ror now quite overwhelmed him. He felt even shocked at Katie's levity. "But Mrs. Russell," he said; "how does she bear this horrible calamity?" Bear it?" said Katie; "why, she wants to be Queen of Spain and France too." What, when her husband lies murdered close by? Oh, heavens!-oh, good heavens!" waking, and this warning forced them to keep silence for some time. At length all was still, and Harry ventured to speak again. "Oh, Katie," said he, "can't you do something with that wretched woman?” "No," said Katie. "I'm sure all I say “Well, do you know, it does seem very only makes her worse. odd indeed." "But you, Katie-how can you talk of such horrors in such a way? What will be the fate of the rest of us after this?" "Why, you poor foolish boy, you needn't scold and go on so. I don't be lieve he's dead any more than you are. I believe that 'his Majesty' only said it in fun. In fact, he never did actually say so." Harry sighed a sigh of perplexity. "But, you know," continued Katie, "Mrs. Russell went and got it into her poor old head. Oh, she's very, very imaginative, poor dear old auntie, and she would have it so. And she thinks that all the speeches which his Majesty' makes at me are intended for her." "The wretched creature!" said Harry, "to speculate upon her husband's death, and think of such a thing as marriage!" "Oh, but she says that it is not love that makes her think of it, but state policy." "State fiddlesticks!" "She says that Mary Queen of Scots married Bothwell, after her husband's murder, from motives of state policy." **Oh, good heavens!" said Harry, whose sense of honor and loyalty and affection, and even of common decency, was utterly outraged at such a revelation; “and she always seemed such a quiet, good, wellmeaning sort of a person!" "But she means well now," said Katie. "She says her marriage is to be for the good of Spain and the world generally." At this Harry was silent. He could She wants me your Majesty.'" "She's mad," said Harry; "the woman's utterly mad.” now to address her as "Well, she's got some great secret now which she won't tell. As his Majesty' was leaving the last time he kept up some very mysterious whisperings with her. I've been teasing her all day to tell me what they were, but in vain. She's as close as the grave. A great crisis is approaching. And the fun of it is, she doesn't know that it's me, and not her, that his Majesty' means. "You! Oh, Katie, don't talk in that indifferent way." "Why?" "Oh, don't you see? You are here so much in his power. Oh, we must fly. I'll hunt along the passage to-night, and I'm sure I'll find something. I'm sure there must be a way out." 66 'But I don't want to go," said Katie; "that is, not just yet." 66 'Not want to go?" "No, not till I have some more fun, and see how this is going to end; but—” Here Katie stopped abruptly and clutched Harry's arm convulsively. Harry too at the same instant started, and both stood peering into the dark, and listening attentively. For there had come a sudden noise. It was a very peculiar and a very startling noise. It was a low, shuffling sound, as of some one moving stealthily, and it came from the direction of the fire-place— the very place where Harry's retreat would lie in case of discovery. But now that re treat seemed cut off; and there seemed to be some one there who perhaps had come on his track. Harry's only thought was that his room had been entered and his absence discovered, upon which his guards had at once come through in search of him. How many there were he could not tell. He could do nothing, however. He could only stand still and watch. Soon, he thought, others would come; lights would be produced, and he would be discovered. "Leave me!" said Harry, in a faint whisper. "It's one of the guards. I'm lost!" Katie's answer thrilled through every nerve of the listener. "Then if you are lost, I will be lost with you!" Saying this, she clasped both her hands round his arm, and held it tight. Harry stood erect, vigilant, staring. CHAPTER XXX. HOW SEVERAL OF OUR FRIENDS FIND THEM- So Harry stood, with his retreat cut off, staring into the darkness, while Katie, clinging to him, awaited the result. Harry expected every minute that lights would be produced and everything revealed. But the lights did not come, and the discovery was delayed. There occurred a pause, during which Harry waited, after which the sliding, shuffling sounds recommenced. here he entered the moonlight, so that it "It's his Majesty,'" said Katie. The slight whispered sounds seemed to catch the ears of the visitor. He stood and listened. But the sounds were not repeated, and he resumed his progress. "I know who it is," said Harry, in the faintest possible whisper. "Who?" "It's Ashby," said Harry. Katie said not a word in reply, but the effect of that name upon her was none the less manifest. The hands which had been clasping Harry's arm relaxed their hold; she moved away from him. Harry caught her hand and tried to detain her, but Katie snatched it away, and Harry was afraid to insist. It was evident that she was offended; and at what? Was it at the mention of Ashby's name? And but a moment before she had said that she would share his fate: "Then if you are lost, I will be lost with you!" Those were her words. And now she was offended! Harry could not believe it. He took a step after her and found her again. He sought again to take her hand. It was not now refused. Katie seemed to have overcome her irritation. The quarrel was over. So overjoyed was he that he put his arm round her slender form, and unconsciously pressed her close to his heart, while her head sank down on his breast. And there, all the time, only a few paces They now came nearer. Then came the sound of a stealthy footfall-very slow, too, and very cautious. The new-off, was Ashby himself! comer, the supposed pursuer, whoever he was, seemed now to be in the room, and cautiously advancing. As yet he was under the shadow, and was therefore invisible in the gloom; but he was approaching the place where the moonbeams fellwhere he might be seen. Harry noted this, and wondered how many more of them there might be. Katie also looked up now, and stood listening. Both of these were waiting for a chance to separate, if possible-Katie to go back to her own place, and Harry to fly back to his room. At length the advancing figure reached the place where the moonbeams fell, and But the beauty of it was that Ashby just then was not thinking of Katie at all. He had come here to see Dolores. For her he was making this venture, having stolen in through the passageway which she had shown him. He had promised, it is true, not to visit her except in cases of extreme necessity; but as he had felt very lonely, he concluded that this was the necessity in question, and had come to this place. The room seemed to him very silent. He had come down the chimney with very little noise, and had surveyed the scene from the dark recesses of the fire-place. The corners of the room were all in darkness, but the floor was illuminated here and there by the moonbeams. Having thus taken a general view, Ashby could do nothing else but go forward; and this he did, thinking that every one was asleep, and that by some happy luck he would find Dolores. As for Dolores, she was not asleep at that time, nor had she been asleep at all. Katie had taken for granted that the beautiful Spaniard was in the land of forgetfulness; but Katie had never in her life been more entirely mistaken. Dolores was wide-awake, and had been engaged in thoughts and speculations which made sleep impossible. It was nothing less than a plan of escape, over which her busy brain was occupied, and there were certain difficulties about it, through which she could not see her way clearly. It was over these that she was puzzling her brain when her attention was roused by certain strange movements in the room. These were, first, the movements of Katie as she stole to the fire-place and waited there. hand. Away now went all thoughts of flight with Ashby. Vengeance alone remained for her to think of-vengeance full and complete, which should involve both Ashby and the English maiden. What this vengeance was to be, however, she could not think of as yet; but she knew that in order to make it as full and complete as possible it would be necessary to think it all over from every point of view. In this amiable frame of mind Dolores was waiting and listening-stung to madness by every new whisper, and nourishing her own rage all the more every moment-until at length she became gradually aware of a sound proceeding from another quarter, and not coming from the two whisperers in the corner at all. There was some one in the fire-place-some newcomer who had approached by that way. What did this mean? Who could this be? Did others know of the secret passageway? If so, then her surroundings were very different from what she had supposed, and Secondly, the movements of Harry as her whole course of action would have to he shuffled down to Katie's side. Thirdly, the preliminary whisperings of Harry and Katie. Fourthly, the movements of these two out of the fire-place into the corner of the room. Fifthly, their continuous whisperings, which sometimes were so animated that they might have wakened any sleeper. be changed. Dolores watched, and at length saw the figure of the new-comer quite distinct in the moonlight, yet not so distinct as to enable her to ascertain who it was. The idea was so firmly fixed in her mind that the first comer was Ashby that she could only suppose this new visitor to be one of the Carlists, perhaps "his Majesty" himself. Meanwhile this new-comer had been stealthily moving along, and Dolores watched and listened. Now was the time which she might seize, if she chose, as the time for vengeance. If this was really one of the Carlists, above all, if this was Over all this Dolores was deeply agitated. Who, she asked herself, was this visitor to Katie? It could be one, and one only. That one was Ashby. She had shown him the way. He alone knew it. He had promised her not to come, but he had broken his word and had come. And why? Not for her, but for this Eng-"his Majesty," she might have sweet relish maiden! There were these two now plotting and whispering in her presence, and that too after Ashby had disowned with scorn this English maiden, and had spoken such words to her! What could she do now? For such outraged love, such treachery, and such intolerable insult, what revenge could suffice? Revenge! Yes, nothing less than revenge! For Dolores was not one of those tender and sensitive creatures who could lie down and die under a cruel wrong. Her ardent Southern nature was roused to fury, and she remained there motionless, but like some wild beast ready to start from its lair when the prey is at venge by denouncing the false traitor Ashby on the spot, before he could escape. It would be sweet to see the dismay of the traitor when thus discovered under her own eyes. Still, even in that hour of her madness and her fury, she felt that before taking the irrevocable step and denouncing Ashby it would be necessary to be perfectly sure. So Dolores waited. Meanwhile Ashby in his progress had passed beyond the place where Dolores was, and had traversed more than half the apartment. At this moment he was at fault, and felt anxious to know where to direct his way. He thought the best way would be to try first if Dolores was awake, wild revulsion of feeling took place. She had been mistaken-the first visitor was not Ashby. Ashby was not false. He was true. He had come, but he had come for her-herself. It was her name that he called. In that sudden revulsion of feeling she almost shouted for joy. She started up, and, regardless of everything but her own heart, was about to steal toward Ashby, when suddenly she was arrested in her attempt. took it for Dolores. So he folded that figure fondly in his arms, and the “figure" reciprocated to the fullest extent. "Oh, my own love and darling!" sighed Ashby, in Spanish. Mrs. Russell understood not a word of Spanish. She thought, however, that if "his Majesty" could express himself more freely in that language it was certainly quite natural for him to use it; yet it did seem rather unfair to her to come here There arose another sound from some and talk love and use endearing expresone near the door. sions in an unknown tongue. "His Maj "Here, here," said a whisper-"here I esty" seemed very eloquent and strongly am. How long you've been!" Ashby heard this voice, and thinking it was Dolores', hurried there. Dolores heard it, understood Ashby's action, and sank down in consternation and despair. Katie and Harry heard it, and thought it was "his Majesty" on his way to Mrs. Russell. And they thought that others of "his Majesty's" followers were in the chimney. Ashby saw a figure dimly defined in the gloom. It was indistinguishable. He agitated, yet Mrs. Russell could not make out what he said, nor had she a chance to explain. For in the midst of all this there occurred a new interruption. This was the sound of a key turning in the door. The door opened immediately behind Mrs. Russell, and a soft voice said, in familiar tones and in a husky whisper: "Whis-s-s-s-sht, darlin'-are ye awake, thin? Sure I hope the gyerruls are aslape.” H THE BRITISH YOKE. OW deep and tender was the love with which the first American colonists looked back to their early home! Many proofs of this might be cited from their writings, but I know of none quite so eloquent as that burst of impassioned feeling in a sermon by William Hooke cousin and afterward chaplain of Oliver Cromwell-who came to America about 1636, and preached this discourse at Taunton, July 3, 1640, under the title, "New England's Teares for Old England's Feares." This whole production is marked by a learning and eloquence that remind us of one who may have been Hooke's fellow-student at Oxford, Jeremy Taylor; indeed it contains a description of a battle which, if Taylor had written it, would have been quoted in every history of English literature until this day. And in this sermon the clergyman thus speaks of the mother-country: "There is no Land that claimes our name but England; wee are distinguished from all the Nations in the World by the name of English. There is no Potentate breathing that wee call our dread Sovereigne but King Charles, nor Lawes of any Land have civilized us but England's; there is no Nation that calls us Countrey-men but the English. Brethren! Did wee not there draw in our first breath? Did not the Sunne first shine there upon our heads? Did not that Land first beare us, even that pleasant Island, but for sinne, I would say, that Garden of the Lord, that Paradise?" What changed all this deep tenderness into the spirit that found the British yoke detestable, and at length cast it off? There have been many other great changes in America since that day. The American fields have been altered by the steady advance of imported weeds and flowers; the buttercup, the dandelion, and the ox-eyed daisy displacing the anemone and violet. The American physique is changed to a slenderer and more finely organized type; the American temperament has grown more sensitive, more pliant, more adaptive; the American voice has been shifted to a higher key, perhaps yielding greater music when fitly trained. Of all these changes we see the result, but can not trace the steps; and it is almost as difficult to trace the successive impulses by which the love of everything that was English was transformed into a hatred of the British yoke. Yet its beginnings may be observed in much that the colonists did, and in some things which they omitted. Within ten |