CHAPTER XIII.

SMILES THROUGH TEARS.

On one bright spring morning about six months after the events previously related, the woods in the vicinity of Fort Ann were filled with a brilliant assemblage of Continental officers and their ladies, who were all in a merry mood, for there was a wedding to take place between Captain Edgar Sherwood and Imogene Lear.

The whole week had been occupied in preparing the grove for this important occasion. Seats had been erected for the guests, and under the shade of a giant oak a picturesque bower twined with wild roses and luxuriant foliage, had been constructed for the reception of the clergyman. The regimental band also had found a place near at hand made for their benefit.

In a word, every thing had been arranged with the idea of making the captain’s wedding a grand affair. It was not to be in a gloomy church, or a fashionable drawing-room crowded to suffocation, but in a grand old forest, under the bright light of heaven.

The troops of the garrison were drawn up in a long line on either side of the walk leading to the bower, and, stationed here and there along the way, were young girls dressed in white, and holding baskets of flowers to strew before the bride and groom as they passed.

Every thing was in readiness. The shrill notes of a bugle heralded the approach of Edgar and Imogene; and presently they entered the grove attended by the hymeneal retinue. While the little party moved slowly forward toward the bower, the surrounding woods resounded with the melodious and thrilling notes of the band, and the birds sung their sweetest.

It was a beautiful sight to behold these two young lovers approaching the altar to pledge their hearts to each other, and to take those mutual vows of fidelity before God and man.

When they arrived at the bower, an old man came forward with feeble steps, and taking the hand of each he placed them together and murmured:

“My children, I bless you; may Heaven look down upon and prosper this union!”

It was Thomas Lear, Imogene’s father.

The reader must not be surprised at this, for a revolution had taken place in the old man’s politics since the opening of our story. Being naturally an enthusiastic admirer of justice and a lover of personal and political freedom, he had been, at length, aroused by the feeling of liberty that was everywhere prevalent, and was now a stanch believer in the war for independence.

This radical change had not come about spontaneously but gradually, growing out of observation. He had perceived the injustice of the mother country toward her most promising child, and finally became one of the most devoted adherents to the cause of the Colonies.

The minister now performed the marriage ceremony, and our hero and heroine were pronounced man and wife. In an instant, the dreadful Past, with all its woes and sorrows, was buried in the deepest recesses of oblivion, leaving the happy Present, as it were, like an insurmountable barrier between it and the bright and promising Future, which dawned fair and beautiful upon the horizon of their happiness.

Their more intimate friends--among whom were Colonel Hall and War-Cloud--pressed around the happy couple to congratulate them, while the soldiers gave three hearty cheers for their brave captain and his lady, making the woods, hills, and valleys ring with the echo of a thousand voices.

* * * * *

There now remains for us to add but a short epilogue and we will have finished. Captain Sherwood fought bravely during the remainder of the Revolution, and when the war was ended, and our country had just entered upon its newborn career of unrivaled greatness, he and Imogene took up their residence in the city of the Manhattans, where they spent many quiet and peaceful days while floating down the stream of life to the harbor of old age.

War-Cloud frequently paid them visits, bringing with him pretty and costly furs for the “little ones,” denoting that he had again taken to hunting the beast instead of Tories.

Hank Putney never made his appearance at the fort again; but we believe he became the chief of the Tory League after the death of Iron Hand, and during some quarrel between him and his ruffians he was killed.

The band soon after was exterminated, and nothing now remains of their former power, save the history of their many villainous deeds, which is written in blood!

THE END.

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