CHAPTER XX.

Farewell ye dungeons dark and strong, The wretch's destiny; M'Pherson's time will not be long On yonder gallows-tree. M'PHERSON'S FAREWELL.

The singular discovery of Hyland's innocence was long before morning bruited over the village, and besides exciting a double interest in his fate, produced no little curiosity in regard to the movements of the jury, who were still deliberating over the charge, as well as to the course to be pursued by the court, in such a strange conjuncture of circumstances.

Expectation was not, however, kept long at stretch. An early and formal representation of the discovery being made by the prisoner's counsel to the presiding judge, the court was straightway convened, and the jury ordered to be recalled, for the purpose of receiving the new testimony. This, consisting of Sterling's deposition and the evidence of witnesses as to its authenticity, it may be supposed, was sufficient to terminate their deliberations in a moment. Had the confession been made at a later period, it would undoubtedly have saved the prisoner's life; but it occurred at a time to save his good name,--to save it, at least, from the reproach, which, however undeserved, must ever follow upon even unjust conviction. His true story and character, and, in fact, his real parentage, were now becoming generally known; new friends, as well as many an old one, were labouring in his service, and all were desirous to see the end of a prosecution, that had caused him so much unmerited suffering. The trial was therefore despatched without difficulty; the evidence was given; a few brief and impressive words, indicative of their gratification at the defendant's happy escape from his difficulties, and their own from a share in wrong-doing, were pronounced by the bench; after which the whole matter was submitted to the jury, who, without leaving their seats, immediately returned a verdict of acquittal. The defendant was then discharged, in the ordinary way, by proclamation, and shed tears of genuine transport to find himself released from the ignominy that had before, as strongly almost as his remorse, crushed him to the earth. He had scarce stepped from the bar before he found himself in the arms of Captain Loring, who hugged and blubbered, and swore 'adzooks, he always thought him an honest fellow, for all of their talking; and adzooks, it was no wonder he loved him, since he was of his own blood and bone, though he didn't like his having so much Gilbert blood in him; and if he had only told him as much before, it would have been much better for him, and, adzooks, for his poor Kate, and, adzooks, for the picture!'

At the bed-side of the dying Falconer he found his father's daughter. His sister!--With what strange and contradictory emotions he received the hand of the being, to whose unhappy hostility he owed the long series of sufferings and indignities that had brought him almost to the grave. And she,--with what feelings she must have herself seen in the object of her greatest hate, one to whom nature had given the strongest claims on her love. But the place in which they met called for other than selfish emotions: it was at the death-bed of their common parent.

It is not our design to pursue further in detail the history of this unfortunate man. The bullet of Oran Gilbert (for it was now known that the shot could have been fired by no other, all the members of his band having been either killed or captured,) had been well aimed, though he who fired it deemed it was speeded against the breast of his own brother. The better victim lingered but a few days, and then expired; so that the same grave which received his unlucky son closed over the guilt and sorrow of the parent. He lived long enough to remove the veil of shame from the sepulchre of the betrayed wife, and to do her reparation in the person of her son; but it was, as he had before declared, at the expense of his daughter. She never more lifted up her head. A sense of her parent's baseness, and the disgrace now attached to her own origin, with perhaps the bitter consciousness that her cruel design upon the happiness of her friend had caused the ruin that surrounded her, weighed her to the earth; and two years after her father's death, she was herself borne to the grave, the last victim of the retribution which so often visits the sins of the father upon the heads of his children.

It remains but to reveal the fate of two other prominent persons in the story, before exchanging the gloom pervading the last act of the tragedy, for the sunshine that should mark the close.

The prisoner Sterling, notwithstanding his own expectations of a speedy dissolution, lingered a full month before he expired; and in all that time displayed the workings of the hallucination which had been the consequence of his crime. He saw before him continually--for day and night were now alike to him--the ghastly figure of young Falconer, frowning at his bed-side; and frequently the phantom of the elder brother was added, in imagination, to the terrors of the other. He died in this fearful frame of mind; and thus carried to the after-tribunal the guilt which escaped the punishment of man.

The fate of Oran Gilbert remained for many months wrapped in obscurity. He must have fired the shot that struck a bosom he had so often coveted to pierce, from the open square behind the prison; yet he effected his escape from the village without pursuit and almost without observation, the discharge of the rifle having excited but little notice at a moment when all the crowded throngs in the streets were rushing towards the court. The alarm, however, being soon given, many men armed themselves and started in pursuit, though without any knowledge of the direction in which he had fled, and, indeed, without at first being aware whom they followed. The first traces of him were discovered in the Hollow, at Elsie Bell's cottage, which it seems he had entered before day, and there rested for awhile, to the great terror of the little negro girl Margery, who was at that time the only inmate of the hovel, and to whom he appeared little short of a demon, his countenance being wild and dreadful, and his words and actions, at least in her opinion, distracted. It was from the circumstances developed here, that the pursuers found they were upon the track of Oran Gilbert himself, now deprived of all followers, and flying with the dreadful persuasion at his spirit, that his hand had slain the last of his father's children.

It appeared from little Margery's account, that, after wildly searching the house over, he asked for Elsie, and being told she was in the village, sat down upon a chair, whence the girl soon saw blood fall upon the floor; and, in fact, upon examination, it was found that a considerable quantity of gore still lay by the chair on which he had rested. He then called for water, and a napkin, the latter of which he put upon his right side, securing it under a leathern belt; after which he drank freely of the water, and going into Elsie's private apartment, he took from the wall a little sampler, a relic, as it appeared, of his deceased sister, tore it to pieces, and scattered it over the floor. He then proceeded to the chamber so long inhabited by Hyland, where finding many little sketches, and other neglected scraps, he destroyed them in like manner. After this, he descended to the room below, took up his gun, which he charged with great care, and hunted about until he had found a strong and sharp-pointed knife, which he stuck in his belt; and then, drinking again from the pitcher, he left the hovel, without uttering a single word, and Margery heard him ride away, apparently towards the mountain.

This was enough for the pursuers, whose numbers had been increased by volunteers along the way; and they instantly resumed the road, though with no great hope of coming up with the fugitive, who had foiled them so many times already. They knew, however, that the land was full of parties still in search of him, none of which had perhaps been so close upon his track as themselves. They were also inspired by a discovery that was made when they came to examine the marks of his horse's feet in the moist earth bordering the runlet in the oak-yard, and this was, that the animal had cast a shoe; for which reason, they supposed, the rider would be soon compelled to abandon him, and seek shelter in some fast place among the woods, where he might be surrounded, and perhaps taken alive. They rode on therefore with new spirit, and coming at an early hour in the morning upon the river bank, led by the tracks of his horse, which did not seem once to have left the road, they descried him, or at least a horseman they supposed to be him, riding along the bluff, at a slow gait, indicative of the daring or recklessness of his character.

He rode a black horse, apparently of great native strength and spirit; but, it was now obvious, the animal had been of late taxed severely, and beyond his powers; for which reason, it was not doubted, the fugitive could be overtaken, before he reached the mountain, which was still distant three or four miles. The party proclaimed their discovery and their hopes, by setting up a great shout. At this, to their surprise, the refugee checked his wearied steed, and turned round, as if for the purpose of making battle,--a display of audacity and resolution that went far to cool the ardour of many who had been, a moment before, the bravest of the whole party. They saw him fling the rifle he carried into the hollow of his left arm, and then, with his right hand, remove from his visage the long locks of black hair that had, a moment before, swung wildly in the wind; and they fancied they beheld, even at the distance which separated them from him, a smile writhing over his pallid features, like that of the panther at bay.

"Well done, old Oran the 'Awk!" cried one of the party, taking a long rifle from his shoulder, and advancing to the head of the others, who had come to an universal halt. He was a man of middle age, with a face as bleak and weather-worn as the rocks at the river's edge, tall and gaunt of frame, but sinewy, and of a certain bully-like look about the fists and eyes, that showed him to be no inconsiderable man in his degree. "Well done, old Oran the 'Awk!" he cried; "I up'old you to be game, chock-full; and so, if you're for a pull ag'in current, why, I'm clear for showing fair play. So men, just 'old by, like honest fellers; and, my logs 'gin' his, I'll show him what long shots is; for he and me was good friends of old."

"Go it, Dan Potts, the raftsman!" cried several of his companions, handling their own arms, as if to try their virtues at a distance, while others cried out, to advance in a body without further delay, but set no example themselves, the appearance of the outlaw being uninviting to all save the bold raftsman, who continued to move onwards, though slowly and cautiously, as if well aware of the danger of a personal contest with one who had been, as he said, his good friend in old times. But the refugee, without regarding the challenge of the raftsman, took advantage of the hesitation of his companions to change his own plans, and by suddenly turning his horse and spurring off with unexpected speed, he gained a considerable space before they could recover from their surprise and follow. They darted after him, however, with what activity they could; and cheering one another with their voices, they rode on at such a pace that, in a few moments, the whole party was sweeping betwixt the yawning jaws of the Gap, up the course of which he directed his flight.

The mountain is here perhaps two thousand feet or more, in elevation. Its course is oblique to the river, which itself is bent and twisted out of its path by the irregular protrusion and retrogression of cliffs and promontories. The right bank of the river, looking to the east, is fenced by a dizzy and inaccessible wall of crags; while the mountain on the other side, presenting a similar wall to the south, dips down, westward, to the water in an angle more practicable to human daring, though the whole declivity is covered over with loose rocks, the remnants of some stony avalanche, tumbled from pinnacles above by the same convulsion that thrust the mountain from the bowels of the earth, or shivered it, already uprisen, asunder. A few withered hemlocks are here and there seen springing from between these disjointed fragments, which are, in other places, veiled by patches of flowering-raspberry, alder, and other shrubs; though, in general, the eye reposes on rocks entirely bald and naked, or, at best, tufted with mosses, lichens, and ferns. It presents a scene of dreary sterility and gloom; but its savage wildness can be only appreciated by those who clamber up to its summit over those loose and ever-precarious rocks, which afford the only footing.

Into the gorge bounded by these frowning limits the refugee was seen to urge his steed; when suddenly, to the amazement of the pursuers, he turned from the road, dashed through a wall of rosebays that hedged it in, and the next moment plunged into the river, swimming his horse right towards the opposite mountain. The cause of this extraordinary step was soon perceived; for the next instant a troop of horse in the continental uniform, came dashing down the Gap, uttering a wild hurrah, that made the rocks ring. It was one of the many parties of military by whom all the passes of the county were guarded; and it seemed the fugitive had rushed almost amongst them, before he discovered their presence. Nothing remained for him, thus checked in front, and retreat cut off behind, but to fling himself into the river, and seek refuge among the dens of the eastern mountain; and this he attempted, though the chances were ten to one that he should be shot from his horse, before he reached the opposite bank. In fact, he had scarce swum beyond the middle of the stream, before the two parties rushed to the water's edge and let fly a volley, which, had it not been fired almost altogether from pistols, must have brought his flight to a bloody close. The water was seen bubbling around him, as the bullets pattered like rain-drops over its surface; but he still swam on, as if unhurt, and some dozen or more of the boldest riders present spurred their horses into the river to follow.

"Well done, old Oran the 'Awk!" cried Dan Potts, waving over his head the long rifle he had not thought fit yet to discharge; "it's agin my conscience to shoot an old friend in the back, 'specially when there's no tree to cover him."

"Bang away, Dan Potts," cried others; "shoot, for the honour of the county."

"The county be d----d," said Dan Potts; "I shoots from my own raft." And with that, he raised his weapon, and taking deadly aim right betwixt the refugee's shoulders, drew the trigger. But at that moment, the horse, which had until now breasted his way gallantly through the deep water, flung himself aloft in terror or in agony, and rolling backwards, plunged his rider into the water, so that he escaped the shot entirely, as perhaps the animal did also, though that could never be known with certainty.

"I swog! and may I wreck my next raft on the Foul Rift, if I didn't!" said Dan Potts, "but I hit the 'oss on the 'ead, and cuss the bit of his master! Neversomever, I'll try for a spell ag'in, and the next'll be a right-down rusty!"

With these words he spurred his horse into the river, with which his employment as a raftsman had doubtless made him familiar; for, whether it proceeded from this circumstance, or some other advantage he possessed over the others, he was soon at the head of the swimmers, and leading the pursuit.

In the meanwhile, Oran Gilbert was seen to spring erect on his horse's back; but the animal never raised his head again from the water, and Oran, abandoning him entirely, trusted to his own courage and strength of arm to reach the rocks that were now close at hand. In this attempt he succeeded. He was seen to issue from the water, and aim his rifle, which he still retained, at the advancing Potts.

"Try it ag'in, old 'Awk!" roared Dan, as he saw the imperfect flash expire, without being followed by any explosion; "try it ag'in, old boy; or out knife and be ready!"

The only answer the tory deigned the bravado was, to fling his now unserviceable and burdensome piece into the river, and then rush up the mountain with all his speed. He was soon lost sight of among the rocks and bushes; a piece of good fortune which he owed to a simple expedient. As he clambered up, he took care to spurn from its lodgment every stone that shook under his foot, which rolling down the declivity, became a source of extreme confusion and peril to the pursuers, (as such are indeed yet to the laggards in a mere party of pleasure,) who were thus forced to loiter in the ascent, after having previously lost some time in securing their horses at the bottom of the hill, until there remained little hopes of overtaking him. The raftsman was the only individual who, in this conjuncture, was able to proceed with any spirit. He pressed upward, dodging the descending rocks with infinite address and agility, and was soon lost sight of; until, finally, even his voice, with which he continued to cheer the others, was no longer heard.

The mountain was, however, climbed at last; but the refugee had vanished. The only practicable path conducts you to the summit of the hill along the edge of the southern precipices; and the last step is from a shelf that overhangs the wooded abyss below, whence, peeping over the brink of the cliffs at their most tremendous height, the eye looks over many a league of blue hill and misty hollow, of living wood and winding river,--a scene whose loveliness is made more impressive by contrast with the savage desolation that reigns around the point of view. A broad table of stone, shelving downwards, and in part overhanging the abyss, lies like a parapet upon the extreme brink of the precipice; and it is from this, lying upon his breast, clinging with foot and hand to its crevices and the stunted bushes that grow upon its surface, and advancing his head beyond the naked verge, that the adventurous spectator looks down into the dizzy gulf below,--if he have indeed the courage to look.

Upon this platform the raftsman was found reposing, his elbows resting upon the parapet stone, and his countenance betraying wonder mingled with perplexity. Upon being asked what had become of the fugitive, he pointed to certain marks of fresh blood that lay on the stones where he stood, hard-by the parapet, which was itself dabbled with blood; and, in addition, the black lichens with which it was overgrown, were torn up, as by the struggles of some human being sliding down its inclined surface towards the horrible abyss beneath; and a shrub springing from the verge, was snapped off, as if broken by a human hand.

"I once," said the raftsman, "chased a two-year buck off this here very rock; and I reckon, you may see some of his bones among the bushes below. I was hunting with Oran Gilbert; we were boys together; and, I remember, he said, 'It was a brave jump for a hard-pushed beast, and a wise one, too.' Now let any man run his nose over the rock's edge, and tell me what he sees swinging to a bush some fifty or sixty fathoms below; for, to my eyes, it has much the look of a green hunting-shirt, or a big rag of it. There's a stream of blood running up along the rocks, and here's the ending of it. There was some old wound bursting out on him afresh, and, to my thought, the man was not able to run further; and so he remembered the deer, and took a jump;--and I must say, it was a brave fancy of his, and a wise one too."

To this conjecture confirmation was given, when one of the party, having peered over the rock, declared that he saw the flutter of some garment, hanging on a bush many a weary foot below. The stones were hunted over again; a track of blood was plainly distinguished, and had been remarked before, staining the rocks for some distance below; and on this platform it ended. The closest search could not detect any mark to show that the fugitive had proceeded a step further; it was believed at once, that, having reached this spot, and found himself incapable of proceeding further, the pursuers, headed by Potts, pressing him close, he had thrown himself from the rocks, preferring a death in keeping with his savage career, to falling alive into the hands of his foes. There was no other way to account for his disappearance, the presence of blood on the parapet, and the wave of the garment below; and, indeed, a second, and then a third person, looking down, they swore they could see, among the bushes at the bottom of the cliffs, something that looked like a human form, as they doubted not it was. It was accordingly resolved to descend the mountain without delay, which, after uttering a loud shout of triumph they did, with the single exception of the raftsman; who, declaring himself overcome with fatigue, sat down upon a stone on the platform to rest, and was soon lost sight of by the others. As the last man left the shelf, he beckoned to him with his hand, nodded his head, and took other means to arrest his attention; but these being disregarded, or perhaps unperceived, he ceased his signals, and muttered half to himself, half aloud,--

"Well done, Tom Wolf; you're no fox, and a man must ha' said, 'Fifty guineas!' aloud, to fetch you. But I was a fool to think on't; no 'alves and no quarters, is my cry; and a man mought as well take the money and the credit into his own hands, without sharing; for, I reckon, the creatur's clean done up, and can make no more fight than a 'possum. Neversomever, there's no varmint of the woods or water can stand by him for a trick; and so we'll look sharp, Dan Potts, and see what'll come out of it. I reckon I shall make them 'ere fellers stare! They say, the governor has offered five hundred dollars for him, hard money, dead or alive. Five hundred dollars isn't to be made, every day, a-rafting. There's a big hole under that stone; and, I remember, he boasted he had been down in it afore; which was like enough, for he was always a ventur'ing devil."

It may be gathered from these expressions what cause had prevented the raftsman leaving the shelf with his companions. Immediately beneath the projecting portion of the table-rock, so often mentioned, there is a cavity or niche in the face of the cliff, visible, on a clear day, even from the foot of the mountain, and inaccessible from the top only because there are few men in the world of sufficient nerve to attempt reaching it, by climbing over the face of the cliff,--an exploit the very thought of which is appalling. It occurred to the ancient comrade of the refugee, that the latter, persuaded he must be captured, unless he could throw his pursuers off the scent, or delay the chase for a time, might have bethought him of the stratagem of causing them to believe he had thrown himself from the rocks, while, all the time, he was lying snugly and safely in the cavity beneath the shelving rock, from which he might be expected to sally out, the moment the pursuers had descended. This was rather a conceit in the raftsman's mind than a positive suspicion; but it was sufficient to impel him upon a new course of action, a main incentive to which was the prospect it seemed to open to him of securing the rewards that had been offered for the apprehension of the noted outlaw.

He sat down therefore upon a stone opposite to the parapet, and scarce twenty feet from it, holding his rifle ready cocked upon his knee, his knife loosened in the sheath, and his little hunting-axe lying at his feet; and he sat thus without fear, knowing that, even if the refugee were armed and in the pride of his strength and daring, he could not ascend to the shelf, without being entirely at his mercy. He sat in silence, expecting each moment to see the fierce eyes of the outcast peering over the rock, or to hear the rattling of stones along the face of the cliff, denoting that he had left his hiding-place, and was beginning to ascend. He sat watching, however, a long time in vain;--and was beginning to believe that his suspicion was groundless, and that the desperate Oran had in truth leaped from the cliff, when suddenly there rose beyond the verge of the rock the apparition of a human head, but so spectral, so pale, so ghastly with blood, and so wildly unnatural of expression, that he was seized with a sudden fear, and beheld the whole body succeed it, and the refugee himself (for it was he) stand erect upon the parapet, before he could raise his piece, and charge him to surrender.

"I have you, Oran, old friend!" he said, at last; "so down knife, and take quarter. If you move foot or hand, I'll fire upon you."

The outlaw heard his voice, and beheld the threatening weapon, without any manifestation of surprise. He bent his eyes upon him with a stare that curdled the raftsman's blood. "Fire!" he said, and laughed; and then suddenly drawing the knife he had taken from Elsie's cottage, he made a fierce spring from the rock right against the uplifted rifle. The attack was so unexpected and energetic that Potts had scarce time to pull the trigger, before the tory lighted on the shelf at his feet. He drew it, however, with the certainty that the next moment the assailant would be lying dead at his foot--he drew it, and not even a flash burst from the treacherous powder; it snapped in his hands; and before he could exchange it for another weapon, nay, before he could even draw his knife, he found the blade of his opponent glimmering at his breast. He caught at his wrist, the only expedient that saved him from a mortal thrust: and being of great nerve, he strove, at the same time, to hurl the tory upon the rock. But great as was his strength, and feeble as he had supposed the powers of Oran to be, the attempt was foiled, and he began in his heart to curse the covetousness, that had deprived him of a helper, in such a time of need. As he caught the wrist of Oran in his left hand, he sought, with the other, to snatch his own knife from the sheath; but the motion was anticipated, and his own right hand grasped in Oran's left; so that the two stood for an instant facing one another, entangled, as it might be said, like two wild bucks, that have, at the first blow, interlocked their antlers together, and thus remain glaring at each other, waging battle only with their eyes. In that instant, the raftsman beheld enough to make him repent the temerity with which he had sought to bring the refugee to bay. Instead of being weakened by loss of blood, or exhausted by the toil of ascending the mountain, it seemed as if he was suddenly imbued with new strength, as well as additional fury, by the mere presence of a foe; and there was that in his countenance, which expressed, along with a native love of conflict, the malignant ferocity of a maniac. Indeed, his appearance was so fearful, and his ability to resist to the uttermost so manifest, that the raftsman felt strongly moved to call for a parley and propose a mutual release; but the desire came too late. The tory perceived the fainting of his heart, and laughed:

"I never did harm to you or yours, Dan Potts," he said; "but you shall never say so more. You would sell the blood of a dying man--you must first win it."

With that, he relaxed his grasp on the raftsman's right hand, as if for the purpose of seizing him by the throat; and Potts took instant advantage of the motion, to snatch his knife from its sheath. The motion was a trick of juggling, such as the outlaw had learned among the red associates of his boyhood, and perhaps practised in similar encounters before. The next instant, he had thrown the whole weight of his body upon the raftsman's breast, and directing the half-drawn blade at the same time with his hand, Potts fell upon the rock, his own weapon buried to the handle in his side.

"Go!" shouted the victor, leaping up, and dragging his victim towards a corner of the shelf, where no parapet intervened betwixt them and the abyss,--"to your fellow bloodhounds below!--Something in memory of Hyland Gilbert!"

He struck the body with his foot,--it rolled crashing over the slender twigs and decaying flakes of stone on the brink of the precipice, and then disappeared, with not a sound to indicate its fall upon the shivered rocks below. The next moment, the victor ran from the platform, and was buried among the forests that darken the long and desolate summit of the ridge.

It was perhaps two hours, or more, before the party of pursuers, descending the mountain to the river, and making their way along the lesser elevation of rocks, heaped at the foot of the great southern precipice, from which they have fallen, reached the spot where they expected to find the mangled corse of the outlaw. Their astonishment and horror may be conceived, when, instead of that, they lighted upon the body of the raftsman, known by his garments, for scarce a vestige of humanity remained, and sought to penetrate the mysterious cause of his fall. The true reason was rather supposed than inferred; but their suspicions were confirmed when the mountain was re-ascended, and his axe and cap found lying on the shelf, as well as a new track of blood, leading along the ridge. This was followed, until it led them to a spot, where, it was evident, the fugitive had rested awhile and bound up his wounds. But here the trace entirely failed, and was never again recovered. The mountains were hunted over and over for weeks, but not the slightest vestige of the refugee rewarded the search.

In the course of the ensuing winter, a party of hunters, following a wolf, were led to the banks of one of those little lakes, that lie, like dots of sapphire and crystal, along the broken ridges of the mountain. In this remote nook, in a hollow, surrounded by jagged rocks and hemlock-trees, were found several rude huts, or wigwams, of boughs, now in ruins, such as the hunters make, when they 'camp out' in the wilderness, with the remains of fires in front of each. This place was supposed to have been one of the chief retreats of the refugees. At some distance from the huts, on the edge of the lake, they fell upon the bones of a human being, scattered about among the stones and bushes, as if rent asunder by wild beasts; and near them was discovered a rusted rifle, which, being taken to the valley, was recognised as the weapon of Potts, the raftsman, which had not been found either upon the platform where the party of pursuers had left him, or near his body. This circumstance induced a suspicion that the bones were those of Oran Gilbert, who had armed himself with the raftsman's piece, before leaving the platform. There remained no other memorial of his fate, and no other circumstance was found to identify the skeleton with the man once so much dreaded and detested; but it was not doubted that hither, into the savage wilderness, he had dragged his mangled frame, and perished miserably.

The close of Hyland's story may be readily imagined. His sufferings he might have considered as being retributive in their nature,--since his return to the land of his birth had no worthier cause than a desire to take part in the conflict against her liberties. This desire had been indeed cooled by personal observation of the feelings and principles which supported his countrymen through a long period of disaster and suffering; and the last blow was given to the unworthy ambition by the love for one of his country's daughters that soon entangled his spirit. The giving way to wrath and the lust of blood, though but for a moment, had been followed by the last and heaviest of his griefs, not the lightest of which was his temporary belief in his own guilt, and his consequent remorse. But the shadow had now departed from him, and for ever; and it was soon perceived by all who chose to ponder over his history, that his greatest crime had been his affection, and the ill-judged deed of violence into which it had led him.

His meeting with the Captain's daughter, after his liberation, was one of mingled joy and grief; but it was the last one marked with tears. The bloom returned again to Catherine's cheek, and, in course of time, the gay and merry spirit, native to her bosom, revisited its former cell; and if a shadow ever again darkened her countenance, it was only when, sometimes wandering along the brook and by the waterfall, (whence the bones of Jessie had been long since removed, to be deposited near those of her step-mother in the village church-yard,) she remembered the trials of sorrow, and the scenes of blood, through which she had been conducted to final happiness. She wept, indeed, when Harriet died, for she had forgiven her; but that was the only grief that clouded a long period of peace and sunshine.

Our inquiries after the fate of the less important personages of our tradition have never been very satisfactory in results. Americans are a race of Utilitarians, all busied in the acquisition of profitable knowledge, and just as ready, if not as anxious, to forget all lore of an useless character. The little anecdotes of a district last but for a generation; the fathers tell them to the children, but the children find something better to think about, and so forget them. We know nothing of the latter years of Elsie Bell, but can readily believe they passed in comfort and peace. Her little cottage has long since vanished from the earth, the running of newer and better roads in other places having long since diverted all travel from the precincts of Hawk-Hollow.

Dancy Parkins, we suppose, under the auspicious patronage of the new master of the valley, pursued his claims to the love of the fair Phoebe; but as that was a matter of much more consequence to him than the reader, we never cared much to inquire his fate.

Our curiosity in relation to the career of the unworthy limb of the law, Theophilus Affidavy, Esq., has been somewhat stronger; yet we could never find that a single act of his life, or even his name, has been retained by those who dwell near the scene of his exploits. His adventure in the brook, with his ride on the back of the buttonwood tree, has, by some strange accident, travelled into an adjacent county, where it is told as a very good story, though the honour is supposed to attach to an individual of another name and profession. But it is with a strange story as with an old pun; it finds fathers, as it travels.

As for Captain Loring, all we have to say of him is, that he lived long enough to rejoice over the union of his daughter with Hyland Falconer as much as he would perhaps have mourned over her early grave, had her destiny wedded her to the unlucky younger brother. He lived also to see, with a rapture that lasted to his dying day, the painter resume the brush, and put the last finish to 'the grand picture of the Battle of Brandywine, and Tom Loring, dying.'

THE END.