It would be equally needless and painful to linger over the sufferings of the sick maiden. The fever, which the terrible and agitating scenes she had passed through had excited, was so long in being subdued that those who watched her trembled lest the loss of either life or reason should ensue. When this was overcome it seemed as if she must sink under the exhaustion which followed. Her constitution, however, though delicate was good, and after weeks of unconscious agony, she did indeed appear sensible of the fond cares of the young, high-bred lady who was continually by her side.

Georgiana Lincoln was exactly opposite in appearance to the Puritan girl. A high polish and elegance of tone and manner marked her at once as the English lady of rank. Her style of beauty was one uncommon in America. A bright, sunny brunette, the soft brown of her skin was warmed with a rich crimson—the dewy coral has its freshness but not its brightness. Her tall figure was almost concealed by a white robe which still revealed the most exquisite proportions of her figure.

Grace Bartlett gazed on her with admiration, and endeavored to prove her gratitude by some expressions of thankfulness; but the touching mournfulness of her sweet face too painfully revealed that the causes she had for sorrow were not forgotten with her returning consciousness.

A settled melancholy followed her recovery. Every thing was done to arouse her from this. Among other resources that were adopted, she was taken to the boudoir of her hostess and companion, where birds and flowers formed the ornaments. But not the singing of the one, nor the odor of the other brought delight to her heart. What were music and perfume to her but agony?

To all Georgiana Lincoln’s attempts at consolation she listened with a calm look of hopeless misery which plainly told how incapable she was of receiving condolence. But despite all her causes for grief, and the deep melancholy that consumed her, Grace could not but be touched with the kindness lavished on her by the wealthy lady. Insensibly the poor girl wound her feelings around her, and bestowed on her all that she had of affection that was left from the grave of her parents, and the memory of her lover.

One evening, when the unhappy maiden was unusually depressed, she was seated in the boudoir of her new acquaintance.

“Thou art sadder than thy wont, sweet one,” said the latter, kissing the brow of the young Puritan. “But if naught in thy own situation can add to thy happiness, gladly as any change should be made in it at thy slightest bidding, I feel sure at least that one shadow will pass from thy sympathetic nature at hearing of thy friend’s prospect of happiness. Rejoice with me, Grace, my brother is expected home.”

“It doth, indeed, please me that thou art about to have any contribution to thy fullness of joy,” replied the poor girl, with a faint smile, and a pressure of her companion’s hand.

“We will have a series of festivities in honor of his arrival,” resumed the other; “and if you will not participate, dear Grace, in the dancing and merriment, you can at any rate be present to observe the company, and listen to the music. No wonder that thou weariest without other society than that of thy tedious friend.”

Our heroine smiled again, but more faintly than before, as if the tidings of the expected fÊtes had little or no interest for her.

At that moment Gen. Lincoln appeared on the balcony upon which the window opened, exclaiming, “Georgiana, my love, I have brought you a visitor—a truant; yet one you will be glad to see. Come in, my son—what do you remain there for?” he added, turning to his companion.

But the latter hesitated. His glance rested on the figure of Grace, so graceful and almost spiritual, as it was brought forward in the shadowy moonlight.

“My brother, my own dear brother! What joy!” cried Georgiana, springing out eagerly to meet him; while Grace, startled and terrified at the idea of a stranger, hastily withdrew. General Lincoln at the same instant received a summons from below.

“Dearest Georgiana,” said the young man, “I am glad to see you again; looking, too, as lovely as ever, or else this evening hour deceives me. I fear me, though, you will deem yourself but little fortunate in my return, for I come back in no agreeable mood, I assure you.” So saying he entered, and threw himself listlessly on a lounge in the room.

“But I do rejoice to see you, dear Charles,” replied his sister, seating herself by his side, and gently stroking back the dark hair from his brow. “You will remain with us for a time, and we will be so happy.”

“Happy!” he exclaimed, with bitterness, “I see little prospect of my ever being happy in this life; or at least whilst our father continues this unjust persecution of the unpretending and religious settlers on the borders.”

He then proceeded to pour out to Georgiana the miserable intrigues in which Gen. Lincoln was engaged, and the embassy on which he had himself been absent. “But, my sister,” he continued, “I have resolved to take no further part in this accursed policy toward a defenseless and religious people. I have long enough worked out the will of others—a mere machine in the hands of my ambitious parent, who is striving by the course of heartless persecution I have described, to please a jealous monarch and a scheming court. The instigating of the Indians to massacre the Puritans, and exterminate their settlements, will cry aloud for vengeance.”

“Yes,” continued Charles, in an excited tone, “their death-shrieks are ever in my ears—in the dark night their massacre is ever before my eyes, in the day, heavy and dark upon my spirits—never away from me can it be in the future, but will haunt me throughout my desolate life, and seem to be calling on me to take vengeance against my father.”

“You talk wildly, dearest brother,” said Georgiana, looking at him in some alarm. “How canst thou be desolate with thy sister to love thee. And speak not of taking vengeance against our father, for that is God’s, even toward the humblest adversary, and not to be named by a son against his father.”

“Nay,” he answered, “hear me. I have just come from one of their exterminated villages, where, in the character of a spy, I resided among them some months ago, unsuspected by their guileless simplicity, and receiving their humble hospitalities. On my return thither recently, to visit one to whom I had become dearly attached, I found the place in ruins, and the hapless villagers destroyed by the firebrands of Gen. Lincoln’s emissaries.” He seemed overcome with his emotions, and rested his head on his hand for some moments in deep reflection.

His sister appeared not less affected with sadness, and held his hand silently.

By an effort, at length, arousing himself, he asked suddenly, “Who was that graceful figure that I saw sitting at your side, when papa would have hurried me so unceremoniously through the window. She could not have thrown herself into a more becoming attitude for effect as the moonlight streamed upon her.”

“Effect! poor maiden!” was the reply. “It was the last thing in her mind at that moment. She is a prisoner, brought hither by the Indians, for what purpose, originally, I know not. But whatever were his first intentions with regard to her, our father has abandoned them, and permitted me to treat her with the consideration due to her loveliness and her unhappy situation.” The announcement of company in the drawing-room here interrupted the conversation between the brother and sister.

——