When our hero, after a long interval of unconsciousness, opened his eyes, he found himself, to his surprise, in a large and elegantly furnished apartment, entirely strange to him. He pulled aside the curtains of his bed with his uninjured arm, and looked out. An aged female servant sat watching him.

“What massa want?” she said.

“How did I get here?” he asked.

“Captain Washington heself left you here, massa, after de great battle. De surgeon staid to dress your arm, and den follow arter de troops, who had lick de red-coats, dey say, all to pieces.”

“Yes! I know—then the army has pursued its march to the Catawba.”

“It hab, massa; and you be to stay here till you well.”

“But where am I?”

The old negro woman smiled till she showed all her teeth.

“You no know, massa?”

“I do not.”

“You forgit me, Massa Albert—me, Missus Ellen’s maman?”

“Good God!” cried our hero, scarcely believing his senses, and scrutinizing her features, “can it be? You are indeed she. And this is Mr. Thorndike’s house.”

He had started up in bed, and was now confronted by the figure of the owner of the mansion himself, who entered at an opposite door; but who, instead of wearing the angry air which Albert had last seen upon him, smiled kindly upon him.

“I was passing along the corridor,” he said, seating himself on the bedside familiarly, and taking the hand of his wounded guest, “and hearing your voice, learned for the first time that you were awake. Accordingly I made bold to enter, in order to assure you of a welcome. When we last parted, Mr. Scott,” he said, noticing our hero’s look of astonishment, “it was with ill-feeling on both sides. Let all that be forgotten. Whatever I may have said then I now recall. In saving the life of Capt. Washington, who is my dearest friend, you have laid me under infinite obligations, and at his request I have consented to overlook the past, and to give you my daughter. I only make a single stipulation, which is that you will not ask her hand until this war is over, which,” he added, lowering his voice, “can not be long, now that things have begun to go so auspiciously.”

Our hero well understood the character of Mr. Thorndike, who was noted for his prudent adherence to whichever side was uppermost, and he attributed this sudden change not only to Capt. Washington’s intercessions, but also in part to the prospect there now was of the triumph of the colonial cause, in which case the confiscated estates of the elder Mr. Scott would be restored. He kept this to himself, however, and expressed his thanks for Mr. Thorndike’s hospitality.

“But I shall owe you even more,” he added, “for the happiness with which your promise has filled me, and I cheerfully accept your terms. Meantime, let me rise, and pay my respects to the ladies in person—I am sure I am well enough.”

Our hero, however, was compelled to keep his bed for two entire days, in consequence of the fever, a period which appeared to him an age.

We shall not attempt to describe his meeting with Ellen. Let us pass over the first few minutes of the interview.

“I have but one thing to regret,” he said at last, in a low whisper, for Mr. and Mrs. Thorndike were at the other end of the apartment, “and that is the loss of your miniature. I had it around my neck when I went into battle, but have not seen it since.”

Ellen smiled archly, and drew it from her bosom.

“How did it reach your possession?” he said in surprise. And, taking it in his hand, he added, “What means this dent, so like the mark of a ball?”

Tears gushed to Ellen’s eyes, as she said—

“Capt. Washington, who gave it to me, said that it lay over your heart, and that but for it, Tarleton’s pistol-shot would have killed you. Oh! Albert, I sometimes thought, after I gave it to you, that I had done wrong, knowing that my parents would not approve of the act; but when I heard that it had saved your life, I saw in it the hand of Providence.”

“Yes! for it not only preserved me from death, but was the means of interesting Washington in our favor, and thus bringing about this happy re-union,” said Albert, after a pause.

We have no more to tell. On recovering from his wound, our hero rejoined his corps, with which he continued until the expulsion of the British from the Carolinas.

After that happy event he was married to Ellen, and with her spent a long life of felicity.

Their descendants still preserve the battered miniature as an heir-loom.

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BY PROFESSOR FROST.

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