If the few weeks preceding the fall of Detroit had been characterised by much bustle and excitement, those which immediately succeeded were no less remarkable for their utter inactivity and repose. With the surrender of the fortress vanished every vestige of hostility in that remote territory, enabling the sinews of watchfulness to undergo a relaxation, nor longer requiring the sacrifice of private interests to the public good. Scarcely had the American prisoners been despatched to their several destinations, when General Brock, whose activity and decision were the subject of universal remark, quitted his new conquest, and again hastened to resume the command on the Niagara frontier, which he had only left to accomplish what had been so happily achieved. The Indians, too, finding their services no longer in immediate demand, dispersed over the country or gave themselves up to the amusement of the chase, ready, however, to come forward whenever they should be re-summoned to the conflict; while the Canadians, who had abandoned their homes to assist in the operations of the war, returned once more to the cultivation of that soil they had so recently looked upon as wrested from them for ever. Throughout the whole line of Detroit, on either shore, the utmost quietude prevailed; and although many of the inhabitants of the conquered town looked with an eye of national jealousy on the English flag that waved in security above the fort, they submitted uncomplainingly to the change, indulging only in secret, yet without bitterness, in the hope of a not far distant reaction of fortune, when their own National Stars should once more be in the ascendant.

The garrison left at Detroit consisted merely of two companies—those of Captains Granville and Molineux, which included among their officers Middlemore, Villiers and Henry Grantham. After the first excitement produced in the minds of the townspeople by their change of rulers had passed away, these young men, desirous of society, sought to renew their intimacy with such of the more respectable families as they had been in the habit of associating with prior to hostilities; but although in most instances they were successful, their reception was so different from what it had formerly been, that they were glad to withdraw themselves within the rude resources of their own walls. It happened, however, about this period, that Colonel D'Egville had received a command to transfer the head of his department from Amherstburg to Detroit, and, with a view to his own residence on the spot, the large and commodious mansion of the late Governor was selected for the abode of his family. With the daughters of that officer the D'Egvilles had long been intimate, and as the former were to continue under the same roof until their final departure from Detroit, it was with a mutual satisfaction the friends found themselves thus closely reunited. Added to this party were Major Montgomerie (already fast recovering from the effects of his wound,) and his niece—both of whom only awaited the entire restoration of the former, to embark immediately for the nearest American port.

At Colonel D'Egville's it will therefore be supposed the officers passed nearly all their leisure hours; Molineux and Villiers flirting with the fair American sisters, until they had nearly been held fast by the chains with which they dallied, and Middlemore uttering his execrable puns with a coolness of premeditation that excited the laughter of the fair part of his auditors, while his companions, on the contrary, expressed their unmitigated abhorrence in a variety of ways. As for the somewhat staid Captain Granville, he sought to carry his homage to the feet of Miss Montgomerie, but the severe and repellant manner in which she received all his advances, and the look which almost petrified where it fell, not only awed him effectually into distance, but drew down upon him the sarcastic felicitations of his watchful brother officers. There was one, however, on whose attentions her disapprobation fell not, and Henry Grantham, who played the part of an anxious observer, remarked with pain that he had been fascinated by her beauty, in a manner which showed her conquest to be complete.

The cousins of Gerald Grantham had been in error in supposing him to be the officer in command of the vessel on board which the lover of Julia had embarked. His transfer from the gun-boat had taken place, but in consideration of the fatigue he had undergone during the three successive days in which he had been employed at the batteries, the Commodore had directed another officer to take command of the vessel in question, and charge himself with the custody of the prisoners on board. Finding himself at liberty until the return of the flotilla from this duty, the first care of Gerald was to establish himself in lodgings in Detroit, whence he daily sallied forth to the apartments in the Governor's house occupied by the unfortunate Major Montgomerie, in whose situation he felt an interest so much the more deep and lively as he knew his confinement to have been in some degree the work of his own hands. All the attention and kindness could effect was experienced by the respectable Major, who, in return, found himself more and more attached to his youthful and generous captor. These constant visits to the uncle naturally brought our hero more immediately into the society of the niece, but although he had never been able to banish from his memory the recollection of one look which she had bestowed upon him on a former occasion, in almost every interview of the sort now, she preserved the same cold distance and reserve which was peculiar to her.

A week had elapsed in this manner, when it chanced that as they both sat one evening, about dusk, near the couch of the invalid, the latter, after complaining of extreme weakness and unusual suffering, expressed his anxiety at the possibility of his niece being left alone and unprotected in a strange country.

It was with a beating pulse and a glowing cheek that Gerald looked up to observe the effect of this observation on his companion. He was surprised, nay, hurt, to remark that an expression of almost contemptuous loathing sat upon her pale but beautiful countenance. He closed his eyes for a moment in bitterness of disappointment—and when they again opened and fell upon that countenance, he scarcely could believe the evidence of his senses. Every feature had undergone a change. With her face half turned, as if to avoid the observation of her uncle, she now exhibited a cheek flushed with the expression of passionate excitement, while from her eye beamed that same unfathomable expression which had carried intoxication once before to the inmost soul of the youth. Almost wild with his feelings, it was with difficulty he restrained the impulse that would have urged him to her feet; but even while he hesitated, her countenance had again undergone a change, and she sat cold and reserved and colorless as before.

That look sealed that night the destiny of Gerald Grantham. The coldness of the general demeanor of Matilda was forgotten in the ardor of character which had escaped from beneath the evident and habitual disguise; and the enthusiastic sailor could think of nothing but the witchery of that look. To his surprise and joy, the following day, and ever afterwards, he found that the manner of the American, although reserved as usual towards others, had undergone a complete change towards himself. Whenever he appeared alone a smile was his welcome, and if others were present she always contrived to indemnify him for a coldness he now knew to be assumed, by conveying unobserved one of those seductive glances the power of which she seemed so fully to understand.

Such was the state of things when the D'Egvilles arrived. Exposed to the observations of more than one anxious friend, it was not likely that a youth of Gerald's open nature could be long in concealing his prepossession; and as Matilda, although usually guarded in her general manner, was observed sometimes to fix her eyes upon him with the expression of one immersed in deep and speculative thought, the suspicion acquired a character of greater certainty.

To Harry Grantham, who doated upon his brother, this attachment was a source of infinite disquiet; for, from the very commencement, Miss Montgomerie had unfavorably impressed him. Why he knew not; yet, impelled by a feeling he was unable to analyze, he deeply lamented that they had ever become acquainted, infatuated as Gerald appeared by her attractions. There was another too, who saw with regret the attachment of Gerald to his fair prisoner. It was Gertrude D'Egville; but her uncomplaining voice spoke not, even to her beloved sister, of the anguish she endured—she loved her cousin, but he knew it not; and although she felt that she was fast consuming with the disappointment that preyed upon her peace, she had obtained of her sister the promise that her secret should never reach the ear of its object.

In this manner passed the months of August and September. October had just commenced, and with it that beautiful but brief season which is well known to America as the Indian summer. Anxious to set out on his return to that home to which his mutilation must confine him for the future, Major Montgomerie, now sufficiently recovered to admit of his travelling by water, expressed a desire to avail himself of the loveliness of the weather, and embark forthwith on his return.

By the officers whom the hospitality of Colonel D'Egville almost daily assembled beneath his roof, this announcement was received with dismay, and especially by Molineux and Villiers, who had so suffered themselves to be fascinated by the amiable daughters of General H——, as to have found it necessary to hold a consultation (decided however in the negative) whether they should or should not tempt them to remain, by making an offer of their hands. It was also observed that these young ladies, who at first had been all anxiety to rejoin their parent, evinced no particular satisfaction in the intimation of speedy departure thus given to them. Miss Montgomerie, on the contrary, whose anxiety throughout to quit Detroit had been no less remarkable than her former impatience to reach it, manifested a pleasure that amounted almost to exultation; and yet it was observed that, by a strange apparent contradiction, her preference for Gerald from that moment became more and more divested of disguise.

There are few spots in the world, perhaps, that unite so many inducements to the formation of those sociable little rÉunions which come under the denomination of pic-nics as the small islands adorning most of the American rivers. Owing to the difficulty of procuring summer carriages, and in some degree to the rudeness of the soil, in the Upper Province especially, boats are in much more general use; and excursions on the water are as common to that class "whose only toil is pleasure," as cockney trips to Richmond, or to any other of the thousand and one places of resort which have sprung into existence within twenty miles of the metropolis of England. Not confined, however, to picking daisies for their sweethearts, as these cockneys do, or carving their vulgar names on every magnificent tree that spreads its gorgeous arms to afford them the temporary shelter of a home, the men generally devote themselves, for a period of the day, to manlier exercises. The woods abounding with game, and the rivers with fish of the most delicate flavor—the address of the hunter and the fisher, is equally called into action; since upon their exertions principally depend the party for the fish and fowl portion of their rural dinner. Guns and rods are, therefore, as indispensable a part of the freightage, as the dried venison and bear hams, huge turkies, pastries, &c. which, together with wines, spirits, and cider, ad libitum, form the mass of alimentary matter. Here is to be heard neither the impertinent coxcomb of the European self-styled exclusive, nor the unmeaning twaddle of the daughter of false fashion, spoiled by the example of the said exclusive, and almost be come a dowager in silliness, before she has attained the first years of womanhood. No lack-a-daisical voice, the sex of which it is difficult to distinguish, is attempted to be raised in depreciation of the party to which it had been esteemed too great a happiness to be invited the evening before. The sneer of contempt—the laugh of derision—is nowhere to be heard; neither is the pallid brow and sunken cheek, the fruit of late hours and forced excitement, to be seen. Content is in each heart—the glow of health upon each face. All appear eager to be happy, pleased with each other, and at ease with themselves. Not that theirs is the enjoyment of the mere holiday mind, which grasps with undiscerning avidity at whatever offers to its gratification, but that of those in whom education, acting on innate good breeding, has imposed a due sense of the courtesies of life, and on whom fashion has not superseded the kindlier emotions of nature.

Several of these pic-nics had taken place among the party at Detroit, confined, with one or two exceptions, to the officers of the garrison, and the family of Colonel D'Egville, with their American inmates; and it was proposed by the former, that a final one should be given a few days prior to the embarkation in Gerald Grantham's new command, which lay waiting in the river for the purpose—the Major remaining as hitherto at home, under the guardianship of the benevolent Mrs. D'Egville, whose habits of retirement disinclined her to out-door amusement.

Hitherto their excursions had been principally directed to some of the smaller islands, which abound in the river nearer Amherstburgh, and where game being found in abundance, the skill of the officers had more immediate opportunity for display; but on this excursion, at the casual suggestion of Miss Montgomerie, Hog Island was selected as the scene of their day's amusement. Thither, therefore, the boat which contained the party now proceeded, the ladies costumed in a manner to thread the mazes of the wood, and the gentlemen in equally appropriate gear, as sportsmen, their guns and fishing rods being by no means omitted in the catalogue of orders entrusted to their servants. In the stern of the boat—the trustworthy coxswain on this occasion—sat old Sambo, whose skill in the conduct of a helm was acknowledged to be little inferior to his dexterity in the use of a paddle, and whose authoritative voice, as he issued his commands in broken English to the boatmen, added, in no small degree, to the exhilaration of the party.

To reach Hog Island, it was necessary to pass by the tannery and cottage already described, which, latter, it will be remembered, had been the scene of a singular adventure to our hero and his servant on the night of their reconnoitering the coast, in obedience to the order of the Commodore. By the extraordinary and almost romantic incidents of that night, the imagination of Gerald had been deeply impressed, and on retiring to his rude couch within the battery he had fully made up his mind to explore further into the mysterious affair, with as little delay as possible after the expected fall of the American fortress. In the hurry, confusion, and excitement, of that event however, his original intention was forgotten; or, rather so far delayed, that it was not until the third or fourth day of his establishment in the town, that it occurred to him to institute inquiry. He had accordingly repaired thither, but finding the house carefully shut up, and totally uninhabited, had contented himself with questioning the tanner and his family, in regard to its late inmates, reserving to a future opportunity the attempt to make himself personally acquainted with all that it contained. From this man he learnt, that, the house had once been the property of an aged Canadian, at whose death (supposed to have been occasioned by violence,) it had passed into the hands of an American, who led a roving and adventurous life, being frequently away for months together, and then returning with a canoe, but never continuing for more than a night or two. That latterly it had been wholly deserted by its owner, in consequence of which it had been taken possession of, and used as quarters by the officers of the American guard, stationed at this part of the town, for the protection of the boats, and as a check upon the incursions of the Indians. In all this statement, there was every appearance of truth, but in no part of it did Gerald find wherewith to elucidate what he himself had witnessed. He described the costume, and questioned of the mysterious figure, but the only reply he obtained from the independent tanner, when he admitted to him that he had been so near a visitor on that occasion, and had seen what he described, was an expressed regret that he had not been "wide awake when any Brittainer ventured to set foot upon his grounds, otherwise, tarnation seize him with all due respect, if he wouldn't a stuck an ounce o' lead in his liver as quickly as he would tan a hide," a patriotic sentiment in which it may be supposed our hero in no way coincided. With the tanner's assurance, however, that no living thing was there at this moment, Gerald was fain to content himself for the present, fully resolving to return at another time with Sambo, and effect a forcible entrance into a place, with which were connected such striking recollections. He had, however, been too much interested and occupied elsewhere, to find time to devote to the purpose.