When I think back upon the mysterious occurrences of the night which followed my introduction into the household of Lady Marmaduke, I hardly know how to tell them. It was not till long afterward that I knew exactly what I had done that night. I was like a man gone half asleep. Surely I ought to bear no blame for my lack of reason. For the last ten years, with the exception of those short weeks in Captain Donaldson’s ship, I had been searching endlessly for my sister. During that long period there had been moments of despondency; at times my search was quite neglected; yet never for an instant had I given up all hope. Now everything was at an end. My life seemed snapped in two. Had such a blow come ten years before I might have cursed God in my folly. I might have plunged recklessly into the first danger that awaited me. But years of restrained impulse had greatly changed my character. I had passed the rash age of youth, and now I almost sank beneath the burden that seemed greater than I could bear.

In this state of mind my little room in the gable of Marmaduke Hall was too confining. It seemed as if I could not get my breath, and it made my head reel to look down from the high window. I could see the swaying trees upon the hills beyond the city, and they seemed to beckon me to come to their solitary shade for comfort, and I went. I can recollect very little of what followed. I remember that I paused once by the city gate to look back at the house which I had left. A picture came into my eye of the relentless woman who had told me news that was bitter as wormwood; yet she was kind and considerate withal. I turned away and set my face towards the sighing woodland.

I threw myself down on my back beneath an oak tree. There was a small patch of blue sky visible, and now and then a bird swam lazily across it. Did I fall asleep and dream, or did I rise and walk about unconsciously? I do not know much of what I did; but soon I was walking. I was not aware of the exact moment when I began to move, nor how long I had been winding my way in and out among the trees when the sound of sobbing grew upon my ears. It startled me and I began to look around and to follow the sound without knowing just where I went, in that vague way one is so used to in dreams. Soon I came upon a woman kneeling in the grass. She was very beautiful and my heart went out to her for she was weeping bitterly and seemed in great distress. My appearance must have scared her for she hastily covered something upon the ground and then sprang up in great alarm. She was dressed in a white robe that floated about her like an angel. For just a moment she let me see her sweet tear-stained face; then she was gone. Her dark hair and sorrowful expression made such a lifelike impression upon me that I almost thought it could not be a dream. Yet in a moment she had vanished like a breeze. Near the spot where she had stood the grass curved upward over a small mound. I drew near to examine what from its appearance I thought should be a grave.

When I first came upon the woman she made a hasty move to cover something upon the ground. At the head of the grave I spied a loose sod which I lifted. Beneath it was a flat stone inscribed with the one word “Ruth.” I fell on my knees and wept. Surely God had sent me a vision! I lay full length on the grave, kissing the cold stone and plucking blades of grass to strew upon it in place of flowers. How I thanked God for this dream! He had led me into green pastures. Thy rod and Thy staff, O God, they comfort me!

Suddenly the visitant reappeared.

“Sir,” she said. “You are in sore trouble.”

I pointed to the grave. “She was my sister.”

She was startled by this and eyed me with a doubtful anxious look. I cannot recall what she said to me, but after a while she opened the bosom of her robe, whence she drew forth a small ivory miniatureminiature enclosed in a gold rim.

“See; your sister wore it before she died.”

I looked. It contained the counterfeit of my own face, like one I had given Ruth upon the ocean. God is merciful, but His mercies are quick to come and go. The vision disappeared; yet its blessed presence had made me feel that I had stood close in Ruth’s heart to the very end of her life even as she had stood in mine.

There follows a blank space in my memory during which I can remember nothing. The trees at last seemed to force themselves into my consciousness again. They tramped by me in an endless procession. I grew cold and began to shiver. A sharp pricking attacked my legs. I looked down to discover the cause of this sensation and saw that I was standing in water up to my knees. Like a flash it all came over me; I had been walking in my sleep.

I waded back to the shore and sat down to think. The place was all new to me, I had not the least idea where I was. A narrow rim of gravely beach encircled the little lake into which I had stumbled; but this told me nothing, nor could I see the least sign of a path. So, after a few moments, I got up to walk around in the hope of discovering some beaten path that would lead me out of the woods.

As I walked I kept dwelling upon what I had seen in my dream. It never occurred to me that perhaps I had seen a real person. To be sure, my memory was so vivid that I was tempted to say: “How could it be a dream?” For all that, I never doubted that it was a supernatural appearance. My only thought was that our Heavenly Father had sent me this in my distress to comfort me, and to assure me that Ruth’s last thoughts were of me, and that she still watched over me in heaven as on earth.

As I said, when I came to myself in the water I was in full possession of my wits though I did not recognize where I was. I had wandered into a narrow lake whose cold water had chilled me into consciousness. I waded back to the shore and set out along the ribbon of pebbly beach, hoping to find a path. The trees were close together, overhanging the steep bank. By this time I must have been abroad in the woods for some hours for it had now become dark and the moon was up. It was not long before I discovered an ascending footpath, very narrow, and cut in steps up the bank. From the top of the cliff to which this path led, the ground sloped gently through the woods towards the north. The trees became more and more thinly scattered as I went forward. Soon I was aware of a reddish glow in the branches ahead of me. As I drew near the light became brighter and flickered like a fire. Sharp sounds of clanking metal fell upon my ears and, from time to time, a quick word or two of command in a ringing voice.

Twenty steps farther brought me to where I could see the source of the light and sound. The woodland ended at a level, grassy plain that extended a quarter of a mile towards a towered building, a huge pile of shadows and dim walls. At regular intervals before it were planted burning cressets. They were arranged in a large square on the lawn so as to send their vagrant lights and shadows dancing over its gloomy walls. A company of men stood motionless within the square of torches, like troops in regular order. Suddenly another sharp word of command broke the stillness. A sparkling flash from every man showed, what I had not noticed before, that each man was armed with a sword. I looked close for the commander; but not till he spoke a second time could I make out his position on a terrace in front of the house. I started violently when my eyes fell upon him. The leader of this band of troopers was Kilian Van Volkenberg. I had come upon the Red Band at drill in the dark woods at night. “The patroon and his Red Band will ruin this city yet,” the dominie had said to me. A hundred or more of his armed men were now before me. Surely this was a dangerous gathering! They were well-armed and perfectly drilled like the regular soldiers of the king.

The host at Gravesoon had spoken of Van Volkenberg as the Armed Patroon. Now I understood the meaning of the term, though I did not know till later that he was the only patroon in New York who had organized his retainers into a regular military band. No wonder the authorities looked askance upon this new departure in the province, and feared a serious clash between him and the governor. How just these fears were will soon become apparent; but at that time I was so ignorant of affairs that I thought this company—so suggestive of European customs—quite an ordinary sight.

While I stood in the shadow of the trees, gazing upon this group of soldiers, a woman came out of the house upon the platform. Though I could not see her face at first because of the shadow where she stood, most of her body was in the compass of the light. She was dressed in white and, like me, watching the drilling of the Red Band. After ten minutes had elapsed, she stepped forward and touched the patroon upon the arm. When the light fell upon her face I was startled into a cry of recognition that would have betrayed my presence had the troopers been alert for signs of intrusion. She was the woman who had appeared to me in my dream.

The patroon turned to her and made an angry gesture to depart. She withdrew into the house immediately and I saw no more of her. When the company of soldiers broke up for the night, they disappeared right and left, passing around and behind the house. Van Volkenberg entered the manor-house by the same door through which the woman had retreated. From what I had been told about the position of the manor I was able to find without difficulty the road that led to New York. As I walked along it my mind was full of the mystery of the strange woman I had seen upon the terrace, and of her I had seen in my dream. Had I really met some one, and had I been but partly conscious of the fact? I could not tell. Of one thing, however, I was aware. My spirit had returned to me. As Lady Marmaduke would have said, I was a man again. I was now firm with determination. I had been through the valley of the shadow. I had come out with new strength ready to fight the good fight. I felt myself to be God’s avenging minister, destined to bring punishment upon my sister’s murderer. I knelt down in the dusty road, where I prayed to God for power and guidance. I rose from my prayer buoyant and eager in spirit.

Still I could not get my mind away from the woman. Were they one and the same person or had I made a mistake? The woman upon the terrace must have been the person Captain Tew had spoken of as Miriam Van Volkenberg. But if she was the patroon’s daughter, how came she to figure in my dream? What trick of fate had coupled her and Ruth and me together in this fashion? Then I recalled what Pierre had said: That the patroon’s daughter had loved Ruth and had been treated badly on account of her affection. That seemed to explain the fitness of it all, but it did not reconcile the reality with the dream.

In this frame of mind I approached New York. I continued to ponder that sweet, wistful face. Gradually, as I walked along in the dust and dark, I became aware of a narrow pressure about my neck. I put up my hand and touched a strange piece of ribbon. I caught at it in surprise. My fingers closed on a small locket. I held it before me in the moonlight. It was the ivory miniature in a gold rim; the very picture of myself that the woman had shown me in my dream. Then I understood. I had met Miriam Van Volkenberg in the woods. She had recognized me from the picture in the locket and had given me this keepsake from my sister.