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 THE REBELS; ' 
 
 OB, ^ 
 
 BOSTON BEFORE THE REVOLUTION. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF "HOBOMOK." 
 
 Here ihe free spirit of mankind at length 
 Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place 
 A limit to the giant's unchained strength, 
 Or curb his swiftness in the forward race ? 
 
 Bryant. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & COMPANY. 
 
Ekitered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by 
 PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO., 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 STEREOXyPED BY 
 
 HOBAFtT & ROBBINS; 
 
 KBiW ENGLAND TYPE AND STEREOTYPE FOUNDERT, 
 BOSTON. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Nothing is more delightful to the human mind than to 
 ascend from important results to their primitive causes ; and 
 surely the Reformation alone has produced as extensive and 
 important effects as the American Revolution : yet how few 
 understand the springs which set that tremendous machine in 
 motion ! America is now vigorous and majestic ; she dwells 
 in her spacious, sky-canopied home, where the Pacific kisses 
 her feet in homage, and the Atlantic touches her garments, 
 and rolls on more proudly than before. We now hear her 
 youthful shout of freedom loudly echoed by the far-off nations ; 
 but while we exultingly exclaim, " To-day our country 
 may stand against the world !" we forget that, but yesterday, 
 none were so poor to do her reverence. Hercules decked with 
 a lion's spoil is before us ; but the infant, struggling with 
 serpents, is indistinctly seen in the distance. 
 
 True, we talk loudly of the battles we have fought, and the 
 blood we have shed, in our glorious contest ; but there are 
 very few among us who duly appreciate the deep wisdom, the 
 passive courage, and the unyielding firmness, of those men, 
 who looked on the mighty torrent of English power, jealously 
 watched its overflowing tide, and fearlessly exclaimed, " Hith- 
 erto shalt thou come — but no further." Had I the power to 
 give a faithful picture of the vacillating yet obstinate course 
 of the British ministry, constantly changing their position, in 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 order to elude the dangerous weapons which gleamed around 
 them, and as constantly involving themselves in new and 
 unforeseen difficulties, — were I able minutely to recount the 
 sounds of opposition, which grew louder and louder, as the 
 spirits of men were stirred within them, and their lips touched 
 by a living coal from the altar of freedom, — I fear the number 
 to whom I should impart pleasure would be but small. Surely, 
 however, the domestic annals of those times, when the whole 
 community seemed heaving with the pressure of expanding 
 energies, yet unconscious of the desperate effort that was so 
 soon to tax its utmost strength, cannot fail to interest every 
 American heart. 
 
 Thus much for the period I have chosen. How faithfully 
 it has been portrayed, must be left to critics less merciful than 
 myself. 
 
 Many will complain that I have dwelt too much on political 
 scenes, familiar to every one who reads our history ; and 
 others, on the contrary, will say that the character of the book 
 is quite too tranquil for its title. I might mention many doubts 
 and fears, still more important ; but I prefer silently to trust 
 this humble volume to that futurity which no one can foresee, 
 and every one can dread. 
 
THE REBELS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Geve place, you ladies, and be gone, 
 
 Boast not yourselves at all ; 
 For here at hand approacheth one 
 
 Whose face will stayne you all. 
 
 Song- of the Sixteenth Century. 
 
 There was hurrying to and fro, through the principal 
 streets of Boston, on the night of the 14th of August, 
 1765. A brilliant bonfire was blazing on Fort Hill. 
 Column after column of light died away, to rise again 
 with redoubled grandeur ; and at each succeeding burst 
 of flame, the loud shouts of the rabble were heard with 
 dreadful distinctness. 
 
 At this time, Henry Osborne was passing do\vn Union- 
 street, with the rapid pace of one who struggles with 
 the intensity of thought. He leaned a moment on 
 Union Stone, listening to the distant tumult, as he said, 
 " Be the sin on the heads of those who have provoked 
 this, — I have done all I could to prevent it." 
 
 As he spoke, a graceful ^stranger, in a rich military 
 undress, stept from a neighboring court. The moon 
 shone full on the countenances of both, and as he ap- 
 proached, he hesitatingly said, " Mr. Osborne, I believe." 
 
 " You are welcome. Captain Somerville," replied the 
 other, giving him his hand. 
 
 1=^ 
 
6 THE REBELS. 
 
 " Thank you," rejoined the stranger. " I have found 
 you very opportunely; for I have been some time in 
 search of a house which every child in this loyal town 
 might point out to me. The spirit of rebellion, how- 
 ever, has induced some of your promising lads to mis- 
 lead me by four contradictory directions ; and I am not, 
 even now, certain that I am in the vicinity of Governor 
 Hutchinson." 
 
 "We are very near his dwelling," replied Osborne; 
 " and I myself will accompany you thither, to meet my 
 sister, whom I left there this afternoon." 
 
 A few questions relative to the riot were asked by the 
 officer, and obviously avoided by his companion, before 
 they arrived at Friezel-court.=^ 
 
 Both paused a moment opposite the lieutenant gov- 
 ernor's elegant mansion, struck by the uncommon beauty, 
 and almost fearful stillness, of the scene. The dim light 
 of a lamp suspended from the roof gave a rich twilight 
 view of the interior, and displayed a spacious arch, 
 richly carved and gilded, in all the massy magnificence 
 of the times, and most tastefully ornamented with busts 
 and statues. The light streamed full on the soul-beam- 
 ing countenance of Cicero, and playfully flickered on the 
 brow of Tulliola, the tenderness of whose diminutive 
 appellation delightfully associates the father with the 
 orator, and blends intellectual vigor with the best affec' 
 lions of the heart. 
 
 The silence was so deep that the gentlemen could 
 distinctly hear a light, quick step, as a young lady 
 passed from room to room, and paused beneath the arch, 
 in a listening attitude. 
 
 ♦ Now called Garden-court street. 
 
THE REBELS. 7 
 
 The exquisite proportion of her aerial little figure, 
 and her beauty, pale and unearthly as Guido has repre- 
 sented his Madonnas, showed finely beneath the severely 
 intellectual brow of Cicero. In the living figure, the 
 soul was shrouded in its loveliest and most transparent 
 veil ; in the marble, its glowing fires seemed gleaming 
 through the shrine they were consuming. 
 
 " It is my sister Grace," whispered Osborne. 
 
 " Grace, indeed ! " ejaculated his companion, in a 
 tone of fervent admiration. 
 
 " Hark ! " said she, raising her beautiful finger, and 
 speaking to some one behind her, — "as I live, there is 
 the murmur of voices now. How could the servants 
 leave us thus ? " 
 
 She turned, and the last fold of her blue draper}- was 
 just disappearing, when Henry exclaimed, " It is I, dear 
 Grace." 
 
 The tiny beauty bounded to the door. "I am so 
 glad you have come, — we have been so frightened ! " 
 said she ; and she paused, and blushed deeply, as she 
 noticed the handsome stranger. 
 
 "My sister, Captain Somen-ille," said Henry, evi- 
 dently proud of her heightened loveliness. 
 
 A dignified courtesy answered the courtly salutation of 
 the ofiicer ; and her brother, turning to two other ladies 
 that now advanced, said, " Her friend, Lucretia Fitz- 
 herbert, and Madam Sandford." 
 
 The ceremony of introduction over, Miss Sandford 
 opened a door on the right hand, and led the way into a 
 dimly lighted parlor. The panelling was of the dark, 
 richly shaded mahogany of St. Domingo, and orna- 
 mented with the same elaborate skill as the hall they 
 
8 THE REBELS. 
 
 had just quitted. The busts of George III. and his 
 young queen were placed in front of a splendid mirror, 
 with bronze lamps on each side, covered with beautiful 
 transparencies, one representing the destruction of the 
 Spanish armada, the other giving a fine view of a fleet 
 of line-of-battle ships, drawn up before the rock of 
 Gibraltar. On either side of the room, there were 
 arches surmounted with the arms of England, in the 
 recesses of which the company were soon seated, form- 
 ing a group of an exceedingly varied and interesting 
 character. The sharp countenance and prim figure of 
 Miss Sandford gave her the air of an antediluvian 
 image ; the inelegant form and very plain face of 
 Lucretia, though transiently lighted up with expression 
 that almost atoned for the want of beauty, formed a 
 contrast extremely favorable to the ethereal loveliness 
 of Grace ; and the Grecian outline of Henry's mild 
 countenance served to place in bold relief the aquiline 
 nose, and the open, fearless brow of Somerville, shaded 
 by a profusion of curls, as dark and clustering as the 
 beautiful locks of the Roman Antinous. 
 
 " Uncle Hutchinson has expected you several days," 
 said Lucretia, as Somerville seated himself. " You 
 wrote that you should sail in the William and Mary ; 
 and a vessel arrived, several days since, which had 
 spoken her, below the harbor." 
 
 "It was many miles below the harbor, however," 
 answered Somerville ; " and I was becalmed, according 
 to my usual fortune. After so many delays, I am 
 really anxious to meet my uncle." 
 
 " He would, of course, have been among the first to 
 welcome you, had he been at home," she replied ; " but, 
 
THE REBELS. \) 
 
 followed by all the servants, he has gone to watch the 
 bonfires on Fort Hill ; where, I suppose, either indigna- 
 tion or anxiety has led two thirds of the population." 
 
 " I have heard some brief hints of this day's uproar," 
 rejoined the Englishman; "but I could not have imag- 
 ined any cause powerful enough to seduce Governor 
 Hutchinson from the place wheic beauty claimed his 
 protection." 
 
 " Nor would there have been, in my day," said Miss 
 Sandford, in the squeaking tones of antiquated coquetry. 
 " It was a toilsome process to please a lady, when I was 
 young ; but times are sadly altered now." 
 
 " I dare say Cain scolded his wife about the degen- 
 eracy of the ladies in Nod," said Lucretia, laughing. 
 
 " And Cain might have reproached his mother, since, 
 lacking mortals, she carried on her dangerous flirtation 
 with Satan," continued Somerville. 
 
 No one smiled at this speech, for its levity was offen- 
 sive to those whose associations with the Bible were all 
 sacred ; and to Henry Osborne, the irreverence it argued 
 was peculiarly painful. 
 
 Anxious to interrupt the awkward silence, Lucretia 
 hastily said, "My uncle left the servants with us; but, 
 after all, it seems that bonnets and hats cover brains of 
 very similar formation ; for, one by one, the eagerness 
 of curiosity tempted them from us, till we were left to 
 the protection of Aunt Sandford." 
 
 " And really we have been much frightened," added 
 Grace. '^ I had no idea the citizens of Boston could 
 utter sounds so terrific as those we have heard to-night." 
 
 " It would be well if their echo could reach across the 
 Atlantic," observed her brother. 
 
 f* 'It 
 
10 THE REBELS. 
 
 " And what would be heard, if they did ? " asked 
 Somerville. 
 
 " Liberty and property ! No stamps ! " exclaimed 
 Henry, with startling energy. 
 
 A darkening expression passed over the fine face of 
 Somerville, as rapidly as the shadows of autumnal clouds 
 over the sunny brow of some verdant hill. 
 
 " Then you," said he, " are among the unhappy men 
 who encourage popular outrage, and will thus drive the 
 mother country to severity repugnant to her nature ? " 
 
 " You talk, sir, as many others do, who know nothing 
 of the subject," rejoined Henry. " You mistake the 
 unanimous voice of a free and intelligent people, for the 
 factious zeal of a few office-seeking demagogues." 
 
 " And what further proof need we than James Otis, 
 the Aaron of your tribes, the Goliath of your hosts ? 
 Had his father been chief justice of the Supreme Court, 
 the world would have lost his fiery speech against writs 
 of assistance, as well as his never-ceasing clamor about 
 taxation without representation." 
 
 " That is a common, but most unjust slander upon 
 the character of a generous and noble-minded man. He 
 is disgusted, as every honest individual must be, with 
 that rapacity for office which distinguishes some friends 
 of the administration ; but he is too high-minded to 
 place the interest of his family above that of his couiv- 
 try. Besides, if avarice or ambition guides the course 
 of James Otis, why is he not a tory? The ministry 
 would gladly buy him over, on any conditions." 
 
 " Crystals would fetch the price of diamonds, if they 
 were as rare," replied Somerville. " England has quite 
 
THE REBELS. 11 
 
 too many great men, to come and purchase in such a 
 market as her colonies." 
 
 " We have some, however, that Britain herself might 
 be proud to boast. Such men as Adams, Hawley, 
 Quincy, Hancock, Mayhew, and Otis, would even there 
 obtain the influence and reputation which talents, joined 
 "w4th integrity, never fail to procure, from those who can 
 appreciate them." 
 
 " Stop, now, dear brother," said Grace, playfully 
 putting her hand before his mouth. " Gov^emor Hutch- 
 inson is coming, and I cannot have you always disputing 
 about subjects on which you will never agree." 
 
 The shadow of the chief justice =^ darkened the 
 threshold as she finished speaking. He " bowed to the 
 ladies with all the Parisian gallantry that usually char- 
 acterized his manner: and after warm congratulations 
 had passed between him and his nephew, he inquired, 
 
 *' AVhat news from England ? " 
 
 " Nothing new to you, I imagine, sir. Lord Bute's 
 ministry continues to keep the king unpopular among 
 the commons. Chatham holds the people in the hollow 
 of his hand ; and if his demands for himself and friends 
 were not so excessively exorbitant, a coalition of parties 
 would no doubt be formed, and he would be, what he 
 has long desired to be, secretary of state, and disposer- 
 geneTal of offices." 
 
 " And the queen and the young princes ? " said 
 Hutchinson. 
 
 * At the period I have mentioned, Bernard was governor, and Hutch- 
 inson lieutenant governor. Among the various offices held by the 
 latter, was that of chief justice. I have applied his different titles 
 indiscriminately. 
 
v;.. -»i 
 
 12 THE REBELS. 
 
 "Her popularity is tinbounded. She and her rosy- 
 children unite all parties. Prince George is as hand- 
 some and clever a scion as ever sprung from a royal 
 root ; 'the Duke of York is healthy and promising ; and 
 a third is now added to the charming family group." 
 
 " And the king is as gallant as ever, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Too much so to leave three distressed damsels to 
 guard a house on such a night as this, I fancy," said 
 Lucretia, smiling. 
 
 " Nay," said the lieutenant governor, " I will not 
 plead guilty to that charge. I left the serv^ants with you, 
 and I knew the rioters were employed at a safe distance. 
 Besides, it would have been ungenerous in me to have 
 deserted Mr. Oliver, if there was the least chance of 
 being useful to him. Then there is your friend Doctor 
 Byles, Lucretia; it behooved me to inquire about his 
 safety ; for we well know that his wit and his loyalty 
 make him very abominable in the eyes of this liberty- 
 mad race." 
 
 Mr. Osborne frowned, and Grace looked more grave 
 than usual-. 
 
 " ' O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful in the 
 contempt and anger of that lip,' " said the gallant chief 
 justice, handing her a handkerchief that had just fallen 
 on the floor. " But really, Mr. Osborne, the scenes of 
 this day and night must convince the most obstinate 
 whig that the designs of the popular party in these col- 
 onies are altogether subversive of good government, and 
 must eventually bring ruin on the people." 
 
 " I know not the extent of your meaning, when you 
 speak of the popular party, sir," replied Osborne ; " but 
 of one thing I am very certain, and that is, that outrages 
 
THE REBELS. 13 
 
 of any kind have never been incited, and will never be 
 countenanced, by such men as Adams, Quincy, Han- 
 cock, and Whiting. Indeed, it is worse than foolish, 
 Governor Hutchinson, to trace the present commotions 
 to the party spirit of individuals. The truth is, when- 
 ever government heap up combustibles, a hand will always 
 be found ready to kindle them ; and if it were other^'ise, 
 they would take fire spontaneously." 
 
 " And what damage has been occasioned by the ex- 
 plosion, this time ? " inquired Somerville. 
 
 " They have merely suspended images of Lord Bute 
 and your cousin Oliver upon the Liberty-tree ; razed 
 Oliver's stamp-office to the ground ; carried the images 
 and timber to Fort Hill ; burned them before his house ; 
 pulled dowTi his fences ; broken his windows, and de- 
 stroyed some furniture," answered the lieutenant gov- 
 ernor. 
 
 " This will doubtless sound well at St. James', and 
 will mightily sen^e to heighten the king's respect for 
 Bostonian loyalty," said the young officer. 
 
 " It may, at least, sen^e to convince his most gracious 
 majesty that we are in earnest," rejoined Henr}^. 
 
 The politics of the gentlemen, and the confidential 
 tete-a-ttte of the ladies, were here interrupted by the 
 entrance of fruit and wine. A light and general con- 
 versation ensued, and in a few moments Grace rose to 
 depart. 
 
 " You have forbidden politics once, this evening. Miss 
 O:?borne," said Somen'ille ; " and I perceive, by your 
 glances at your brother, that you think us most disobe- 
 dient. However, I trust you will forgive what the cir- 
 cumstances of the night seem to have compelled ; and 
 
 2 
 
14 THE REBELS. 
 
 permit me to say, that I am particularly rejoiced that in 
 meeting Mr. Osborne, I not only met an old friend, 
 whom I had known in England, but likewise, your 
 brother." 
 
 Grace slightly blushed, and said she hoped no unhap- 
 py political divisions would interrupt their former friend- 
 ship. 
 
 Osborne warmly seconded his sister's wish, and ex- 
 tended a polite invitation to the uncle of his friend. 
 
 "I see no reason why you should leave us at all 
 to-night, my dear Miss Osborne," said Hutchinson. 
 
 " Why, Grace would think me a lunatic, if I should 
 propose to her to live one night without her father's kiss 
 and blessing," said Lucretia. 
 
 " And not far from right, my mad-capped niece," re- 
 plied he, playfully touching her shoulder. " However, 
 as you both will ; you know your lovely friend is always 
 welcome twenty-four hours in a day." 
 
 Grace smiled and bowed. Somervdlle took his hat, 
 said that nothing but such a cause could tempt a few 
 moments' absence, and joined the young people as they 
 left the house. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Fortune, the great commandress of the world, 
 Hath divers ways to advance her followers ; 
 : To some she gives wealth, some wit, &c. 
 
 All Pools. 
 
 Captain Fitzherbert, the father of Lucretia, was the 
 youngest son in a family of noble connections and mod- 
 erate wealth. In his youth, he was sent to Manilla, at 
 the request of a bachelor uncle, who promised his im- 
 mense fortune as a reward for his affectionate attentions. 
 This uncle proved tormentingly ner\'ous, and his whims 
 and caprices daily became more intolerable to a young 
 man of the most haughty independence and stubborn in- 
 flexibility of character. He wrote a letter to his father, 
 earnestly entreating permission to return to England. 
 The answer he received was ^rtly in the language of 
 reason, partly of authority, and ended by expressly for- 
 bidding him to leave the East Indies during the life-time 
 of his uncle. 
 
 From that moment^ he resolved to enter the career 
 of life for himself, and to spurn at the support which 
 must be purchased by years of servile dependence. He 
 collected all his money and jewels, procured the disguise 
 of a common sailor, and came over to America, alone 
 and unfriended. The new world then opened a fine 
 field for enterprise, and he soon accumulated property. 
 He had been for some time successfully engaged in 
 navigation, when he first met Matilda Howe, at Halifax. 
 
16 THE REBELS. 
 
 She was a beautiful and destitute orphan, with great 
 sweetness of manners and of temper ; and these quali- 
 fications had so much weight with the young English 
 captain, that he very soon gave her legal claims to his 
 protection. Pride had hitherto induced him to conceal 
 his existence from his friends ; but he was now rich, and 
 he felt anxious to secure their friendship, for the sake of 
 his lovely wife. For this purpose, he left her, a few 
 months after their marriage, intending to arrange some 
 business in the West Indies, and from thence proceed to 
 Liverpool, and discover himself to his family. 
 
 A short letter from Cuba was all that she ever after 
 received from him ; nor was it long before she heard the 
 dreadful tidings of his shipwTeck. 
 
 After the birth ©f the infant Lucretia, Mrs. Fitzherbert 
 proposed to the executors to examine the papers of her 
 deceased husband. To her utter astonishment and dis- 
 may, she found that his strong box had been opened, 
 and every paper of any value removed. It was after- 
 wards reported that, du^H^g Mrs. Fitzherbert's sickness, 
 many of the notes were presented by a middle-aged 
 man, and paid by the unsuspecting debtors, who sup- 
 posed that a legal transfer had taken place. Whoever 
 this villain was, no trace of him could afterguards be dis- 
 covered. 
 
 The distressed mother wrote two letters to England, 
 imploring assistance from her husband's relations. The 
 first received an insolent answer, disclaiming all knowl- 
 edge of such a being as young Edmund Fitzherbert, and 
 reproaching her with the grossness of her impudence. 
 The second was returned in a blank envelope. 
 
 Bowed down with affliction, the heart-broken widow 
 
THE REBELS. 17 
 
 soon after expired, leaving her child to the care of 
 benevolent acquaintances. 
 
 The rent of a small house, all that remained of her 
 father's large property, saved the orphan from the 
 misery of entire dependence ; but her young heart was 
 as blithe as if thousands had been her portion. 
 
 When Lucretia was in her thirteenth year, it chanced 
 that Miss Sandford, the maiden sister of Mrs. Hutchin- 
 son, visited Halifax, and was taken ill at the house 
 where she resided. The overflowing kindness and un- 
 remitting attention of the child won upon the stranger's 
 heart, and she formed the resolution of taking her under 
 her own immediate protection. This lady, who pos- 
 sessed many foibles, united with much shrewdness and 
 great goodness of heart, brought the insulated little 
 being with her, when she returned to the dwelling of 
 Governor Hutchinson. 
 
 To his good opinion, the orphan possessed two very 
 sure passports. One was an honorable English name; 
 the other, a portion, scanty, indeed, but sufficient to pre- 
 vent any large expenditure on the part of Miss Sanford, 
 whose property, he thought, would eventually devolve 
 upon him. 
 
 Anxious to ascertain whether her father's stor}^ had 
 really been an imposture, he caused minute inquiries to 
 be made in England, but could only ascertain that the 
 name had become extinct, and that a large estate in 
 Manilla had been settled on a remote collateral branch 
 of the family. This last account seemed to tally w4th 
 the captain's story, and in the governor's mind it estab- 
 lished the important point of honorable birth ; and 
 
 2# 
 
18 THE REBELS. 
 
 though there was, seemingly, no hope that Lucretia 
 would ever become an heiress, we must do him the 
 justice ,to say, that he treated her with extreme kind- 
 ness, up to the period we have mentioned. 
 
 The morning after Somerville's arrival, Governor 
 Hutchinson found a large package on his library table, 
 which his nephew had placed there, at an early hour. 
 He opened it, and found a polite letter from Goldsmith, 
 accompanied by the " Traveller," then recently pub- 
 lished in England ; two long and labored epistles from 
 Lord North and Mr. Grenville; and an anonymous 
 production, with the signature of the mitre, urging 
 gentleness, discretion, and open dealing, with the dis- 
 contented colonies. These papers were read with 
 avidity ; and could some of them now be found, they 
 would throw additional light on the political hypocrisy 
 of the chief justice. 
 
 The last-opened letter completely arrested his atten- 
 tion. It was as follows : 
 
 " Honored Sir : 
 
 " A friend of mine, who has lately returned to Eng- 
 land, accidentally mentioned meeting Miss Fitzherbert 
 at your house. May I ask who this Miss Fitzherbert 
 is ? I have been in my native country but a short time, 
 — I am a bachelor, — and my health is exceedingly pre- 
 carious. It is therefore important that I should know 
 her history and connections immediately. 
 
 " Copley is now in New England, and I should like 
 to have him take her picture for me. I will pay all 
 expenses, whether the event be as I hope, or not. Omit 
 
THE REBELS. 19 
 
 no particulars concerning her father, and have all the 
 documents well authenticated. 
 
 " I am your obedient and humble ser^-ant, 
 
 " Edxund Fitzherbert." 
 
 A long conference between the governor, Miss Sand- 
 ford, and Lucretia, terminated in sending a note to 
 Doctor Byles, requesting his attendance, as soon as con- 
 venient, to converse on some particular business. A 
 servant was speedily despatched to Nassau-street, and 
 soon returned with an answer that promised an early 
 call. Before two hours had elapsed, Lucretia heard the 
 well-known sound of his gold-headed cane, as it struck 
 on the, stone steps of the dwelling ; and hastened to show 
 him into the library. 
 
 He was a middle-sized man, with a large, closely 
 curled wig, and an expression of face as strangely con- 
 tradictory as his very singular character. There was a 
 sanctity about his mouth, evidently induced by long 
 habit; but nature peeped out at his eye with unre- 
 strained drollery. 
 
 "Wherefore am I summoned?" said he, planting his 
 cane firmly on the threshold of the door. " Has Jethro 
 cut his little finger? Has Aunt Sandford been back- 
 biting her neighbors till her double-teeth ache ? Or 
 have the rebels more symptoms of the cholic ? " 
 
 " None of these things have befallen us," answered 
 the governor, smiling; "I want to consult you about 
 Lucretia's affairs." 
 
 "What affairs can she have, pray? No design of 
 wearing Hymen's saffron robe, I trust ? " 
 
 " They say it is a garment often bought," observed 
 
20 THE REBELS. 
 
 Lucretia; "and it is money which Uncle Hutchinson 
 wishes to talk with you about." 
 
 The governor placed the letter in his hand, and 
 remarked, " With all join: contempt of wealth, you 
 will not wonder that its contents are highly interesting 
 to us." 
 
 "It is, indeed, of consequence that it should be attended 
 to," said he ; " but what is to be done ?" 
 
 " All the evidence that can possibly be collected must 
 be immediately committed to paper. I have heard you 
 say, that you saw Captain Fitzherbert, in your youth. 
 I believe you and Madam Sandford will be my most 
 valuable evidence." 
 
 Now, ■ to this lady, the reverend doctor had a most 
 unconquerable aversion. Some said it was because he 
 suspected her of forming designs on his liberty, while he 
 was a widower. To this charge she never condescended 
 to give any other answer than, " It would be strange if I 
 should seek such a punishment, when nothing vv^orse 
 than biles could be found wherewith to afflict Job." 
 
 Perhaps it might be this same habit of paying him in 
 his own coin, Avhich had first created a dislike. Be that 
 as it may, he lost no opportunity of railing at her; and 
 when Lucretia was desired to call her, he exclaimed, 
 " dear — that Miss Sandford ! I have such a phobia 
 of her ! From morninof till nio-ht she is clattering- about 
 the faults and follies of her neighbors; and as for her 
 own character, it is a dark lantern, — nobody sees the 
 bright side but herself." 
 
 Governor Hutchinson looked upon his friend as a 
 privileged person, and took no notice of these and similar 
 remarks ; but they were always distressing to Lucretia, 
 
THE REBELS. 21 
 
 and she had just whispered, " I beg of you not to talk in 
 this way," when Miss Sandford entered, and wished him 
 good-moniing. 
 
 " Good-morning-, ^ladam Sandford," said the doctor, 
 rising-. " Hem ! Pray, Governor Hutchinson, have you 
 the Gossip, or the Tatler, or the Busy-body, in your 
 library ? " 
 
 "I thought the last was usuall}'' in Doctor Byles' 
 presence," observed Miss Sandford, sweeping past him, 
 in great indignation, 
 
 "A truce ^vith such contests," said her brother-in-law. 
 " I wish to ascertain how much both of you know con- 
 cerning Captain Fitzherbert." 
 
 Doctor Byles then proceeded to details exactly corre- 
 sponding to the storj' we have already told. " I remem- 
 ber," said he, " hearing Captain Fitzherbert speak of his 
 escape from Manilla. He was a proud-spirited man, and 
 nothing on the earth, or beneath it, could compel him to 
 an action. He used to say he had rather be a plough- 
 boy in America, than a prince in the East Indies." 
 
 " I have heard that remark of my father's repeated 
 several times," said Lucretia. - 
 
 " And, you know, the lady with whom 3'ou boarded 
 after your mother's death used to tell many anecdotes 
 about his Manilla uncle," said Miss Sandford. " Do 
 you remember her accounts of his chocolate-colored 
 gown, the monkey that saw fit to hide his wig in the 
 chimney, and the favorite old servant that used to lie on 
 his back and fiddle all day ? " 
 
 " All this is nothing to the purpose," said Doctor 
 Byles, sternly. " Women should ox\\y speak when it is 
 necessar}'." 
 
22 THE REBELS. 
 
 " All these trifling details will serve to authenticate 
 the story," observed the governor. " Do you know 
 whether Captain Fitzherbert ever heard from his rela- 
 tions, after he left them ? " 
 
 " I have heard that he was once taken ill with a fever, 
 and carried to Chelsea Hospital," replied Lucretia; "and 
 that his father was one of the visiting committee, and 
 used frequently to give him cordials with his owti hand ; 
 but time and sickness had so changed my father, that he 
 did not know him ; and his pride would not submit to an 
 avowal, under such circumstances." 
 
 " That was strength of nerve, indeed," said Hutchin- 
 son, " to meet a father in a foreign land, and 3^et remain 
 incog. But, bless my heart! why have none of us 
 thought of Mr. Townsend ? — he was one of the execu- 
 tors." 
 
 " What, Townsend, of Roxbury, who lives in a house 
 leaking at every pore, goes to bed before dark to save 
 his candles, and wears a garment woven before Deu- 
 calion's deluge ? " 
 
 "Just so. Doctor Byles; and is worth thousands of 
 pounds, for all that," replied the governor. " Lucretia, 
 sit down and write a note to Mr. Townsend, requesting 
 him to come here ; and send Jethro \yith the carriage." 
 
 "I love that scatter-brained girl, in spite of myself," 
 said Doctor Byles, as she left the apartment. " Did you 
 notice the tears in her eyes, \vhen we talj^ed of her 
 mother ? I believe there was some great villany about 
 her father's property." 
 
 " People do say this Mr. Townsend is no better than' 
 he should be," rejoined Miss Sandford. 
 
THE REBELS. 23 
 
 " Did you ever hear of anybody that was ? " said 
 Doctor Byles. 
 
 "If 1 had, I should have heard a fact you will never 
 know by experience," answered she. 
 
 " Surely you have touched the doctor's garments," 
 said her brother, laughing. 
 
 " At any event, wit made a strange mistake when it 
 popped into her brain," rejoined her unwearied tor- 
 mentor. 
 
 Some more conversation followed, the particulars of 
 which were interesting only to the parties concerned ; 
 and the governor was busy in committing the various 
 facts to paper, when Jethro arrived with Mr. Townsend. 
 He was an old man, with a black cap pulled closely over 
 his shagg}" eye-brows, a wrinkled face, a thread-bare 
 coat, and patched small-clothes, tied above the knee with 
 leathern strings. 
 
 The rising smile was checked by the politeness of the 
 chief justice, who handed him a chair, and after a few 
 general inquiries, spoke of the business for which he had 
 summoned him. 
 
 lEivery one noticed his look of deadly paleness, when 
 the name of Fitzherbert was mentioned. 
 
 " I am an old man," said he, in the querulous tones of 
 extreme age, " and a poor one. That was a trouble- 
 some business. Papers were lost ; and the world blamed 
 me, God knows, without reason." • 
 
 " Old man, swear not at all I " exclaimed Doctor Byles, 
 with a thundering voice. 
 
 The miser looked terrified. 
 
 " It is hard to perplex an old man with this business, 
 when he is just on the verge of the grave," said he. " I 
 
24 THE REBELS. 
 
 am poor, — too poor to be wearing and tearing my clothes 
 in riding about from one end of the town to the other ; 
 and I have been despit sick, for years back. I have a 
 power of complaints on me now." 
 
 " An expansion of the heart is one disorder you have 
 contracted, is it not ? " inquired Doctor Byles. 
 
 " I have had almost all kinds of sickness, in my day," 
 replied the old man, without noticing the ridicule of the 
 remark; "but then, you know, doctors cost a mint of 
 money." 
 
 That craving for sympathy which leads us all to dwell 
 more or less on our own miseries would have induced 
 Mr. Townsend to prolong this topic to a painful length, 
 had not Governor Hutchinson at once arrested him by 
 direct questions concerning the Fitzherbert estate. On 
 this subject he was less garrulous. A trembling hesita- 
 tion, which might proceed either from conscious guilt, or 
 from an incapacity for business, was very discernible. 
 His story was but a repetition of the other, excepting 
 that he remembered having seen the death of Mr. Ed- 
 mund Fitzherbert, of Manilla, in the London Chronicle. 
 Having given his testimony, he expressed a wish to 
 oblige the gentlemen in anything that would not prove 
 expensive, and signified his desire to depart. 
 ! That there had been some mistake concerning the 
 death of the East India uncle, and that Lucretia would 
 be heiress to his immense wealth, was the impression of 
 all her friends. 
 
 The governor congratulated her on her prospects, but 
 at the same time reminded her of their extreme uncer- 
 tainty, and exhorted her to keep the whole affair secret, 
 
THE REBELS. 25 
 
 for the present, since, in case of failure, it would be 
 exceedingly unpleasant to be questioned concerning it. 
 
 Miss Sandford did not attempt to conceal her joy. 
 " Lucretia will be the richest woman in New England I " 
 said she ; " a match for the greatest man in the col- 
 onies." 
 
 " Mulier ad unguern,'''' exclaimed Doctor Byles; "ideas 
 always saffron-colored. It would be well if you thought 
 as much of some other flames, as you do of HjTnen's 
 torch." 
 
 " In my opinion, wrath and eternal fire are too much 
 talked of, by some ministers," rejoined the maiden. 
 
 " No doubt you think so," replied he ; " and when one 
 seems so anxious that a place should be represented 
 comfortable, one cannot but have a shrewd suspicion they 
 expect to go there." 
 
 " I know of no one so fit to be master of ceremonies 
 as yourself," retorted she. 
 
 "" A young distiller has moved into your neighborhood, 
 Governor Hutchinson," said the doctor; "and the first 
 business I wish you to give him is to still your sister's 
 tons^ue." 
 
 "A heavy cannonade, upon my word," said the 
 laughing Lucretia; "but, after all, Doctor Byles, none 
 of my friends will be more glad of my good fortune than 
 yourself. " 
 
 " Very true, my good girl," said he, affectionately 
 taking her hand ; " but it will be that you have it in 
 your power to be useful — not to get a husband." 
 
 " Certainly not," replied Lucretia. " I am sure — " 
 
 " Have a care," intcrnipted the doctor, " else I shall 
 3 
 
26 THE REBELS. 
 
 be tempted to say, * Faith, I '11 believe a woman, when I 
 have nothing else to do.' " 
 
 Lucretia blushed, — for at that moment she was actu- 
 ally conjecturing whether her thousands could make 
 Somerville forget that she was less beautiful than Grace 
 Osborne. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 The spirit of the day is still awake, 
 And spreads itself, and shall not sleep again ; 
 But through the idle mesh of power shall break, 
 Like billows o'er the Asian monarch's chain. 
 
 Bnjartt. 
 
 The political principles of Frederic Somerville were 
 rather the result of habit and education, than of per- 
 sonal character. He was fresh from the classic schools of 
 Greece and Rome, and his own spirit was as free as the 
 untamed courser of the desert ; but he had read gorgeous 
 descriptions of feudal power — he had gazed on old bar- 
 onial castles, the massive grandeur of the Gothic, and 
 the lighter and more graceful outline of Saxon archi- 
 tecture, till his imagination was wedded to pompous 
 pageantr}-, and his heart bowed down before the crown, 
 the coronet, and the mitre. 
 
 But he was enthusiastic, ardent, and capricious ; and 
 those who knew him well would have felt no surprise at 
 seeing him as valiant a champion for the rights of man 
 as he now was for the supremacy of his king. 
 
 Toward the eveningf of the 26th of Aucmst, he was 
 sitting in one of the alcoves which looked out upon the 
 garden, talking with his uncle concerning the arrival of 
 stamped paper, when a small arrow whizzed between 
 them, and fastened in the canvass hangings of the room. 
 Both started, and looked out at the window. 
 
28 THE REBELS. 
 
 A lad, with cross-bow and quiver, was just scaling the 
 fence ; but he was soon out of the reach of pursuit. 
 
 To the arrow was fastened a slip of paper, with these 
 words : 
 
 " Lieutenant Governor, Member of the Council, Com- 
 mander of the Castle, Judge of Probate, and Chief Justice 
 of the Supreme Court ! — You are hereby commanded to 
 appear under the Liberty-tree, within one hour, to plight 
 your faith, that you will use no more influence against 
 
 an injured and an exasperated people. 
 
 " Nemo." 
 
 The governor's face flushed to the very temples. 
 
 " Again reproached with the multiplicity of my offices," 
 said he ; " as if talents and education ought not to com- 
 mand fortune ! " 
 
 " Where is this tree, of which I have heard so much ? " 
 inquired his nephew. " It seems these people are deter- 
 mined that even their timber shall be implicated in 
 rebellion." 
 
 " It is that large elm opposite Frog-lane ,=^ where the 
 mob dared to suspend their insulting effigies on the four- 
 teenth of this month," he replied. 
 
 " And what notice shall you take of this insulting 
 epistle?" 
 
 " Such notice as King George's representative should 
 take of the insolence of his subjects. I will never com- 
 promise with their vengeance, nor govern them by 
 stratagem." 
 
 " Spoken like Governor Hutchinson! " exclaimed Som- 
 erville. He paused a moment, and looked anxiously into 
 
 * Where Boylston Market now stands. 
 
THE REBELS. 29 
 
 the Street before he added, " Had I not better go to the 
 tree, and watch their proceedings ? " 
 
 " As you please, sir. They will make no difference 
 in my arrangements, however. They will hardly dare 
 to touch my property ; and if they do forget so far as to 
 pull down some of my fences, they will be compelled to 
 pay a pound for ever}^ penny 1 lose." 
 
 With high ideas of English power, and with very 
 gross ignorance of the colonial character, Somerville re- 
 garded the resistance of America as the discontented 
 murmuring of a wayward child ; and as he now passed 
 through the principal streets of Boston, he was absolute- 
 ly astonished at the intense eagerness and portentous 
 activity of the crowd. 
 
 There was something in the hurried step of those who 
 were walking to and fro, and in the earnest manner of 
 those collected in groups, that seemed like the stormy 
 movements of the ocean, as it rises, wave after wave, 
 and lashes itself to fuiy. 
 
 " There is the man that daddy calls the Breetish tell- 
 tale," said a sturdy little fellow, who was helping his 
 companion fly a kite. 
 
 " By George, say that again, if you dare ! " retorted the 
 son of a stanch tory, as he clenched his fist, and, at one 
 blow, prostrated him on the ground. 
 
 " I 'm up again ! " exclaimed the resolute little chap, 
 springing on his feet, and rubbing his ears. 
 
 " Let those who throw the infant Hercules beware his 
 rising!" said a dark-eyed young man, whose flushed 
 cheek and sparkling eye betrayed the keen interest he 
 took in the scene. 
 
 Those who are the most enthusiastic in their opmions, 
 3^ 
 
30 THE REBELS. 
 
 and the most impetuous in their conduct, are peculiarly 
 subject to violent reaction ; and had Somerville at that 
 moment been alone in the world, without friends to 
 sway or interest to guide him, he would have rebounded 
 from his long-cherished aristocracy, to the extreme of 
 political freedom. 
 
 Desperate and wicked as he had been accustomed to 
 think the cause, he could not but admire the fearless 
 energy with which it was maintained; and with more 
 respect than he had ever before felt for the rebels, he 
 passed along to the place where a meeting with his 
 uncle had been appointed. There were clusters of 
 people within sight; but the immediate vicinity of the 
 tree was perfectly quiet. 
 
 A taU, slender man passed SomerviUe, with the slow 
 and irresolute step of one who has no other object, in 
 walking, than to while away a tedious interval. He 
 looked at his watch anxiously, and was about to retrace 
 the path he had just taken, when the young Englishman 
 arrested his attention. For a moment he seemed to 
 hesitate whether to speak, or not, — then suddenly 
 plunged into a narrow lane, the darkness of which soon 
 concealed him from view. 
 
 Willing to ascertain more fully the state of public 
 feeling, Somerville entered the White Horse tavern, and, 
 carelessly glancing over the London Chronicle, kept a 
 watchful eye on those who entered and departed. 
 
 Several countrymen surrounded a gentleman in one 
 corner of the room, who was saying to them, " Be firm. 
 Eesist unto death; but," added he, slowly and im- 
 pressively lowering his hand, "be moderate — be pru- 
 dent." 
 
THE REBELS. 31 
 
 " Spoken like Samuel Adams ! " said a young man, 
 who had that moment entered. Somerville immediately 
 recognized the figure that he had seen passing and 
 repassing the Liberty-tree, and the voice that had spoken 
 of the rising Hercules. 
 
 "Has he come, Doctor Willard?" inquired a dozen 
 voices. 
 
 J " The person I sought is not yet where we expect 
 him," answered he. 
 
 There was a long pause. 
 
 " Do you reaUy think, after all Governor Hutchinson 
 has promised us, that he has dared to WTite to England, 
 advising them not to repeal this duty ? " asked one of 
 the countrymen. 
 
 " It seems to be proved, beyond all doubt," replied 
 Willard. 
 
 " Let him look to 't, then," said an old man, taking 
 out a huge quid of tobacco, and shaking his head most 
 significantly. 
 
 " And do you think, sir, this duty never wiU be 
 pealed ? " inquired a ruddy-faced farmer. 
 
 " Franklin is making great exertions for us," rejoined 
 Adams ; " but the king is ignorant of the real state of 
 his colonies, the ministry are obstinate, and their friends 
 here are wicked and selfish. We have much to fear." 
 
 The farmer made a nod of defiance, similar to those 
 which a small boy ventures, when at a safe distance, to 
 direct toward the champion who has just thrown him. 
 
 " My friends," said Adams, " remember that nothing 
 is to be gained by violence ; much by calm and dignified 
 firmness. Let not the outrages of the 14th be reacted." 
 
32 THE REBELS. 
 
 " Do you fear any open resistance ? " asked Somer- 
 ville, stepping forward. 
 
 The two gentlemen looked anxiously at each other, 
 for his entrance had been unnoticed by all who stood in 
 that corner of the room ; and Adams replied, 
 
 " I trust there will be no assault upon individual 
 property, sir; but there is no answering for the move- 
 ments of a populace, goaded and trampled on as we 
 have been." 
 
 " I need not remind you of English power," rejoined 
 Somervdlle ; " and what will you do, if they continue to 
 resolve that the duty shall be paid ? " 
 
 " In such a case, hearts and hands will not be want- 
 ing," replied Willard. " To the nephew of Governor 
 Hutchinson, I shall say no more. Good-evening, sir." 
 
 " Ye 're di. friend to your country, and I like ye for it," 
 said the farmer. " But I '11 not stay here, nuther ; for 
 I guess I should give too much of my mind to that 
 Brcetish fellow." 
 
 AVith an air of evident vexation, Somerville followed 
 them to the street, and the traces of recent indignation 
 were very conspicuous on his ingenuous countenance, 
 when he entered his uncle's library. This room con- 
 tained the finest collection of book? then in the colo- 
 nies ; and bore obvious marks of the scholar, the 
 antiquarian, and the man of taste. It was hung with 
 canvass tapestr^^ on which was blazoned the coronation 
 of George II., here and there interspersed with the royal 
 arms. The portraits of Anne and the two Georges hung 
 in massive frames of antique splendor, and the crowded 
 shelves were surmounted with busts of the house of 
 Stuart. A table of polished black oak stood in the 
 
THE REBELS. 33 
 
 centre, at which were seated the governor and his 
 friend Doctor Bvles. 
 
 " You are welcome, sir knight of the dolorous visage," 
 said the facetious clerg}TTian. " Your uncle and I have 
 been two hours endeavoring to decipher the black-letter 
 manuscript you brought us ; but like the woful mes- 
 sengers that drove poor Job to desperation, each suc- 
 ceeding hour has brought some one, with rueful face and 
 direful tone, to tell us that the rebels are certainly about 
 to commit some dreadful outrage, and that we had better 
 prepare for the worst." 
 
 " I come on the same mournful errand," replied 
 Somen'ille, imitating the mock solemnity of his manner. 
 *' But, to speak seriously, uncle, I have seen instances 
 of fearless audacity to-day, which leave no room to doubt 
 of the infuriated state of the populace." 
 
 " 111 news are swallow-winged ; but what is good walks 
 on crutches," said Doctor Byles. " These discontented 
 ^^Tetches dare not insult one of his majesty's officers." 
 
 Somerv'ille repeated, very minutely, all he had heard 
 and seen, during his absence. 
 
 " AVhy did you not treat the insolent rebels in the 
 manner they deserved ? " inquired Governor Hutchinson. 
 
 " It was with difficult}^ that I did refrain, in one in- 
 stance," repHed he ; " but it is well I did ; for you 
 know how much mischief Oliver's passionate friends 
 made, on a similar occasion. After all, there is a touch 
 of spirit in this thing. I had rather see zeal in a bad 
 cause, than coldness in a good one. The mantle of true 
 English feeling must have descended on these people, 
 as they left our shores." 
 
 "I confess, young man,Isee no similarity to English — " 
 
34 THE REBELS. 
 
 A confused noise in the distance here interrupted the 
 conversation. For a few moments they listened, with a 
 kind of stupefaction ; and this gradually increased to a 
 bewildered but intense fear of approaching danger, as 
 the sounds of drum and fife, mingled with the loud 
 shouts of men and boys, became terribly distinct. 
 
 " Lucretia is in the cupola," said the governor, mo- 
 tioning to his nephew. 
 
 " My private papers are in that desk. Doctor Byles," 
 added he. " They may be safer about your person than 
 mine. Get them into the hands of Mr. Osborne as soon 
 as possible." 
 
 He .was making other brief arrangements with a 
 trembling eagerness that defeated his haste, when a 
 loud crash of falling glass announced that the multitude 
 had commenced the work of destruction. 
 
 Lucretia's voice was heard on the stairs, as she 
 screamed, " Aunt ! aunt ! " in an agony of terror. 
 
 Another tremendous wreck succeeded, as she burst 
 into the library. 
 
 " O, my God ! where is Aunt Sandford ? " she ex- 
 claimed. " Dear uncle, save yourself! Run, run to 
 Mr. Osborne's ! " 
 
 The united voices of Somerville and Miss Sandford 
 were now heard, calling, " This way, Lucretia, this 
 waj^" 
 
 With an involuntary wish to save something, she 
 caught two rolls of manuscripts, lying on the table, and 
 followed their direction.-^ 
 
 * One of these rolls was the original manuscript of Hubbard's His- 
 tory. The other has long been before the public, under the title of 
 Hutchinson's History of Massachusetts. 
 
THE REBELS. 36 
 
 Quicker than it can be said, the whole family were 
 cautiously stealing through the back yard, on their way 
 to Mr. Osborne's. 
 
 As they came into the street in rear of the house, 
 bottles of champagne, and barrels of claret, brought 
 from the governor's own cellar, were furiously broken by 
 the mob, who were drinking most immoderately. 
 
 " There goes sting}^ Tommy ! " cried one. 
 
 " And Mather, the droll ! " shouted another. 
 
 This recognition was followed by hats-full of wine 
 thrown in their faces, with loud cries of " Don't it go to 
 your heart, stingy Tom ? " 
 
 \Yith difficulty they forced their way a few steps 
 further, and came in view of a large effig}', mounted on 
 a car, round which the multitude were brandishino- their 
 torches, exclaiming, while hundreds of hats waved in 
 dizz}' circles through the air, " Liberty, or death ! No 
 stamps ! Hurra I hurra ! hurra ! " 
 
 " Do\^'n w*ith the t}T^nt ! dovm with the h^-pocrite I " 
 shouted the mob, as they formed a phalanx round the 
 governor. 
 
 The tumult increased. At that moment, a tall, ath- 
 letic man pressed eagerly toward the group. 
 
 " In the name of Heaven, let not a hair of their heads 
 be injured," said he. " Is it come to this, in New- 
 England, that the presence of ladies is no safeguard 
 against rudeness ? " 
 
 " You are one of his nephews, or parasite officers," 
 muttered a by-stander. 
 
 The arm of Sornerville was raised, in the forgetful- 
 ness of his anger, but was stayed by Doctor Byles. 
 
36 THE REBELS. 
 
 " Forgive and despise them," said he ; " they are not 
 worthy of an Englishman's chastisement. 
 
 " Look me in the face, John," said the gentleman 
 who came to their rescue. He raised his slouched hat 
 as he spoke, and displayed the resolute features of 
 Samuel Adams, as he added, " Am I not a friend to the 
 people ? But this is licentiousness, not liberty. This is 
 no way to redress our wrongs." 
 
 " But it is the way to revenge them," shouted an 
 unkno\\Ti voice. 
 
 " Let Governor Hutchinson and his household pass ! " 
 said Adams, in a voice of thunder. " I will be his guard ; 
 and he that stops me does it at his peril." 
 
 The multitude, awed by the boldness of his language, 
 fell back ; the confusion subsided for a moment ; and the 
 generous American soon conducted the family to more 
 quiet scenes. 
 
 But the spirit of riot again stormed ; and the heads 
 of men seemed like the waves of the ocean, rising, 
 swelling, rushing onward. 
 
 The noise of shattered glass and falling timber was 
 mingled with horrid imprecations, in the midst of which, 
 down fell the magnificent cupola, crushed to a thousand 
 atoms. 
 
 " Fire the house, boys ! fire the house ! " shouted one. 
 
 The crowd, whom contagious excitement and brutal 
 intoxication had maddened into fury, prepared to obey. 
 
 For an instant, fire-brands and torches were seen 
 gleaming in the air; but several voices were heard 
 earnestly expostulating with them, — and, whoever they 
 were, they had power to arrest the storm in the midst 
 of its uproar. 
 
THE REBELS. 37 
 
 The noise gradually subsided. The mob scattered 
 off in detached companies ; and, before midnight, the 
 moon looked calmly dowTi on the <]^uiet and deserted 
 mansion of Governor Hutchinson. Frasrments of manu- 
 scripts, tattered books, dilapidated furniture, and broken 
 windows, proclaimed that the torrent of liberty, which 
 had been so long fearfully swelling, had overflowed its 
 banks, and left terror and desolation in its course. 
 
 In the mean time, a rapid walk had brought the 
 wanderers to the house of the Rev. Mr. Osborne. 
 There were brief salutations, ean^er inquiries, and cor- 
 dial welcomes. Lucretia, who had not spoken one word 
 during the perilous scene, now clasped her arms around 
 Grace, and wept; Miss Sandford threw herself into a 
 chair, and rocked and sobl:)ed violently ; while I\Ir. 
 Osborne, forgetting how much he disliked the avarice 
 and political deception of Hutchinson, grasped his hand 
 most jo^-fully. 
 
 There is a certain point, bej^ond which, injuries cease 
 to exasperate, and their influence softens and subdues 
 the heart. 
 
 From the chamber window, the governor watched 
 the movements of the rabble ; — saw crow-bars and axes 
 busy on the roof of his magnificent dwelling, and wit- 
 nessed the cupola, as it fell, splintering into atoms. 
 
 "Would to Heaven it would crush the unfeeling 
 wretches ! " exclauTied Somerville. 
 
 " Say not so, my nephew," rejoined the governor. 
 *' Rather praj^ that they may live to repent of their 
 conduct." 
 
 Doctor Byles evinced the same spirit. He spoke of 
 the rash proceedings v/ith mildness very unusual io 
 
 4 
 
38 THE REBELS. 
 
 him ; and when they returned to the parlor, he said, 
 " With your leave, brother Osborne, we will pray that 
 the sins of this night may be forgiven." 
 
 At this moment, a shrill whistle was heard; and it 
 was immediately answered from a distance. 
 
 Grace cast a look of utter agony at Lucretia, who, pale 
 as death, exclaimed, 
 
 " O, that dreadful sound ! It is the mob-whistle I" ^ 
 
 " It is a sound terribly familiar to our ears, indeed," 
 said Hutchinson. "My good friend, our presence en- 
 dangers you. We must depart." 
 
 " Not while there is anything to fear," rejoined Os- 
 borne, in a decided tone. " If I cannot avert the storm, 
 its violence shall fall on me." 
 
 " Leave this house, I beseech you, leave this house ! " 
 exclaimed Doctor Willard, abruptly entering from a side 
 door. " There is no safety for you here ; indeed, there 
 is not." 
 
 " Where can I go ? " asked the governor, in an agi- 
 tated voice. 
 
 " Remain with me," said Mr. Osborne, taking firm 
 hold of his arm. " My young friend, you could not 
 suppose I would desert him at this moment." 
 
 Faces were now seen at the window, and the awful 
 sounds of an infuriated multitude were again heard. 
 Doctor Willard cast a look of intense anxiety towards 
 Grace, which spoke more than volumes. 
 
 " Do 5'ou, young gentleman, remain with the ladies. 
 If worst comes to woi-st, convey them to Doctor May- 
 hew's. I, myself, will speak to these people," said Mr. 
 Osborne. 
 
 *This sound was so peculiar, that the inhabitants of Boston recog- 
 nized it instantly. 
 
THE REBELS. 39 
 
 The venerable man stepped forth alone ; and as he 
 stood and gazed on the crov.'d, the clamor of voices 
 ceased. 
 
 His appearance was, indeed, wonderfully impressive. 
 His blue silk night-go\\Ti and slippers, — the white hair, 
 parted in the middle of his forehead, and falling negli- 
 gently over his shoulders, — gave him the air of an evan- 
 gelist of olden time. The moon shone full upon him, and 
 displayed a countenance in which intellect and affection 
 were singularly blended. The celestial light beaming 
 from his eye announced that he lived above the world ; 
 but the sweet smile that hovered round his lips pro- 
 claimed how much he loved those who still enjoyed it. 
 
 " "What would 3'ou have, my friends ? " said he. 
 
 The mildness of his tones formed a strange contrast 
 to their own tumultuous cries ; and, awed into shame, 
 they continued silent. 
 
 At length, some one said, " Governor Hutchinson is 
 in your house, and he must leave it." 
 
 '• Not while I have a roof to shelter him," rejoined the 
 intrepid clergyman. 
 
 " Be cautious, my dear sir," whispered a man in dis- 
 guise, who stood near the door. " I fear your political 
 principles will not prove a sufficient shield." * 
 
 " ]\Iv countrA'men," said the old man, in a voice ex- 
 tremely agitated, " how well I love America, and how 
 much 1 have exerted myself for her rights, you all know. 
 I now tell you, once for all, that the ruins of this house 
 shall fall upon my head, before I give up one who has 
 sought it for shelter. I have watched for your liberties, 
 wept for your sins, and prayed for your advancement in 
 hx)liness- My children, will you, can you, sacrifice me 
 
40 THE REBELS. 
 
 to your vengeance ? " Then, raising his clasped hands 
 and streaming eyes to heaven, he added, "Father of 
 mercies, keep them from further sin ! " 
 
 The humbled and conscience-stricken multitude looked 
 upon him with veneration. Blessings, and even sobs, 
 were audible. 
 
 One after another came up, bowed before him, and 
 passed quietly down the street. So much influence has 
 genuine piety over the unprincipled, in their wildest 
 moods. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Then Otis rose, and, great in patriot fame, 
 To listening crowds resistance dared proclaim. 
 From men like Otis, independence grew ; 
 From such beginnings empire rose to view. 
 
 Hon. Thomas Datces. 
 
 On the following day, the Court of Assizes and the 
 Supreme Court met in the Council Chamber. Four of 
 the judges wore "voluminous wigs, broad bands, and 
 robes of scarlet cloth." The chief justice alone entered 
 without the customary badges of his profession. A plain 
 suit of black, which he had worn on the preceding 
 night, was all that had been saved from the enraged 
 populace. 
 
 A murmur of indignation ran through the court when 
 he appeared ; and it was very evident that the citizens 
 of Boston deeply regretted and severely discountenanced 
 the shameless outrages they had been compelled to 
 witness. Nothing was now heard of the political bitter- 
 ness and personal abuse that had, of late, mingled too 
 frequently with their public debates ; on the contrary, 
 respectful and conciliating attention marked the whole 
 assembly; — and when the court were about to adjourn, 
 Samuel Adams arose, and requested all the lovers of 
 genuine freedom to meet at Faneuil Hall, to pass some 
 resolves concerning the indemnification of Hutchinson's 
 losses, and to take proper measures to prevent such 
 excesses in future. 
 
 4* 
 
42 THE REBELS. 
 
 A crowded meeting accordingly took place. Without 
 one dissenting voice, they passed resolutions to patrol 
 the streets from sunset to sunrise, and to petition the 
 Legislature that the ruined mansion of the chief justice 
 should be repaired at the expense of the state. 
 
 The friends of government pretended to look on all 
 this as the artful manceu^Tes of men anxious to ward off 
 the effects of their crime. To further their tyrannical 
 design of obtaining military assistance from England, 
 the two governors chose to represent the affair as the 
 spontaneous movement of the whole town, suggested and 
 aided by its best and most influential citizens ; and one 
 of Bernard's friends, who had accompanied Somen-ille to 
 the hall, was impolitic enough to say aloud, " This is a 
 sheer pretence. The Legislature approve of the transac- 
 tion ; and v/ould publicly vindicate it, if they dared'. All 
 this only serves to show that they have not spirit enough 
 to carry them through." 
 
 With a face of flame, James Otis arose and answered : 
 " You assert what no honest man can believe, sir ! A 
 policy as wicked as it is shallow can alone induce our 
 enemies to give currency to such an opinion. Affect a 
 disbelief, if you please ; but you well know that all the 
 nerve and sinew of the community were exerted to stem 
 the torrent of popular furj", dm'ing the whole of the last 
 fearful night. 
 
 " 1 do not oppose the resolutions in favor of Governor 
 Hutchinson. No one more sincerely regrets the insults 
 offered his person, and the injurj^ done to his property ; 
 but 1 cannot restrain my indignation, when I hear the 
 public virtue, that so promptly recoils from undue vio- 
 lence, stigmatized as time-serving cowardice. Some will 
 
THE REBELS. 43 
 
 mistake my zeal for personal resentment ; but those who 
 understand me well will hear, in my voice, the thunder- 
 ing echo of a free people, who cannot be silenced, and 
 who will not be mocked. 
 
 " Let him who dares to say we have not spirit suffi- 
 cient to resist oppression look at the fallen cupola, the 
 prostrate pillars, the tattered hangings, and the ruined 
 walls, in Friezel-court ! 
 
 " God forbid that I should thus recapitulate in order to 
 add insult to outrage. I merely wish to prove, that the 
 spirit which cannot be controlled by friends will never 
 be overcome by enemies. 
 
 " England may as well dam up the waters of the 
 Nile with bulrushes, as to fetter the step of Freedom, 
 more proud and firai, in this youthful land, than where 
 she treads the sequestered glens of Scotland, or couches 
 herself among the magnificent mountains of Switzerland. 
 
 " Arbitrary principles, like those against which we now 
 contend, have cost one King of England his life, another 
 his crov.-n, — and they may yet cost a third his most 
 flourishing colonies. 
 
 " We are two millions strong, — one fifth fighting men. 
 
 "We are bold and vigor9us, — and we call no man 
 master! 
 
 " To a nation from whom we are proud to derive our 
 origin, we ever were, and we ever will be, ready to yield 
 unforced assistance ; but it must not, and it never can, 
 be extorted ! " exclaim^ed he, striking his hand till the hall 
 rung again. 
 
 Low murmurs of " Treason ! treason ! " were heard 
 in some parts of the room ; and Henry Osborne, fearing 
 his vehemence might betray him into danger, gently 
 
44 
 
 THE REBELS. 
 
 touched his arm. " Am I not of age ? " said Otis, petu- 
 lantly; but, instantly calming his irritation, he con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " Some have sneeringly asked, ' Are the Americans 
 too poor to pay a few pounds on stamped paper ? ' No ! 
 America, thanks to God and herself, is rich. But the 
 right to take ten pounds implies the right to take a thou- 
 sand ; and what must be the wealth that avarice, aided 
 by power, cannot exliaust ? 
 
 " True, the spectre is now small ; but the shadow he 
 casts before him is huge enough to darken all this fair 
 land. 
 
 *' Others, in sentimental style, talk of the immense 
 debt of gratitude which we owe to England. And what 
 is the amount of this debt ? Why, truly, it is the same 
 that the young lion owes to the dam, which has brought 
 it forth on the solitude of the mountain, or left it amid 
 the winds and storms of the desert. 
 
 " We plunged into the wave, with the magna charta 
 of freedom in our teeth, because the fagot and the torch 
 were behind us. We have waked this new world from 
 its savage lethargy ; forests have been prostrated in our 
 path ; towns and cities have grown up suddenly as the 
 flowers of the tropics, and the fires in our autumnal 
 woods are scarcely more rapid than the increase of our 
 wealth and population. 
 
 " And do we owe all this to the kind succor of our 
 mother country ? No I we owe it to the tyranny that 
 drove us from her, — to the pelting storms which invig- 
 orated our helpless infancy. 
 
 " But perhaps others will say : ' We ask no money 
 
THE REBELS. 45 
 
 from your gratitude, — we only demand that you should 
 pay your ovm. expenses.' 
 
 " And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity ? 
 Why, the king — (and, with all due reverence to his 
 sacred majesty, he understands the real wants of his dis- 
 tant subjects as little as he does the language of the 
 Choctaws.) Who is to judge concerning the frequency 
 of these demands? The ministrj^ Who is to judge 
 whether the money is properly expended ? The cabinet 
 behind the throne. 
 
 " In every instance, those who take are to judge for 
 those who pay ; and if this system is suffered to go into 
 operation, we shall have reason to esteem it a great priv- 
 ilege, that rain and dew do not depend upon Parliament ; 
 otherwise, they would soon be taxed and dried. 
 
 " But, thanks be to God, there is freedom enough left 
 upon earth to resisf such monstrous injustice. The flame 
 of liberty is extinguished in Greece and Rome, but the 
 light of its glov^'ing embers is still bright and strong on 
 the shores of America. Actuated by its sacred influence, 
 we will resist unto death. But we will not countenance 
 anarchy and misrule. The WTongs that a desperate 
 community have heaped upon their enemies shall be 
 amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may be well for 
 some proud men to remember, that a fire is lighted in 
 these colonies, which one breath of theirs may kindle 
 into such fury, that the blood of all England cannot 
 extinguish it ! " 
 
 A murmur of delight ran through the whole assembly. 
 The impetuous eloquence of his manner swept every- 
 thing before it. Loud and reiterated applause began to 
 resound through the building; and shouts of " Otis for- 
 
46 THE REBELS. 
 
 ever ! the friend of the people ! " were lieard around the 
 doors. Even the friends of the administration had 
 awaited his conchision in breathless admiration. True, 
 the charm ceased with his voice ; and though the invol- 
 untary tribute they had paid to talents and integrity could 
 not be recalled, it was immediately overbalanced by 
 threateninof words and scornful smiles. 
 
 To have surprised an enemy into unwilling praise, 
 must give a delightful consciousness of mental power to 
 the greatest and best of minds ; but intellect has a still 
 greater triumph, when genius, born in poverty and nur- 
 tured in seclusion, sees wealth and rank, with all their 
 gilded trappings, shrink to their own nothingness, and 
 pay reluctant homage where Heaven has set its own 
 high impress of nobility. That Mr. Otis was too much 
 gifted by fortune to enjoy this last species of exultation, 
 certainly did not soften the asperity of his enemies. It 
 was doubly provoking, that one whose situation in society 
 was so commanding, and whose influence was so exten- 
 sive, should dare thus openly to throw the gauntlet of 
 defiance ; and on their way homeward, not a few talked 
 of the necessity of ridding England of so fomiidable 
 a foe. 
 
 Leaving them to " nurse their \\Tath," we will follow 
 his friend, Henry Osborne. After apologizing to Mr. 
 Otis for his friendly interruption, and giving his most 
 cordial congratulations, he Avalked home through Friezel- 
 court, thinking it possible some valuable papers might 
 yet be saved. 
 
 Many people were still around the doors, intently 
 examining the various articles that lay crushed and 
 scattered in every direction. 
 
THE REBELS. 47 
 
 Henry passed into the ruined library, and as the 
 gaunt figure of Mr. To\vnsend met his view, he invol- 
 untarily started back. The old miser thrust something 
 into his side-pocket, with all the trembling eagerness of 
 dotage ; and immediately began to make some inarticu- 
 late apologies about a paper he had lost. 
 
 " Distressful times, these, sir," said he, " when a 
 man's earnings an't safe, night nor day. Nothing can 
 be done with money, but to hide it in the bowels of the 
 earth." 
 
 " Have you suffered from the recent riot ? " inquired 
 Osborne, with a mingled expression of contempt and 
 compassion. 
 
 "I can't say I have, sir; but I have had great losses, 
 in my day. I am a poor man, now ; and — " 
 
 He was going to add more, but the entrance of Gov- 
 ernor Hutchinson and his sister occasioned a sudden 
 pause. The miser changed color, felt in his pocket to 
 ascertain that the secreted parcel was secure, and said, 
 rapidly, " I hope your honor will excuse my being here. 
 I just stepped down, to see how things looked." 
 
 " My doors always opened upon the inside," replied 
 Hutchinson ; " and 1 could not now close them against 
 an}'' one, if I would." 
 
 There was a slight tremor in his voice, and the tears 
 actually crowded into his eyes, when he looked on the 
 Avreck of that splendid librar}', which he had been more 
 than thirty years collecting, with all the devotedness of 
 antiquarian zeal. Indeed, the scene was melancholy 
 enough. Books were stripped of their covers, manu- 
 scripts torn to pieces, the royal portraits rent from top 
 
48 THE REBELS. 
 
 to bottom, and the beautiful, swan-like neck of Mary 
 Stuart was all that remained of the proud line of busts. 
 
 " dear ! " cried Miss Sandford, " you may say what 
 you will — the world never was half as wicked as it is 
 now. "Who would think it?" added she, springing for- 
 ward, and raising something from a heap of rubbish. 
 " Here is my blue silk damask, that I wore to a ball as 
 long ago as the year '25, stuffed into a porridge-pot; 
 — the very gown that Mrs. Winthrop hated so much, 
 because her husband insisted upon it that I never looked 
 so well in anything else ! What will this world come 
 to?" 
 
 The gentlemen gave all the condolence that so hnport- 
 ant a subject demanded, and the querulous maiden 
 began making fresh researches. At every new instance 
 of wasteful destruction, Mr. To^vnsend would signify his 
 horror, by a sympathizing groan. At first. Miss Sand- 
 ford felt disposed to ask him to leave the room; but 
 when she looked up, and saw his grotesque figure bend- 
 ing over the ruined furniture with such a look of utter 
 distress, she felt strongly inclined to be merry at his 
 expense. Perceiving the gentlemen had passed into the 
 adjoining rooms, she ventured to compromise with 
 dignity, and began, " When 1 wore this go^vn, Mr. 
 Townsend, you were young, and used to attend balls, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " O dear, yes," rejoined the miser. *' I have spent 
 a deal of money in them foolish ways ; the more is the 
 
 pity." 
 
 " But they say you are very rich, now." 
 *'-Do they?" said the old man, chuckling. Then, 
 putting on a long face, he added, " 'Tan't true, though. 
 
THE REBELS. 49 
 
 I'm a dreadful poor man. Just enough to keep soul 
 and body together, that 's all." 
 
 " I should not think your soul and body would be a 
 veiy weighty concern, whether together or separate. 
 You are very much out of health ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I am. I have a power of diseases." 
 
 " Perhaps you suffer for want of good nursing. It is 
 a pity you had not married when you were 3'oung, Mr. 
 Townsend." 
 
 " I don't know, I don't know. Women are dreadful 
 expensive." 
 
 " But you are rich, and it is not too late now to find 
 some kind, notable woman for a wife." 
 
 " I hope it is, I hope it is. Women are despit expens- 
 ive. Why, I don't keep a horse, because it costs such a 
 power of money." 
 
 "But, ?Jr. To'^msend, a prudent woman — " 
 
 " I tell you they are all dreadful costly ! " exclaimed 
 the persecuted bachelor, pushing his cap hard over- his 
 forehead, and making the best of his way out of the 
 house. 
 
 After examining the chambers, to ascertain whether 
 any remnant of a wardrobe could be found, ]\Iiss Sand- 
 ford and her brother returned to ]\Ir. Osborne's, where 
 they had consented to take up their temporar}' abode. 
 
 The interview with the miser afforded the girls many 
 a laugh ; but when Doctor Byles heard of it, he shooli; 
 his head significantly, and said, " There is many a true 
 word spoken in jest." 
 
 5 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 And mortals dared to ponder for themselves, 
 To weigh kings in the balance, and to speak 
 Of freedom, the forbidden fruit. 
 
 Manfred. 
 
 When the plague raged iii London, one of the most 
 remarkable features of the time was the total forgetful- 
 ness of all religious distinctions. A house of prayer 
 was enough to suffice hearts broken down by many sor- 
 rows ; and if the soul could but prostrate itself before its 
 God, it was careless whether the body knelt or stood, — 
 whether hands were uplifted, or censers waved. But 
 when the curse had departed from the land, again the 
 temple of Divine truth resounded with the din of jarring 
 sectaries, and its sacred courts were once more polluted 
 by man's unholy passions. 
 
 In the same manner, the scene of imminent peril 
 which we have described subdued, for a while, all the 
 rancor of political animosity. 
 
 The disinterested firmness and the ready hospitality 
 of Mr. Osborne were repaid with prompt and gmteful 
 affection ; and it was not until Doctor Willard met the 
 same company, at the house of his friend, on the ensu- 
 ing evening, that party distinctions were for a moment 
 revived. 
 
 When he regretted the depredations of the rabble, 
 Hutchinson answered, "The rabble would have been 
 excusable, sir ; but these things are excited by men who 
 
THE REBELS. 
 
 51 
 
 would honor a nobler cause. This is the price I pay for 
 being chief justice at the expense of the elder Otis." 
 
 "With indignation I repel the charge, that the late 
 riots were either instigated or approved by such men as 
 Otis and his associates," replied \Villard. " They will 
 fearlessly resist oppression, but they will nexei encour- 
 age violence. Have not the community expressed their 
 abhorrence with sufficient union and energy" ? Have not 
 the good citizens of Boston voluntarily taken every pre- 
 caution to prevent such excesses in future ? " 
 
 " That is all nonsense," exclaimed the chief justice. 
 " You boast of your proceedings at Faneuil Hall — but 
 what was Otis' speech, but the rankest rebellion ? The 
 people would do well enough, if they were not led on by 
 a few intriguing individuals." 
 
 " Our confusions do not originate in the arts of 
 demagogues, but in the tyranny of rulers, sir," replied 
 llie young patriot. " The Geslers of Switzerland, the 
 Granvels of Holland, the Lauds and Straffords of Eng- 
 land, were the undoubted authors of the tragedies acted 
 in their respective countries; and — " he paused a 
 moment — "I leave to your own conscience, who will 
 be answerable, if one drop of American blood is ever 
 shed in this contest." 
 
 The goA^emor appeared struck with the boldness of his 
 manner, and remained silent. 
 
 " Yet there certainly were men above the common 
 mass, among the crowd of rioters," said Somerville. 
 
 " True," answered Henry Osborne ; " but, were you at 
 the bar of the House of Commons, could you, in con- 
 science, deny that the efforts of those men were to regu- 
 late and control the populace?" 
 
62 THE REBELS. 
 
 " I certainly do not forget the noble conduct of Samuel 
 Adams," rejoined Somersdlle ; " nor am I unmindful of 
 what we owe to your father." He looked significantly 
 at Doctor Willard, and added, " Neither have I forgotten 
 that some of America's best blood did not disdain to seek 
 my uncle under the Liberty-tree." 
 
 "Make what use you will of the knowledge which 
 circumstances have put in your power," said Willard. 
 " I do not deny that I sought him there ; but I must add, 
 none more heartily regretted the summons than my- 
 self." 
 
 " I believe you, young man," said Doctor Byles; " but, 
 after all, you must be aware, that it is much like open- 
 ing the sluices of a stream, and then attempting to stem 
 it with sand. He who teaches a people to distrust their 
 sovereign, and fills their heads with delirious dreams of 
 their own rights, is answerable for all the excesses of 
 ■ their fury ; and, I must confess, I see no way to put an 
 end to these mischiefs, but by cutting off such men as 
 Hancock and Adams. Notwithstanding all that has 
 been said in Faneuil Hall to-day, there can be no doubt 
 that such men are the instigators. To reason they will 
 never listen; but indictments, fines, scaffolds, and gib- 
 bets, are the strongest arguments in the world. I never 
 knew a man get the better, in disputing with them." • 
 
 " It would be but one head of the Hydra," observed 
 Willard, in a tone he vainly endeavored to render calm. 
 " Public indignation is not to be mistaken for the per- 
 sonal interest, or the factious zeal, of a few. That the 
 stream overruns its banks, argues that it is full even to 
 excess ; and should the waters subside into smoothness 
 for a while, you may rely upon it, the waves beneath are 
 
THE REBELS. 53 
 
 rolling and gatlierino: in their might. America never 
 ^^'ill submit, sir. We have drawn the sword of opposi- 
 tion, and we throw the scabbard into the fire." 
 
 " You had better put it in your pocket, young man," 
 replied Doctor Byles, with a dr^-ness of sarcasm that was 
 irresistibly ludicrous. " You might very possibly want 
 the sheath, in the presence of well-disciphned English 
 armies." 
 
 " True, the British infantry can acquit themselves 
 well in the gay reviews, exhibited for royal amusement, 
 in Hyde Park, or on Wimbledon Conmion ; but they 
 have never fought with Englishmen," replied Willard. 
 *' Our forefathers brought the spirit of liberty from their 
 native land, when it was in the greatest purity and per- 
 fection there ; and it has not degenerated, by change of 
 climate. Those who tamper with it may perhaps be 
 scorched by a flame they know not how to extinguish." 
 
 *' Bravely said, Doctor Willard I " exclaimed Hutchin- 
 son. " I was not aware you were so ready to throw off 
 the mask of loyalty." 
 
 The eyes of the young patriot flashed. " I wear no 
 masks," said he ; " and those who do, will soon find 
 them useless." 
 
 *'3Iy friend spoke of things possible, not desirable,'^ 
 continued Henr^" Osborne. " He must be blind, indeed, 
 if he did not perceive that a momentous crisis was 
 near at hand. The cards are shuffling fast, throughout 
 Europe." 
 
 "Where will the regiments of England, and the 
 horde of soldiers that her wealth can buy in from the 
 continent, find the strength that is to oppose their pro- 
 gress ? " asked Hutchinson. 
 . 5=* 
 
54 THE REBELS. 
 
 " The sword that has been sharpened on the heart 
 does deadlier execution than the sabre of the mercena- 
 ry," rejoined Willard. " Besides, England has not much 
 to expect from foreign troops. It is notorious that the 
 king is on exceedingly ill terms with the Emperor of 
 Germany. Frederic of Prussia hated his grandfather; 
 and it is not probable he likes the young monarch any 
 more, for his union with the house of Mecklenburg." 
 
 " Many from the heart of this country would join the 
 royal standard," said Doctor Byles. 
 
 " Dreadfully formidable they must be," retorted Henry 
 Osborne. " Let me think : there would be Justice 
 Sewall, the Honorable Mr. Paxton, Brigadier Ruggles, 
 some twenty or thirty of the relations and dependants of 
 Governor Hutchinson ; and perhaps we might add, a rev- 
 erend pontifex, with bands and robe jfioating in the air, 
 leading them on to victory." 
 
 "I wonder I have not been mobbed," said Doctor 
 
 Byles, laughing outright. "I am sure I should have 
 
 been, if the people had known one thing of which I am 
 
 guilty." 
 
 f "What is that?" asked Lucretia, who occasionally 
 
 (_ attended to the conversation. 
 
 " Why, your uncle has had all this trouble, because 
 he holds five 'posts. Now, whoever will take the trouble 
 to notice, when he goes by my door, will see that I have 
 lately had fifteen." 
 
 The company all smiled, and Mr. Osborne said, " You 
 attribute our difficulties to causes too local. Brother Byles. 
 A few offices bestowed contrary to our wishes form but 
 a feather in the balance. It is this enslaving principle 
 of taxation without representation, that we all complain 
 
THE REBELS. ' 55 
 
 of as ruinous, and which has already driven some of 
 us to frig-htful excesses. My son and his friend have 
 indeed talked somewhat openly; but how is it possible 
 for any of us to conceal from our own hearts what must 
 be the result, if the present system is pursued ? "With 
 the lapse of time, this country- must fall from England, 
 like ripe fruit from the tree that has formed it ; but why 
 should the hand of oppression shake it to the ground 
 while it is yet unripe, because it must drop in its ma- 
 turity ? " 
 
 " Nay, if losing you is so certain," replied the doctor, 
 " we had best do it at once. You know the old proverb, 
 ' Good riddance,' &c. ? " 
 
 " England might well repeat the proverb, with regard 
 to Massachusetts," added Hutchinson. " She has been 
 refractor^', from her earliest infancy." 
 
 "And well she may be," said Henr^- Osborne, " when 
 she has not the power to choose her o^sti state officers, 
 and is compelled to take them from men whose interest 
 it is to oppress and vilify her." 
 
 The governor frowned at this home-thrust. " You 
 may thank your own obstinacy for that," replied he. 
 " Had you complied with the royal pleasure, in the reign 
 of James the Second, your original charter would not 
 have been condemned. But you chose to declare in 
 favor of the revolution ministers, those makers and 
 unmakers of kings ; and what did you receive for your 
 pains ? Truly, nothing more than a mutilated charter, 
 shorn of one half its privileges, from the hands of AVil- 
 liam and ]\Iary. Thus may rebellion always flourish. 
 Have you other grievances, weighty as those you have 
 mentioned ? " 
 
56 THE REBELS, 
 
 " You, of all men, need not ask what are our wrongs," 
 rejoined Henry Osborne. " You need not be told that 
 wicked men are allowed to put their hands in our pock- 
 ets, and draw from thence pay for their parasites and 
 plunderers." 
 
 " Why, in being taxed, you do but share the fate of 
 other British subjects," answered the chief justice. 
 " To take protection, implies that you promise obedience; 
 and, really, after England has fed you, clothed you, and 
 fought for you, it is not unreasonable you should do 
 something for your own support." 
 
 " I have no patience to hear this," exclaimed Willard, 
 starting on his feet. " Fed and clothed us, indeed ! You 
 spurned us from you ; and, thanks to ourselves, we have 
 struggled on to prosperity. France is no enemy to Amer- 
 ica, but to England. We have had wars, because we 
 belonged to her ; and if she helped us, she did but her 
 own work. Besides, w^e are not unwilling to pay our 
 full share toward the support of the British empire. We 
 only wish to have our property fairly represented." 
 
 " I know that is your favorite plea," replied Somer- 
 ville. " But you are, in fact, as virtually represented in 
 the British Parliament as our Irish brethren." 
 
 " As virtually represented as the English commons 
 are in a council of the Cherokees ! " said young Os- 
 borne. 
 
 It was Somerville's nature to sympathize with every- 
 thing bold and fearless ; and, as he looked at Grace, he 
 was delighted with the fluctuating color that betrayed 
 the keen interest she took in the conversation of her 
 father and brother. Perhaps wiser men than he would 
 have wavered in an opinion formed by accidental circum- 
 
THE REBELS. 57 
 
 Stances, and supported by pride, for the sake of a smile 
 from lips as beautiful as the rose-bud, just bursting from 
 its caljTC. 
 
 " I cannot but support ihe supreme legislation of my 
 country," said he ; " and I shall always maintain the 
 right of Parliament to tax her colonies when and how 
 they think proper; but 1 must acknowledge, I begin to 
 think that the present system of taxation is impolitic, 
 however just it may be." 
 
 " And pray, sir, may I ask on what you found so wise 
 an opinion? " asked Doctor Byles. 
 
 " I think that the bulk of the American people are 
 under so strong a delusion, and the spirit that every- 
 where pervades them is so dauntless, that a victory, 
 even if it should cost us but little blood and treasure, 
 would take from us what is far more valuable ; for, 
 instead of faithful subjects, the king would have a parcel 
 of discontented citizens, ready to explode at every spark 
 of excitement. Besides, it is well for government never 
 to attempt what they are not sure of performing. Noth- 
 ing is so dangerous to authority as a command success- 
 fully resisted." 
 
 " And, for fear of all this, you would have the lion 
 fawn, and cringe, and lick the hand of the wayward 
 baby; and, if medicine must be given, it must, forsooth, 
 be hid in sugar ! " said Doctor Byles. 
 
 " If you have so high an opinion of their prowess, 
 you had better join their cause, nephew," added Hutch- 
 inson, with great bitterness of manner. 
 
 Grace, alarmed at the increasing acrimony of the con- 
 versation, turned to Henry, and said, playfully, *' I wish 
 you gentlemen would leave politics, and teach me how 
 
58 THE REBELS. 
 
 to carry war into the enemy's quarters, on this chess- 
 board." 
 
 " A wise speech, Miss Osborne," said Doctor Byles. 
 " I have been highly amused at the folly of this conver- 
 sation ; and was just about to say to Brother Osborne 
 that we would drown all heart-burnings in a good ortho- 
 dox bowl of punch, which I see he is preparing." 
 
 " Pray how much does an orthodox bowl hold ? " 
 asked Mr. Osborne. 
 
 " Are you not theologian enough to know? " rejoined 
 the doctor. " It contains ■pTecise]y Jive pints." 
 
 A smile again went round the room ; but it gave place 
 to respectful attention, when, assuming the dignified 
 seriousness that so well became him, he took the offered 
 glass, and said, " Do not you, my friends, forget that we 
 are grateful men, and we will never forget that you are 
 conscientious." 
 
 Mr. Osborne readily pledged the sentiment ; political 
 discord was again hushed, and the remainder of the 
 evening passed in cheerful good-humor. 
 
 " I have not been inattentive to your game, Miss Os- 
 borne, though I have been so earnest in conversation," 
 said Somerville. "Miss Fitzherbert will be the con- 
 queror, I foresee." 
 
 " As she always is, in a contest with me," replied 
 Grace, smiling. " She has taken both my castles, and 
 all my knights." 
 
 ''Both, but not all your knights, Miss Osborne," 
 rejoined Somerville, with a glance that could not be 
 misunderstood. 
 
 The suffusion that flitted over Grace's cheek was as 
 lio^ht and transient as the rose-tint that the setting sun 
 
THE REBELS. 59 
 
 casts on the drifted snow ; but Lucretia blushed that 
 deep and glowing red which a painful sensation can 
 alone call to the face ; and Doctor Willard turned away 
 from the too beaming expression of Somerville's coun- 
 tenance, with an audible sigh. 
 
 " I understand that Whitfield is to preach for you, 
 next Sabbath, Doctor Byles," said Henr}^ Osborne. 
 
 " He is," rejoined the clerg}'man ; " and I suppose the 
 joints of Hollis-street church will crack with its ful- 
 ness." 
 
 "I have never heard that celebrated orator," ob- 
 served Somerville ; though I was ver}' near Bristol, 
 when he was there, drawing such crowds after him. 1 
 remember that one who heard his farewell address to 
 the good people of that city said Whitfield preached it 
 like a lion." 
 
 " And he described his eloquence well," obsen-ed 
 Doctor Byles. " Whitfield feels the importance of his 
 subject, and he makes others feel it." 
 
 " Brother Chauncy considers him half enthusiast, half 
 h^-pocrite," said Mr. Osborne ; " but I must say that I 
 think his piety as sincere as it is fervid." 
 
 " Will you accompany me to Hollis-street, on Sunday, 
 young ladies ? " inquired Somerville. 
 
 Grace looked to her father for consent, and having 
 readily received it, cheerfully agreed to the proposal. 
 
 " And whom must you ask, Miss Fitzherbert ? " 
 said he. 
 
 " Aunt Sandford is visiting one of her friends, for a 
 few days — so I cannot ask her ; and Uncle Hutchinson 
 has already looked that I might go." 
 
 Somerville rallied them a little about being so duti- 
 
60 THE REBELS. 
 
 ful and obedient ; and talked of Hesperian fruit, drag- 
 ons, &c. 
 
 The minutes "flew away with down upon their 
 feet ; " and it was late when Doctor Willard looked at 
 his watch, and observed, "My time must be too fast." 
 
 " How can it be otherwise, when it has such fair 
 reasons for its flight?" said Somerville, bowing to 
 Grace. 
 
 The young physician turned rapidly, and bade the 
 company good-evening. 
 
 Doctor Byles, too, who had been engaged with Mr. 
 Osborne in a discussion concerning the different tenets 
 of Wesley and Whitfield, arose and prepared to depart. 
 
 " I must not lose your friendship, if I am a whig," 
 said Mr. Osborne, as the doctor moved toward the door. 
 
 " \ou see. Brother Osborne, that a wig is very near to 
 me," replied he, touching his head. 
 
 " Near to your head, but not to your heart," said 
 Lucretia. 
 
 " Those who know me well know that they are very 
 near each other," responded he ; and, bidding them all 
 an affectionate good-night, he returned to his home. 
 
 The family devotions, which immediately followed his 
 departure, were perfectly delightful to all. The simple 
 and impressive prayer, in which the father so earnestly 
 entreated that the snares of youth might not be con- 
 cealed beneath its flowers, betrayed such a mixture of 
 human tenderness and religious fervor, that his guests 
 could not but forgive the emphasis with which he begged 
 that " God would guide the hearts of kings, and give 
 their counsellors wisdom." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 "Sohj" thought Mr. Glossin, "here is one finger in, at least ; and 
 that I will make the means of introducing my vrhole hand." 
 
 Guy Marmering. 
 
 We must now call the attention of our readers to the 
 miser whom we introduced in our second chapter. A 
 day or two after the riot in Friezel-court, he was en- 
 gaged in earnest conversation with a desperate looking 
 man, to whom he was bound by those terribly galling 
 chains which link the guilty in unhallowed communion. 
 
 In tones of whining entreaty, Mr. Townsend began by 
 saying, " So, after helping me to these Fitzherbert pa- 
 pers, and after forging letters to the widow, you say you 
 will leave me in the lurch, if I get into any trouble by 
 this deuced East India uncle's coming to life again. I 
 heard all the name were dead and gone ; and my heart 
 has been at rest about 'em, many a year." 
 
 "When it is knowTi that Mrs. Fitzherbert's letters 
 never reached England, you will be suspected, of course ; 
 but there is no witness to prove anything against you, 
 but myself, — and you know well enough what will buy 
 me.'^ ' 
 
 " I have told you, a thousand times, that you should 
 be remembered in my will." 
 
 "So the bird promised his wings to the mouse, that 
 gnawed open the door of his cage ; but the first thing 
 the poor mouse knew, was that his wings had borne him 
 off to the skies. I don't mean, by the way, that there is 
 any danger of your taking an upward journey. Never- 
 6 
 
62 THE REBELS. 
 
 theless, you may die shortly, and what good will your 
 promises do me then ? I want no legacy for myself. I 
 have already told you that every penny of your property 
 must be left to the one I shall name to you, unless you 
 are willing to have your life left at the mercy of the 
 law." 
 
 The miser groaned, in all the various tones of dis- 
 tressed dotage. 
 
 " There is no use in bewailing the matter thus," said 
 his rough companion. " The will must be drawn, 
 signed, and attested, before this night. Else I will 
 tell all." 
 
 " You ha'n't any proof," rejoined the trembling miser; 
 " and who is going to believe your word ? " 
 
 " The devil, I ha'n't ! " exclaimed Wilson. " Hav' n't 
 I all the captain's papers, and the widow's letters, 
 locked fast in my chest ? " 
 
 The features of the old man were convulsed with rage 
 and fear. * 
 
 " You told me," said he, " that you lost them in the 
 street, the night of the fracas." 
 
 " I lied, for sport," replied Wilson. " Do you think I 
 would carry such papers in my pocket, when I went 
 into the midst of a mob ? " 
 
 " You stole 'em from me, with false keys ! " murmured 
 Townsend. 
 
 " That 's neither here nor there, so long as I have got 
 them, and there are marks enough on their white faces 
 to hang you high and dry." 
 
 " I can prove to the lieutenant governor, that you 
 were among the rioters," growled the miser. 
 
 "And much good may it do him and you. Tell him 
 
THE REBELS. 63 
 
 to send a warrant after the fly that bites him in harvest- 
 time. Gibbet-making will be a profitable trade, if all 
 who committed that offence are to be hung. Send him 
 word that I was in the mob; and, as an offset, I will let 
 him know^ of the bank-notes you picked up in his library, 
 and thrust into your pocket." 
 
 " The evil one helps you ! " exclaimed he. " How 
 could you know that ? " 
 
 "If he finds time to help me, it is because you have 
 learned out," said Wilson. *' I found it out by my eyes, 
 which have helped me to many a useful thing, in my 
 day. You see I have evidence enough to do what I have 
 a mind to ; and I promise you 1 will make use of it, if 
 this day closes without your making a will in favor of 
 my daughter." 
 
 " Daughter ! I never heard you had a wife." 
 
 An agonized expression passed over Wilson's face. 
 " I have a daughter," said he, " as lovely a creature as 
 man ever looked on. O ! — " 
 
 He stooped down, and covered his face with his 
 hands. 
 
 Mr. Townsend gazed at him, in a perfect stupor of 
 surprise ; for it was long since he had witnessed any- 
 thing like human emotion. 
 
 Wilson rose and w^alked across the room several times. 
 " Why have I betrayed the sorrows of a bursting heart 
 to such a wretch as he is ? " thought he. He stopped 
 before Mr. Townsend, and, with a mixture of sadness and 
 decision, said, " I have no earthly hopes or wishes, but 
 for this child. If you will leave her all your property, it 
 will be well with you. If not, I put the match to a mine 
 that will blow you up in its explosion." 
 
64 THE REBELS. 
 
 " There an't a charge of powder in the house,'* 
 rejoined the old man. "I never buy things I don't 
 want." 
 
 "Fool!" exclaimed Wilson, " the powder I blow up 
 will be your own knavery. Will you, or will you not, 
 comply with my directions ? " 
 
 The miser groaned deeply. " It is hard to toil the 
 best of one's days, and then throw the money away upon 
 strangers," said he. "My nephew often sends me a 
 pretty letter and a bottle of wine, free of expense, and he 
 is the only one that cares for the poor old man. Besides, 
 I don't know but I may change my situation. One of 
 the first ladies in the place did the same as tell me she 
 would marry me." 
 
 " She would send to the dissection-room for a bride- 
 groom, as soon," replied Wilson, with a look indicating 
 the deepest contempt. " Shall I send for a lawyer, about 
 this business ? " 
 
 " If I could be sure about that box of silver," said the 
 old man, hesitatingly. 
 
 " You may be sure of it, if 3'ou will follow my direc- 
 tions. I know where it is." 
 
 " And why don't you get it yourself ? " asked the 
 miser, with a look that he intended should be extremely 
 arch. 
 
 "It would be ill work digging that depth alone ; and 
 there must be numbers for the charm, they say." 
 
 " How did you first know about it ? " said the old 
 man, drawing his chair close to the speaker. 
 
 " When I was on board the pirate ship, we overtook a 
 richly freighted vessej, a little ofT Cuba. We boarded 
 her, and seized all her cargo. A small iron chest, 
 
THE REBELS. 65 
 
 directed to Halifax, was taken out of the cabin. Two 
 rolls of parchment were found on the top, containing 
 the name of the owner, and mentioning the captain to 
 whose care it was intrusted, the destination of the 
 vessel, and so forth. On a strip of canvass were spread 
 twelve ingots of gold ; and, beneath this, the Spanish 
 silver lay in piles. This treasure belonged to Captain 
 Fitzherbert, who had left it in the care of a friend at 
 Cuba, with directions to send it to his widow, at Halifax, 
 in case of his death. The captain and mate took theJt- 
 strong box to themselves, dividing the remainder of the 
 prize (and a noble one she was) among us sailors. To 
 make a long story short, we made for Boston; and, 
 when we came within sight of the island, the captain 
 despatched a boat, with three men and a negro, toward 
 the castle, about midnight. I heard them whisper, 
 ' Place it where the shadows of the two elms meet at 
 twelve o'clock.' 
 
 " ' We know how to do the business,' was the answer; 
 and presently the dead silence was disturbed by the 
 loud dash of their oars, as they manfully rowed towards 
 land. 
 
 " ' Muffle your oars ! ' said the mate. ' D n you, 
 
 you '11 wake the castle guard, at this rate.' 
 
 " ' Keep in the shade, as you pass the garrison,' said 
 the captain. 
 
 " The commands were obeyed ; and the trickling of 
 the water was all I heard. The boat swept round to 
 the back part of the island, and I saw it no more. The 
 next day, the three men returned; but the negro was 
 not with them." 
 
 " What had become of him ? " asked Mr. Townsend. 
 6=^ 
 
66 THE REBELS. 
 
 " He was sacrificed to the devil. They always put a 
 corpse under their treasure." 
 
 " And is the box there now ? " 
 
 " No doubt. It is no easy work to get money that is 
 left in the grip of Satan, unless one knows how to loosen 
 his fingers." 
 
 " And can that be done ? " eagerly inquired the miser. 
 
 " There is a woman, called Molly the w^itch, who, 
 they say, knows the art. I will go to her for information, 
 if you will pay the men for digging, and give me a 
 hundred crow^ns for my trouble ; and as for this affair 
 about the will, if you do as I tell you, the negro buried 
 under that iron chest could not keep your secret better 
 than I will." 
 
 " If I was sure there would be the valee of — " 
 
 " Not less than ten thousand pounds, I promise you," 
 interrupted Wilson. 
 
 The old man paused, before he ventured to sa}^, " I 
 have not long to live ; but nobody cares for that. 1 
 shall neither be missed nor moaned. This nephew is 
 the only being that has a drop of my father's blood in 
 his veins. I cannot disinherit him." 
 
 " You have been playing a game of selfishness and 
 guilt, all 3^our life," responded Wilson ; " and now that 
 you are completely in the nine-holes, you wdll not throw 
 your knave of trumps on the last lift." 
 ■ For the first time, Wilson perceived some emotion on 
 the face of that lonely mortal. " Old as I am, I must 
 expect to die soon," said he; "but I would not dangle 
 from a halter. I should not think you would have the 
 heart to tumble this old carcass into the grave." 
 
 " I have been familiar with blood," replied his des- 
 
THE REBELS. 67 
 
 perate associate ; " but I don't want your wretched life, 
 if you will give your bags of gold instead." 
 
 The miser leaned his hands upon his knees, rocked 
 vehemently from side to side, and heaved his accus- 
 tomed groan, — but said nothing. 
 
 " Tell me instantly what you will do ! " said Wilson, 
 seizinsf his shoulder with a fierceness that made him 
 quake beneath his grasp. " Shall I go to Hutchinson, 
 and procure a Tyburn tippet for you? Or, will you 
 provide for my daughter?" 
 
 Half friditened out of his senses, the old man mut- 
 tered, " If the young folks would but marry — " 
 
 " A bright thought, by Jove ! " exclaimed Wilson ; — 
 and he went on talking to himself, in an under tone, 
 " Clever fellow, too ; as much better than this old fool as 
 Gertrude is better than I am. But," continued he, aloud, 
 " what will you do for me, if the young man has some 
 boyish freak, and chooses to marrj' another ? " 
 
 " I will leave something to the young woman. May 
 be, fixe thousand crowTis." 
 
 " The whole ! the wdiole ! every farthing of j'our 
 mone}' I " exclaimed Wilson. " All that you have must 
 you give for your life." 
 
 " Take all, then," said the miser. " 0, the day that 
 I knew you was an unlucky one for me I " 
 
 A lawyer and witnesses were immediately called. 
 Emboldened by their presence, the covetous old man 
 was about to recant vrhat he had promised ; but a glance 
 from the terrible eye of Wilson intimidated him ; and, 
 amid sighs, and groans, and tears, a deed of gift was at 
 length wTitten, which made Gertrude Wilson heiress to 
 
68 THE REBELS. 
 
 his large fortune, in case Edward Percival refused to 
 marry her. 
 
 A long and earnest conversation respecting the chest 
 of silver ensued; and, about four o'clock, p. m., an up- 
 right vehicle, studded with brass nails, and adorned with 
 wings that looked like anything but flying, conveyed 
 Mr. Townsend and his accomplice to the dwelling of 
 the " spae wife." After travelling a few miles, they 
 turned into a sequestered path, obviously unfrequented. 
 They had not proceeded far, when two half-starved 
 hounds sprung from the thicket, and set up a most 
 hideous yell. 
 
 " Whist, Mars ! Down with you, Hecate ! " exclaimed 
 a voice, the shrillness of which alone indicated that it 
 came from woman. 
 
 The travellers looked toward the place whence the 
 sound proceeded, and saw a tall, athletic female, clear- 
 ing the bushes, and coming towards them with rapid 
 strides. Her masculine figure, of such uncommon height 
 and rigid outline ; the gray hair, that hung in confused 
 masses about her haggard countenance ; and the frenzied 
 look of her large blue eyes, would have struck the stoutest 
 heart with something like dread. 
 
 When asked where Molly Bradstreet resided, she 
 answered, " In that hut, at the foot of Rattlesnake Hill. 
 What 's your want ? I am the woman." 
 
 She looked at Wilson, as she spoke, with an expres- 
 sion that made him shudder. Had he ever knowTi the 
 strange being, he would have thought it indicated per- 
 sonal hatred, deep, settled, and rancorous ; and, though 
 he was sure she was a stranger, and that he could not, 
 of course, be an object of animosity, that look haunted 
 
THE REBELS. 69 
 
 him, for days after, like a frightful dream. Recovering 
 from his momentary embarrassment, he briefly explained 
 his errand. 
 
 " Follow me," she replied ; " but you must leave the 
 horse here. You '11 find no footing for the beast." 
 
 Complying with her directions, they pursued a crooked 
 path, occasionally intercepted by brake and briar, until 
 they stood before the wretched hovel. 
 
 " Walk in," said she, lowering her gigantic stature, as 
 she led the way. " What questions would you ask ? " 
 she added, as she seated herself on the bed, and pointed 
 to a rude stool, that constituted her whole furniture. 
 
 " Tell us what we come for," said the old miser. 
 " If you don't know that, we wont give you a copper." 
 
 " You are a cunning one," rejoined she, with a hollow 
 laugh. 
 
 After learning the days of the month on which they 
 were born, she looked in an almanac, and ascertained 
 throuorh what sigri the sun was then travellinof, marked 
 it do\^^i, pressed her hand against her forehead for a few 
 moments, and then carefully examined two large, dirty 
 folios, covered, within and without, with strange and 
 apparently unintelligible characters. Some tea-grounds 
 were next deposited in a cup, which Wilson was ordered 
 silently to whirl round three times three. . This opera- 
 tion being performed with the most portentous solem- 
 nity, she looked alternately at the cup and the books, 
 till Wilson, weary of the process, exclaimed, " What 
 answer, woman ? " 
 
 " There is gold, hidden gold ! " responded the oracle. 
 
 Mr. Townsend, who had, from the beginning, been 
 the personification of extreme fear, now stole toward the 
 
70 THE REBELS. 
 
 door, muttering, " She has to do with the spirits of 
 darkness ! " 
 
 The sybil grinned, and showed her loosened, yellow 
 teeth. 
 
 " What more, witch ? " said the impatient Wilson. 
 
 " Witch ! " echoed she, with a malignant scowl. 
 
 " Mrs. Bradstreet, then," said the inquirer, in a more 
 soothing tone. 
 
 " In your cup, there is crime," she cried. " Here is 
 the corpse of a woman, whom you would give worlds to 
 see alive, and beautiful, and innocent, as she was before 
 she knew you." 
 
 A withering glance accompanied these words, and 
 Wilson, springing forward, shook her, in the intensity 
 of his anxiety and rage. " Hag ! where did you learn 
 that ? " shouted he. 
 
 With strength that almost equalled his own, she threw 
 him from her, and replied, with affected calmness, "I 
 have read to you what the fates have written, — nothing 
 more." 
 
 Ashamed of having thus betrayed himself, he asked 
 her to proceed. 
 
 "I tell you there is blood in the cup," said she. 
 " Your riffht arm hath been familiar with the sword, and 
 the pistol has not been quiet in your hand. Good luck 
 is near you now, and it comes in the form of a wedding- 
 ring ; but the circle of fortune is broken before it reaches 
 the centre of the cup, and tears lie at the bottom. A 
 death of agony is not far distant." 
 
 Without answering a word, the person to whom she 
 had spoken walked to the door, and breathed the fresh 
 air, as if he needed its strengthening influence; for, 
 
THE REBELS. 71 
 
 though ashamed of his weakness, he could not but give 
 his reluctant faith to a being who had thus unaccount- 
 ably read his blood-stained page of life. With a trem- 
 bling hand, the miser took the cup, and performed the 
 mystic ceremony. 
 
 " There is but little to tell you, sir," said the witch. 
 "You have loved gold, and gained it, — and you will 
 keep it till you die. A sword hangs over your head ; 
 but it will not drop. Your sand is almost run out, and 
 until the last grain is shaken through, your deeds will 
 be kept secret." 
 
 " Let us go hence," said Mr. TowTisend, as he stag- 
 gered toward the door ; *' for, if ever the wicked one 
 was in human shape — " 
 
 " But what of the money ? " inquired Wilson. 
 
 " There is money hid," was the laconic answer. 
 
 " And how is it to be found ? " 
 
 " If the sea-robber buried it, let three, or nine, or fif- 
 teen men, seek for it. He who bears the witch-hazel 
 rod must carry it upright till it bows down in spite of 
 his strength. At that spot let them dig ; and let not 
 a word be spoken within hearing of it. Perhaps the 
 meeting of two shadows, at twelve o'clock, may mark 
 the place ; for the pirates were ever particular about 
 that. Every man must fasten a Bible on his neck with 
 a silken cord. If none speak, within a circle of nine 
 yards, you '11 find the treasure." 
 
 Wilson laid two Spanish dollars on the table. 
 
 " It is too much," said the covetous old man, seizing" 
 hold of one of them. " Breath costs nothing." 
 
 "Don't it?" said the wrinkled dame, forcing open 
 
72 THE REBELS. 
 
 I 
 
 the skinny fingers that had closed over the money. 
 " You will think it is worth more, two months hence." 
 
 "Farewell, witch," said Wilson, who had recovered 
 the bold and savage manner most natural to him. 
 
 *« Farewell," muttered she, as they plunged into the 
 thicket; "and take an old mother's curse. I know ye 
 well, though you know not me." 
 
 A savage exultation hghted up her eyes for a moment, 
 and she shook her head toward them, as she added, "I '11 
 have my revenge I " 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 His peculiar manner and power arose from an energy* of soul, which 
 nature could give, but which no human being could justly copy, 
 
 Wirt. 
 
 On the ensuing Sabbath, Somerville joined the young- 
 ladies, on their way to Hollis-street. The crowd pre- 
 sented a strange contrast to the congregations of the 
 present day. Here and there, a taper-waisted damsel, 
 glittering in embroidered brocade, with flowers even 
 larger than life, while close by her side walked the 
 dandy of that period, with bright red waistcoat, leather 
 small-clothes, and enormous buckles sparkling in the sun. 
 Then followed a humble dame, with rustle gown and 
 checked apron, leading a reluctant urchin, stumbling 
 along with his little three-cornered scraper ; the tears still 
 trickling doun his cheeks, forced from him by the pain- 
 ful operation of being shoved and shaken into his tight 
 breeches for the first time. In the rear came an older 
 boy, alternatel}?- casting an envious eye on the trim little 
 fellow before him, and a despairing glance at his own 
 clothes, vrhich, drenched by repeated rains, hung in slov- 
 enly folds about his ankles. 
 
 Among this motley group was one individual, who 
 
 entirely arrested Lucretia's attention. She walked before 
 
 them with a most masculine stride, and ever and anon 
 
 cast back an anxious, earnest look, as she muttered, 
 
 7 
 
74 THE REBELS. 
 
 " Ay, as good as the proudest ; thanks to a poor old 
 woman she never dreams of." 
 
 " Some insane creature, I imagine," observed Somer- 
 ville. 
 
 Lucretia thought so, too; but the expression of her 
 face haunted her imagination ; and she was unable to 
 dispei the charm, until she had vainly searched around 
 the church for the singular apparition. 
 
 Eager and respectful attention characterized the 
 whole audience. 
 
 There was nothing in the appearance of this extraor- 
 dinar}'' man which would lead you to suppose that a 
 Felix would tremble before him. He was something 
 above the middle stature, well proportioned, and remark- 
 able for a native gracefulness of manner. His complex- 
 ion was very fair, his features regular, and his dark-blue 
 eyes small and lively : in recovering from the measles, 
 he had contracted a squint with one of them ; but this 
 peculiarity rather rendered the expression of his counte- 
 nance more rememberable, than in any degree lessened 
 the effect of its uncommon sweetness. His voice excelled, 
 both in melody and compass ; and its fine modulations 
 were happily accompanied by that gi'ace of action which 
 he possessed in an eminent degree, and which has been 
 said to be the chief requisite of an orator. To have seen 
 him when he first commenced, one would have thought 
 him anything but enthusiastic and glowing ; but, as he 
 proceeded, his heart warmed with his subject, and his 
 manner became impetuous and animated, till, forgetful 
 of everything around him, he seemed to kneel at the 
 throne of Jehovah, and to beseech in agony for his fellow- 
 beings. 
 
THE REBELS. 75 
 
 After he had finished his prayer, he kneh for a long 
 time in profound silence ; and so powerfully had it affect- 
 ed the most heartless of his audience, that a stillness 
 like that of the tomb pervaded the whole house. 
 
 Before he commenced his sermon, long, darkening- 
 columns crowded the bright sunny sk^' of the morning, 
 and swept their dull shadows over the building, in fear- 
 ful augury of the storm. 
 
 His text was : " Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; 
 for many, I say unto you, shall seek to enter in, and 
 shall not be able." 
 
 " See that emblem of human life," said he, as he 
 pointed to a shadow that was flitting across the floor. 
 " It passed for a moment, and concealed the brightness 
 of Heaven from our view — but it is gone. And where 
 will ye. be, my hearers, when your lives have passed 
 away, like that dark cloud ? O, my dear friends, I see 
 thousands sitting attentive, with their eyes fixed on the 
 poor, unworthy preacher. In a few days, w^e shall all 
 meet at the judgment-seat of Christ. We shall form a 
 part of that vast assembly which will gather before his 
 throne ; and every eye will behold the Judge. With a 
 voice whose call you must abide and answ€r, he will 
 inquire w^hether on earth ye strove to enter in at the 
 strait gate — whether you were supremely devoted to 
 God — whether your hearts were absorbed in Him. My 
 blood runs cold when I think how many of you will then 
 seek to enter in, and shall not be able. O, what plea 
 can you make before the Judge of the whole earth ? Can 
 you say it has been your whole endeavor to mortify the 
 flesh, with its affections and lusts ? That your life has 
 been one long effort to do the will of God ? No ! you 
 
76 THE REBELS. 
 
 » 
 
 must answer, I made myself easy in the world, by flat- 
 tering myself that all would end well; but I have 
 deceived my o\vn soul, and am lost. 
 
 "You, oh false and hollow Christian — of what avail 
 will it be that you have done many things — that you have 
 read much in the sacred word — that you have made 
 long pmyers — that you have attended religious duties, 
 and appeared holy in the eyes of men ? What will all 
 this be, if, instead of loving Him supremely, you have 
 been supposing you should exalt yourself in heaven, by 
 acts really polluted and unholy ? 
 
 " And you, rich man, wherefore do you hoard your sil- 
 ver? Wherefore count the price you have received for 
 him whom you ever}" day crucify, in your love of gain ? 
 Why, that when you are too poor to buy a drop of cold 
 water, your beloved son may be rolled to hell in his char- 
 iot, pillowed and cushioned about him I " 
 
 His eye gradually lighted up, as he proceeded, till, 
 towards the close, it seemed to sparkle with celestial fire. 
 
 " 0, sinners ! " he exclaimed. " By all your hopes of 
 happiness, I beseech you to repent I Let not the A\Tath 
 of God be awakened ! Let not the fires of eternity be 
 kindled against you ! See there ! " said he, pointing to 
 the lightning which played on the corner of the pulpit. 
 " 'T is a glance from the angr}" eye of Jehovah ! Hark! " 
 continued he, raising his finger, in a listening attitude, as 
 the distant thunder grew louder and louder, and broke 
 in one tremendous crash over the building. "It was the 
 voice of the Almighty, as he passed b)?- in his anger ! " 
 
 As the sound died away, he covered his face with his 
 hands, and knelt beside his pulpit, apparently lost in 
 inward and intense prayer. The storm passed rapidly 
 
THE REBELS. 77 
 
 by, and the sun, bursting forth in his might, threw 
 across the heavens a magnificent arch of peace. Rising, 
 and pointing to the beautiful object, he exclaimed, "Look 
 upon the rainbow I and praise him that made it. Very 
 beautiful it is, in the brightness thereof. It compasseth 
 the heavens about with glor}' ; and the hands of the 
 Most High have bended it." 
 
 The effect was astonishing. Even Somen'ille shaded 
 his eyes when he pointed to the lightning, and knelt as 
 he Hstened to the approaching thunder ; — while the 
 deep sensibility of Grace, and the thoughtless vivacity 
 of Lucretia, yielded to the powerful excitement, in an 
 unrestrained burst of tears. 
 
 " Who could resist such eloquence ?" said Lucretia, as 
 they mingled with the departing throng. 
 
 "I should think no one who had a human heart,'* 
 answered Somer\-ille. " It is as resistless as it is untu- 
 tored. I was never before so completely aware of my 
 own nothingness — never so forcibly reminded that I 
 was a mere drop in the vast ocean of existence." 
 
 " Some doubt ]Mr. "Whitfield's talents, as well as his 
 piety," rejoined Lucretia ; " but after what I have wit- 
 nessed this morning, I shall never distrust the sincerity 
 of his enthusiastic devotion. The heart that could dic- 
 tate such lanoTiage must have been bathed in the foun- 
 tains of life. Who that had heard him to-day could 
 think of him as a lad of fifteen, making mops, washing 
 floors, and taking care of horses, at an inn ?" 
 
 " Yet, young as he then was," replied Somer\-ille, " it 
 is said the singular boy found leisure, amid his servile 
 employments, to read Thomas a Kempis, and to write 
 two or three sermons." 
 
 7# 
 
78 THE REBELS. 
 
 "It is but another proof that genius will find its 
 upward way, whatever obstacles may lie in its path," 
 said Lucretia. " You have promised to join us at Mr. 
 Osborne's church, this afternoon, you know. ; You will 
 there hear preaching of a different kind ; but I do not 
 think the contrast will prove unfavorable to my friend." 
 
 Grace, usually silent and timid, said nothing; but her 
 beautiful eyelashes were still impearled with tears, and 
 her sweet face was radiant with pleasure v»'hen she 
 heard the allusion to her father. 
 
 Mr. Osborne's eloquence was, as they had anticipated, 
 a perfect contrast to that of Mr.. Whitfield. He, to.o, 
 seemed to feel the importance of his subject, and often 
 rose to majestic fervor, when urging it upon his hearers. 
 He never appeared to them invested in the sublimity of 
 wrathful denunciation, — but he entreated them, with all 
 the earnestness of a father, to kneel at the Saviour's feet, 
 and lay their burthens there. 
 
 The Quaker poet has described, in one powerful line, 
 the sensations excited by the first view of the stormy 
 ocean, with the boundless canopy of heaven above it, 
 and its frightful barrier of rocks and precipices. 
 
 " My spirit was mute, in the presence of power ! " 
 
 Mr. Whitfield's eloquence left a similar impression on 
 the soul ; but Mr. Osborne was like a calm, deep river, 
 reflecting the light of heaven with mildness and splen- 
 dor. The first left the sensitive heart of Grace in a 
 state of painfulness, almost amounting to anguish ; from 
 the latter, she returned to kneel at the bed-side, with 
 involuntary devotion, as she said, " Father in heaven, 
 let me be guided in all things by thee I " Without ever 
 
THE REBELS. 79 
 
 talking of religion, or pretending to more piety than her 
 associates, Grace well understood this delightful state of 
 internal resignation. It was not because she so often 
 heard her father speak on the subject. Young as she 
 was, experience had taught her that nothing else could 
 exalt every feeling into the region of pure, ethereal tran- 
 quillity, and leave no void in the heart. Lucretia had 
 more quickness of feeling, but less depth ; and she pos- 
 sessed a laro-e share of that freedom of thouo^ht, that 
 boldness of investigation, which renders exalted talents 
 a peculiarly dangerous gift. Such minds, while they 
 proudly. avoid the shoals of superstition, are too apt to be 
 WTecked on the rocks of scepticism. The same faculties 
 which open the hidden causes and effects of nature to 
 our view, will not guide us aright, when studying into 
 the state of the soul, and the nature of its future exist- 
 ence. There is a point where "the divinity within" 
 peremptorily says, " Here shall thy proud waves be 
 stayed." Very few have groped about the veil which 
 separates revealed religion from its internal mysteries, 
 until they have become enveloped in the thick folds of 
 its draper}', without, at times, wishing for the simple, 
 undoubting faith of the ignorant. Indeed, there never 
 was a soul, however cold in its speculations, however 
 wild and irregular in its passions, that has not felt the 
 calm influence of devotion stealing over it, like the 
 delicious breathings of distant music. Such impressions 
 were now vivid in the mind of Lucretia ; but it was her 
 fault, that religion was the offspring of excitement, and 
 the sport of impulse. Its power was as transitory as it 
 was entire ; and before she retired to rest, she had for- 
 gotten everything but Somerville. He had invited the 
 
80 THE REBELS. 
 
 ladies to an evening sail in the harbor, and promised 
 that the plan should be carried into execution before the 
 week had expired. To think of his looks, expressions, 
 the very tones of his voice, furnished ample food for her 
 imagination, during the interim; for, in a heart that loves 
 as youth and genius are too apt to love, the progress of 
 affection nearly equals the rapidity of light. 
 
*.», 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Such as I am, all true lovers are ; 
 Unstaid and skittish in all motions else, 
 Save in the constant image of the creature 
 That is beloved. Twelfth Night. 
 
 The proposed sail was unavoidably deferred until the 
 9th of September, during which time our young friends 
 were almost constantly together. The night chosen for 
 the expedition was rich in autumnal beaut}'. It was one 
 of those calm, delightful evenings, when the soul bathes 
 itself in stillness, and thoughts pure as an infant's 
 dreams come crowding on the heart. Nature, like an 
 oriental beauty, seemed to repose on her masriificent 
 couch, amid the sparkling and bubbling of fountains, the 
 perfume -of flowers, and the varied witcherj' of music. 
 At such seasons, the chords of feeHng are lightly 
 touched, as if fanned by the wings of some passing 
 seraph, and they vibrate only to what is calm and holy. 
 Selfishness, prejudice, and passion, have no entrance 
 there ; and man is, for a while, what God designed him, 
 — a rich-toned instrument, thriUed by the sHghtest influ- 
 ence of heaven. This capacity for refined "pleasure 
 exists, more or less, in ever)' mind, — not like the Apol- 
 los and Dianas, which Aristotle supposed to be concealed 
 in the unhevsm marble, waiting for art to fashion them ; 
 but like music of the ■v^'inds, waked by the faintest breath 
 into an existence as delicious as it is fleeting. But, 
 
82 THE REBELS. 
 
 though all may worship at the shrine of nature, it is not 
 given to every one to enter the holy of holies, and with- 
 draw the veil. Such souls as Lucretia's alone can feel 
 the full force of its softening and mysterious power. 
 Her mind, vigorous as an eagle's wing, and rapid as the 
 streams of Chili, had been, early left to her own guid- 
 ance. Under such circumstances, imagination had 
 become her favorite region ; but the glowing clim.ate that 
 brought the weeds to rank luxuriance did not scorch the 
 beauty of the flowers. She was wont to examine every- 
 thing in the illusive kaleidoscope of fancj^, which fonns 
 broken glass and tinselled fragments into as beautiful 
 and regular combinations as polished diamonds and 
 pearls bedded in gold. Had nature only been seen 
 under this bright delusion, it would have been well. ■ It 
 was no hanii that the mighty cavalcade of worlds, 
 wheeling through the desert realms of space ; the hills, 
 in their broad and mellow sunshine ; the rivers, laughing 
 and leaping in their joyous course ; and the western sky, 
 warmly blushing at the bright glance of her departing 
 lover, should speak to her a language deeper than 
 poetry : but at that susceptible age, when the affections 
 are fully developed while the judgment remains in 
 embryo, more dangerous objects are often invested with 
 the rainbow-robe of romance. In our maturer years, we 
 laugh at the eager hopes and intense fears of 3'outhful 
 love ; but ridicule cannot disarm the mischievous power, 
 and intellect frequently struggles in chains which it can- 
 not burst. To search out all the involutions of a 
 woman's heart, — to describe all its fluctuations, from 
 embarrassed consciousness, to friendship apparently care- 
 less, or tenderness poorly disguised, — would be more 
 
 
THE REBELS, 83 
 
 difficult than to trace the intri^es of statesmen, or the rise 
 and fall of empires ; and were the task well performed, it 
 ^yould make a very silly appearance in print. Suffice it, 
 therefore, to say, that the burthen was sufficiently hea\y 
 to the foolish heart which carried it ; and that Lucretia 
 joined the evening party with no small portion of sad- 
 ness. Grace, likewise, came with Vv'ounded delicacy and 
 conflicting- feelings. Not that her better disciplined 
 mind yielded to the infatuation which held such undi- 
 vided sway over her impetuous friend ; but her shrinldng 
 modesty was alarmed, lest others should suppose it so. 
 
 Somemlle had read the "Rape of the Lock" to hex 
 and Lucretia, and had afterwards presented her with the 
 elegant little volume. All the passages he admired were 
 marked with a pencil, his observations \\Titten in the 
 margin, and the book carefully placed in a small ebony 
 writinsf-desk, to which her brother alone had access. 
 Henry had most unfortunately left the drawer open 
 when his friend came to make arrangements for their 
 aquatic excursion. He discovered all, before Grace 
 entered, — and the liquid radiance, for which his eye 
 was remarkable, expressed unrestrained tenderness and 
 exultation. 
 
 Pride, delicacy, feelings as yet without a name, in 
 short, everything that could create a tempest in woman's 
 heart, was at once active. Face, neck and hands, were 
 covered with blushes, — but her reception was formal 
 even to coldness ; and in a few moments she retired to 
 her owTi room. There she succeeded in believino; that 
 respect for Somerville's talents had alone influenced her 
 conduct; and her only fear was, that he would not be 
 quite so sure of it as herself. The novice reasoned well, 
 
84 THE REBELS. 
 
 and resolved well ; — nevertheless, the blind guest had 
 gained admittance, unbidden and unknown, with a wed- 
 ding-garment stainless as the drifted snow. 
 
 To convince Somerville that she really valued him 
 only as her brother's friend, Grace resolved to treat him 
 with marked indifference. Accordingly, when the boat 
 was drawn up to the wharf, she passed him, and gave 
 her hand to Doctor Willard. For an instant a deep froA\Ti 
 settled on the brov/ of the young Englishman, but it 
 immediately passed away ; and, giving his hand to 
 Lucretia, he sprang into the boat, and seated himself by 
 her side. Henry Osborne, ever mindful of those ladies 
 whose claims were the least, offered his services to Miss 
 Sandford ; and Doctor Byles came after, saying aloud, 
 
 " The king himself hath followed her, — 
 When she has walked before." 
 
 There was an abundance of mirth, whether heartfelt 
 or not. Miss Sandford was in good humor with herself 
 and all the world (Doctor Byles always excepted) ; and, 
 having a good stock of sense, and a talent at repartee, 
 she by no means diminished the pleasure of the party. 
 As for Doctor Byles, the fountain of his wit was never 
 known to be dry, though sage advice and dignified 
 admonition were frequently mingled with its playful 
 brilliancy or pungent sarcasm. Henry Osborne pre- 
 served his usual calm, unostentatious, but perfectly 
 delightful manner. Doctor Willard, enthusiastic, and 
 easily excited, made no attempt to conceal the happi- 
 ness which Miss Osborne's unwonted kindness inspired. 
 Somerville talked with unusual volubility, and surpassed 
 even his own accustomed gallantry. Grace with diffi- 
 
THE REBELS. 85 
 
 culty forced back her tears, yet she appeared uncom- 
 monly cheerful ; — while the flushed cheek, the spark- 
 ling- eye, and the unconscious deference of all Lucretia's 
 looks and actions, betrayed the subtle power that pro- 
 duced them. The helmsman completed the group; 
 and, to have judged by his antiquated dress, his gray 
 hairs, his closely fitted cap, his sonorous voice, and his 
 coarse but strongly marked features, one would have sup- 
 posed that Brewster or Standish was guiding his rude 
 skiff in the unfrequented bay of Plymouth. 
 
 As they passed " the gay young group of grassy 
 islands" which decorate our beautiftd harbor, Lucretia 
 observed, " How very lovely these little spots appear, 
 where the moon gleams through the dense shade, and 
 tinges the water with its brightness! " 
 
 " It is like the smile on the face, when the heart is cold 
 and breaking," said Grace. 
 
 " A metaphor from the lips of Grace Osborne, as I 
 live ! " exclaimed Lucretia. 
 
 '• You know what is the boon inspirer of poetry," 
 rejoined Somerville, looking very archly at Miss Os- 
 borne. 
 
 He was thinking of Doctor Willard, when he spoke ; 
 but Grace, with a readiness that consciousness could 
 alone have produced, saw nothing but vanity and rude- 
 ness in the insinuation. 
 
 An angry suffusion passed over her pale brow, and 
 she hastily turned to talk with the young physician. In 
 the evening light her confusion passed unnoticed by 
 Lucretia, who continued all exhilaration and romance. 
 She pointed out the tangled constellation of Berenice, 
 the brilliant beauty of Altair, and the royal circle of the 
 
 8 
 
86 THE REBELS. 
 
 Corona Borealis. Then she talked of the graceful gay- 
 ety of Chaucer, the melodious versification of Pope, and 
 the witching simplicity of Goldsmith. 
 
 Her want of beauty was forgotten in her unaffected 
 eloquence ; and Somerville looked at her with unfeigned 
 admiration, as he said, " What a pity you had not lived 
 in the days of chivalry. Miss Fitzherbert ! How many 
 lances would have been lowered before the majesty of — 
 mind!" 
 
 " I think Miss Fitzherbert will prefer what she will be 
 sure to receive at the present day," said Henry Osborne. 
 "I mean the homage due to a rational being — that 
 homage which mind exacts from the intellectual, and 
 genuine goodness of heart from those who know how to 
 value it." 
 
 " A very wise lecture, and very w^ll delivered, Mr. 
 Osborne," replied Somerville, bowing towards him, with 
 a very comic expression ; " but, after all, I only wish I 
 were a constellation, that I might be described with such 
 delio-htful enthusiasm." 
 
 " You always are, when in the presence of ladies," 
 rejoined Doctor Willard. 
 
 " Then he must be the Lyre," said Doctor Byles. 
 
 " Captain Somerville," said the aged steersman, " I 
 trust you will have grace given you — " 
 
 " If I guess aright, you could not have wished a thing 
 more to his mind," interrupted the witty clergyman. 
 
 Miss Osborne blushed deeply, and the smile on Lucre- 
 tia's face was stiff and unnatural. 
 
 The pilot continued : " I trust you will have grace 
 enough, before you die, to relish the savory discourses 
 
THE REBELS. S7 
 
 of wisdom, rather than the light conversation that apper- 
 taineth to this world." 
 
 " An excellent though heretical wTiter hath told us," 
 observed Doctor Byles, " that piety is like certain lamps 
 of old, which maintained their light for ages under ground, 
 but, as soon as they took air, expired. It is a doctrine 
 that the New Lights forget, my friend, though it seems 
 the old lights acted it out, generation after generation." 
 
 " If we are to keep our religion locked up from others, 
 what do you make of the command, ' Let your light so 
 shine before men ' ? " asked the pilot. 
 
 " If I read Scripture aright, that is the light of good 
 works," was the reply. 
 
 " Very true," rejoined the old man ; " and therefore 
 we should strive to attain to perfect holiness." 
 
 " Perfect holiness I " exclaimed the clerm^man. " You 
 might as well talk of such a coin as a pound sterling, or 
 a French livre." 
 
 " I don't understand what you mean touching the 
 comparison," answered the steersman ; " but I will never 
 sell my reason to any man, because he happens to be 
 more lariit than I am." 
 
 " If you should set it up at auction, it would be a poor 
 pennyworth to him that bought it," observed the rev- 
 erend doctor. " However, you are made for your place, 
 and I for mine. Some must think, and some must 
 labor; some must rule, and some must be ruled. For 
 instance, young men. Governors Bernard and Hutchin- 
 son are born to command, and you are born to obey." 
 
 " Then I shall fail in answering the end for which I 
 was made," rejoined Doctor Willard. "What difference 
 
88 THE REBELS. 
 
 is between the duke and I ? No more than between 
 two bricks, all made of one clay ; only it may be one is 
 placed on the top of a turret, the other in the bottom of 
 a well, by mere chance. If I were placed as high as the 
 duke, I should stick as fast, make as fair a show, and 
 bear out weather equally." 
 
 " dear," exclaimed Doctor Byles, " I am in a sad 
 predicament, betw^een new lights and new" fires ! One, 
 nailing heresy with a text, and the other sanctioning 
 treason with the odd ends of a play." 
 
 *' I tell you what, Doctor Byles," said the pilot, " some 
 folks do say you are a good man ; and them who know 
 you tell that you have more religion than you seem to 
 have. If so be this be true, you can't in earnest deny 
 that the New Lights and the Quakers are the only people 
 that have ' put off the old man.' " 
 
 " I don't know how far they have put off the old 
 man," rejoined the minister; "but of one thing lam 
 certain, — they keep his deeds. Since New Lights are 
 so numerous, it is desirable we should have more new 
 livers ; aixd as for the Quakers, ' they come to the Gos- 
 pel, not as law, but as a market, cheapen what they like 
 best, and leave the rest for other customers.' " 
 
 " The book where you found that likewise tells you 
 that ' some people think their zeal lukewarm, unless it 
 reduce their charity to ashes,' " retorted Miss Sandford. 
 
 " ' One man among a thousand have I found ; but a 
 woman among all those have I not found,' complains 
 Solomon ; and he complains with reason," said Doctor 
 BN'les. " What have you to do with subjects above your 
 understanding, Madam Sandford?" 
 
 " Above my understanding I " echoed the offended 
 
THE REBELS. 89 
 
 maiden. " I can tell you I began the controversy with 
 zeal, and stuck to it with perseverance." 
 
 "Ay, no doubt you stuck like a fly in a glue-pot," 
 retorted the doctor. " Forward you could not stir, by 
 reason of weakness; and the subject-matter was too 
 thick for you to dive into." 
 
 " Heard ever anybody the like of that ? " said Miss 
 Sandford. *' There is no use in talking with you, Doctor 
 Byles ; but tell me, in earnest, what can you prove against 
 the Quakers ? " 
 
 " I know the secret of your taking up in their de- 
 fence," answered the doctor. " There was a friend 
 Isaac, or a friend Jacob, that once spoke soft words to 
 thee, and told thee that thy voice was more pleasant to 
 him than the sound of rivulets, — yea, than the voice of 
 spring ; and you never could be grateful enough to him 
 for the unexampled favor." 
 
 "True, there was — " 
 
 " Well, I don't w^ant to hear the story. Tell it to 
 those who believe in love and ghosts. What do I know 
 of the Quakers ? Have n't I attended their meetings ? I 
 once heard a wise thing there. After having sat a long 
 time, and said nothing, one was moved to speak from 
 Scripture ; and he rose up and said : ' 0, ye fools ! 
 when w411 you be wise ? ' and down he sat again ; and 
 sat it was, in Latin, as well as English. At another 
 meeting, I heard nine women speak ; and all the sense 
 could have been packed in a robin's egg. One of their 
 wise ones took for his text, ' Art thou better than popu- 
 lous No ? ' Everj'body know^s that No means Eg}^- 
 tian Alexandria ; but his inward light taught him that 
 No was the eighth preacher of righteousness, and he 
 
 8^ 
 
90 THE REBELS. 
 
 was called populous, because the whole world was in his 
 ark. Another said he was sent on a long journey by the 
 spirit, and when he returned, he told that the man was 
 not at home. ' Thou fool,' said his wife, ' dost thou sup- 
 pose the Lord would send thee to a man who was not at 
 home ? ' Another came to me, and would fain inquire 
 for Mr. Churchman ; but the name being profane in his 
 eyes, he asked for Mr. Steeplehouseman." 
 
 " You seem to be fighting shadows," said Somerville, 
 " since there are no Quakers here." 
 
 "Only the ghost of Miss Sandford's only lover," an- 
 swered the doctor. 
 
 " I could set you right, in that particular, if I had a 
 mind,"" said Miss Sandford. 
 
 " Nobody ever supposed you had a mind," retorted 
 Doctor Byles. " However, I never knew an old woman 
 that was not beautiful when she was young ; I never 
 "knew a woman that could not have been married, if she 
 wished it; and I certainly never knew one but that 
 wished it, if she could." 
 
 " But, concerning the Quakers," observed Henry Os- 
 borne, — "since there is so little of the genuine spirit of 
 religion in the world, is it worth while to throw any 
 away, because we find it diluted ? " 
 
 "No man would be more unwilling to wound a really 
 tender conscience than myself," returned the clergyman; 
 "but when I see these foolish and blind guides pretend- 
 ing to lead mankind, I lose all patience. But come, my 
 friend," said he, turning to the boatman, "I am willing 
 to join in a psalm with you, though I did hear one of 
 your New Light preachers read, 'He rode into Jerusa- 
 lem on the soal of an ass ; ' from which he no doubt drew 
 
THE REBELS. 91 
 
 the certain conclusion that he had a soul. But come, let 
 us sino- a few verses : it \vill sound well on the water." 
 
 " You are a master hand for a minister," observed the 
 pilot ; "but folks do say you are better than you seem." 
 Then, taking a psalm-book from his pocket, he began : 
 " Let us sing a psalm of David." 
 
 " No, no," said the doctor, displaying a piece of writ- 
 ing, — "Let us sing a song of — Mather Byles." 
 
 The piece was well written, and those who knew his 
 character did not doubt that the warm devotion it ex- 
 pressed was perfectly sincere ; still, the scene was irresist- 
 ibly ludicrous, even to the sober-minded Henn' Osborne. 
 A smile went round when he first announced his own 
 production ; and it could not but increase, as he pro- 
 ceeded. — for, at the end of every verse, he patiently 
 waited for his companion, who, with prolonged cadence 
 and nasal t^'ang, brought up the demisemiquavers, that 
 lingered most lamentably in the rear. The gayety of 
 the young people would have met ^^'ith severe rebuke, 
 but just as the hymn was finished, Fort WilUam, with 
 the red-cross flag streaming from its summit, was seen 
 reflected in the unbroken surface of the water;' and 
 scarcely had the oar ruffled its undisturbed beauty, when 
 a group on shore arrested their attention. 
 
 " The stamped paper has arrived ! " exclaimed Henry 
 Osborne. 
 
 "And the infernal carsfo is to be lodsfed at the castle!" 
 said Doctor Willard, springing on his feet. 
 
 "I know that the paper has not yet arrived," replied 
 Somer^'ille. 
 
 " And 1 will add my testimony to the same effect, if 
 the word of a tory can be believed," said Doctor Byles. 
 
92 THE REBELS. 
 
 " No one doubts Doctor Byles, when lie condescends 
 to speak in earnest," answered Henry Osborne ; " but I 
 acknowledge I have great curiosity to know what those 
 people are collected for." 
 
 " Let us go on shore," said Somerville. " If the ladies 
 have any fear, I can order the guard out, in the name of 
 my uncle." 
 
 The ladies would not acknowledge any fear, and the 
 proposal was readily accepted. Henry Osborne turned 
 to give his hand to Lucretia, — but Somerville had 
 already ofTered his services. Grace, too, unconsciously 
 glanced that way, before she took the proffered arm of 
 Doctor Willard ; but suddenly retreated, when she met 
 the penetrating dark eye of the young officer. At a 
 convenient distance, they paused, and watched the mo- 
 tions of the party they wished to reconnoitre. Six men, 
 with Bibles fastened on their necks by silken cords, stood 
 around a large hole, from which four others were trying 
 to raise something, by means of large iron levers. In 
 the midst of them stood Mr. Townsend, with his cap 
 pushed far back, and his spectacles on, examining the 
 risinsf treasure with intense earnestness. 
 
 " There is money in the case," whispered Doctor 
 Byles ; " else he of the clenched fist would not be here." 
 
 Something seemed to sink instantly; and the crow- 
 bars fell heavily upon the sand. 
 
 " Confound the voice that spoke ! " exclaimed the miser. 
 "A week's labor is lost, and twenty thousand crowns, 
 and twelve ingots of gold." 
 
 " How do you know the value of treasure you never 
 examined?" asked Somerville. 
 
 "That would be easier to tell, than why you come 
 
THE REBELS. 93 
 
 here, at midnight, to meddle with a poor old man, trying 
 to gain an honest penny to buy his bread," said he ; and 
 he looked at the sand which covered the lost chest, till 
 he sobbed with all the impotence of childish dotage. 
 
 " Step a little nearer, if it pleases you, Miss Fitzher- 
 bert," said Somerville. 
 
 The old man turned pale. " Is there a Fitzherbert 
 here?" muttered he; " no wonder that — "- 
 
 " Strike the bar down, and ascertain its depth," inter- 
 rupted Somervalle, without regarding what he said. 
 
 " Young man," said Mr. Towiisend, " your services 
 an't asked. If there is money, it is of my finding." 
 
 " It belongs to the crown, of course," said the English- 
 man, "if no owner is proved." 
 
 Before the old man could reply, the bar was thrust 
 forcibly into the sand ; but no metal echoed to the blow. 
 
 "There never was a chest here," said one. 
 
 "We have been prying up a good-for-nothing rock," 
 observed another. 
 
 "But where, in the devil's name, is the rock?" asked 
 a third. 
 
 As he spoke, a struggling was seen in the sand, and a 
 deep, low groan was heard. The ladies uttered a cry of 
 horror ; the miser clasped his skeleton hands ; and the 
 eyes of all present seemed starting from their sockets. 
 Again the mournful sound was heard, as if from the very 
 centre of the earth ; and no longer attempting to conceal 
 their fear, the ring suddenly broke up, and every individ- 
 ual departed. There was, indeed, something terrific in 
 the scene. The loneliness of the hour, the gaunt figure 
 of the miser, the mysterious silence, that dismal and 
 inexplicable groan, and that unaccountable struggle in 
 
94 THE REBELS. 
 
 the sand, all conspired to produce a dreadful effect upon 
 their highly excited minds. However, fear and wonder 
 gradualh^ subsided. Doctor Byles and the pilot joined 
 in expressing their abhorrence of such profane use of the 
 Bible, Miss Sandford dwelt long on her favorite theme 
 of modern degeneracy, and the conversation at length 
 became as general and as lively as before. Lucretia 
 sought her pillow with her head full of cheerful visions ; 
 Miss Sandford related the adventure to Governor Hutch- 
 inson, and when she retired to rest, she drew the cover- 
 let over her face, quick as thought, lest the growling 
 spirit should appear at her bed-side ; and as Grace extin- 
 guished her light, she gently wiped away a tear, after 
 vainly attempting to account for the capriciousness of 
 Somerville. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 He would have j^ou believe 
 That a mouse, yoked to a pea-pod, may draw 
 His goods about the world. The Wits. 
 
 While the current of domestic happiness was gliding 
 along thus smoothly, the tide of public indignation was 
 risinof hisrher and hiQ:her. The evening- after the one 
 we have just described, the cargo of paper arrived, 
 bearing the stamp, which Doctor Warren styled the 
 accursed seal of American slavery. The lieutenant 
 governor, fearing the tremendous excitement that was 
 everywhere ready to burst forth, ordered the vessel to 
 unload at Fort William, and the hateful freight to be 
 guarded with the whole force of the garrison. The 
 avarice which grasped at so many and such incongruous 
 offices, the support he was known to give to the impolitic 
 system of taxation, and the suspicion that he would 
 attempt to force the distribution of stamps, rendered 
 him an object of uncommon detestation. He seldom 
 appeared in the street without receiving some open 
 insult ; and there is no name connected with those times 
 handed down to us with so much bitterness. Nor did 
 that respect for the clergy, which has always charac- 
 terized New England, prevent frequent rudeness to 
 Doctor Byles. His aristocratic manners, his attachment 
 to the crown, and his friendship for the chief justice, all 
 combined to render him odious to the populace. Young 
 
96 THE REBELS. 
 
 and old, wise and simple, thoughtless and considerate, 
 all took a deep interest in the aspect of the times ; and, 
 though no politician could foresee one half of the im- 
 portant consequences which were to spring from that 
 eventful crisis, yet, even then, there was a fearful look- 
 ing forward in the minds of many. Those whose keen 
 perceptions enabled them to appreciate the vast import- 
 ance of one single step, deliberated with cautious wis- 
 dom, and resolved with daring intrepidity ; while those 
 who were guided by them employed themselves in ten 
 thousand petty stratagems, to thwart and vex their op- 
 pressors. Mr. Townsend was well known to be a tory 
 in his predilections, though, " like the big-headed boy at 
 Tatawa, he never took an active part;" and the young 
 whigs, willing to tantalize a man who could weep over 
 the loss of a penny, in real bitterness of spirit, resolved 
 to carry into execution a plan, which had more of frolic 
 than malice in its design. 
 
 It was a tremendously stormy night, when, after a 
 long and earnest conversation with Mr. Wilson, who had 
 lately been his frequent guest, the old man retired to 
 his miserable bed, totally unaware of the mischief in 
 store for him. The rain poured in torrents ; the dark- 
 ness was almost tangible in its density ; and the light- 
 ning flashed across the sky, as if the fallen spirits were 
 brandishing their flaming swords, in defiance of that 
 heaven from which they had been expelled forever. 
 The winds roared, and the thunders rolled and crashed, 
 as if the chariots of Gabriel were rushino- on to the com- 
 bat, and his trumpets hurling back the challenge. Every 
 peal knocked hard at the heart of that selfish old man ; 
 and, unable to compose himself, he arose, and crept 
 
THE REBELS. 97 
 
 timidly into the chamber of his guest. Mr. Wilson, 
 more inured to danger, thought only of a comfortable 
 sleep, and had just succeeded in removing his bed to a 
 corner \vhich secured him from the drenching rain. 
 The terrors of the poor \Yretch svibsided in the presence 
 of his fearless companion, and with drowsy indistinct- 
 ness, he was jnst saying, " Noah, and all them critters 
 in the ark, must have had a dreadful time on 't, if it 
 poured worse than it does to-night : and what a heap of 
 provender they must have devoured in fony days" — ■ 
 when he was alarmed by loud and re|3eated knocks at 
 the street door. ^Vondering for vrhat purpose any one 
 could visit that unfrequented house on such a merciless 
 night, Mr. Wilson hastily arranged his dress, and obeyed 
 the summons. 
 
 " Is this ]\Ir. ToTvnsend's house ? " inquired the 
 stranger. 
 
 " It is, sir." 
 
 " Is he living ? " 
 
 " He is, sir." 
 
 " I am glad of it ; I v.-as afraid I should arrive Xqo 
 late," replied the phj^sician. 
 
 '* Wilson 1 V>"ilson ! " cried the old man, who had 
 groped his way to the head of the stairs. " Who is 
 there ? are robbers breaking in ? — bolt, bolt the door ! 
 and take my gun, that 's at the foot of the stairs. Don't 
 stand in the wind, with your candle. There, it is 
 blo^^m out, now. Light it quick ! light it quick ! " 
 
 The light was hastily struck ; but, before IVlr. Wilson 
 could assure the miser that the gentleman was well 
 known to him, he was startled bv a second knock. 
 
 9 
 
98 THE REBELS. 
 
 " There is another one ! " exclaimed the old man. 
 *' Do get a light, quick, and see to my gun ! " 
 
 Suspicions were again quieted by recognizing the 
 second intruder as Governor Hutchinson. 
 
 " Gentlemen, may I ask what drove you out, on such 
 a night ? " inquired Wilson. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Townsend's dangerous sickness, to be 
 sure," answered both at once ; " but do make a fire — 
 we are perishing with wet and cold." 
 
 Mr. Wilson brought forward some wood; but, before 
 he could kindle it, Mr. Townsend was again calling him, 
 in the feeble tones of a cracked voice, trembling with 
 fear. 
 
 " Go to your friend," said the physician. " His sick- 
 ness probably deranges him." 
 
 " Am I dreaming, or am I not ? " thought Wilson, as 
 he listened to the last observation. 
 
 After a long effort, he succeeded in convincing Mr. 
 Townsend that he knew the gentlemen below, and that 
 it was perfectly safe for him to come down. Thus en- 
 couraged, the old man ventured into the room ; but all 
 thoughts of robbers vanished from his mind, the moment 
 he saw three sticks of wood cheerfull}^ blazing in his 
 fireplace. 
 
 " I have told you, a hundred times, Wilson, that I 
 never burn more than one stick at a time," said he, as 
 he demolished the first hospitable fire that had been seen 
 there for years. 
 
 " We are surprised to find you able to leave your 
 chamber, Mr. Townsend," said Doctor Ruggles. 
 
 " I don't know what right you had to expect other- 
 wise," rejoined he, looking round upon them with a 
 
THE REBELS. 99 
 
 vacant stare, and then stooping to feel if the lock of his 
 chest was perfectly secure. 
 
 The two gentlemen cast a look of surprise at each 
 other, and the lieutenant governor said, " Has he been 
 long deranged ? " 
 
 " There is more knocking, Wilson. Give me my gun! 
 Hand it quick ! quick I " exclaimed the terrified wretch. 
 
 The gun was speedily handed, but before Wilson 
 could open the door. Doctor Byles entered. Hastily 
 shaking the rain from his hat, he inquired, " Is he living, 
 sir?" 
 
 Beginning to comprehend the joke, Mr. Wilson burst 
 into a loud laugh, as he said, " He is alive and well, sir." 
 Another look of wonder passed between the gentlemen, 
 as they bowed to Doctor Byles, and made room for him 
 before the fire. 
 
 The trembling old miser had ensconced himself in a 
 comer of the room, with one foot on his money-chest, 
 and his gun braced firmly on his shoulder, as if resolved 
 to fight for his treasure to the last moment of his life. 
 
 "Did you say ]Mr. Townsend was really well, sir?" 
 asked Doctor Byles. 
 
 " I did, sir ; and now will you tell me how you were 
 all brought here to-night ? " 
 
 " I was called up, at midnight, and told that Mr. Town- 
 send was in great distress of mind, and needed my aid 
 to set the joints of a broken spirit." 
 
 "And I," said Governor Hutchinson, "was summoned 
 to attend his death-bed, if I wished to hear some very 
 important communications." 
 
 " My visit is of course explained," said the physician. 
 " Some one has made this world of mischief for a joke." 
 
100 THE REBELS. 
 
 " It is all a trick, do you see?" said Townsend, ven- 
 turing forward ; " and I trust you are not going to ask a 
 copper, seeing I never sent for you." 
 
 " It is a hard case for doctor or patient to ride from 
 Boston to Roxbury such a confounded stormy night," 
 said the physician. " However, I will be content if you 
 will give us shelter until morning." 
 
 " Yes, we must all remain to-night," said Doctor 
 Byles, " and our horses must not stand in that open 
 shed." 
 
 This suggestion was answered by a deep groan from 
 the miser. " O, dear ! " said he, " it is enough to cost a 
 man a fortune to live in such troublesome times." 
 
 Without noticing his murmurs, Wilson procured a 
 lantern, and placed the horses in as comfortable a situ- 
 ation as the dilapidated state of the barn would admit. 
 
 " O, I can't afford it ! This will be the ruin of me ! 
 — and to have that candle burning in the lantern, too I 
 O, it will ruin me ! There is no use in having a light 
 to talk by," said Mr. Townsend, when his companion 
 returned. 
 
 Without interrupting him, Wilson, with blunt hospi- 
 tality, apologized for the state of the house, and offered 
 whatever it contained for their refreshment. 
 
 The offer was accepted ; and, notwithstanding the old 
 gentleman's contrary orders, such food as the house 
 afforded was soon arranged before them. 
 
 The remains of a miserable soup were placed on the 
 table, in a small earthen pan ; a pitcher of water on one 
 corner, a few dried crusts of bread on the other ; three 
 wooden plates, and a few broken knives and forks, com- 
 posed the whole apparatus for their frugal meal. 
 
THE REBELS. 101 
 
 For a while the miser sat muttering between his teeth, 
 that he wished it might bode good, having three men 
 come in one night to tell him he was dying. He had 
 heard his mother tell about folks being warned of their 
 end ; but when he saw the keen appetites, before which 
 his worldly goods were fast disappearing, he sobbed 
 aloud. 
 
 Governor Hutchinson, almost forgetting his vexation 
 in the amusement of the scene, promised their bill of fare 
 should be paid the ensuing day. " Now, have you not 
 a little brandy, to wash down this excellent supper ? " 
 added he. 
 
 " No, I don't keep such things ; but that soup is nice 
 and warming." 
 
 " There is not enough of it to warm two ounces of 
 blood," rejoined the physician. " You look as if you 
 needed stimulus 3'ourself. Are you sure you are not 
 consumptive, Mr. Townsend ? " 
 
 '' He looks at the food we eat, as if he thought us fear- 
 fully consumptive,'' said Doctor Byles. 
 
 The miser stared at his remark, and replied, " Why, 
 the truth is, I have been een jest sick, these many 
 3'ears." 
 
 " It seems you are in jest sick to-night ; and that we 
 are iii jest fools," observed Doctor Byles. " However, I 
 beheve I understand the nature of this mischievous frolic. 
 What are your politics, 'Six. Townsend ? " 
 
 The miser looked around the company, and, unable to 
 determine what answer would eventually be the safest, 
 he hesitatingly replied, " I trust my heart is on the right 
 side." 
 
 " If I thought it was, I would send you to a surgeon, 
 9=^ 
 
102 THE REBELS. 
 
 as a curiosity," rejoined Doctor Byles. " In good truth, 
 you look as if you had escaped from the sexton." 
 
 " Yes," said Hutchinson, "you are exceedingly thin; 
 and, since there are so many witnesses present, had you 
 not better settle your affairs ? It is well to have a will, 
 at any rate." 
 
 " So women and whigs think," replied Doctor Byles ; 
 " and the latter have had their will, at any rate, in send- 
 ing us here to-night." 
 
 " Have you done aught to offend the rebels ? " asked 
 Hutchinson. 
 
 " I have already told you that I have fifteen posts," he 
 replied ; " but as for politics, I never meddle with them. 
 I do not understand them ; and they do, every mother's 
 son of them. I see plainly how it will end, — they will 
 fin'Ully do as the Quakers and New Lights say they have 
 done — put off the old man." 
 
 " Many would rejoice to take the treasure from their 
 hands," said Hutchinson; "but I think your people 
 would soon be glad to send a writ of trover, in search of 
 talents, learning, and goodness." 
 
 Doctor Byles bowed low, and said, " Since the storm 
 continues too furious for us to return home, had we not 
 better bottle off a little sleep against the exigencies of the 
 morrow ? " 
 
 No one dissented ; and Wilson, with more kindness 
 than his growling manner indicated, prepared lodgings 
 as comfortable as the crazy situation of the building 
 would admit. After showing the guests to their respect- 
 ive rooms, he returned to his miserable companion. 
 The old man burst into tears, and exclaimed, " 0, Wil- 
 son, they '11 ruin me ! — four sticks of wood are burnt out ; 
 
THE REBELS. 103 
 
 one candle is gone, and you 've lit another ; to-morrow's 
 dinner is devoured ; and you have broke the pitcher that 
 I have drinked out of more than twenty years! O 
 dear ! " added he, with a deep groan ; " them horses are 
 dreadful ravenous beasts. I never had such a costly 
 night before. No less than two crowns are sunk, this 
 minute." 
 
 " I wish as many mitres had sunk with them," said 
 his surly companion. "Many a shilling has the king 
 taken out of my pocket, and never a penny did I receive 
 from him. But be done grumbling, old man — I 'm tired 
 of it. One word whispered to Hutchinson, you know, 
 would lay you on a bed of coals." 
 
 The miser grasped his arm with a most beseeching 
 look, just as a lumbering vehicle rattled to the door, and 
 a loud knock announced another arrival. A tall, robust 
 man, with a fear-nought coat buttoned up to his throat, 
 and his cocked-hat unlooped to defend him from the tem- 
 pest, impatiently inquired whether Mr. Townsend was 
 ready to start for Providence. 
 
 " I never thought of going there," replied the old man, 
 stepping up to him. The stranger actually started back ; 
 and, indeed, the long flannel-gown, the high, red night- 
 cap, surmounted by an enormous tassel, the shqrp, death- 
 like visage, and the gun, which he held tight in his bony 
 hand, made him seem more like one of Pluto's stray 
 ghosts than any human figure. 
 
 " I was told to come here at two o'clock," said he, " to 
 carry you to Providence, on business that nothing in the 
 earth, or under it, must hinder." 
 
 " Was it not some other Mr. Townsend ? " asked Wil- 
 son. 
 
104 THE REBELS. 
 
 «< D — n you ! " said the passionate man, " who does 
 not know Townsend the miser ? I swear I '11 be paid for 
 my trouble." 
 
 " 1 tell you," replied the old man, " I won't pay a sin- 
 gle stiver ; for I never asked you to come." 
 
 The irritated man poured forth a volley of oaths, 
 which Wilson at length stopped by offering him a hand- 
 ful of money, and telling him that the whigs had already 
 sent three influential tories on errands equally fruitless. 
 
 " If that is the case," said Jehu, lowering his tone, " I 
 will be satisfied with a moderate compensation. I am in 
 King George's service, and I must take some of his kicks, 
 for the sake of his coppers." 
 
 The crack of the whip, and the shrill whistle, soon 
 proclaimed his departure. 
 
 "Come, 'Squire Skin-flint," said Wilson, "you must 
 pay me your stage-fare, before you go to bed." 
 
 " How can you say so ? " responded the covetous 
 wretch. " You will kill me, Wilson. I shall never see 
 the sun rise, at this rate." 
 
 " That is what I should call giving the devil his due," 
 replied the ruffian. " Open your purse." 
 
 The old man hesitated. " Will you promise never to 
 speak of the bank-notes ? Was that in the bargain ? " 
 said he. 
 
 "Do you think I will let go your purse-strings, now 
 I have hold of them ? " replied Wilson, with a sneer. 
 " Besides, my oaths are brittle things ; I have broken — " 
 with a voice suddenly subdued by powerful emotion, he 
 added, " Some have I broken, for which every farthing 
 of your immense wealth could not atone." He leaned 
 his head on his hand, and the old gentleman crept 
 
THE REBELS. 105 
 
 towards the stairs as cautiously as one that fears to wake 
 a sleeping tiger. "Your money!" thundered Wilson, 
 seizing his arm, and looking on him with terrible, snake- 
 like power. The old man drew out a greasy purse, but 
 seemed reluctant to open it. " Hutchinson sleeps above 
 — and I have a tongue ! " said his tormentor. 
 
 The required money was instantly poured upon the 
 table, and the old man hobbled up stairs, ever and anon 
 saying, " That man will be the ruin of me I " and then 
 sobbing-, in the bitterness of his heart. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 She 's beautiful ; and therefore to be woo'd : 
 She 's a woman ; therefore to be won. 
 
 Henry VI. 
 
 On the second day after this adventure, Mr. Wilson 
 departed from Boston, in order to obtain an interview 
 with Edward Percival, and ascertain the destiny of his 
 daug-hter. Aware to how much dangler she would be 
 exposed, if she came forth into the world wealthy and 
 inexperienced, beautiful and unguarded, he felt exceed- 
 ingly anxious to give her into the protection of a young 
 man whom he knew to be so entirely estimable as the 
 one we have mentioned. At the same time, he was 
 painfully conscious of the unfavorable impression his 
 own notorious character must produce; and, in order to 
 remove, as far as possible, this obstacle to the respecta- 
 bility of his child, he resolved to arrange his dress, 
 equipage, and manners, with the most studious care. It 
 was, indeed, a striking proof how much influence the 
 affections have over the most reckless and depraved, that 
 this man, so unfeeling and unprincipled to all the world 
 beside, should evince tenderness, and even delicacy, 
 where this one beloved object was concerned. 
 
 The young man for whom these preparations were 
 making was the son of Mr. Townsend's only sister, but 
 in every respect unlike his parsimonious relation. He 
 was generous, to a fault ; and was remarkable for a keen 
 sense of honor, united with a lordliness of character 
 that sometimes touched upon the very verge of tyranny. 
 
THE REBELS. 107 
 
 For his covetous uncle, he could not always restrain his 
 contempt ; but he was by no means romantic enough to 
 despise the wealth he had accumulated, and he really 
 regarded the desolate old man with compassion that bor- 
 dered on kindness. 
 
 He had, from his earliest infancy, been educated in 
 Canada ; and, at the time we choose to present him to 
 our readers, he was mounted on a dapple-gray steed, 
 traversing the road between Montreal and Quebec, — 
 which, at that early period, was certainly none too smooth 
 to typify the path of life. It was autumn ; and the 
 earth, as if weary of the vanities of her children, was 
 rapidly changing her varied and gorgeous drapery for 
 robes as sad and unadorned as those of the cloister. 
 The tall and almost leafless trees stood amid black and 
 mouldering stumps, like giants among the tomb-stones 
 — the faint-rnurmuring voice of the St. Lawrence was 
 heard in the distance, and the winds rustled among the 
 leaves, as if imitating the sound of its waters. 
 
 The melancholy that we feel, when gazing on natural 
 scenes in the vigor of young existence, is but pleasure 
 in a softened form. It has none of the bitterness — none 
 of that soul-sickening sense of desolation — which visits 
 us in our riper years, when we have had sad experience 
 of the jarring interests, the selfish coldness, and the 
 heartless caprice, of the world. A rich imagination, like 
 the transparent mantle of light which the Flemish 
 artists delight to throw around their pictures, gives its 
 own glowing hues to the dreariness of winter and the 
 sobriety of autumn, as well as to the freshness of spring 
 and the verdure of summer; and, if the affections are 
 calm and pure, forests and streams, sky and ocean, sun- 
 
108 THE REBELS. 
 
 rise and twilight, will always bring deep, serene, and 
 holy associations. Under the influence of such feel- 
 ings, our young traveller entered Quebec, just as the 
 rays of the declining sun tinged the windows and spires 
 with a fiery beam, and fell obliquely, on the distant hills, 
 in tranquil radiance. At the sign of St. George and the 
 Dragon, the horse made a motion to pause ; and, thus 
 reminded of the faithful creature's extreme fatigue, he 
 threw the bridle over his neck, and gave him into the 
 care of a ragged hostler, who, in bad French, demanded 
 his pleasure. 
 
 In the same language, his hostess gave her brief salu- 
 tation of — "A clever night to ride, please your honor." 
 
 Percival civilly replied to her courtesy, and gave orders 
 for supper. The inn was unusually crowded and noisy ; 
 and, willing to escape a while from the bustling scene, he 
 walked out into the city. The loud ringing of the cathe- 
 dral bells, summoning the inhabitants to evening prayer, 
 and the rolling of drums from the neighboring garri- 
 son, were at variance with the quietude of his spirit. 
 He turned from the main street, and rambled along until 
 he reached the banks of the little river St. Charles, about 
 a mile westward from the town. He paused before the 
 extensive and venerable looking hospital, founded by M. 
 de St. Vallier, the second Bishop of Quebec. The high, 
 steep roof, and the wide portals, beneath which various 
 images of the saints were safely ensconced in their 
 respective niches, were indistinctly seen in the dimness 
 of t\vilight ; but a rich gush of sound, from the interior 
 of the building, poured on the ear, mingling the deep 
 tones of the organ with woman's sweetest melody. 
 
 All that painting and music, pomp and pageantry, can 
 
THE REBELS. 109 
 
 do, to dazzle the imagination and captivate the heart, 
 has ever been employed by that tremendous hierarchy, 
 "whose roots were in another world, and whose far- 
 stretching shadow awed our own." At this time, the 
 effect was increased by that sense of mystery so delight- 
 ful to the human soul. " Ora, ora pro nobis," was 
 uttered by beings secluded from the world, taking no 
 part in the busy game of life, and separated from all that 
 awakens the tumult of passion, and the eagerness of pur- 
 suit. How, then, could fancy paint them othervvise than 
 lovely, placid, and spotless ? Had Percival been behind 
 the curtain, during these sanctified dramas, — had he 
 ever searched out the indolence, the filth, and the profli- 
 gacy, secreted in such retreats, — the spell that bound 
 him would have been broken; but it had been riveted 
 by early association, and now rendered peculiarly delight- 
 ful by the excited state of his feelings. Resig-ning hmi- 
 self entirely to its dominion, he inquired, of one who 
 stood within the door, whether it was possible for him to 
 gain admittance. 
 
 The man held out his hand for money, and having 
 received a Here, answered, " Certainly, sir. You must 
 be a stranger in Quebec, or you vrould know that there 
 is to be a procession of white nuns to-night, in honor of 
 M. de St. V^ailier." So saying, he led the way into the 
 building. 
 
 An old priest, exceedingly lazy in his manner, and 
 monotonous in his tone, was reading mass, to which 
 most of the audience zealously vociferated a response. 
 
 An arch, ornamented with basso relievo figures of the 
 saints, on one side of the chancel, surmounted a door, 
 which apparently led to an interior chapel ; and beneath 
 
 10 
 
110 THE REBELS- 
 
 a similar one, on the opposite side, was a grated win- 
 dow, shaded by a large, flowing curtain of black silk. 
 
 Behind this provoking screen'wefe the daughters of 
 earth, whom our traveller supposed to be as beautiful as 
 angels, and as pure. 
 
 For some time, a faint response, a shght cough, or a 
 deep-drawn sigh, alone indicated the vicinity of the 
 seraphic beings. 
 
 At length, however, the mass, with all its thousand 
 ceremonies, was concluded. There was silence for a 
 moment, and then was heard one of the low, thrilling 
 chants of the church of Rome. 
 
 There was the noise of light, sandalled feet. The 
 music died away to a delicious warbling, as faint and 
 earnest as woman's entreaty ; — then, gradually rising 
 to a bold, majestic burst of sound, the door on the oppo- 
 site side opened, and the sisterhood entered, amid a 
 glare of light. 
 
 That most of them were old and ugly, passed un- 
 noticed ; for whatever visions an enthusiastical imagina- 
 tion might have conjured up were certainly realized by 
 the figure that preceded the procession. 
 
 Her forehead was pale and lofty, — her expression 
 proud, but highly intellectual. A white veil, carelessly 
 pinned about her brow, fell over her shoulders in grace- 
 ful drapery; and as she glided along, the loose white 
 robe, that constituted the uniform of her order, displayed 
 to the utmost advantage that undulating outline of 
 beauty for which the statues of Psyche are so remark- 
 able. 
 
 A silver crucifix was clasped in her hands, and her 
 eyes were steadily raised toward heaven ; yet there was 
 
THE REBELS. . Ill 
 
 something in her general aspect, from which one would 
 have concluded that the fair devotee had never known 
 the world, rather than that she had left it in weariness 
 or disgust. 
 
 Her eye happened to glance on our young friend, as 
 she passed near him ; and he fancied it rested a moment, 
 with delighted attention. 
 
 The procession moved slowly on, in pairs, the apostles 
 bearing waxen lights on either side, until the last white 
 robe was concealed behind an arch at the other end of 
 the extensive apartment. 
 
 The receding sounds of, " O sanctissima, O puris- 
 sima," floated on the air, mingled with clouds of frank- 
 incense ; and the young man pressed his hand to his 
 forehead, with a bewildered sensation, as if the airy 
 phantoms of the magic lantern had just been flitting 
 before him. 
 
 A notice from the porter that the nuns were now at 
 the altar performing silent mass, and that the doors were 
 shortly to be closed, recalled his recollection; and slip^ 
 ping money into the hands of his informer, he left the 
 church, and bent his footsteps towards the sign of St. 
 George and the Dragon. 
 
 The wranHinor and discordant sounds of an inn were 
 never so unwelcome to him ; and with peculiar vexation, 
 he heard a loud voice, inquiring of the landlady, " Are 
 you sure that the taU, handsome young man I mentioned, 
 with light-brown hair and blue eyes, has been here 
 to-night ? " 
 
 " I tell you, yes. In troth, he is not one a woman 
 would be likely to forget." 
 
 " Where did he go, when he left here ?" 
 
112 THE REBELS. 
 
 " That is what I know nothing of. May-be he is a 
 New England rebel, come to raise the country in arms 
 against his majesty ; — and yet, I should not think so. 
 He spoke better French than the Yankees do." 
 
 The inquirer, who was none other than Mr. Wilson, 
 took a heavy silver watch from his pocket, looked at the 
 hour, and replaced it, with an air of great impatience, as 
 he said, " It is after nine. The trumpets from the fort 
 have sounded the hour of rest. What can have become 
 of him ? " 
 
 " Perhaps he is one of your moon-struck folks, that 
 gaze on the stars till they forget to eat their supper. So 
 much the better for those who take their pay, whether or 
 no." 
 
 Just at that moment, the subject of their conversation 
 entered the room. 
 
 In a confused manner, Mr. Wilson stammered out, 
 "Mr. Percival, I believe?" 
 
 "I think I have seen you before, Mr. Wilson," 
 rejoined the young man, vath a look of coldness bor- 
 dering on hauteur. 
 
 " Pardon my intrusion, sir. I have business of 
 importance." 
 
 "It is very well," replied Percival. "Be seated, if 
 you please. I cannot attend to you, just now; for I 
 have eaten nothing since I entered Quebec." 
 
 He wias about to seat himself at the table ; but com- 
 pelled himself to say, " Have you taken supper, sir?" 
 
 "1 did, at an early hour; but I must acknowledge 
 that I am ready for another." 
 
 " Move to the table, then, if you will." 
 
 The invitation, ungracious as it was, was accepted ; 
 
THE REBELS. 113 
 
 and though neither the quality of the food, nor its 
 cleanliness, would have tempted a New England appe- 
 tite, the hostess certainly had no reason to conclude that 
 either of her guests preferred star-gazing to solid food. 
 
 With hunofer too keen to be fastidious, the travellers 
 devoured a hearty meal, with no other interruption than 
 an occasional boW from Mr. Wilson, as he raised the 
 mug of cider to his lips. 
 
 When the landlady had retired, and closed the door 
 after her, the young gentleman inquired what important 
 business had procured him this unexpected visit. 
 
 " You have an uncle in Boston," said Wilson, who 
 seemed to be strangely awed by the gentleman-like 
 manner of his auditor. 
 
 Percival bowed to this unimportant remark, and his 
 companion continued, " You expect considerable prop- 
 erty from him, I presume ? " 
 
 "I have always treated Mr. Townsend with proper 
 attention ; and I am his only relation : but these things 
 are very uncertain," replied Percival. 
 
 " Well, sir, I have come to inform you upon what 
 grounds the whole of his large property may be insured 
 to you." 
 
 " You, sir ! " exclaimed Percival, with an expression, 
 of contempt so strong and undisguised, that Wilson felt 
 his blood boil in his veins, as he answered, " Yes, I, sir. 
 Your uncle has committed crimes for which the rigid 
 laws of England would take his life ; and the evidence 
 of them is in my hands. To bring the matter to a 
 point at once, I have a daughter. If you will marry 
 her, the fortune is yours ; — if not, it all descends to 
 her, with the exception of a trifling legacy. The will is 
 
 10-^ 
 
114 THE REBELS. 
 
 made and attested ; and should he presume to aher it, 
 his life must pay the forfeit." 
 
 Percival eyed him for a moment with extreme scorn, 
 and asked, " What is the meaning of this artifice, sir ? " 
 
 " It is no trick," replied Wilson ; and he handed him 
 a letter from Mr. Townsend, and another from the 
 lawyer who had written the will. 
 
 The young gentleman to whom they were addressed 
 had to(3 much pride to think of such a father-in-law 
 with anything like complacency. Besides, he had 
 indulged very romantic ideas concerning love ; and he 
 was by no means pleased with the business air of this 
 transaction. He thought of affection, as some people 
 think of religion, that it could not be genuine, unless it 
 came upon him at once, with irresistible power ; and 
 however apocryphal his creed might be, the white-robed 
 vision he had that evening seen tended not a little to 
 confirm it. 
 
 After one or two impatient strides across the room, 
 he stopped suddenly, and said, " A wife is not to be 
 bought and sold, like your southern slaves ; nor are my 
 affections, like a garment, to be put on and off as interest 
 may dictate. My uncle must dispose of his money as 
 he chooses. I trust to my own energies. Good-even- 
 ing, sir." 
 
 " Stop, I beg of you," said Wilson, earnestly. " Do 
 not decide till you have seen Gertrude. I am a wretch, 
 and you know it ; but she has been kept from all the 
 pollutions of this tempting world, and has grown up, in 
 the convent of St. Vallier, as pure, as lovely, and as 
 elegant, as the proudest lady in the land." 
 
THE REBELS. 115 
 
 " Is she — is she a novitiate at St. Vallier's ? " eagerly- 
 inquired Percival. 
 
 " She is ; and how deeply soever I may have plunged 
 into guilt, nobody can say that I have not been to her all 
 that I should be. It is impressed upon my mind that I 
 shall not live long. No matter whether I am a fool for 
 believing it, or not. ^Yhen I am gone, she will be left 
 beautiful and wealthy — an easy prey to the sharper or 
 the sensualist. Your character is all that I wish my 
 own had been ; and my last earthly cares would be over, 
 if you were her protector." 
 
 " But," said Percival, crimsoning to the very temples, 
 " even if she is all I hope, she is — illegitimate." 
 
 Mr. Wilson drew his breath hard, in the agony of his 
 spirit. After a pause, he replied, " I was the husband 
 of her mother. Sit down, young man, and I will tell 
 you all, though it is a subject on which I never meant to 
 speak to mortal man. I was once as proud as you are ; 
 and perhaps with as much reason. The world prophe- 
 sied my success in life, and considered me a master- 
 spirit, born to sway my fellows. With a gentleman and 
 a scholar, I still have some touches of my former spirit ; 
 but I will say no more on that point. In my best days, 
 I won the heart of a beautiful young creature, the daugh- 
 ter of a miserable, half-crazed woman, in Halifax. I was 
 aristocratic then, — and it was long before I could bring 
 myself to think of marriage with one so much my infe- 
 rior. However, her confiding fondness gained upon my 
 aflfections, and I finally made a sort of half atonement, 
 by a private marriage." He stopped, and his whole 
 frame shuddered. " It must be told," continued he.* 
 " Captain Fitzherbert was then in port. He was too 
 
116 THE REBELS. 
 
 handsome, and too attentive to my young wife. Ger- 
 trude knew it gave me uneasiness ; but, conscious of her 
 innocence, and loving to exert her power, she continued 
 as gay and as free as ever. Day after day passed in. 
 this manner, till she became a mother. Fitzherbert 
 dared to reproach me for my ungenerous conduct ; and 
 Gertrude, after having besought me, with tearful eyes, 
 to make our marriage public, told me that she had no 
 friend in the world but Fitzherbert. Maddened to 
 insupportable jealousy, I — stabbed her! " 
 
 From different causes, both were silent for a long time ; 
 and the convulsed features of Wilson alone betrayed 
 his agitation. " She was innocent," he added ; " and 
 here — here," pressing his hand upon his heart, " her 
 memory ' biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an 
 adder.' After that dreadful deed, I never cared what 
 became of me. I have been a drunkard, a pirate, and a 
 ruffian ; — but a father still." 
 
 He wrung Percival's hand with desperate energy, as 
 he spoke, and the tears started to his eyes. There was 
 an air of majesty about him, fallen as he was, that found 
 its way to the young man's heart. When he first spoke 
 of his crime, Percival could not restrain a loathing 
 expression of hatred and horror ; but now he turned to 
 the window to conceal how much he had been affected 
 by such a deep and frenzied remorse. 
 
 When the conversation was again resumed, Wilson, 
 said, " For a few weeks the infant Gertrude was in the 
 hands of her grandmother; but I could not trust the 
 sweet little being, now doubly dear, for her murdered 
 •mother's sake, in the care of one so low and vicious. 
 I therefore gave orders that she should be placed at the 
 
THE REBELS. 117 
 
 hospital of St. Vallier, and that her grandmother should 
 never be permitted to see her. I gave money enough 
 to insure a punctual obedience to my commands, and 
 departed for the West Indies, where many a bloody deck 
 has borne witness to my courage and my sins. I have 
 seldom seen Gertrude. Of late years, she has so ear- 
 nestly entreated to come out into the world, and I have 
 been so entirely unable to make her situation respecta- 
 ble, that I have forborne to visit her." 
 
 To this frank avowal, Percival replied by reminding 
 the wretch€?d man that it was never too late to repent 
 of crime, and to atone for it by a life of usefulness and 
 piety. 
 
 " The best thing you can do," said he, " is to purchase 
 some secluded dwelling, to which you can retire with 
 your daughter, and there forget everything but the 
 duties you owe to God and her." 
 
 " It cannot be, young man," answered Wilson. " Here, 
 on m}^ vitals, the vulture will prey forever. Besides, 
 ought one so young and fair to be thus buried, for a 
 father's guilt ? " 
 
 " She will have sufficient wealth to purchase every 
 luxury," replied he ; " and no doubt she would think the 
 freedom of such a situation perfect paradise, compared 
 with her convent." 
 
 " Mr. Percival," said the father, taking his hand most 
 fervently, " had I sooner met with one that would have 
 advised me thus, — one whose friendship would have 
 soothed my tortured soul, — I should not have been the 
 wreck I now am. Alas ! how little are the strong in 
 virtue aware of the cruel temptations and the bitter mis- 
 ery of a heart willing to return to the paths of rectitude, 
 
118 THE REBELS. 
 
 if the voice of kindness would but give it welcome and 
 encouragement ! " 
 
 With more respect than he had yet evinced, Percival 
 exhorted him to convert the property of his daughter 
 into money, as soon as she came into possession of it, 
 and to retire to some country unacquainted with his 
 crimes, where he might fulfil the duties of a citizen and 
 Christian. 
 
 "Young man," exclaimed Wilson, "I forced your 
 uncle to make a will in my favor ; but I protest I am 
 sorry for it, from the bottom of my soul." 
 
 " If it is the means of reforming one from vice, and 
 of making another happy, I shall esteem it well be- 
 stowed. I can make a fortune for myself," rejoined Per- 
 cival. 
 
 " Then ^^-ou reject the idea of being connected with 
 such a one as I am ? " 
 
 Percival then frankly told him of the captivating being 
 he had seen in the procession of White Nuns, and 
 expressed his wish to ascertain her character and history. 
 Full of the belief that the person described was his 
 beloved daughter, V/ilson, the next morning, applied to 
 the Lady Abbess for an interview. 
 
 The torment of the never-dying worm ceased for 
 a while, when the fair creature clasped him to her heart, 
 and exclaimed, " Father, dear father ! " 
 
 " Well, Gertrude," said he, looking on her with great 
 affection, " I see you have not taken the black veil." 
 
 " O no ! Did you think I ever could ? " 
 
 " Then you still wish to go out, and look upon the gay 
 world ? " 
 
 " I think," said the young novitiate, with a deep sigh, 
 
THE REBELS. 119 
 
 that I should come back here more contented, if I could 
 go away for a few years." 
 
 Smiling at casuistry dictated by the heart, her father 
 answered, " I mean that you shall return to New Eng- 
 land with me, my love." 
 
 Gertrude clasped her hands, with an exclamation of 
 
 joy- 
 
 Her father smiled, and left the room. When he 
 returned with Mr. Percival, animation was still glowing 
 on her fine features. 
 
 Both blushed deeply when they were introduced ; for 
 each remembered having seen the other, the preceding 
 evening. 
 
 Mr. Wilson eagerly watched their countenances, and 
 saw that all was as he wished. It was the first moment 
 of pure enjoyment he had known for years; and he felt 
 then as if he had strength to be all that his unsuspecting 
 child believed him. 
 
 During the general conversation that followed, guile- , 
 lessness of thought and childlike simplicity of manner 
 completed the conquest which beauty had begun. 
 
 The hours in which novitiates were allowed to receive 
 visitors having -expired, both bade Gertrude farewell, 
 with a promise to call again the ensuing morning. 
 
 The abbess said that her young favorite was strangely 
 bewildered, during that day. She failed to respond to 
 the " Dominus vobiscum" of the priest, and the hymn 
 which she had daily sung to the Holy Mother, for many 
 years, escaped from her memory. 
 
 The interview terminated much as Percival had hoped, 
 and even expected. Perhaps, had he not believed the 
 heiress of his uncle and the stately devotee to be the 
 
120 THE REBELS. 
 
 same, he would not have acquiesced so quietly in the 
 arrangements of Mr. Wilson. We must admit, that on 
 his way to the convent he conjectured whether, in case 
 of a disappointment, he could not prove his uncle's will 
 to have been obtained by force, without risking the life 
 of the poor old man. " If Wilson is disposed to be vir- 
 tuous," thought he, " surely a handsome legacy is suf- 
 ficient to give his daughter honorable support, and to 
 keep him from temptation." 
 
 Very different ideas occupied his mind, as he re- 
 turned. He gazed on the monastery as long as its tow- 
 ering roof could be discerned. " How glad I am," 
 thought he, " that I met her as I did ! I could not have 
 been in love, had 1 known that it was expected of me." 
 
 As for Mr. Wilson, it was the happiest day he had 
 known since his youth ; but when he retired to rest, he 
 felt a sort of uneasy, reluctant wish to palliate his own 
 crime ; and he could not help murmuring, " She does 
 look cursedly like Fitzherbert." 
 
 Necessary business detained the father and lover a few 
 weeks, which no doubt passed rapidly and delightfully 
 enough. Everything that Percival heard of Gertrude, 
 from the -abbess and nuns, strengthened the impressions 
 he had received. 
 
 With many a sigh, and many a bitter tear, the unso- 
 phisticated girl bade adieu to the sisterhood ; (for the ties 
 of habit are not easily burst asunder, especially when 
 formed in seclusion, and riveted by daily kindness ;) and 
 though they said they only wept at giving her up to a 
 sinful world, it was evident they yielded to the strong 
 current of natural affection. 
 
 When the bride and bridegroom stood before the altar 
 
THE REBELS. 121 
 
 in the church where they first met, it was said the priest 
 had never united a lovelier couple. Percival was some- 
 what in the Adonis style of beauty ; and might, per- 
 haps, have been charged with efTeminacy, had not a 
 highly-arched nose, and a general loftiness of expression, 
 redeemed him from the imputation. 
 
 Gertrude was as stately as the Juno of Titian ; and 
 had the same vivid glow of life, and health, and beauty. 
 
 These charms were certainly heightened by pearl- 
 colored damask, and Brussels lace, closely fitted to her 
 majestic form ; but they were by no means her surest 
 hold upon the affections of her high-minded husband. 
 
 Accustomed, from her earliest youth, to an implicit 
 obedience to a superior, whom she fondly loved, she had 
 acquired a most charming ductility of character ; and 
 now that she was to be introduced to a world of which 
 she was so totaUy ignorant, she peculiarly felt the need 
 of some guiding hand. To her husband, therefore, she 
 looked for support and encouragement, with all the win- 
 ning deference of woman's gentlest and most exclusive 
 
 affection. 
 
 11 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 O, luve will venture in, where it daur na weel be seen ; 
 O, luve will venture in, where wisdom ance has been. 
 
 Burns. 
 
 Leaving the young Canadians to enjoy " the sacred 
 lowe o' weel placed love," we will return to the quiet 
 library of the pious Mr. Osborne, the republican sim- 
 plicity of which afforded so striking a contrast to the 
 splendid apartment of Governor Hutchinson. 
 
 On the afternoon of the same day that Wilson com- 
 menced his journey to Quebec, Grace was seated at her 
 father's table, busily engaged in painting glass — a 
 fashionable amusement at that period. 
 
 The door gently opened, and the good-natured coun- 
 tenance of Lucretia Fitzherbert presented itself to her 
 view. 
 
 " Why, Grace, how long it is since I have seen you ! " 
 exclaimed her animated friend. " For three long days 
 we have been expecting you. Captain Somerville at 
 last grew quite angrj'', — so, to please him, I came to-day 
 to see what could have offended your ladyship." 
 
 "Offended! and with you?" said Grace, in a re- 
 proachful tone. " I assure you, I have wished to come ; 
 but I have been so very busy — " 
 
 *' I wonder what has busied you so suddenly," inter- 
 rupted Lucretia. " Have you been making linen for 
 brother Henry ? or knitting warm night-caps for papa ? " 
 
 "The first," rejoined Grace, smiling; "and then, all 
 
THE REBELS. 123 
 
 the leisure moments I have had, I have been practising 
 on my spinnet, tr}'ing to learn those pretty songs that — 
 you like so well." 
 
 "Umph," said Lucretia, with the most provoking 
 significance. " You are taking likenesses, too, I see. 
 What is this you are copj^ng ? " 
 
 "It is the head of a young naval officer; Sir — some- 
 body — I have forgotten whom." 
 
 " How much it looks like Somerville ! " said Lucretia. 
 
 " Does it ? " rejoined Grace, blushing deeply. " Per- 
 haps it may, a ver}^ little." 
 
 " Captain Somerville is enthusiastic about painting," 
 said Lucretia. " How I do wish I could sketch as well 
 as you can I " 
 
 Grace, in her turn, smiled significantly. 
 
 " I know you laugh because he is always the burden 
 of my song," observed Lucretia; "but, really, if you 
 lived in the same house vriih. him, you could not but 
 admire — very much admire, his sparkling intelligence, 
 his ready wit, and his open gallantry." 
 
 " And my enthusiastic friend places so much confi- 
 dence in her native good sense, that she is not at all 
 afraid of admiring him too much, I suppose ? " inquired 
 Grace. 
 
 "I think nothing about it," rejoined Lucretia. "I 
 am very happy; and that is all I am sure of. As for 
 the good sense you are pleased to talk of, — Minerv'a's 
 shield has withstood many a fierce attack ; but I believe 
 one of Cupid's minikin arrows might shiver it." 
 
 " 0, Lucretia, how little need there is of a window 
 to your heart I " 
 
124 THE REBELS. 
 
 " Yours is carefully muffled in a thick screen, dear 
 Grace ; but the flame will shine through." 
 
 The tears started to Miss Osborne's eyes, and, forget- 
 ting that her remark would apply a keen reproof to her 
 thoughtless friend, she said, " What have I done, that 
 you should accuse me of being deficient in the delicacy 
 which should ever characterize a lady ? " 
 
 " Who would think of defending herself from a charge 
 that has no foundation ? " rejoined Lucretia, putting her 
 arms round her neck, with girlish affection. 
 
 " What is the matter, young ladies ?" inquired Henry 
 Osborne, who entered the library at that moment. 
 
 "Nothing, — only I have offended Grace, as I often 
 do the Graces," answered Lucretia ; " and so I have 
 been trying to atone for it. What news, Henry?" 
 
 " None that will particularly interest such a stanch 
 little toiy as you are." 
 
 " Nay, 1 will not be called names," said she, gayly 
 striking him with her parasol, "unless you can warp 
 your conscience enough to call me by the old-fashioned 
 name of angel. In good earnest, what has happened in 
 the political world ? " 
 
 " Accidents similar to those which happen every day,'* 
 rejoined Osborne. "Merely a few mischievous tricks 
 upon the tories. Mr. Paxton's horse, after being lost 
 some days, was found shut up in the Town House, 
 almost starved to death ; and Doctor Byles, when enter- 
 ing his house this morning, was assailed by a violent 
 shower of soot and water." 
 
 " How did he bear such treatment ? " asked Lucretia. 
 
 " Just as you would suppose. He made a very low 
 bow, and said, ' My friends, you have entirely sooted me.' " 
 
THE REBELS. 125 
 
 " I should like to walk there," said Lucretia, smiling ; 
 " it is several days since I have seen him." 
 
 Grace soon arranged her neat little g}'psy hat, beneath 
 which her golden ringlets escaped, in the most enchant- 
 ing luxuriance ; and the shawl was just pinned about 
 her neck, with Quaker simplicity, when Somen'ille 
 entered. " You are all for a walk, I see," said he, 
 bowing to the ladies. " I have arrived most fortu- 
 nately." 
 
 His arm was offered to Grace, and he was not a little 
 gratified at the shght tremor she betrayed on again 
 meeting him ; nor could she, with all her diffidence, help 
 being a little vain of her infantile beaut}", since it had so 
 evidently fascinated Somerv'ille. 
 
 True, his compliments were less frequent than for- 
 merly ; for Henr}', ^^-ith the affectionate earnestness of 
 an anxious brother, had cautioned him against the flat- 
 ter}- so likely to tarnish the purity and artlessness of her 
 character. Still, however, his delighted eye acknowl- 
 edged her power, and she was not ignorant of its 
 meaning. 
 
 During this walk, it seemed as if he exerted his un- 
 common powers of pleasing to the ver}^ utmost. Now 
 " his broad sail was set in the full, deep stream of argu- 
 ment;" and now, every one was watching the eddies 
 of his wit, as they sparkled, and broke, and whirled away. 
 
 The rein was held with as graceful a hand, whether 
 
 he spurred his majestic war-horse to the battle, pranced 
 
 by a lady's side over hill and dale, or appeared on the 
 
 parade-ground in gala dress, performing its complicated 
 
 evolutions with careless dexterity. 
 
 11# 
 
126 THE REBELS. 
 
 The whole company were in high spirits when Doctor 
 Byles met them at his door. 
 
 " Was there ever such an evening ? " said he, as he 
 came out to welcome them. " It is as light as a cork. 
 I am glad you have come, my young friends ; for Mrs. 
 Byles and the girls have gone to see a sick neighbor, 
 and I was just wishing somebody would come and take 
 a glass with me." 
 
 " A most unclerical wish," observed Henry Osborne. 
 
 " Not as much so as you think, young man," replied 
 the clergyman, displaying a fine brass telescope, and 
 motioning them to follow him up stairs. 
 
 " This is the glass I offer my friends," continued he, 
 fastening one end in the window-shutter, and placing the 
 other in Somerville's hand. 
 
 "I call this chamber my observatory; for, stationed 
 here with my telescope, I can observe-a-tory all over 
 Boston." 
 
 " I wish the search was as seldom rewarded as that 
 of Diogenes, with his lantern," answered Henry. 
 
 " No doubt ; but the ' prayer of the wicked availeth 
 not,' " replied Doctor Byles. 
 
 " How extremely beautiful ! " interrupted Somerville, 
 placing the telescope in Mr. Osborne's hand. " The bay 
 of Naples hardly surpasses this." 
 
 Indeed, beneath the rich gush of autumnal twilight, 
 the scene was indescribably enchanting. 
 
 The broad blue harbor, like the ocean god, reposing 
 on his own bright throne ; the numerous islands, that 
 seemed like infant Naiads, waiting in his presence ; the 
 neighboring churches, like youthful devotees, pointing 
 the finger of faith to heaven ; the foliage, rich with the 
 
THE REBELS. 127 
 
 hues of autumn ; the herds, quietly grazing on the 
 adjoining hills; and all so delightfully mellowed in 
 distance and sunshine, formed a landscape that Claude 
 would have delighted to copy. 
 
 Each one, in succession, gazed upon it, till the strained 
 vision was wearied. As they laid aside the telescope, 
 Somerville glanced at Grace, and said, " To look beyond 
 the smoke and din of the town, to a scene so lovely and 
 placid as that, is welcome to the heart, as it is to meet 
 unpretending goodness and unaffected beauty in the 
 midst of this selfish, artificial world." 
 
 " Here," said Doctor Byles, " is something that pre- 
 cisely resembles the mind of a whig; for their reflections 
 are all upside down ; " — and he placed a large concave 
 mirror before the young ladies. 
 
 "If the images are inverted, they are increased in 
 beauty," observed Henry Osborne. 
 
 " At a distance, I grant ye ; but examine closely, 
 young man, and the defects are glaring enough. My 
 dear girl, step up, and shake hands with yourself." 
 
 The figure of the little sylph seemed to come forth 
 from the glass, as she advanced toward its focus. 
 
 " Nobody can say there is not a shadow of grace about 
 that mirror," said the clergyman. 
 
 " But you can say there is not a shadow of beauty 
 now," rejoined Lucretia, as she herself moved to the 
 glass. 
 
 " If I did say it," replied Doctor Byles, " I would 
 unite with the learned Bishop of Cloyne, and say, it is 
 no matter — all is mind*" 
 
 " How brilliant you are to-night ! " exclaimed Lu- 
 cretia. 
 
 i 
 
128 THE REBELS. 
 
 " Nay, it is you, ladies, who are bright," rejoined he. 
 " When you both came in, lounging on a gentleman's 
 arm, I could not but think 3^ou spark-led." 
 
 " Your ammunition is never exhausted," said Somer- 
 ville ; " one may always be sure of a corps de reserve. 
 There is one of my acquaintance, the famous Samuel 
 Johnson, to whom I should like to introduce you ; but, 
 with his invincible hatred of puns, it might prove dan- 
 gerous." 
 
 " Wit is the least of Doctor Byles' qualifications," 
 said Henry Osborne. 
 
 " Young man, I am not a woman. My constitution 
 does not need the gilded pills of flattery," replied the 
 doctor. 
 
 The suddenness with which he changed from play- 
 fulness almost frivolous to dignity bordering on stern- 
 ness, produced a momentary embarrassment in the whole 
 company. 
 
 Lucretia, who knew him well, was the first to break 
 silence. '* It is the way the doctor sometimes chooses 
 to cut his best friends," said she. 
 
 Doctor Byles looked very angry ; and Somerville per- 
 ceiving it, answered, " The friends of Dr. Byles are 
 never cut, though often wit-led." 
 
 " It is contagious," exclaimed Henry Osborne, rising. 
 " Let us depart, by all means." 
 
 " I should never suspect that Mr. Osborne had a pre- 
 disposition to the disease," replied the clergyman, with 
 his usual dry, sarcastic manner. "But come into my 
 study, Lucretia. I have Goldsmith's celebrated Chinese 
 Letters ; and you say you have never seen them." 
 
 The first object that met their view, on the library 
 
THE REBELS. 129 
 
 table, was a frightful mask, with a lighted candle within 
 it, surmounted by the doctor's wig. 
 
 It had been placed there by some mischievous boys. 
 " You see the spirit of rebellion penetrates to our very 
 closets," obser\-ed the minister. " However, the wig 
 does but cover what it always has, ' a burning and a 
 shininor liaht.' " 
 
 After examining the books and some beautiful philo- 
 sophical apparatus, the young people departed, highly 
 delio-hted with their visit. 
 
 " The evening is so pleasant," observed Henry, " that 
 I see no reason why we should not extend our walk to 
 Koxbur}'." 
 
 " I trust we shall return better pleased than my uncle 
 did from his nocturnal excursion," said Somerv^lle. " No 
 one cares how much old Townsend is tormented ; but it 
 is really carr\'ing the joke too far, when such men as 
 Governor Hutchinson and Doctor Byles are harassed in 
 this way." 
 
 "When one side carry a joke too far, it must be 
 expected that the other will return it by such means as 
 lie in their power," rejoined Osborne. 
 
 " You must not begin to talk politics," said Lucretia ;" 
 " for Captain Somerville never speaks all he thinks, 
 before you. One would hardly believe he could be the 
 same man that I sometimes hear talk with Uncle Hutch- 
 inson." 
 
 Somerville looked as if he did not thank her for thus 
 lowering him in the estimation of ]\Iiss Osborne ; and 
 Henry replied, " I think he begins to be a proselyte to 
 the righteous cause. I have a mind to have him stop to 
 see John, on purpose to give him a good commentary on 
 
130 THE REBELS. 
 
 American feeling. He lives the next door to Mr. 
 Townsend." 
 
 The man of whom he spoke had once been a servant 
 at his father's ; but had, to use his own expression, " laid, 
 by a trifle for a wet day," and was now a thriving New 
 England farmer. 
 
 Everything within their doors indicated industry and' 
 prosperity. The wdfe, a buxom, sweet-tempered looking 
 matron, was supplying four or five white-headed children 
 with bountiful slices of brown bread ; and if she did not 
 perform the simple office with as much grace as Werter's 
 Charlotte, it was certainly very delightful to watch her 
 lobk olr maternal love, as she said, "Hearty souls! it 
 does one good to see you eat. But hush, boys, hush ! 
 here are strangers coming." 
 
 The mother drew her cap down over her ears, and 
 smoothed her checked apron; then, after giving them a 
 most cordial greeting, she showed the w^ay into a neatly 
 white-w^ashed room, the floor of which was profusely 
 sanded, and marked with a variety of fantastic figures, 
 according to the fashion of the times. 
 
 The children, in the mean time, stationed one to peep 
 'at the door, who would now and then run to report pro- 
 ceedings to his laughing companions. 
 
 "They have over much of a good thing," said the 
 father. " The rogues love liberty. Away with you, 
 boys ! " — and, waving his hand, he cleared the door in a 
 moment. An instance of the good old-fashioned obe- 
 dience seldom practised in these degenerate days. 
 
 " I must tell you," continued the farmer, " that you 
 are heartily welcome. Miss Grace, and Mr. Henry, and 
 Miss Fitzherbert, and the stranger gentleman." 
 
THE REBELS. 131 
 
 " I foro-ot to mention that he was Captain Somerville, 
 Governor Hutchinson's nephew," observed Henry. 
 
 " Perhaps you are from England, then ? " 
 
 " I am," repUed Somerville. 
 
 " And may-be you will tarry some time in the colo- 
 nies ? " 
 
 " That is entirely uncertain, sir." 
 
 " "Well, it is none of my business, surely. It is a^good 
 country that you came from, and a good country that 
 you have come to. Both the Englands are good ; but 
 I am sometimes afeard they will try to patch the old 
 with the new, till they make the rents worse." 
 
 " England has no need of patches, my good sir," 
 rejoined Somerville. 
 
 " I doubt that somewhat. They say the young king 
 has some German notions, which he would be much 
 better without. Then there is a heavy debt will go 
 near to break the collar-bone, if it is carried much 
 longer; and them who have the care of it are, in my 
 humble opinion, no more fit to set the broken bones of a 
 nation than my covfs are to climb a ladder." 
 
 " Which I trust they never will do," said Lucretia, 
 laughing. " Mr. Townsend would doubtless be sadly 
 grieved to have a blade of his grass devoured by them." 
 
 " A queer man, that Mr. Townsend, beside being a 
 torj"," answered John Dudley ; " but he that is with him 
 is far worse." 
 I " Who is it ? " asked Grace. 
 
 " He calls himself Harry Wilson ; but such men have 
 a name for every port. I feel scared to look at that 
 house, when I think of the sin there is between its four 
 walls. Odds luck, it was a sight to see, and a sound to 
 
 f 
 
132 THE REBELS. 
 
 hear, the night the whigs sent the tories there on such a 
 Tom-fool's errand. There were wheels rattUng — and 
 knocking at the doors — and laughing, and swearing — 
 and there were lights glimmering round in corners that 
 never saw a light before. The old man was sick three 
 days, to think of the money it cost him. Wilson tells 
 folks that he holds a whip over his back, and that he 
 knows how to get the silver out of his grip." 
 
 " Has this man a family?" inquired Lucretia. " How 
 comes he to be so much with Mr. Townsend ? " 
 
 " There is but little known about him, in these parts," 
 replied Mrs. Dudley; "but a body needs only look in 
 his eye, to see that he is bad enough. Howsomever, 
 there is one above us who knows all things, and will 
 manage them as seemeth good to him. 
 
 " Mr. Wilson came here, t' other day, and told us that 
 his daughter was coming from Quebec ; and he wanted 
 us to let her have one of our tidy chambers, as he called 
 them ; — and w^hen we were at a stand, as it were, on 
 account of his character, you know, he said that if she 
 was his daughter, she was a lady, and had had gentle 
 usage. He said she was going to stay here only a few 
 weeks ; and he seemed so affected-like, that I was fain 
 to let her come. So I have whitened the counterpane, 
 and put the patch curtains up at the window, and sanded 
 the floor of the best chamber." 
 
 " Poor young creature ! " said Grace. 
 
 " She is young," rejoined the matron. " The matter 
 of seventeen, or thereabouts. May-be you will come 
 and see her, young ladies ? Her heart will no doubt be 
 sad, in a strange land. Whist, Hancock ! will ye not 
 whist ? " 
 
THE REBELS. 133 
 
 ** "What do you call your sick little babe ? " asked 
 Lucretia. 
 
 " It was George, for the king, you know. Miss ; but 
 the stamp act a'nt likely to be taken off, so my good man 
 would change it to John Hancock." 
 
 Miss Fitzherbert smiled, and looked significantly at 
 Somerville, as she said, " You see the spirit of the land." 
 
 " That is a fine man, that John Hancock," said the 
 farmer. " He is a true friend to liberty ; and, though he 
 is college larnt, and though he had more money than I 
 could reckon left him a year ago, he is as ready to stop 
 and say, ' How do you do, John Dudley,' as my own 
 wife would be. Poor, dear little Hancock," continued 
 he, taking the child from his mother, and rocking him 
 gently in his arms, " I hope you '11 be as good a man. 
 You must make haste, — yes you must, — Hancock, — 
 you must make haste, and grow strong enough to be a 
 soldier." With a more sober look, he added, " May-be 
 they '11 be wanted, in this oppressed land, before you are 
 able to buckle on a canteen." 
 
 " Hancock, dear Hancock ! " whispered Grace, as she 
 offered him an orange, and kissed the bright red spot on 
 his sickly cheek. 
 
 " O, yes, Grace can kiss him, now she knows his rebel 
 name," said the laughing Lucretia. 
 
 " Almost thou persuadest me to be a rebel," observed 
 the gallant Englishman. 
 
 Henry looked serious and uneasy. He did not like 
 Scripture quoted with so much irreverence ; and he 
 feared the effects of a kind of gallantry to which his 
 sister had been so entirely unused. 
 
 12 
 
134 -.THE REBELS. 
 
 " I believe I must bid you good-night, John," said he, 
 tisinsf. 
 
 " Surely not, sir, till you have tasted a drop of cider, 
 that I made on my owti farm. The king has none 
 better, though I say it that should not say it." 
 
 Upon this hint, his wife took a plate and a large sil- 
 ver can, and left the apartment. 
 
 In a few moments, the children in the kitchen were 
 heard crying, " Give me some, mamma, give me some ! " 
 and, having supplied their wants, the good-natured mother 
 reappeared, with her rosy-cheeked pears and foaming 
 cider. 
 
 " It may seem strange for the like of me to have a 
 silver mug," said the farmer; "but it has more value in 
 it than the metal tells for. Governor Dudley brought it 
 over himself; and there has not been many a better man 
 to drink after." 
 
 His ancestor, his can, and his cider, having received 
 abundance of praise, he urged the young people to take 
 as much fruit as they would, and bade them good-night. 
 
 The young gentlemen, in terms of unqualified appro- 
 bation, talked of the frank hospitality and downiright 
 good sense of their host ; and as the farmer closed his 
 gate after them, he could not refrain from saying, " They 
 are all gentle-folks, every soul of them; and that is a 
 name that means a good deal to them that understand it 
 right." 
 
 *' That 's true, my good man," said his wife. " That 
 Captain Somerville has a frank way with him ; and 
 don't show a speck of pride, — though he is Hutchinson's 
 nephew." 
 
 On their way home, Somerville walked with Miss 
 
THE REBELS. 135 
 
 Osborne ; and Lucretia, of course, accepted the proffered 
 ann of Mr. Osborne. 
 
 O, how dangerous may one brief evening prove to 
 the sliding hearts of the youthful and the guileless ; and . 
 how tasteless is everything in life, compared with the 
 sparkling cup that young love offers before we know his 
 name ! 
 
 Grace returned home with an elasticity of spirit unu- 
 sual to her placid nature ; and when, after the family 
 devotions were concluded, she stooped to kiss her vener- 
 able father, before she retired to rest, he could not but 
 speak of the beaming happiness her angelic countenance 
 expressed. 
 
 "Dear Grace," said Henry, passing his arm round her 
 neck, "I have something to say to you; and I will say it 
 in the presence of our good father." 
 
 His sister looked up inquiringly. 
 
 "You must haA^e suspected how much interest Doctor 
 Willard takes in you?" said he. 
 
 "I know he is a friend to us all," replied she, with 
 extreme embarrassment. 
 
 "Yes, dear sister, he is a friend to us all; and for your 
 sake, he loves us all. Yfith a brother's frankness, he 
 has commissioned me to tell you so." 
 
 "And what does my daughter say to this?" asked 
 her father, in a tone of anxious tenderness. 
 
 "I feel very, very grateful to Doctor Willard; bat — " 
 
 " But what?" interrupted her brother. " YvHiat can a 
 woman desire in a lover, that is not united inliis char- 
 acter ? There is virtue, genius, a good family, genteel 
 manners, personal beauty, and a generous heart, that has 
 long been most sincerely devoted to.you." - 
 
13^ THE REBELS. 
 
 "He is more than I expect — more than I deserve," 
 rejomed Grace. 
 
 " And what shall I tell hhn ? " whispered Henr}^ 
 
 "Tell him to seek some one who deserves his affec- 
 tion, and can return it." 
 
 "Are you aware," said her father, in a tone of severe 
 disappointment, "can you be aware what a treasure you 
 are throwing from you ?" 
 
 "I am — I am," exclaimed Grace, bursting into tears; 
 "but I cannot love him." 
 
 "Will you tell me why?" asked her brother, in an 
 insinuating voice. 
 
 "I have no reason to give," she replied. 
 
 "Has no one else won your pure heart?" 
 
 " no, indeed ; no other one ever sought it." 
 
 " I know it would never unsought be won, if you were 
 aware of it," rejoined Henr}^ "But you are very 
 young, and I fear you will allow 'a passing pleasing 
 tongue,' and the fascination of a polished manner, to 
 outweigh goodness of heart and dignity of character." 
 
 "Talents and education are of great value," inter- 
 rupted her father ; " but we must not forget that the tree 
 of knowledge yields not the same fruit as the tree of life. 
 Fixed religious principles, and an amiable disposition, are 
 of more consequence to domestic happiness than all that 
 wealth, or beauty, or genius, can offer. It was these 
 qualities, in your dear mother, that for thirty years made 
 me the happiest of men. It was these inestimable qual- 
 ities that made you what you are, my children." As he 
 spoke, the tear that fell upon his hand betrayed how 
 dear was the wife that had for years lain in the silent 
 grave. 
 
THE REBELS. 137 
 
 With kindness which seemed like cinielty, Henry said : 
 " Some people admire beauty, wherever they find it. 
 Doctor Willard would love you, if you should lose that 
 fading flower. Other friends may have lofty and gener- 
 ous feelings, — they may be greatly gifted by nature ; 
 but their worth has not been tried, like his. Something 
 novel in character, or m.ore rare in loveliness, may erase 
 a transient impression. A meteor may be dazzling, but 
 we cannot calculate its orbit. 
 
 "I understand you," said she; "but indeed you 
 A\Tong me. If I do not love Doctor Willard, I ought not 
 to marry him, if I v\'ould. But, indeed, indeed, I have 
 no such reason as you suppose." 
 
 " My dear child," said Mr. Osborne, tenderly taking 
 her hand, " you have never, in your whole life, told me 
 an untruth. Do not let me go to my pillow with the 
 fear that you have deceived your earthly father, and 
 sinned against your heavenly one." 
 
 Tears fell fast on the heaving- bosom of the timid and 
 ingenuous Grace. She burst from the embrace of her 
 excellent parent, saying, " Some other time, dear father, 
 some other time, we will talk of this." 
 
 Pitying her extreme distress, neither of them attempt- 
 ed to prevent her departure. Both retired to rest, exceed- 
 ingly anxious concerning a delusion, which, from the 
 character of its object, they could not imagine would 
 terminate happily for the fair being that indulged it. 
 
 12=^ 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 But had I wist, before I kissed, 
 That luve had been sae ill to win, 
 I had locked my heart in a kist of gold, 
 And pinned it wi' a siller pin. 
 
 Old Scotch Sonsr. 
 
 o 
 
 For several weeks, our young friends kept the "noise- 
 less tenor of their way," without meeting any other 
 danger than that of frequent and delightful intercourse. 
 Grace visited less and less frequently at Lucretia's lodg- 
 ings, but the visits she received from Somerville were far 
 too numerous to please her affectionate and judicious 
 connections. Perfectly aware of this, and sometimes 
 chilled by the fastidious reserve of the little beauty, 
 Somerville became more absent, irritable and negligent, 
 than Lucretia had ever seen him. The inattention, 
 which originated entirely in thoughtlessness, seemed to 
 her to be peculiarly pointed ; and she began to fear that 
 the gayety and frankness of her nature had been mis- 
 taken for undue levity. Painful as this idea might be, it 
 was the medicine her diseased mind required. Pride 
 took possession of a heart transparent as it was suscepti- 
 ble, and it was soon evident that she was exerting all her 
 good sense to overcome the fascination to which she had 
 60 foolishly yielded. But when we have long allowed 
 our feelings to spurn at restraint, it requires a giant's 
 hand to curb them ; and though Lucretia possessed great 
 
THE REBELS. 139 
 
 purity and rectitude of purpose, the important lesson of 
 self-control was one she had never learned. The ma- 
 terials for a delightful and highly-finished character 
 were rich and ample, — but want of judgment in the 
 artist had marred the original design; and the mind 
 that might have been a noble Corinthian pillar now 
 only displa3^ed a few beautiful specimens, which, like 
 the Elgin marbles, served to betray the perfection of the 
 column. 
 
 It has been well observed, that there is a time, in the 
 lives of most people, when character fearfully fluctuates 
 in the balance ; and when circumstances, apparently 
 accidental, ma}' do much to decide it, either to good or 
 evil. Henr\' Osborne was aware that the present period 
 was a very important one to ?vliss Fitzherbert ; and he 
 feared that the influence of Somerv-ille was anything but 
 beneflcial. The fearless reasoning, the contempt of quiet 
 A'iriues, the restlessness under the salutar}' shackles of 
 .societ}'', against which a vigorous understanding and a 
 glowing unagination ought to be peculiarly guarded, 
 were all increased bj^ his bold and brilliant conversation. 
 Perhaps a long-cherished attachment to Lucretia had 
 made Mr. Osborne particularly keen-sighted to the faults 
 of his rival ; but so wise, so prudent, had he been, while 
 under the dominion of that blind boy, who is wont to 
 writhe and stamp so furiously in the chains of reason, 
 that the state of kis aflections had never been suspected 
 by their object. However, it had long been sufficiently 
 obvious to Miss Sandford ; and she could not so far over- 
 come her established prejudices as to prefer his simple 
 manners and unpretending good sense to the elegance 
 and genius of the high-bom Englishman. "With con- 
 
140 THE REBELS. 
 
 strained politeness, therefore, she received him, as he 
 entered, according to his usual custom, just as the ladies 
 had retired from the tea-table to the drawing-room. 
 Governor Hutchinson was engaged in his library, and 
 Mr. Osborne was too frequent a guest to disturb his 
 arrangements. Somerville laid down the paper he Vv^as 
 busily reading, and gave him a hearty welcome ; and 
 Lucretia, piqued at the silence and absent manner of her 
 companion, received him with uncommon frankness and 
 cordiality. He brought with him the spirited paper at 
 that time edited by Edes and Giil; and smiled with 
 much significance, as he pointed out to Somerv'ihe the 
 bold resolutions that had been passed in most of the 
 colonies. 
 
 " The spirit of New England may break, but you 
 perceive that it will never bend," observed Osborne. 
 
 " I should despise them, if it did, after having gone 
 thus far," rejoined Somerville. " Indeed, there is little 
 danger of it, as long as you have such writers as this," 
 pointing to the signature of Hyperion. 
 
 " Whom do you suppose it to be ?" 
 
 " No one can hesitate to decide," said Somerville. 
 " Otis pours forth his eloquence like the streaming lava 
 of Vesuvius, melting and scorching as it runs ; May- 
 hew writes with tJie readiness of a scholar, and with a 
 fiery and vehement zeal, strangely at variance with his 
 mild, dispassionate character; but whose pages burn 
 with a flame so strong, bright and fervent, as Quincy's ? 
 His style is lucid as a waveless lake, and it has the 
 muscle of a Hercules." 
 
 " Perhaps j^ou have altered your opinion, that it is not 
 X worth while for England to search for talents in so poor 
 
THE REBELS. 141 
 
 a market as her colonies," said Henr}', smiling at his 
 enthusiastic manner. 
 
 Lucretia gave an incredulous and significant look, as 
 if she would say, " He does not always talk thus." 
 
 "That I have found more wealth, intellect, and 
 refinement, in America, tlian my English education, 
 taught me to expect, is certainly most true," replied 
 Somerville ; " and whatsoever I believe, I frankly con- 
 fess, notwithstanding Miss Fitzherbert expresses, by her 
 looks, that I am guilty of double-dealing." 
 
 " These are sad times," observed Miss Sandford. 
 *' The king condescends too much, for the sake of pleas- 
 ing his refractor}' subjects. It is a pity the good old 
 days of Richard I. could not be restored, when the 
 castles of the boldest barons belonged to the monarch, 
 from the corner-stone to the topmost turret." 
 
 "Nay, Madam Sandford, the world is too old for such 
 leading-strings," replied Henry Osborne. " You your- 
 self would hardly wish for the return of old times, with 
 all their appendages. I query whether the preaching 
 of Doctor Byles would not be more acceptable to you 
 than Hugh Latimer, when he proclaimed to the female 
 part of his audience, ' Ye are underlings ! underlings, — 
 and must be obedient.' " 
 
 " For the love of quiet," said Lucretia, " do not set 
 that ball a rolling ; for do but name the words ' female 
 inferiority' before Aunt Sandford, and it will go like a 
 bullet on an inclined plane, every step accelerating its 
 motion." 
 
 • "In my youth, children were not in the habit of dic- 
 tating what should be said to their elders," rejoined 
 Miss Sandford. 
 
142 THE REBELS. 
 
 Lucretia whispered something that seemed to concili- 
 ate the offended maiden; and Somendlle resumed the 
 conversation by saying, " One must be difficult to 
 please, if they are not satisfied with the preaching of 
 Doctor Byles. His style unites the elegance of Addi- 
 son with the fervent piety of Flavel." 
 
 " Of his warm and genuine devotion I have no 
 doubt," replied Henry; "though most of his audience 
 remember his jests better than they do his religious 
 advice : but I must confess that his style is too florid to 
 meet my ideas of pulpit eloquence. So rich an imagi- 
 nation is singular in a man of his years and deep learn- 
 ing. In. his sermons it shows itself in language fanciful 
 and brilliant ; and in his conversation it bursts forth in 
 the boldest and most eccentric comparisons. To this 
 we owe the continual flashing- of his wit ; and thoug-h I 
 know him to possess uncommon erudition, sincere piety, 
 and the most unyielding integrity, I cannot but think 
 this sparkling trait of character is too luxuriantl}- over- 
 grown. I never see any one quality of the mind stand- 
 ing forth so prominently, without thinking of one of the 
 finest passages in Bacon's philosophy : ' In forming the 
 » human character,' says he, ' we must not proceed as a 
 statuary does in forming a statue, who works sometimes 
 on the face, sometimes on the limbs, sometimes on the 
 folds of the drapery ; but we must proceed (and it is cer- 
 tainly in our power) as nature does in forming a flower, 
 or any other of her productions ; she throws out, alto- 
 gether, and at once, the whole system of being, and the 
 rudiments of all the parts.' " 
 
 "It is a beautiful passage, indeed," rejoined Somer- 
 ville ; " but a character formed on such a plan must be 
 
THE REBELS. 143 
 
 intolerably flat. In good truth, I dislike a character 
 formed at all. Give me nature, bold, impetuous, and 
 unrestrained. It is as much preferable to all your arti- 
 ficial modes, as the foaminof cataracts and towerinof 
 mountains of Switzerland are to the well-built dikes and 
 
 the dead level of the Netherlands." 
 
 « 
 
 "If it were possible for nature to pursue an unbiased 
 course," replied Osborne, " to give her the reins would 
 be a hazardous experiment, though in some instances it 
 might prove a fortunate one ; but the fact is, we are so 
 much the creatures of adventitious circumstance, that it 
 is utterly impossible. She is always receiving impulses 
 from surrounding objects ; and if the impetus is violent, 
 it is two-fold ; for it gives the tendency to rebound to 
 the other extreme. I admire an harmonious, well- 
 adjusted character, be it formed as it may. He who 
 gives himself up to the absorbing power of any one 
 single passion, may draw the eyes of all mankind 
 toward him ; but qualities of a milder and more consist- 
 ent cast constitute the chief charm of domestic life." 
 
 " I repeat that I dislike everything like made-up good- 
 ness," said Somerville. "It is apt to be like brass plated 
 with silver — in the long run, it will show its materi- 
 als." 
 
 " You are very right, Captain Somerville," answered 
 Miss Sandford. " Your over-righteous ones generally 
 prove to be the most consummate hypocrites." 
 
 " Perhaps h}"pocrisy is the real name of what the 
 world generally calls virtue," rejoined the young sceptic. 
 
 " It is too much the case, in these days, to be sure," 
 answered the maiden. 
 
 Henry was about to enter into a vindication of 
 
144 THE REBELS. 
 
 aspersed humanity ; but he well knew Lucretla's disdain 
 of all beaten tracks, and he feared the effect of new and 
 bold ideas elicited from the daring mind of Somervdlle. 
 
 *' Doctor Franklin is a good example of the system I 
 have supported," said he. " Such a character, instead 
 of plated brass, is solid silver, taken from the mine, and 
 skilfully fashioned into useful forms. Never was there 
 a man who owed so much to self-exerted discipline as 
 he does. I remember, in the long conversation I had 
 with him the night before he sailed to England, he 
 minutely detailed the process by which he had attained 
 so much self-control. He made a list of the thirteen 
 virtues he thought most necessary, and to each one he 
 paid particular and undivided attention, for one week. 
 Thus, one week he would refrain from speaking evil of 
 others ; another, he would abstain from ever^^thing not 
 absolutely necessary to life and comfort; and so on. At 
 the end of every quarter, the circle commenced anew. 
 There was sound philosophy in this, — for as each 
 virtue was successively impressed upon the mind at suc- 
 ceeding intervals, no one had a chance to attain a giant 
 growth at the expense of others. 
 
 " If I found any virtue peculiarly stinted, I would give 
 it a double portion of cultivation. Those who are prone 
 to do heedless things would do well to appropriate two 
 weeks, in every quarter, to the very necessary virtue 
 called prudence." 
 
 " " You look as if you wished that remark should be 
 individually appropriated," said Lucretia ; " and perhaps 
 you would tell the same person to foster judgment as if 
 it were a hot-house plant, and trust imagination to its 
 own wild, spontaneous growth." 
 
THE REBELS. 145 
 
 *' Since you understand me so well," replied Osborne, 
 smiling, "I will add, that whatever point of character 
 we find the weakest should be the most sedulousl}' forti- 
 fied ; and, for' this purpose, the choice of friends and of 
 books is equally important." 
 
 " Ah, well ! " said Lucretia, in the careless gayety of 
 her heart, " you must bear with me just as I am, a few 
 years longer ; and then I will promise to be so collected, 
 so prudent I — -\Iy feelings shall be just as calm as the 
 river in summer's moonlight. I will choose my friends 
 among the Quakers, and read nothing but ' The Saint's 
 Rest,' or 'Universal Love Established on a Eight Found- 
 ation.' " 
 
 With much emphasis, Mr. Osborne replied, " I should 
 rather see particular love established on a right founda- 
 tion." 
 
 Fearing he had trusted himself too far, he rose, and 
 opening Thomson's Seasons, which lay on the work- 
 table of the ladies, he carelessly looked over its contents, 
 and then observed he must return home to ^^Tite a letter, 
 before the evening was far advanced. Somerville imme- 
 diately proposed to Miss Fitzherbert that they should 
 both accompany him. Lucretia coldly declined, pre- 
 tending she feared the efiects of evening dampness ; and 
 the young men, having expressed their regret, took their 
 hats, and bade good-evening. 
 
 None of us are to blame for having selfish and evil 
 thoughts ; for imperfections will cling to our fallen 
 nature : but when we cherish them for a moment — 
 more especially, when we give utterance to them — we 
 are guilty of giving form and permanence to what would 
 otherwise be fleeting and shadowy. 
 
 13 
 
146 THE REBELS. 
 
 t 
 
 Miss Sandford was too apt to do this ; and scarcely 
 bad the door closed, before she exclaimed, " I do not 
 like that Grace Osborne, with all the sweetness and 
 modesty she chooses to put on." 
 
 Lucretia had, unconsciously, been tying knot after 
 knot in her thread, little aware that her friend suspected 
 all that was passing in her mind. The tears started to 
 her eyes, as she replied, " I am sure, dear aunt, she is 
 every thing that is amiable and lovely." 
 
 " Nevertheless, with all her pretty diffidence, I do not 
 doubt she tries her best to get Somerville away from 
 you." 
 
 " Away from me ! " said Lucretia, with a look of 
 extreme surprise. 
 
 " I mean," answered Miss Sandford, laying down the 
 screen she had been working, and sweeping up the 
 hearth in a great flurry, " I mean that Somerville re- 
 spects you very much, and would maiTy you, if those 
 deuced Osbomes were out of the way." 
 
 Lucretia smiled at the good old lady's perturbation. 
 " Captain Somerville's heart," said she, " is like the 
 waves cut by a passing vessel — a moment after, you 
 can find no traces of an impression. Grace Osborne 
 can never be in my way. I have always loved her ; — 
 and if Somerville can win her heart, and she can keep 
 his, I shall surely be rejoiced to see a man I value so 
 much united to a being so pure and lovely." 
 
 " The whole family are over good, and very prodigal 
 of their advice," rejoined the matron. " I wonder what 
 right Henry has to direct the books you shall read, and 
 the friends you shall choose." 
 
 " He did not mean to direct, dear madam ; but I am 
 
TTIE REBELS. 147 
 
 SO much with Grace, that he feels the same freedom in 
 talkinor to me that he does to her. I am sure I thank 
 him for his friendship and candor." 
 
 " It is more than I do," retorted the maiden, whose 
 fretfulness was not to be speedily appeased. " Grace, 
 with all her perfections, is the veriest little coquette. 
 Don't look me in the face with as much wonder as if I 
 had said vou had not common sense ! I know they are 
 all your oracles ; and I dare say you will finish the 
 business by marrying the prosing young man who has 
 given you so sage a lecture to-night." 
 
 " There seems ver}' little chance for it," replied Lu- 
 cretia, — "since such a thought probably never entered 
 the young gentleman's brain." 
 
 " You need not tell me that. I have seen this thing 
 coming on, for more than three years. He would have 
 made proposals, before now, if he had known of the large 
 fortune you are to have." 
 
 The attempt to vindicate her friends from such un- 
 founded charges, would have been, just at that time, 
 entirely useless. Lucretia, who well understood the 
 avenues to her heart, gave a more pleasant turn to the 
 conversation, by acknowledging the old lady's experience 
 in the affairs of the heart, and thus leading her to dwell, 
 for the thousandth time, on the rejected addresses of 
 her youth. 
 
 When Miss Fitzherbert retired to her chamber, she 
 took with her the book which a\Ir. Osborne had opened, 
 intending to search for a passage particularly admired 
 by Somer^dlle. The volume opened of itself, and dis- 
 played a note neatly folded, and directed to herself. 
 She opened it, and read as follows : 
 
148 the rebels. 
 
 " Dear Madam : 
 
 "I hardly know how to account for the diffidence 
 I feel in addressing you. The usual exaggerated lan- 
 guage of affection would, I well know, appear ridiculous 
 to you ; and coldness, or reserve, is but ill suited to the 
 present state of my feelings. The declaration that I 
 have been, for years, most sincerely and devotedly at- 
 tached to you, may not perhaps be entirely unexpected ; 
 and I once hoped it would not be entirely disagreeable. 
 You do not owe your influence over me to a sudden 
 freak of fancy; it results from a long and intimate 
 knowledge of your character. Yet I will not flatter you 
 by saying I consider you faultless ; — on the contrary, I 
 think you have defects, which may prove very dangerous 
 to yourself and friends, unless tunely corrected. But 1 
 cannot imagine a character more elevated than might be 
 formed from a mind so vigorous, and a heart so generous 
 and (Candid, as yours. 
 
 " How largely I think you would contribute to domes- 
 tic happiness, is proved by the step I have now taken. 
 Whether the lovely garland of hope, that my heart has 
 so long been weaving, is to be scattered to the winds, 
 depends on your answer. At all events, ever your affec- 
 tionate friend, and obedient servant, 
 
 Henry Osborne." 
 
 " Umph," said Lucretia, as she folded the letter, " I 
 say, with Cowley, 
 
 * I could not love, I 'm sure, 
 One who in love were wise.' " 
 
 With a promptitude for which she did not stop to 
 account to her own heart, she thanked Mr. Osborne 
 
THE REBELS. 149 
 
 for the confidence he had placed in her, and expressed 
 an affectionate interest in his welfare and happiness; 
 but declared that it was utterly impossible for her ever 
 to reciprocate his attachment. 
 13^ 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 He dies, and makes no sign ! — O God, forgive him ! 
 
 So bad a death argues a monstrous life. 
 
 Henry VI. 
 
 'o^ 
 
 On a damp and chilly evening, at the commencement 
 of November, the peaceful family circle at Mr. Osborne fe 
 was disturbed by a loud and hasty knock at the outer 
 door. It proved to be John Dudley, evidently agitated, 
 and out of breath with exertion. 
 
 " You will excuse me, sir, for coming upon you in 
 this way," said he, bowing to the elder ]\Ir. Osborne ; — 
 " but where there is good to be done, I know you are 
 always fond of going," 
 
 " Very true, John ; and of what service can I be 
 now ? " 
 
 " Why, Miss Grace remembers that my good woman 
 told her about AVilson's daughter, that was coming to 
 board with us. "Well, sure enough, she came, with a 
 young man, who, they say, is her new-married husband ; 
 and as comely a couple they are as ever I looked oh. 
 She has a noble way with her, that makes her seem like 
 a duchess ; and he is as rosy and fresh as seventeen. 
 Howsomever, that 's neither here nor there. They are as 
 unliappy now as the oldest and the ugliest. Her father 
 is dying, — and oh, such a hard death! 'The doctor 
 says he is pisoned; and my Rebecca looks hard at old 
 Townsend." 
 
 To their brief inquiries, Dudley rapidly answered, that 
 
THE REBELS. 151 
 
 about half an hour before, Mr. Percival had come in, as 
 pale as ashes, and begged him and his wife to go to Mr. 
 Townsend's; and that, when they arrived there, they 
 found Mr. Wilson in dreadful fits, crj'ing out for a priest, 
 to whom he might confess. "And so," continued he, 
 " I ran off for you, thinking you might speak a word of 
 comfort to his poor soul." 
 
 Mrs. Dudley was right in her conjecture. The shaft 
 of death had been winged by the hand of TowT:isend. 
 Two or three unsuccessful expeditions to Castle William 
 had given rise to a suspicion that Wilson had himself 
 secreted the treasure supposed to be concealed there : 
 this, together with a daily increasing fear of detection, 
 induced the old man to remove his guilty associate by 
 means of poison; but no sooner had the deadly potion 
 commenced its work, than the poor wretch, rendered 
 cowardly by wickedness, sought to drown the voice of 
 conscience in a copious draught of laudanum. 
 
 When Mr. Osborne arrived, he was met at the door 
 by Doctor Willard. " You have come to a terrible 
 scene, my dear sir," said he. " Being at my father's, 
 I was sent for, as the nearest physician ; but, I assure 
 you, I would gladly have avoided the task." 
 
 It w^as, indeed, a melancholy sight, to see two who 
 had long been supposed companions in guilt 13'ing on 
 miserable pallets in the same room of death. 
 
 The miser, gasping for breath, seemed insensible to 
 all around him ; yet his right hand clutched a bag of 
 gold with all his remaining energy", as if he thought the 
 filthy lucre would assist him beyond the grave. His 
 nephew stood rubbing his stiffened hand, with a look of 
 mingled distress and compassion. 
 
152 THE REBELS. 
 
 The sufferings of Wilson were more severe than 
 those of his murderer. He would shriek and struggle 
 till his strength was quite exhausted, and then his weak 
 limbs would quiver with the acuteness of bodily pain, 
 and his features become convulsed with the violence of 
 internal emotion. His daughter knelt by his bed-side, 
 in tears ; and, pale and anxious as she was, Doctor Wil- 
 lard saw, in her exceeding beauty, an ample excuse for 
 Percival's degrading marriage. 
 
 She had loosened the rosary from her neck, and she 
 held the sacred emblem of salvation before the sufferer, 
 as she said, " Try to pray, dear father ! " He gazed on 
 her, for a moment, with a dreadful expression of remorse 
 and terror, and then turned his face the other way, with- 
 out speaking a word. 
 
 Doctor Willard prepared an opiate, and as his child 
 stooped down to arrange his pillows, and apply the 
 laudanum to his throbbing temples, — with a frightful, 
 hollow laugh of insanity, he exclaimed, " Where is your 
 bloody gown, Gertrude ? I have been told that heart's 
 blood will not wash out in any earthly stream ! " 
 
 He looked up as he spoke — his expression suddenly 
 changed; and he shaded his face, as he murmured, 
 " O, how much like Fitzherbert ! " 
 
 " It 's a lie ! " squeaked the old miser, in tones hardly 
 audible, " I never touched Fitzherbert's money." 
 
 " Ha ! are you there, old raven ? " said his accom- 
 plice, trying to raise himself on his elbow. 
 
 The exertion was too much for him, and with a deep 
 groan he fell backward. His spasms were, for a while, 
 more violent than ever. Percival left the bed-side of 
 his uncle, where he had long been pouring words of 
 
THE REBELS. 153 
 
 kindness and consolation into ears that regarded him 
 not ; and when his wretched father-in-law had an inter- 
 val of comparative quiet, he took Mr. Osborne's hand, 
 as he said, " Here is a clergy-man come to pray with 
 you." 
 
 " I know what to say to please him and all his tribe," 
 replied the hardened sinner; " but it would do no good. 
 There is an accusing spirit, with a bloody robe, that will 
 undp all that he or I can do to save me." 
 
 " But there is One who has the power and the will to 
 save the penitent," observed Mr. Osborne. 
 
 Mr. Wilson scowled deeply. " I have something to 
 confess," said he ; " but he is not one of the confessing 
 sort." 
 
 " Is there no holy priest in Boston, who could give 
 ease to my father's parting spirit ? " inquired Gertrude. 
 
 " There is no Catholic, God be praised ! " said Mr. 
 Osborne, with a look that expressed his compassion for 
 her deluded faith. 
 
 " I have much to say, and brief space to say it in," 
 rejoined Wilson ; " but it touches the life of that old 
 man. I meant to have refonned from my evil ways, if 
 the Almighty had given me time ; as it is, I must take 
 my chance." 
 
 A loud groan, at that instant, directed all eyes toward 
 Mr. Townsend's couch. Percival instantly sprang for- 
 ward, — for, unnoticed bj'- any one, he had fallen into 
 strong convulsions. Doctor Willard tried to open his 
 hands ; but, with strength that seemed almost miracu- 
 lous, he clasped the golden treasure, and, in broken and 
 indistinct accents, complained that they were taking 
 away his last farthing. 
 
154 THE REBELS. 
 
 " I won't, I won't ! " said he, struggling with the phy- 
 sician, " I say, I won't pay a farthing ; for I never wronged 
 her." 
 
 Sinking back as he spoke, his muscles twitched, his 
 limbs drew up, and he expired. 
 
 The tears coursed each other down the cheeks of his 
 nephew, as he gazed on the corpse of him who had 
 lived unbeloved and died unlamented. 
 
 It is always melancholy to see a desolate mortal ven- 
 turing into the fathomless abyss of eternity, without one 
 friendly voice on shore to bid him God-speed ; and per- 
 haps the mixture of regret and self-reproach, which we 
 feel when standing by the death-bed of those whom we 
 ought to love, yet cannot, has more of anguish in it than 
 belongs to any other species of sorrow. 
 
 Wilson, himself tottering on the verge of the preei- 
 pice from which his companion had just dropped, seemed 
 to be the only one unmoved. 
 
 " So he has gone to hell before me, and my story can 
 do him no harm," said he. 
 
 With a look of unutterable agony, Gertrude fell on 
 her husband's neck, and sobbed out, " O ! 1 cannot hear 
 him talk thus." 
 
 The action seemed to soften the heart of her father ; 
 and, seizing the favorable moment, Mr. Osborne said, 
 "You are a dying man, Mr. Wilson; and something 
 seems to weigh heavily on your conscience. Remember 
 there is One to whom it is never too late to kneel for 
 pardoning mercy." 
 
 Wilson waved his hand impatiently. " I have some- 
 thing else to say now," answered he ; — " when I have 
 done, I will listen to you. Mr. Townsend was executor 
 
THE REBELS. 155 
 
 to the Fitzherbert estate. He embezzled most of the 
 property. I broke open the widow's house; I inter- 
 cepted her letters, and he paid me for it." 
 
 Before he could say more, his fits again came over 
 him. He writhed and groaned, — and the sweat stood 
 on his brow, in the intensity of his pain. With self- 
 command wonderful in one so young, his daughter 
 leaned over him, and assisted Doctor AVillard in his 
 attempts to restore him. 
 
 When he revived a little, Mr. Osborne, impelled by 
 his anxiety for Lucretia, asked where the proofs of this 
 transaction could be found. 
 
 " In a small iron box, at John Dudley's house," an- 
 swered Wilson. " I got them from the miser by the 
 help of false keys ; and I held the whip over his back 
 forever after. There are two other things 1 would tell 
 of, — perhaps it may help me through purgator}'. There 
 is a chest of gold buried in the ground, behind the store 
 No. — , King-street. I meant to have left it to Ger- 
 trude," continued he, looking at her with earnest affec- 
 tion, "but she will have enough, if justice has all her 
 due." 
 
 " 0, tell the truth ! — tell all the truth! " said Gertrude, 
 stooping to kiss his pale face. 
 
 Delighted approbation shone in the expressive coun- 
 tenance of Percival. " She is richer in her husband's 
 love than gold or silver could make her," obsen^ed Doc- 
 tor Willard. " ^lay I ask if this chest of gold is the 
 same Mr. Townsend dug up on the island, last Sep- 
 tember ? " 
 
 " The old fool never dug it up," said Wilson, with a 
 hideous laugh. " Did he think I 'd know where treas- 
 
156 THE REBELS. 
 
 ure was, and not get it myself? — I kept it as a sort of 
 lure for him ; but it was dug up in August, and a smooth 
 stone placed in its stead." 
 
 " And what," inquired Doctor Willard, " was the 
 meaning of the noise, and of that struggling in the 
 sand?" 
 
 A slight smile of contempt curled the lips of the dying 
 man, as he asked, " Had you not a favorite dog ? " 
 
 " I had." 
 
 " And did you ever see him, after you left Castle 
 William?" 
 
 "I never did — though I have offered large rewards 
 for him." 
 
 " How superstition blinds itself ! " replied Wilson. 
 " The men were startled by the voice of Doctor Byles ; 
 they suffered the stone to slip, and your dog was crushed 
 beneath it." 
 
 " To whom does this gold belong ? " asked Percival. 
 
 " Some accursed fatahty has always joined my for- 
 tunes with Fitzherbert's," said he. " The box was his. 
 There is that within it will explain all. There is one 
 thing more. In Mr. Townsend's third drawer you will 
 find a book of bank-notes belonging to Governor Hutch- 
 inson." 
 
 "Why did you not tell all this before?" inquired 
 Percival. " I could have persuaded my poor uncle to 
 restore all to the rightful owners." 
 
 " No such easy matter that," replied Wilson. " Be- 
 side, to tell the truth, I could not bear that Gertrude 
 should lose a penny, until death began to stare me in 
 the face. I knew your romantic generosity would betray 
 all. I respect you for it ; and in a moment of weakness 
 
THE REBELS. 157 
 
 I once trusted a fearful secret to it — a secret which you 
 alone of all the world are pri\y to." 
 
 " Is he ? " cried a voice, startling in its shrillness. 
 
 The eyes of all present were directed to. the quarter 
 whence the sound proceeded. A tall, gaunt figure, in a 
 bright red cardinal, stood near the door. A wTinkled, 
 smoke-colored arm was thrust forth from the cloak, and 
 her hand rested on a cane covered with snake-skin. A 
 rust}^ black bonnet had fallen back on her shoulders, and 
 gave a full view of her countenance, gleaming with 
 expression perfectly satanic. "Where should your 
 crime be so faithfully recorded as on the heart you have 
 crushed?" said she. "I told you a violent death was 
 not far distant. You call me Molly Bradstreet, — but I 
 am the mother of the murdered Gertrude May ! " 
 
 A piercing shriek came from Wilson's inmost soul. 
 
 Her eyes seemed to flash with infernal fire, as she 
 exclaimed, — "You did kill her, then ? Own it, wretch 1 
 
 — own it ! " 
 
 "I did stab her," said Wilson; "but you do not know 
 the cause." 
 
 The frenzied mother threw her cane upon the floor, 
 and springing to the bed, shook the dying man with the 
 strength and fur}^ of an Amazon. 
 
 "Take her away from him — take her away!" cried 
 Gertrude, in a voice suflfocated with emotion. 
 
 Her husband and Doctor Willard forced her from the 
 apartment ; but as they retreated, she fixed her wither- 
 ing gaze upon Wilson, and shook her bony fist in impo- 
 tent rage, as she exclaimed : " A mother's curse go with 
 you; and the torments of the damned be your portion 
 
 — murderer as you are I " 
 
 14 
 
158 THE REBELS. 
 
 #^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 ^ir T^ TV* Tv" •7^ 
 
 *' The pains of death are coming over me, thanks to 
 the hand that hurried them," said Mr. Wilson. " Stoop 
 down and kiss me, while I have my senses ; for bad as I 
 am, I love you, my child." 
 
 "0, my father, — my poor father, — would I had never 
 known all this ! " said Gertrude ; and as she covered her 
 face with her trembling hands, the scalding tears forced 
 their way between her slender fingers. 
 
 The dying parent gave her one fervent kiss, and would 
 have clasped her to his aching heart, but the paroxysms 
 came on more violently than ever. In the terrible contest, 
 reason was forever hurled from her throne. He seemed 
 to wrestle with some imaginary being, and screamed and 
 struggled, as he said, " Let me go ! let me go ! She is 
 standing there to heap red-hot coals upon my head. O, 
 save me ! save me ! " This dreadful contlict could not 
 last long. Life yielded to the torturing fiend; and he 
 expired amid shrieks and agony. 
 
 The distressing scene came upon the innocent heart of 
 Gertrude with double power ; for, till now, she had been 
 ignorant that a shadow of crime could be imputed to her 
 father ; and she was carried from the room in a state of 
 insensibility. 
 
 Delicacy prevented any one from alluding to the 
 shocking causes of the deaths they had just witnessed ; 
 though none doubted the distressing truth. 
 
 "I sincerely thank you for your kind exertions, though 
 they have been so fruitless," said Percival to the worthy 
 clergyman. "It is but lately that my father-in-law 
 made a firm resolution that a virtuous old age should 
 
THE REBELS. 159 
 
 atone, as far as possible, for his early sins ; but late 
 refonnations are always danf^erous." 
 
 " The stains of evil are indeed washed out with diffi- 
 culty, when they have long been dicing and deepening 
 beneath the scorching heat of the passions," replied Mr. 
 Osborne. " Such instances should teach us all an im- 
 pressive lesson. They sen'e too well to confirm the 
 awful truth, that the threshold of hell is paved with good 
 resolutions." 
 
 "I trust the fearful warning will not be lost upon us," 
 rejoined the young man. "A priest of our own persua- 
 sion would be more pleasant to myself and ]\Irs. Perci- 
 val ; but as this is not altogether pmcticable at this time, 
 will you, my good sir, attend these funerals, the day after 
 to-morrow ? " 
 
 Mr. Osborne readily assented ; and after Doctor Wil- 
 lard had generously offered his sen-ices in any way they 
 might be required, the young husband retired to console 
 Gertrude with all the arguments that good sense or ten- 
 derness could suggest. 
 
 Grace and Lucretia spent the ensuing day in the 
 house of mourning ; and their ready kindness and unaf- 
 fected sensibHit}^ rapidly m.ade their way to the heart of 
 the fair mourner, — while the guileless simplicity of her 
 ideas, aided b}" the witchery of foreign accent, made a 
 claim on their affections, equally powerful. 
 
 They were all at that happy age, when the heart, 
 elastic and pliable, bounds forward to receive an impres- 
 sion, and gives back its image in lines broad, deep, and 
 distinct. 
 
 WTien they parted, Percival smiled, as he said, "You 
 have taken the heart of my Gertrude by a coup de main; 
 
160 THE REBELS. 
 
 had you been nine years in the St. Vallier's convent, I 
 think you could hardly have been greater friends." 
 
 In no point of view could the death of the two unhap- 
 py men be considered a misfortune ; — yet the funeral 
 was a crowded one. 
 
 The novel and exciting circumstances attending their 
 decease, the handsome Canadian stranger, and the desire 
 to explore a house which they had never been allowed to 
 visit during the life-time of its owner, led the populace 
 thither in throngs. 
 
 When everything was arranged for the procession, 
 the sexton, according to custom, announced that any one 
 had liberty to view the bodies. The crowd rushed in 
 with eagerness. Every one that looked on their convulsed 
 and blackened features turned away with an expression 
 of horror; and others, with redoubled eagerness, pressed 
 forward, to ascertain the cause of such obvious emotion. 
 He must have, indeed, been ingenious in torture, who 
 first devised this cruel custom, still common in the inte- 
 rior of our country. O, how the mother is thrilled with 
 anguish, when the blessed little face, that has so often 
 nestled to her heart in cherub plaj-^fulness, is exposed to 
 the view of the rude and unfeeling ! and how the hus- 
 band's heart swells almost to bursting, when the loved 
 countenance, once all radiant with affection, is given, in 
 its cold and lifeless beauty, to the heartless gaze of a 
 multitude ! 
 
 There were no such feelings to be aroused on this 
 occasion ; but Gertrude was oppressed with a deep and 
 distressing sense of shame, that the violent death of her 
 father should thus needlessly be made public. Her hus- 
 band sympathized with her feelings, and beckoned to 
 
THE REBELS. 161 
 
 Doctor Willard, who, in a low voice, requested the sex- 
 ton to screw down the lids of the coffins, and dispense 
 with further ceremon}'. 
 
 " Xot till I have looked my last," said a discordant 
 voice. The crowd made way for some one, and presently 
 the gi-andmother of Gertrude stood by the coffin, eying 
 the lifeless remains of her son-in-law, with the malig- 
 nant triumph of a vindictive fiend. "I told him it 
 would end thus ; but he little thought how much more I 
 could have told him," murmured she, as she seated her- 
 self among the mourners. 
 
 "Who is she? who is she?" was whispered among 
 the crowd ; but those who were able to give the informa- 
 tion did not choose to impart it, and no further notice 
 was taken of the interruption. 
 
 In a long and fervent prayer, Mr. Osborne alluded to 
 the insufficiency of wealth, and dwelt much on the never 
 failing mercies of the Saviour. AVhat he said was so 
 exactly appropriate, and what he forbore to say evinced 
 so much delicacy and tenderness, that Gertrude half for- 
 got her Catholic prejudices ; though she internally re- 
 solved that mass for her father's soul should be said for 
 three months in the convent of St. Vallier. 
 
 When the procession formed, Mr. and I\Irs. Percival 
 
 rose, and led the way. With a sudden and rapid stride, 
 
 the grandmother approached Lucretia, and seizing her 
 
 arm, attempted to follow. Lucretia shrank from the 
 
 contact, with loathinsf and terror : but the sincnilar wo- 
 
 man held her in a strong grasp, as she said, " Thus, 
 
 thus it should be. I am no mourner, — neither are you; 
 
 nevertheless, our place is here." 
 
 Fearing her violence would create confusion, Lucretia 
 14# 
 
162 THE REBELS. 
 
 passively yielded to her guidance, — though partly from 
 fear, and partly from the inequality of their stature, she 
 found it nearly impossible to keep pace with her. Noth- 
 ing was said till they arrived at the burial-ground. The 
 harsh, grating cords lowered the coffins into the earth ; 
 the heavy clods were heaped upon them, and slowly and 
 with measured tread the mourners left the melancholy 
 spot. "Lucretia Fitzherbert," said the old woman, step- 
 ping aside from her companions, and warmly clasping 
 her hand, " you '11 may-be never see me again ; or if ye 
 do, I'll may -be bring you unwelcome tidings. I am 
 sometimes strongly moved to make reparation for all I 
 have done ; but it will not come out. A good name will 
 do much for you ; but when you come to your rich rela- 
 tions, and your heaps of silver, do not forget a poor, half- 
 crazed creature, that has watched for ye, wept for ye, and 
 kept an eye on ye, — but never for evil. You are the 
 only one left to pray for her now I " 
 
 Her chin quivered, her lips moved convulsively, and 
 the pressure of her hand was painful in its desperate 
 fervor. 
 
 With mingled surprise and pity. Miss Fitzherbert 
 answered : "If there is anything I can do for you, poor 
 woman — " 
 
 "Your love and your prayers," interrupted she; — 
 "oh, if I had them, I could tread my wearisome pilgrim- 
 age in peace." 
 
 " My grandmother," said Gertrude, who had often 
 looked back, and now timidly approached them, "is there 
 nothing you will allow us to do for you, before we go 
 back to Canada ? " 
 
 "You! you I" replied she, with a vacant laugh. 
 
THE REBELS. 163 
 
 "You owe me nothing; but your painted outside has 
 done well for you." 
 
 Without waiting for an answer, she suddenly struck 
 into a little winding path, and was soon seen towering 
 among the distant bushes. 
 
 *' It is xery strange," said Gertrude ; " we invited her 
 to this funeral, and offered her a suit of mourning ; but 
 she refused to come. ]\Iy husband voluntarily promised 
 her a house and a pension for life ; but she. treated it all 
 %^'ith the bitterest scorn." 
 
 On their way homeward, it was agreed that her 
 grandchildren, accompanied by Lucretia, should seek 
 her dwelling, the ensuing day. They did so accord- 
 ingly ; but no traces of the unhappy creature could be 
 found. An old woman, who lived a few rods from her 
 ^^Tetched hut, said that "Molly had gone off, the day 
 before, bag and baggage ; and that it was borne in upon 
 her mind, that she meant to lay violent hands on her- 
 self; but then there was no telling — for she always 
 had a rambling way with her." 
 
 There were but few affairs left for i\Ir. Percival to 
 arrange, before he left New England. Four thousand 
 pounds, the amount proved to have been sequestrated 
 from the Fitzherbert estate, was paid into the hands of 
 Governor Hutchinson. The chest of gold was found 
 where Wilson had directed, and its contents were pre- 
 cisely what he stated in his conversation with Mr. 
 Townsend. At the bottom of the silver was a letter, 
 worn and blackened by the metal, but still enough of it 
 legible to make out, \Yith. slight assistance from imagina- 
 tion, 
 
164 THE REBELS. 
 
 " I was induced to collect my property, lest the settle- 
 ment should trouble you, in case of my death. 
 
 " Ever your loving husband, 
 
 " Edmund Fitzherbert." 
 
 Lucretia kissed the precious document, and steeped it 
 in her tears. " How well it is," said she, " that we 
 never know the event of what we undertake ! Could 
 my poor father have foreseen that his dear wife would 
 have died of a broken heart, without ever being aware 
 of the kind provision he had made for her comfort, how 
 wretched he would have been ! " 
 
 The identical handwriting of Captain Fitzherbert was 
 immediately sent to England, together with an account 
 of Wilson's confession ; and Mr. and Mrs. Percival 
 returned home, blessed by the numerous friends whom 
 their integrity and kindness had procured for them. 
 
 A few days after their departure. Doctor Byles 
 entered the breakfast-parlor, before Governor Hutchin- 
 son had arisen from the table. 
 
 " I have made you an early call," said he ; " for since 
 there are no moles stirring, and since the talk about 
 Wilson and Townsend begins to die away, I think you 
 must be in need of excitement." 
 
 " That was a gloomy business," replied the governor. 
 " Those who were witnesses of it will not speedily for- 
 get it. With all Mr. Osborne's abhorrence of Wilson's 
 superstitious creed, he said it made him feel melancholy 
 to see a poor, dying sinner, craving the only spiritual 
 consolation in which he had the least faith, and yet 
 unable to procure it." 
 
 " It is a pity that Brother Osborne had not as much 
 
THE REBELS. 165 
 
 political charity as he has religious," answered the doc- 
 tor. " That these two wicked mortals went to the bar 
 of an offended God with all their unrepented sins upon 
 their heads, is melancholy enough ; but as to the Catho- 
 lic priest, I am much of the opinion of ' the ever memo- 
 rable Hales.' ' Pliny somewhere tells you,' says this 
 bold and witty writer, ' that he that is stricken by a 
 scorpion, if he go immediately and whisper it in the ear 
 of an ass, shall find himself immediately eased. That 
 sm is a scorpion, and bites deadly, I have always 
 believed ; but that, to cure the bite of it, it was a sov- 
 ereign remedy to whisper it into the ear of a — priest, I 
 do as well believe, as I do that of Pliny.' " 
 
 " Probably ]\Ir. Osborne's faith is about tantamount to 
 yours and ' the ever memorable Hales',' " said Lucretia ; 
 "but it is not surprising his feelings were touched. 
 What news do you bring, to excite us ? " 
 
 "What would 3'ou give to know?" said Doctor Byles, 
 drawing a package from his pocket with the most tanta- 
 lizing moderation. 
 
 "Only tell me one thing, — is it from England?" 
 inquired Lucretia. 
 
 " It is." 
 
 "Nay, then, you must not keep us one moment in 
 suspense," said Governor Hutchinson. 
 
 " O, if a letter from Mr. Fitzherbert has arrived ! " 
 exclaimed Miss Sandford. 
 
 With a most provoking air, the clerg}Tnan replaced 
 the letters in his pocket, as he obser\'ed, " Self-denial is 
 a very necessarj^ virtue. Madam Sandford. Women, in 
 particular, should learn it well." 
 
 " Small danger of their lacking lessons, as long as 
 
166 THE REBELS. 
 
 society affords such lordly and tyrannic beings as your- 
 self," she replied. 
 
 " This is too bad," said the governor, half angry and 
 half amused at his friend's childishness. " In the name 
 of his most Christian majesty, George III., Defender of 
 the Faith, and, by the grace of God, King of Great 
 Britain, Ireland, and the American Colonies, I command 
 you to deliver up the sealed parcel wherewith you have 
 been intrusted." 
 
 " Prove your credentials, and I yield to royal author- 
 ity," answered Doctor B3des. 
 
 " Might makes right," replied his antagonist, and 
 making a sudden plunge, he snatched the package from 
 its hiding-place. 
 
 " Since you have it," observed the doctor, " I will give 
 an account how I came by it. I walked unusually early 
 this morning, and perceiving the Queen Caroline at the 
 wharf, I went on board to search for letters ; and finding 
 two parcels — one for yourself, and one for me — I took 
 charge of both." 
 
 Two epistles, in the well-known hands of the Lords 
 Hillsborough and North, were laid aside, to be read at 
 leisure. The third, though directed to his Excellency 
 Governor Hutchinson, began : 
 
 " Dear Niece : 
 
 "I have only time, before this vessel sails, to tell you 
 that the important papers — certificate of marriage, birth, 
 &c. — came duly to hand. Evidence is ample and 
 satisfactory. There is no doubt that your father was 
 my dear, but very headstrong nephew, — though your 
 miniature shows not a shadow of family likeness. 1 
 
THE REBELS. 167 
 
 rejoice to see, by your letter, that you have been edu- 
 cated as a Fitzherbert should be. As a trifling acknowl- 
 edgment of this kindness, present the articles that 
 accompany this to Governor Hutchinson and his sister. 
 A voyage at this season would be cold and dangerous ; 
 but as soon as the spring opens, you must make for 
 England. " Your loving uncle, 
 
 ; " Fitzherbert." 
 
 Grosvenor-square, London, ) 
 Sept. 28th, 1765. j 
 
 This laconic letter was in a fair Italian hand ; and the 
 upright, heavy signature, was evidently the only part 
 written by the rich old bachelor. A few hours after, a 
 small box, directed to Lucretia, was brought from the 
 newly arrived vessel. 
 
 It contained a superb work-box, mounted on golden 
 claws, and ornamented with a lion couchant, of the same 
 precious material, designed for Madam Sandford ; a gold 
 repeater, of splendid worlmianship, bore the family arms 
 of Hutchinson, marked with the initials, T. H. A 
 miniature, richly studded with rubies and pearl, gave to 
 Lucretia's view the blutf, sun-burnt features of her 
 wealthy uncle ; and last of all, appeared a draft on the 
 Bank of England, to the amount of one thousand 
 pounds. 
 
 Again and again was the transaction talked over, and 
 the munificent presents were examined and reexamined. 
 I In the course of the day, the Osbornes called to congrat- 
 ulate their young friend on her good fortune, of the pros- 
 pect of which they had, till within a week, been entirely 
 ignorant. 
 
 "Joy? joy'" cried Miss Sandford; " Lucretia goes to 
 
168 THE REBELS. 
 
 England early in the spring ; and she can have the reti- 
 nue of a duchess, if she chooses." 
 
 Grace said but little, but her eloquent looks spoke 
 satisfaction, without the slightest tinge of envy. 
 
 Mr. Osborne folded his hands over her, in paternal 
 benediction, as he said, " Your brain must be steady, 
 indeed, if you can stand on this dizzy height unmoved. 
 Pray that you may be strengthened for the trial, my 
 child.'^ 
 
 Henry gave her hand a lingering pressure, as he 
 whispered, " I rejoice that I was kept in ignorance of all 
 this. Wherever Miss Fitzherbert goes, and whatever 
 may be her fortune, she will at least remember that 
 Henry Osborne was a friend, sincere and disinterested." 
 
CHAPITER XIV. 
 
 5Iea such as these could brave a monarch's frown, 
 Could pluck the diamonds from a tyrant's crown ; 
 And when the oppression ceased, such men could show 
 A godlike greatness, and forgive a foe. Pierpont. 
 
 The winter passed away without any domestic occur- 
 rences worthy of repetition ; though trifles, seen through 
 the illusive medium of young aflection, were abundantly 
 magnified by the individuals concerned. 
 
 In public, there were angry messages from Governor 
 Bernard, and high-toned answers from the intrepid legis- 
 lature. Offices were closed, public business suspended, 
 and the creditor left at the mercy of his debtor, because 
 the untamed spirit of our fathers would not cower to 
 take the yoke that an impolitic government had pre- 
 pared. TSor did Massachusetts tread her proud and 
 daring course alone. All the neighboring colonies joined 
 her ranks, -^-ith union as voluntary as it was energetic. 
 The lakes gave back the signal of resistance, and the 
 thundering sound reverberated along the Atlantic coast, 
 until it was lost among the uninhabited prairies of the 
 south. The first loud burst of indignation was indeed 
 hushed for a time ; and some superficial politicians mis- 
 took the calmness of fixed resolution for the tameness of 
 submission. It was, however, but suppressed resent- 
 ment, " still as the hours that watch the earthquake's 
 birth." 
 
 The yQVY first men who dared attempt to enforce the 
 15 
 
no THE REBELS. 
 
 odious law found that the giant had but paused to place 
 his lance in rest, and to rein in his steed for the combat. 
 Britain discovered the strength of her antagonist ; and 
 though too. proud to quit the lists hastily, she slowly and 
 cautiously retreated before her ^'outhful foe. 
 
 In March, 1766, a repeal of the stamp act arrived in 
 Boston ; and, notwithstanding it purported to be a mere 
 act of condescension, and haughtily maintained the right 
 of England to tax her colonies, it was received with 
 every demonstration of joy. 
 
 Muffled drums, and flags half-mast high, had an- 
 nounced the unpopular duty ; and scarcely had the news 
 of its revocation spread through the town, before stand- 
 ards were seen fluttering high in the air, and " God save 
 the King " rung from the bells, in many a loud and merry 
 peal. " Liberty" was blazoned on hat-bands and shoul- 
 der-belts, and the drum rolled its deep response to '' the 
 spirit-stirring fife," until the going down of the sun. 
 In the evening, the streets were brilliantly illuminated. 
 " Liberty," " No Stamps," " The Repeal," were every- 
 where traced in characters of light. 
 
 Somervifle and the young ladies, the two Osbornes 
 and Doctor Willard, walked out together, to enjoy the 
 animation and excitement of the scene. Opposite the 
 Province House, they all paused to examine the fanciful 
 devices that had been hastily prepared, in the eagerness 
 of gratitude and joy. A full-length picture of Liberty, 
 hurling a broken chain to the winds, particularly at- 
 tracted their attention ; and while they were wondering 
 how the appropriate emblem had been so suddenly made 
 ready, John Dudle}^ with his group of boys, bustled 
 up to them. Grasping Doctor Willard's hand, he ex- 
 
THE REBELS. 171 
 
 claimed, " Indeed, I am almost for going to England to 
 thank the king myself; but then I 'm thinking it is not 
 wise to thank folks for what they would help, if they 
 could." 
 
 " Strong hands and fearless hearts will not be wanted 
 so soon as we feared," replied Henry Osborne. " Little 
 Hancock need not hasten to grow large enough for a sol- 
 dier, now." 
 
 The honest farmer gazed on his children, as they clus- 
 tered around him, and passed the sleeve of his coat 
 across his eyes, as he said, " I have looked on them 
 hearty boys by the hour together, and thought I could 
 see them all fall in the cause of libert)^, and not shed 
 one tear over their graves. But I am glad the trial was 
 spared me ; I had rather they would be left to help me 
 plough the fields." 
 
 The distant roar of cannon from Castle "William, min- 
 gled with a deafening clang from the Old South steeple, 
 here interrupted their conversation, and Dudley joined a 
 crowd that was then passing, rending the air with stun- 
 ning hurras. 
 
 No one refused to unite in this national jubilee; but 
 there wei'e many vdio thought the gratitude of the peo- 
 ple excessive and premature. Mr. Osborne was among 
 the number. He heartily rejoiced at any overtures 
 towards reconciliation; but his penetrating e)'e could 
 not but observe that the repeal so reluctantly given still 
 claimed the right against which America had so stren- 
 uously contended. "Vv"e have no security against op- 
 pression," said he, " until this tyrannic principle is 
 renounced." 
 
 " I coincide with you, in doubting the permanence of 
 
172 THE REBELS. 
 
 all this," rejoined Henry. " Our joy may be suddenly 
 turned into mourning." 
 
 " O, never be peeping into the shade, when the sunny 
 side is next you," observed Doctor Willard. " Frank- 
 lin's energetic answers, in the House of Commons, have 
 taught them to respect us. The young and animated 
 Burke, and Chatham, with all the assistance that age and 
 decaying health can give his powerful eloquence, will 
 work wonders in our favor." 
 
 " If Americans are satisfied, I strongly suspect the 
 English will not be," said Somerville ; " for the princi- 
 ples of neither party are recognized, in this repeal. The 
 friends of Mr. Pitt will be angry that the bill is accom- 
 panied by any declarations of parliamentary power; 
 and Mr. Grenville will be indignant that the factious 
 spirit of the colonies is conciliated, rather than con- 
 quered." 
 
 " To keep the medium between dangerous extremes, 
 has been the wise polic}' of Lord Rockingham's admin- 
 istration," answered Mr. Osborne. " In the present state 
 of political division, it is perhaps the best system that 
 can be pursued for the general interests of that great 
 country. However, this plan of tacking and veering 
 will not always last. Vf e must have liberty on a found- 
 ation as broad, sure, and permanent, as any other Brit- 
 ish subjects, before we shall be satisfied." 
 
 " England will never relinquish a right she has once 
 asserted," replied Somerville, somewhat proudly. " The 
 effect of this unaccountable obstinacy must eventually be 
 a desperate struggle, in which America will surely be 
 overcome." 
 
 " Our spirit may never be put to the proof," rejoined 
 
THE REBELS. 173 
 
 Doctor Willard, " if government are contented with keep- 
 ing the power, without ever daring to exert it. But if, on 
 any pretence, or under any modifications, it is again 
 resumed, we must indeed either conquer, or fall in the 
 contest ; and the eloquent Chatham has said, ' If Amer- 
 ica falls, she will fall like a strong man. She will em- 
 brace the pillars of the state, and pull do\^'n the constitu- 
 tion alon^ with her.' " 
 
 " Much wild matter has been poured forth by that 
 lover of ultra freedom," answered Somerville. 
 
 Lucretia smiled, as she looked back, and said to 
 Grace, " Captain Somer^-ille's English prejudices and 
 tory predilections seem to have returned with full 
 power." 
 
 As she spoke, Somen-ille pointed down a court they 
 were just passing, at the extremity of which was a beau- 
 tiful collection of shrubbery, very tastefully illuminated. 
 " This is an unusual sight in Boston," said he ; " do let 
 us examine it more closely." The rest of the party went 
 on, without noticing what had attracted their attention, 
 and were nearly out of hearing, when they entered the 
 alcove, where the flowers were smiling in their sheltered 
 beauty. 
 
 " Are any of these for sale ? " inquired Somerville. 
 
 "I should not like to disturb them to-night," replied 
 the owner ; " but to-morrow they will be at the service 
 of any who vrish to purchase." 
 
 " Will 3'ou, dear Grace, select the one you think most 
 beautiful?" said Somerville. 
 
 The tender monosyllable had unguardedly escaped his 
 lips, and the emphatic accent with which it was spoken 
 thrilled her to the heart. "Without suspecting his pur- 
 
 15^ 
 
174 THE REBELS. 
 
 pose, she timidly pointed to a full-blown rose, as delicate 
 and shadowy in its tint as the maiden suffusion from 
 which it takes its name. 
 
 *' Send it to Governor Hutchinson's at ten to-mor- 
 row," said Somerville ; and, drawing the arm of Grace 
 closer within his own, he left the court. 
 
 " You would forgive the political bitterness with which 
 I have spoken to-night, Miss Osborne, if you knew how 
 much reason I have to hate this repeal. When the 
 vessel which brought the tidings returns to England, I 
 must depart with important despatches to the court of 
 St. James." 
 
 The painful, suffocating sensation of impeded utter- 
 ance for a moment prevented any reply. " Shall you 
 never return to America ? " she at length said, in a voice 
 low and tremulous. 
 
 "If your life and mine are spared two years, I shall 
 most certainly see America again before I die," he 
 replied. " My heart will never leave it." 
 
 This was the first time that Somerville had given 
 utterance to his feelings, even by the most distant allu- 
 sion ; yet they had long perfectly understood each other. 
 The powerful artillery of the eye, and the thousand 
 nameless signs in love's freemasonry, express more than 
 language can possibly speak with her utmost unassisted 
 power ; and if Grace, with intuitive readiness, had con- 
 strued their meaning, Somerv^ille, on his part, had argued 
 much from the transient gleams of tenderness that now 
 and then shone through her habitual reserve. 
 
 However, that the declaration had been long ex- 
 pected, did not prevent it from being anticipated with the 
 most tumultuous agitation, and the most embarrassed 
 silence. 
 
THE REBELS. 175 
 
 To the great vexation of Somerville, this was dis- 
 turbed by the elder ^Ir. Osborae and Lucretia, who had 
 returned to meet them. 
 
 The purchase of the rose was briefly explained, in 
 excuse for their absence, and the conversation took a 
 general turn, until they parted at the threshold of Mr. 
 Osborne's dwelling. 
 
 The next day the flourishing rose-bush, removed into 
 an elegant vase of transparent china, was left at the door 
 by one of the lieutenant governor's servants, who, at the 
 same time, delivered a note for Miss Osborne. 
 
 Grace hastily withdrew to her chamber, and read as 
 follows : — 
 
 "Dear Grace : 
 
 " This flower, pure and beautiful as yourself, was pur- 
 chased for you. Will you accept it from your faithful 
 lover ? Will you cherish it, for his sake, during the 
 tedious absence to which he is doomed ? 
 
 " Your beauty and fascinating gracefulness will 
 attract others as powerfully as they have me ; and amid 
 the attentions of some m.ore favored lover, I may per- 
 chance be forgotten. 
 
 " Were I sure that my memor}' would be fostered in 
 the recesses of your heart — that my image alone would 
 be enshrined there — I should have no other boon to ask 
 of indulgent Heaven. 
 
 " If the ring which accompanies this is permitted to 
 encircle your snowy finger, I shall consider it as a tacit 
 promise of all I have dared to hope. If not, the world 
 has nothing to offer, for v/hich I care to live. 
 " Ever most ardently and devotedly yours, 
 
 *•' Frederick Somerville." 
 
176 THE REBELS. 
 
 Had Grace been entirely uninterested in the writer, 
 she would have thought the flattery and inflated lan- 
 guage of this epistle absolutely disgusting ; but we are 
 all apt to excuse the folly which we imagine proceeds 
 from excessive affection for ourselves. The billet-doux 
 was locked in a secret drawer, with feelings that cer- 
 tainly widely differed from disapprobation ; and the ring, 
 ornamented by a single sapphire, surrounded with pearl, 
 was placed upon her finger. 
 
 I shall not repeat the wise speeches and expressive 
 looks to which this circumstance gave rise. Those who 
 cannot imagine them, must forever remain in their igno- 
 rance. 
 
 During the winter, letters had again been received 
 from Mr. Edmund Fitzherbert, expressing great anxiety 
 to see Lucretia, and urging her to come to him as soon 
 as the season would possibly admit. 
 
 The whole of these epistles had been written by an 
 amanuensis ; for a severe stroke of the palsy had ren- 
 dered the old gentleman unable to add his trembling 
 signature. 
 
 All these circumstances considered. Governor Hutch- 
 inson thought it expedient that Lucretia should accom- 
 pany his nephew to England. 
 
 Perhaps the money-loving magistrate had a more 
 powerful motive than that of securing a pleasant com- 
 panion and protector for Miss Fitzherbert's voyage. He 
 was well aware that daily intercourse is a powerful aid 
 to matrimonial schemes; and he thought the immense 
 wealth of the young heiress a prize well worth, his 
 nephew's attention. Had he been injudicious enough to 
 hint such an idea, Somerville would have spumed at it 
 
THE REBELS. 177 
 
 with indignation, and would have been strongly tempted 
 to refuse his attendance. Governor Hutchinson, how- 
 ever, was sufficiently wise to leave all to the effect of 
 time and chance. 
 
 Whatever might be the workings of Lucretia's mind, 
 they were concealed by pride ; and she herself firmly 
 believed that she thought of Somerville only as an agree- 
 able companion, whose gayety and eloquence would 
 serve to enliven a wearisome voyage. 
 
 The event had been too long expected, to bring witn. 
 it any hurried preparations. True, Miss Sandford had 
 been in a continual bustle, from the moment she heard 
 of the arrano-ement. 
 
 Jewels, lace, gauze and ribbons, were purchased ; and 
 blue, white, and rose-colored damask packed, and re- 
 packed, from morning till night. 
 
 "Do you be sure and, wear your pink silk, with the 
 set of rubies, when you are introduced to your uncle,'* 
 said she. " That color becomes your complexion best, 
 and I would wear it a good deal, if I were you. Besides, 
 Captain Somerville admires it very much. You need 
 not blush so. You are going to take a long voyage 
 together ; and, let me tell you, my dear, propinquity is 
 a great thing." 
 
 Lucretia was about to speak of the certainty of his 
 attachment to Grace Osborne, but she knew it was a 
 topic on which the good lady was peculiarly irascible. 
 Besides, from complicated causes, both the young ladies 
 carefully avoided any allusion to- the state of his affec- 
 tions ; and though, in every other respect, they treated 
 each other with the most girlish unreserve, Lucretia was 
 
178 THE REBELS. 
 
 left in a state of painful uncertainty with regard to this 
 delicate subiect. 
 
 During the brief space that intervened before her 
 departure, the young friends seemed to feel a feverish 
 anxiety to meet, — yet, when they met, they were dis- 
 consolate and silent. 
 
 When absent from each other, a thousand kind things 
 to be said would rush into the mind ; but when present, 
 everything gave way to a painful sense of approaching 
 separation. 
 
 At length the dreaded day arrived; and Governor 
 Hutchinson and his sister, Mr. Osborne and his children, 
 Doctor Byles and Doctor Willard, assembled to bid 
 farewell to the travellers. 
 
 Doctor Byles grasped Lucretia's hand, with affection- 
 ate fervor, as he said, " God bless you, Miss Fitzher- 
 bert, and make you as happy as you deserve to be ! " 
 It was a moment of unfeigned regret, yet he could not 
 entirely dispossess himself of the spirit of raillery. With 
 a laughing glance, he added, " And that is not saying 
 much for you, my young friend." 
 
 Doctor Willard expressed his good wishes, with his 
 usual warmth and frankness. Governor Hutchinson, 
 always courtier-like in his manners, gave his parting 
 kiss with saddened and affectionate politeness. 
 
 Miss Sandford, again and again, strained her beloved 
 protegee to her heart. " You have been a good child to 
 me," she said, " and if I have not always guided you 
 as I should, you must take the will for the deed." She 
 tried to say something more, but, unable to keep back 
 the crowding tears, the kind-hearted lady left the apart- 
 ment. 
 
THE REBELS. 179 
 
 Mr. Osborne's benignant countenance seemed to ex- 
 press anxiety, as well as love ; and Henry's voice lost a 
 little of its firmness, as he pronounced, " God bless you, 
 Lucretia I " 
 
 As for Grace, ber heart was too full for utterance. 
 Her breathing was quick and agitated ; and she grasped 
 Lucretia's hand with a strength of which her tiny palm 
 seemed totally incapable. Her friend returned the 
 pressure in a manner equally earnest and protracted; 
 and, as their hands parted, Somerville's ring burst asun- 
 der, and fell at Miss Fitzherbert's feet. As he returned 
 it to Grace, she gave hun a most eager and expressive 
 look. Its meaning he could not then inquire into, for 
 the carriage was at the door, and their farewell must be 
 brief and hasty. 
 
 The accident was, unquestionably, owing to defective 
 workmanship; nevertheless, superstition painfully min- 
 gled with Miss Osborne's grief, as she laid the broken 
 relic in her casket ; — and, as the carriage rolled the 
 young Englishman toward the wharf, he could think of 
 nothing but that triflins: circumstance, and the look that 
 accompanied it. 
 
CHAPTEK XV. 
 
 'Mid foreign scenes, to fancy dear, 
 Remember still thy home is here. 
 
 Since the various personages in our history are re- 
 moved to such a distance from each other, we must take 
 the liberty to inspect some of the letters that passed 
 between them. During the last week in July, sooner 
 than her anxious friends had ventured to expect them, 
 letters arrived from Lucretia Fitzherbert. One of them 
 was as follows : 
 
 to miss grace osbosne. 
 " Dear Grace : 
 
 " Here I am, in the favored land of the brave, the 
 intelligent, and the free. Yet, even while I now repeat 
 it, I scarcely credit it. I feel as if I were walking in 
 my sleep ; and it is only when I look out upon the 
 princely buildings around me, that I can realize I am 
 indeed in London. Our voyage was very pleasant, with 
 the exception of sea-sickness. That, however, is a tax 
 we must all pay to old Neptune for rocking us in his 
 cradle somewhat too roughly. (Pardon me. I forgot 
 that the odious word tax is banished from the American 
 vocabulary.) 
 
 " It was not until we came within sight of this ancient 
 city, that I felt the desolate sensations of an exile from 
 my native land. We cast anchor in the evening, among 
 a forest of tall black masts. The bowsprits threw their 
 
THE REBELS. 181 
 
 grim shadows on the water, and seemed like so many 
 ugly sea-monsters, grinning defiance at each other. 
 The very stars looked terrific in their sublime beauty. 
 I gazed on them till I could almost imagine the Great 
 Bear shook his shaggy head above me, and that the 
 various fantastic shapes with which Chaldean imagina- 
 tion has peopled the zodiac were frowning upon me in. 
 their wrath. 
 
 " Far ofT in the distance twinkled the many hundred 
 lights of London ; and among all the busy haunts they 
 illuminated, poor Lucretia had not a single friend ! It 
 was a sad, sickening thought, dearest Grace, — and my 
 heart yearned for beloved America. I fancied you 
 seated at your work-table, listening to Henry, as he read 
 some newly arrived volume, and the tears started to my 
 eyes. 
 
 " Captain Somerville saw that I was melancholy, and 
 he did all he could to cheer me. We sat leaning over 
 the stern of the vessel, until a late hour, talking of you, 
 and watching the motion of the little boat, as it rose and 
 fell with the rippling tide. The shore, on either side, 
 was noiseless as death ; and the creaking of the rigging, 
 and the loud, protracted " Hoa up hoy ! " of the distant 
 sailors alone reminded us that they were from New 
 
 England. 
 
 ""Very early in the morning, a message was sent to 
 Uncle Fitzherbert, — and, according to Aunt Sandford's 
 directions, I dressed myself as splendidly as possible ; 
 for, I must acknowledge, I felt exceedingly anxious con- 
 cerning my reception. At our usual breakfasting hour, 
 Captain Somerville came to my cabin, and told me that 
 a carriage and four, with servants in the Fitzherbert 
 
 17 
 
182 THE REBELS. 
 
 livery, were on the bank of the river. A boat was im- 
 mediately sent from the vessel, and a footman returned 
 in it, bringing an invitation to Captain Somerville and 
 myself to breakfast at Tudor Lodge. Had you seen my 
 equipage, you would not wonder that my eyes were a 
 little dazzled. Phaeton himself might have been proud 
 of the horses ; the servants were in rich liveries of gray 
 and silver ; the polished harness glittered in the morning 
 sun; the Fitzherbert arms were gorgeously blazoned on 
 the panels of the carriage ; and the carriage itself was 
 much more superb than anything I had ever seen in New 
 England. 
 
 " We were whirled along by villas, hospitals, and 
 hotels, any one of which seemed to me sufficiently 
 magnificent for a royal palace. 
 
 " The coachman stopped before a large, noble-looking 
 building of Portland stone, with a piazza in front, sup- 
 ported by a range of Corinthian pillars. In a state of 
 dizzy incredulity, I was handed up the steps, and paused 
 in the drawing-room until my arrival was announced. 
 
 " After considerable delay, during which my heart 
 throbbed high with expectation and anxiety, I was 
 ushered into the presence of my uncle. He received me 
 with great pomp and etiquette, seated in his crimson 
 velvet chair, in a morning robe of the same materials. 
 For the moment, I only remxenibered that he was the 
 first of my kindred I had ever seen, and I would have 
 rushed into his arms and wept. However, I imme- 
 diately discovered that an oriental salaam would be much 
 more acceptable to him. Indeed, it was too evident that 
 my personal appearance disappointed him ; but when 
 
THE REBELS. 183 
 
 Captain Somemlle introduced me, he took my hand 
 with stately courtesy, and bade me welcome to England. 
 
 " Mrs. Edgarton, a distant relation, of middle age, 
 whose polished manners indicate habitual intercourse 
 with the fashionable world, superintends his establish- 
 ment. She seems intelligent and cultivated. But she, 
 too, is cold, dignified and reserved. 
 
 " The papers are full of the arrival of Miss Lucretia 
 Fitzherbert, the newly discovered American heiress, 
 niece of the Honorable Edmund Fitzherbert, of Tudor 
 Lodge. 
 
 '• What would the v.'orld say, if they knew that, with 
 ' all my blushing honors thick upon me,' I often retire to 
 m}* chamber, to think of Boston, and give vent to my 
 tears, as they start up from their fountain of bitterness ? 
 "Wealth is a ^litterins; and much coveted bauble ; but the 
 heart cannot nestle in it, and cling to it, in its hour of 
 loneliness. What do I care for Turkey carpets, Parisian 
 mirrors, and Chinese vases, when every being around me 
 is as chilling as the tessellated marble of our grand 
 saloon ? Splendor may please the unsated eye, but it 
 carmot relieve a heart burstinsf with the full tide of 
 unemployed tenderness. Do not think, by this, that I am 
 unhappy. It only means that I am not yet used to 
 stiffened eleg-ance and magnificent formality. 
 
 " You cannot imagine with how much delight I have 
 accompanied my uncle around London and its environs. 
 The city itself, so varied in its beauty — so crowded in 
 its grandeur I Then there is such life — such energ}- — 
 such never-ceasing bustle ! It is well called the heart of 
 Britain; for it seems heaving and bounding with the 
 ritahty of a whole em.pire. Of the suburbs, I am almost 
 
184 THE REBELS. 
 
 tempted to say nothing ; for I despair of giving you an 
 idea how lovely are the scenes among which the Thames 
 has spread the silver drapery of his couch. Turrets 
 and steeples peer above the foliage, as if on tiptoe, to 
 view the dimpled course of this majestic river ; clusters 
 of ancient elms dance gracefully to the wayward music 
 of the winds ; venerable oaks stand like a firm phalanx, 
 in their towering strength ; the fragile willows bend over 
 their w'atery mirror, sad and drooping, as if passion- 
 stricken with their own shadow^s ; and the blossoms are 
 so abundant, in their luxuriant beauty, that one would 
 think Flora, enamored of the spot, had flung all her gar- 
 lands there, in frolic. The goddess, however, is not so 
 partial in the distribution of her favors. Your American 
 pastures are doubtless covered wdth wild-flowers. The 
 violet lifts up its timid blue eye, in supplication, as 
 if loath to be crushed, even by your fairy foot; the 
 anemone is gradually changing its rose-tint to the purest 
 white, like maidens outgrowing their youthful blushes ; 
 and the beautiful trillium bows its starry head beneath 
 its dark-green leaves, like a scared and petted infant, 
 hidinsr its bashful face behind a mother's shelterino- arm. 
 " O, when I think of all our pleasant rambles, our 
 unreserved communications, and our playful disputes, it 
 seems as if my heart would burst its tenement, and 
 bound forward to meet you ! I told Somerville so, this 
 morning; and I thought he sympathized in my impa- 
 tience most warmly. 
 
 " By the way, he called to take me to Westminster 
 Abbey, — the first public place I have visited, since my 
 arrival. 
 
 " If Henry had not told you about it again and again, 
 
THE KEEELS. 185 
 
 'J would iaform you how I stood in the Poet's Corner, and 
 * held high converse with the mighty dead ; ' what 
 exuhation I felt when I saw that the sceptre had fallen 
 from the powerless hand of Queen Elizabeth, — that 
 self-same cruel hand that signed the death-warrant of the 
 beautiful Mary Stuart ; and how, amid all this ' pomp 
 and circumstance' of mortality, the figure of Mr. Night- 
 ingale, shielding his beloved wife from the impending 
 dart of death, was the only thing that touched me with 
 melancholy. I was indeed powerfully excited by the 
 whole scene. Association seems to hold her court in. 
 this mansion of departed glory ; and as her magic fingers 
 touch the octaves in the human soul, imagination runs 
 rapidly over the intermediate notes. When I came from 
 the loner and srloomv labyrinths of this ancient abbey, I 
 felt as if I had actually been in Elysium, talking with 
 kings, heroes, statesmen, and poets. Why did not Henry 
 tell us how his heart ached when he passed from that 
 still, solemn sanctuary of the dead, into all the tumult 
 of this noisy city? But then he never speaks with 
 enthusiasm; unless, indeed, you rouse him up about 
 American taxation. Well, perhaps the glowing embers, 
 kept alive on the secret shrine of Apollo, burned with 
 more intense and consuming heat, than Cybele's torches, 
 ilarina: on the midnight air. 
 
 " I shall never have done, if I ^vrite all I wish to 
 say ; for the thoughts rush into my mind so furiously 
 that they push each other down in their course. Most 
 sincere and respectful affection to your good father ; and 
 to all my friends the kindest wishes they can desire from 
 me. Write soon, and remember to speak of Gertrude 
 
 16^ 
 
186 THE REBELS. 
 
 Percival. Do not forget me, dearest Grace, nor suffer 
 any one I love to forget me. 
 
 "With heartfelt, soulfelt affection for you all, I am, as 
 ever, Lucretia Fitzherbert." 
 
 Grosvenor-square, June 10, 1766. 
 
 Letters of similar import arrived for Governor Hutch- 
 inson and Miss Sandford ; but none other was sent to 
 the Osborne family. 
 
 "Has wealth and splendor so soon dazzled him?" 
 thought Grace. "Have a few-brief months extinguished 
 the love he said would be eternal? If he can be so 
 capricious, it is well for me that I was not united to him. 
 My father and brother never confided in his principles 
 — why did I doubt their judgment? Well, it is but a 
 painful struggle with myself, at the most ; and I can 
 make it the more cheerfully, since they are ignorant 
 of it." 
 
 Whether to hear of a lover so gay, gallant, and atten- 
 tive to another, without receiving one line from him, to 
 indicate his kind remembrance, would not have awakened 
 similar suspicions in any mind, we know not. Certain 
 it is, that every allusion Lucretia had made to Captain 
 Somerville was exceedingly painful to Miss Osborne, 
 excepting where she WTote, " We talked of you till a late 
 hour." She thought upon the subject until her fears 
 ripened into conviction ; and, though she resolved to 
 rejoice in the prospects of her friend, she could not read 
 her letter without weeping, in the bitterness of her heart. 
 To these feelings may be partially attributed the sadness 
 that pervades the following epistle. 
 
the rebels. 187 
 
 to miss lucretia fitzherbekt. 
 
 " Dear Lucretia : 
 
 " We last week received your long and affectionate 
 letter. I was delighted, but not dazzled, with your pic- 
 ture of London. I love my own quiet chamber better 
 than I should marble saloons or Corinthian piazzas. Yet 
 our humble mansion has been sad enough, since you left 
 us. My father's health fails daily; and long, long- 
 before you return to us, Lucretia, I fear the dear, vener- 
 able old man will have gone to his last home. It grieves 
 me to think of it. Yet why should they, whose lives 
 have been stainless, and their purposes all holy, shrink 
 from the hand that enrobes them with immortality ? 
 Young as I am, there are times when I would lay down 
 my weary, aching head, and sleep, never more to wake 
 in this cold world, as cheerfully as the tired infant 
 presses the soft pillow of its cradle. 
 
 " I know this is not the right spirit. Those who 
 would take up the cross and follow their Divine Master, 
 must be resigned to live, as well as to die. Yet how 
 hard it is to endure life, when those we have loved are 
 dropping around us, like the leaves of autumn ! — when 
 the smiles, that have been as sunshine to the soul, have 
 left it all dark and lonely ! and tones that have been 
 dear, yea, very dear, to us, are heard no longer ! I am 
 foolishl}' melancholy, just this moment ; and I am child- 
 ish enough to dip my pen in my heart. 
 
 " My father's sickness and uncommon depression of 
 spirits casts a shadow over everything. Not only has it 
 rendered our dwelling dismal, — but the sky does not 
 seem so blue, nor the grass so green, as it did last sum- 
 mer. You, I dare say, would make some sparkling met- 
 
1S8 THE PtEBELS. 
 
 aphor concerning such a state of things ; but I have not 
 the gift. Henry smiled, \Yhen I showed him your letter, 
 and said it did one as much good to read anything of 
 yours, as it did to see a bed of tulips blown about by the 
 wind. You see he has imagination, my dear friend. He 
 has enthusiasm, too, though few discover it. Ought I 
 to tell . you, or ought I not, that when he returned your 
 letter, I found what 3'ou had written of him cut out ? 
 He seems in excellent spirits, — always doing something 
 to make us happy and cheerful ; but there are things the 
 heart never forgets, you know, how calmly soever it may 
 remember them. I have not seen him roused, on the 
 subject of taxation, latel}^ Indeed, the times are now 
 so peaceful and quiet, that it is seldom mentioned, even 
 when Doctor Willard is here. By the way, I read a 
 part of your letter to him ; and I assure j^ou, his express- 
 ive black eyes grew brighter and brighter at every line. 
 I wonder he was not captivated with you, Lucretia, — you 
 are so very much like each other. You cannot tell how 
 solicitous he is concerning our good father, — how anx- 
 ious about every symptomx, — how enlivening in his con- 
 versation, whenever the invalid can bear it, — and how 
 still, kind and careful, when his spirits are exhausted. 
 It is very painful not to repay the love of a heart so gen- 
 erous and tender ; and when, day after day, I meet the 
 same affectionate glance, and hear the same mild, insin- 
 uating tones, it seems such a deep and stinging reproach 
 to my ingratitude, that I half believe it possible — but 
 the affections are stubborn things, and are not easily bent 
 according to our wishes. 
 
 " I have received tw^o letters from Gertrude, since you 
 left. Thev reside at a beautiful country seat, not far 
 
THE REBELS, 189 
 
 from Montreal ; and they have both sent the most urgent 
 invitations for us to visit them this summer. She has 
 unproved wonderfully in her hand-A\Titing. ' Who,' she 
 asks, 'can do otherwise, when Edward Percival is the 
 instructor?' Still, her letters are as stiff, straight, and 
 precise, as Madam Sandford. Will you pardon the com- 
 parison? AYith regard to Canada, even if my father 
 were well enough, I should not have spirit sufficient to 
 make the exertion. Long may they live, to enjoy their 
 romantic attachment. Mr. Percival has sent me a very 
 neat and handsome set of jewels. I thanked him, be- 
 cause I knew he meant it kindly ; but I shall never wear 
 them. If you had not a variety much more elegant, I 
 would send them to you. Do you know Henry has at 
 length persuaded me to have my portrait taken? Yes, 
 there I am, in our little breakfast-parlor, smiling as gra- 
 ciously as if I looked on absent friends. My brother 
 says, ' Tell Lucretia I am the same sincere well-wisher;' 
 and my father adds, ' You must leave a corner of your 
 paper, that I may try to hold a pen long enough to give 
 her my blessing.' In order to comply with his request, 
 I must close by saying, 
 
 "I am your very affectionate 
 
 " Grace Osborne." 
 
 After this letter had been twice read, it occurred to 
 Miss Osborne that Captain Somervdlle might have possi- 
 bly sent a letter, and that the precious document might 
 have been detained, by accident or misfortune. With a 
 trembling hand, she wrote, — 
 
 "P. S. I forgot to tell you that we have inquired 
 after Molly Bradstreet to no purpose. I regret it; for 
 
190 THE REBELS. 
 
 our curiosity was as much excited as yours. Should 
 Captain Somerville ever ask about the rose he left with 
 me, you may tell him it is carefully nurtured, and blos- 
 soms finely." 
 
 On the last page, were a few sentences, written in a 
 weak, irregular hand. They were as follows : — 
 
 " My Dear Child : 
 
 "Never was 'news from a far country' more wel- 
 come than your letter. X^one of us knew how dear you 
 were, till ^'^ou were gone from us. Poor Grace goes from 
 room to room, and looks at every memento of you with 
 such utter sadness, that one would think you were actu- 
 ally in your grave ; and when she hears a knock, she 
 will sometimes start, and then check herself, as she 
 says, ' I was thinking Lucretia was at the door.' Alas ! 
 how apt we all are to give the freshness and vigor of 
 our affections to earthly objects, and thus have nothing 
 to offer our Heavenly Father, but 'the lame, the halt, 
 and the blind.' The heathen offered the fairest flowers, 
 and the choicest fruits, to their gods; and shall we, on 
 whom the Gospel has shone, do less than they ? Vfhile 
 the cup of life is sparkling at your eager lips, do not for- 
 get the kind hand which offered it. Remember, my 
 dear, there is a friend on whom to rely, when all others 
 fail us. There is no public news of importance. It has 
 pleased the Lord to give us peace, if not security. One 
 'barninof and shininfr liofht' Has been removed from us. 
 I mean the much lamented Doctor Mayhew. I need not 
 talk of his talents to one w^io heard his eloquent sermon 
 on the repeal of the stamp act ; but of his piety, his 
 
THE REBELS. 191 
 
 integi'ity, his industry and zeal, I would, had I strength, • 
 MTite for hours. Durinsr his short life, he did much in 
 the cause of civil and religious liberty. I do not believe 
 there ever was mortal man that more faithfully served 
 his countr)^ and his God. Alas! that he left not his 
 mantle behind him. 
 
 " I have written this at many different times, and with 
 great pain, my dear girl. My heart says more ; but my 
 trembling- hand will not convey it. Yet a little while 
 longer, and the soul \^'ill drop its burden of clay. I can 
 only add, God bless you, even with the greatest of all 
 blessings — a disposition to do his will. 
 
 "Your affectionate father, 
 
 "Ja3IES 0SB0R^^E." 
 Queen-street, August 1st, 1766. " 
 
 Some readers m.ay have the curiosity to break the seal 
 of Somendlle's letter to Governor Hutchinson ; though, 
 perhaps, when they find it so deeply tinged with the 
 politics of the day, they may think they pay somewhat 
 dearly for their whistle. 
 
 to his honor, thomas hutchln'son. 
 " Dear Uxcle : 
 
 " I delivered your letters according to their direc- 
 tions ; and I do not hesitate to say, that the general 
 opinion here is entirely in favor of your views. It is, 
 however, very difficult to ascertain what course will be 
 taken, for never was there such a heterogeneous, unin- 
 telligible mass, as the present ministry-. They are made 
 up of the shreds and patches of all political opinions — • 
 a confused jumble of ever}'- shade and hue of whigism. 
 
19-2 THE REBELS. 
 
 " The Marquis of Rockingliam did, indeed, come info 
 the government at a peculiarly difficult crisis. The 
 Regency Bill, of course, made an enemy of Lord Bute, 
 because the public chose to implicate him in its odium ; 
 the Duke of Grafton has forsaken their standard, be- 
 cause he is offended at their treatment of Wilkes ; 
 Chatham is as wavering and inconsistent as ever, and 
 his powerful friend, the excellent Duke of Cumberland, 
 died soon after his administration began. On the whole, 
 it is evident that another transformation will soon take 
 place. Pitt seems to have the power to lord it over king 
 and parliament; how he will exert his influence, nobody 
 knows — unless he has some conjecture himself, which 
 his undecided character renders very doubtful. That 
 confoundedly clever laAvj^er, young Burke, gashes him 
 deeply in the public papers. The articles in question 
 possess abundance of good sense, as well as cutting irony. 
 The resolution against general warrants, passed in the 
 House of Commons, has brought Wilkes back to Lou- 
 den. He is here, threatening to annoy the government, 
 or make his fortune out of its fears. The plan of Amer- 
 ican taxation is by no means given up. Charles Town- 
 send is as eager for it as he is for office. He thinks to 
 make it go doA^m by giving it a different name. He has 
 not, like me, seen an American mob, heard Otis speak, 
 and Doctor Willard talk. You will judge what views he 
 and others entertain, by the letters and documents that 
 accompany this. 
 
 " Mr. Fitzherbert talks much of what 5"ou have done 
 for his niece; and seems to think he cannot load me 
 with favors enough to evince his gratitude. He is a 
 formal and somewhat fastidious old man ; but when the 
 
THE REBELS. 193 
 
 crust is once broken, he proves to have a warm heart. 
 He is a professed connoisseur in female beauty, — and he 
 vs'as, of course, disappointed in Miss Fitzherbert. He 
 is unbounded in his hospitality, and his sen-ants' hall 
 shows much of the prodigality of feudal times. I shall, 
 if possible, induce him to keep open doors for the choice 
 literar}' spirits that are now clustering together in this 
 metropolis. This will bring Lucretia forvrard to the 
 best advantage ; and perhaps we all love our friends bet- 
 ter, when we have reason to be proud of them. I can 
 see that her vivacity and good sense gain upon his affec- 
 tions daily. She is, indeed, a fine girl. No one can 
 know her, without admiring her. 
 
 " The myster}' concerning the report of -Mr. Fitzher- 
 bert's death is all explained. When you sent to Eng- 
 land, in 1760, to inquire concerning Lucretia's connec- 
 tions, he was very sick at Manilla; and a profligate rela- 
 tion of his palmed the stor}' upon his creditors, in order 
 to relieve himself from temporar}' embarrassment. Mr. 
 Fitzherbert is so indignant at this unfeeling deception, 
 that he will not consent to see him. 
 
 " There is a great intimacy between Mr. Fitzherbert 
 and the ^Marquis of Rockingham. He procured Burke 
 the situation of private secretarj^ to his lordship. 
 
 " I send you an elegant edition of Swift, lately pub- 
 lished, which please to accept. 
 
 "Respects to ]\Iadam Sandford, and kind remem 
 brance to Doctor Byles and the Osbomes. 
 
 "I am your humble and obedient servant, 
 
 " Frederic So:.ier\tlle." 
 Piccaddhj, June 12th, 1766. 
 
 17 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 There are feelings that no human agency can limit.; and mental 
 wounds too deep for the art of man to heal. — The Spy. 
 
 Mr. Osborne's prediction with regard to the repeal of 
 the stamp act proved too true. The subject of Ameri- 
 can taxation was again discussed in the British parlia- 
 ment, and eventuated in the revenue act of ' 67 ; which 
 consisted of sundry duties on tea, glass, paper, and 
 painters' colors. This law was palmed upon the colonies 
 under the name of an external tax, for the regulation of 
 commerce ; and the framers of it presumed it would not 
 interfere with their established prejudices with regard to 
 internal taxation. 
 
 Howeverj Burke has well said that "to tax and to 
 please, no more than to love and to be wise, is not given 
 to men." This fine-spun scheme of policy was received 
 with even more indignation than had yet been expressed. 
 
 Mr. Osborne, weakened by lingering illness, traced the 
 consequences of this second attack on the liberties of his 
 country, with such intense anxiet)^ that the faculties of 
 the venerable patriot were completely deranged; and 
 America was thus deprived of his counsels, at a time 
 when she most needed the wisdom of all her sons. 
 
 His insanity seemed to take its coloring from the mild- 
 ness and humility of his character. It never assumed a 
 wild and boisterous appearance; but there were times 
 when he would refrain from food for days in succession. 
 
THE REBELS. 195 
 
 and pray, with the earnest pleadings of indulged 
 infancy, that the eyes of the king might be opened, 
 before they awoke on the blood and ruin of his fairest 
 territories. 
 
 The heart of Henry would ache almost to bursting, 
 when he watched him in these wayward moods. " 0, 
 England!" he would say, as he pressed his hand to his 
 forehead, — " O, England I what a WTeck hast thou 
 made!" 
 
 "Did you speak of England?" cried the unfortunate 
 father, starting from his trance, — "I tell you, young 
 man, that the sceptre shall depart from her; and the 
 lawgiver from between her feet. The time will come 
 when she will rend her purple robe, and mourn her folly 
 in sackcloth and ashes. I saw it," muttered he, looking 
 upward, with a vacant and frightened aspect, — "I saw 
 it in the clouds. Blood and destruction were in its 
 train." 
 
 " My dear father," said Henr}', " think of the God in 
 whom you have alwa3's trusted." 
 
 " I do, my son, I do. I have prayed to Him ; and 
 verily He hath, heard me in my affliction. But," added 
 he, lowering his voice to a most impressive whisper, — 
 "Liberty is in her shroud! I saw her pass by, in the 
 robes of the tomb." ^ Then the habitual associations of 
 the pulpit would come over hun ; and he would point to 
 heaven, as he exclaimed, " But there is a resurrection, 
 my hearers, — there is a resurrection." 
 
 The imagination shrinks from decay of any kind; 
 but what is so dreadful as the ^^Teck of our proudest pre- 
 rogative ? What so awful as the ruins of mind ? To 
 poor Grace, her father's situation seemed an ahnost 
 
196 THE REBELS. 
 
 insupportable burden of distress ; yet it was really salu- 
 tary. One great absorbing affliction left no room for 
 petty griefs ; and the disappointed girl found, in constant 
 occupation and unwearied anxiety, the verj' best medi- 
 cine for a heart sickening with hope deferred. 
 
 A beloved object is always encircled with a radiant 
 halo, which brightens everything around it; and not- 
 withstanding its absence had rendered the sky less blue, 
 and the grass less green, Miss Osborne, fortunately for 
 herself, had not leisure to be always dwelling upon the 
 change. Her father was now her daily care, and her 
 nightly dream; but though his children often succeeded 
 in their attempts to soothe and divert him, their kind 
 attentions produced no permanent effects. 
 
 Doctor Willard had hopes that new scenes and 
 change of air might restore hhn; and therefore recom- 
 mended a journey to Canada. Accordingly, in midsum- 
 mer, 1767, the whole family set out upon their northern 
 expedition. 
 
 Mr. Osborne had been beyond Albany in 1753, when 
 most of the country was in primeval wilderness. But 
 fourteen years had elapsed, yet the scenery had, in many 
 places, great pretensions to rural beauty; and so rapid 
 had been the growth of towns and villages, that it 
 seemed as if the hand of magic had at once invested its 
 grandeur with the robe of gracefulness. 
 
 In his intervals of rationality, the invalid noticed these 
 changes, and would speak of them with rapture ; — then 
 he would compare the past prosperity of his country with 
 its future misery, and the light of reason would ag-ain 
 glimmer and sink in its socket. 
 
 His weak state of mind and body rendered it abso- 
 
THE REBELS. 197 
 
 lutely necessary to travel by short stages, and keep him 
 free from all mental excitement; but the spirit of the 
 countr}' was so universally roused, that they found the 
 latter exceedingly difficult. The rumor that a gentle- 
 man from Massachusetts, crazed in the cause of liberty, 
 was travelling to the North, went before them ; and not 
 only did they ever}^^'here meet with the most compas- 
 sionate sympathy, but frequently, as their humble equip- 
 age drove from the inn, a few, less judicious in their 
 kindness, would shout, " Hurra for New England ! " 
 " Long life to the patriot ! " At Albany, Grace watched 
 by her father until she saw him in a quiet slumber, 
 before she descended to the supper-room. At the door 
 she met the landlady, who, in a cautious whisper, asked 
 if they had ordered tea. The mild and timid beauty 
 answered, in a tone of unusual decision, " No, madam, I 
 am an American." 
 
 Henr}', suspecting the nature of the question, added, 
 " And no American woman ought, for a moment, to for- 
 get that she can do much for a cause in which husbands 
 and sons, fathers and brothers, are ahke suffering." 
 The countenance of the hostess brightened — she 
 courtesied, begged a thousand pardons — said they were 
 exactly of her wa}^ of thinking, and left the apartment. 
 
 "Our good father sleeps quietl}', does he not?" 
 inquired Henn'. On being answered in the affirmative, 
 he observed, " I need not caution you, my dear girl, to 
 be careful about giving such spirited answers, when he is 
 waking." 
 
 "I am not xeTj apt to speak on politics," replied 
 Grace ; " for it is a subject on which I do not love to 
 hear ladies talk; but, in these times, it is fitting tliey 
 
 17-^ 
 
198 
 
 TUT. Kr.BF.LS. 
 
 should act. If John Dudley, and all the honest farmers 
 in the country, can refrain from mutton, in order to 
 raise wool enough to manufacture our own cloth, and 
 vex the English merchants, I surely can dispense with 
 the petty luxury of tea." 
 
 "Well said, my patriotic sister," rejoined Henry, 
 playfully kissing her forehead. "I really think you 
 could proselyte the most inveterate tory to the good 
 cause, if you were to set about it in earnest." 
 
 A shade of melancholy passed over her face. There 
 was something in that word "tory" that called up a 
 thousand recollections of "auld lang syne." Captain 
 Somerville had written one letter to her brother, in a 
 style strangely studied and formal. She herself had not 
 received a single line ; and Lucretia, ignorant how much 
 she was wounding her friend, spoke of him as her ahnost 
 constant companion. 
 
 Perhaps this unaccountable neglect had given addi- 
 tional fervor to political feelings, ever deeply imbedded 
 in Miss Osborne's heart, though her bashful lips had 
 seldom given them utterance. Certain it is, that our 
 best and most disinterested motives will always, upon 
 strict inquiry, be found more complex than we had 
 imagined. 
 
 The place which their Canadian friends had chosen 
 for a residence seemed like an Eden, pure and lovely 
 enough to drive away the disease and miser}^ attendant 
 on mortality. It was one of those rmmerous islands, 
 which the St. LawTence so well loves to encircle in his 
 arms. The house was situated at the foot of a thickly 
 wooded hill, then rich with the verdant foliage of sum- 
 mer. The trees threw their broad, deep shadows along 
 
THE I^EBF.LS. 199 
 
 the mighty river ; and the tasteful simplicity of the cot- 
 tage, reflected on its majestic surface, seemed like the 
 dove of contentment folding its soft vring over the 
 waters. 
 
 The heart could not, in its most craving mood, require 
 a more cordial welcome than our travellers received from 
 Edward Percival and his young wife; and Henry 
 eagerly indulged the hope that their unpretending kind- 
 ness, together with the tranquillity of their sequestered 
 situation, would ultunately win back the scattered intel- 
 lects of his venerable father. 
 
 However, it seemed, for a while, as if the xery peace- 
 fulness of his retreat was converted into a source of 
 uneasiness. ^Vith the wa^^wardness of lunacy, he con- 
 nected everj'thing around him with the painful subject 
 that had unnerved his system. Even the melody of 
 the woods was torture to him. " Here we are," said 
 he, " hstening to the singing of birds, when ever}' soul 
 should be up and active in the cause of freedom. Hark ! 
 Do you hear the oar of the smuggler, as he sweeps round 
 the cove ? He goes to offer to New England what she 
 should never taste." 
 
 Sometimes the bright, stiU surface of the river, with 
 luxuriance and beauty reposing on its bosom, awakened 
 sensations of 'itter WTetchedness ; and he would lay his 
 hand impressively on Henr}''s shoulder, and exclaim, 
 " Younof man, you will live to see that water stained 
 with the blood of your brethren. I see it," continued he, 
 covering his eyes, — "I see it gushing at ever}' pore." 
 
 At a later period, when the St. Lavrrence foamed and 
 dashed its angry answer to the autumnal storms, he 
 would sav, "Yes, fret and roar in thy ^^Tath, — the 
 
200 THE RriBELS. 
 
 Storm will come, and burst in fury over us all. The 
 roar of the cannon, and the burden of the fleet, will come 
 upon you in an hour when you think not of it." 
 
 Grace and her friend watched over him, in these hours 
 of desolation, with that soothing and judicious tender- 
 ness in which woman alone is skilled. Day after day, 
 the sick man might be seen taking his slow and circum- 
 scribed walk, leaning on his daughter and Mrs. Percival. 
 Those who have seen Peale's fine moral picture of the 
 Court of Death could readily imagine Grace, with her 
 perfect symmetry of feature, and transparent fairness of 
 complexion, personified in the figure of Virtue guiding 
 the feeble step of Age ; and had the expression of 
 Pleasure been innocent rather than voluptuous, the 
 dark-brown hair, brilliant eyes, and glowing cheek of 
 Gertrude, might well have been mistaken for the living, 
 breathing original of the painting. 
 
 A rational and placid smile would sometimes play 
 around the old man's lips, as he looked on his youthful 
 nurses ; and his spirit, softened and bowed down within 
 him, would pour itself forth in prayers for their happi- 
 ness. 
 
 The mind is a noble instrument. Even the discord 
 of its broken keys has something of music in its wild- 
 ness ; and oftentimes, when it seems all disordered and 
 defaced, there is one uninjured string, that thrills re- 
 sponsive to the musician's touch. 
 
 The ideal forms of beauty still float, in all their cor- 
 rectness of outline, before the painter's eye ; the ear of 
 the minstrel is still tremblingly alive to every combina- 
 tion of sound ; and the heart that has been bewildered 
 by sudden bereavement needs but a glance, or a tone, like 
 
THE REBELS. 201 
 
 those of the beloved object, to recall, in a connected 
 series, the whole detail of its pleasures and its pains. 
 Thus it was with ]Mr. Osborae. The latent divinity, 
 which had so long been shrouded in darkness, gleamed 
 only in the avenues of pietj^; and the frequency of 
 prayer, mixed with the consolations of Scripture, by 
 degrees, scattered- the clouds that obscured its brightness. 
 
 Business had recalled Henr}', at the end of a few 
 weeks ; but Grace and her father, at the urgent entreaty 
 of their friends, remained in Canada until the spring of 
 176S. 
 
 Henr}^'s letters, during this time, were once or twice 
 accompanied by packages from England. In these 
 epistles, Lucretia made no further complaints of " mag- 
 nificent fcrmalit}' ; " on the contrary-, her expressions 
 were those of " a heart reeling with its fulness ;" and 
 poor, deserted Grace felt them enter into her soul, like 
 sharpened steel. These feelings were the harder to be 
 borne, because no one s}'mpathized with them ; for what 
 timidity and a fear of disapprobation had at first con- 
 cealed, pride would not now suffer her to reveal. Ger- 
 trude did, indeed, notice, that too close attendance on a 
 sick bed had sunk her cheek, and dimmed her eye ; and 
 she affectionately remonstrated with her on the danger 
 she was incurring. ^<It. Percival, at the suggestion of 
 his wife, made a slight allusion to her ill health, in one 
 of his letters to Henr}', which immediately brought the 
 affectionate brother to her side. Grace denied that she 
 had been ill ; and so much was she enlivened by Henr\'s 
 unexpected presence, that her assertion was not difficult 
 to be believed. 
 
 Another pleasant disappointment awaited his arrival. 
 
202 THE REBELS. 
 
 His father had enjoyed two months of uninterrupted 
 rationality; and now talked of England and taxation 
 with calmness and consistency. 
 
 When his son congratulated him on his recover}'', he 
 replied : " I was too anxious to work out our deliverance 
 by human wisdom — I did not place my trust in Him 
 who holdeth the nations in the hollow of his hand. Let 
 my chastisement teach us humility." 
 
 " And now, as soon as the roads are sutiiciently settled, 
 I suppose 3'ou will be ready to go home, and tell of the 
 good effects of a Canadian winter ? " said Grace. 
 
 " Never speak of home," said Mrs. Percival ; " you 
 have almost taught us to be unable to live without you." 
 
 " Yes, our hearts, as well as our habitation, are large 
 enough for j'ou all," added her husband. " Your health 
 is too slender to continue your pastoral duties, and 
 young men like your son are needed in the Canadas." 
 
 " But more needed in New Endand," answered Mr. 
 Osborne. " We must not suffer the prospect of wealth 
 or ease to seduce us from the standard of truth and 
 liberty. Besides, my friends, we are already under 
 obligations which money can never repay, had I millions 
 to offer you." 
 
 " We, too, have had our obligations," said Gertrude ; 
 and she sio-hed when she thouo-ht of the death-bed of 
 her father ; — " but, to tell the truth, I crave still more 
 from you. If Grace would but remain a year with me, 
 it would add very much to my happiness." 
 
 " She may do as she pleases," said the father, at 
 the same time looking very sorrowful. 
 
 " I would do anything to evince my gratitude to you, 
 Mrs. Percival," said Grace; "but I cannot leave my 
 
THE REBELS. 203 
 
 only parent ; and, truly, never did a home-sick child so 
 lonfT for a mother's smile as I do to see Boston." 
 
 " Lucretia wiU be there soon, I suppose," obsen-ed 
 Mrs. Percival ; " and her claims are, of course, prior to 
 mine." 
 
 " I forgot to tell you that I had a letter from Doctor 
 Willard, this morning," said Henr)^ " He mentions that 
 two regiments of royal troops are about to sail for Amer- 
 ica; and that Captain Somer\-ille is one of the com- 
 manders. He likewise wrote that it was rumored he 
 would be married before he sailed." 
 
 Grace looked deadly pale, but dared not trust her- 
 self to ask a question. 
 
 " To whom ? " inquired Mrs. Percival. 
 
 " To Miss Fitzherbert," replied the younger Osborne. 
 " Yery probably, however, it is a mere report, founded 
 on the circumstance of their going out to England to- 
 gether. But really, dear Grace, you cannot conceal 
 from me that you are ill, very ill." 
 
 His father gaA'e him a look of much meaning. It said, 
 as plainly as looks could say it, " That fatal delusion is 
 strong as ever; " and Grace, perceiving herself the object 
 of distressed attention, kindly replied to their inquiries, 
 and retired to her own chamber. 
 
 " Is it not xerj strange," said Mr. Osborne, " that 
 Captain Somer\'ille has not fulfilled his promise of 
 writing to you ?" 
 
 " Not at all strange," replied Henr}\ " Ambition is 
 the only steady principle that guides his course. In all 
 things else, he is as volatile and changeable as the wind. 
 My acquaintance was a pleasant recreation to him, while 
 in Boston, no doubt ; but of what consequence is the 
 
204 THE REBELS. 
 
 friendship of a young law^^er, who has neither weahh 
 nor patronage to offer him ? " 
 
 " You judge more harshly than usual," said Percival. 
 
 " I speak my cool, unbiased opinion," rejoined Henry. 
 " I always admired his talents, but I never respected his 
 character ; and I was always aware that our acquahit- 
 ance was of that bright, meteor-like kind, that often 
 happens between people of no real congeniality." 
 
 •' And what do you think of this rumor about royal 
 troops ? " inquired Percival. 
 
 "It is W'hat I have long expected. And I think they 
 vj'iW soon be recalled, — else few will live to carry back 
 a description of New England." 
 
 "I believe you most heartily," rejoined Percival; "and 
 the God who has kindled such a flame in the breast of 
 two millions of freemen has surely ordained that the 
 rebels shall be free." 
 
 " And we ought to be on the spot, my son," said Mr. 
 Osborne. " Boston will soon need all the strength and 
 wisdom of her children." 
 
 " Next week, if you please, sir," replied Henry. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Percival w^armly contended that it w'as 
 too soon ; that the roads were bad ; that Grace was not 
 strong enough to endure the fatigue ; and that they could 
 not yet part with them. Grace, however, exerted her- 
 self to appear in good health and spirits, — the spring 
 was unusually favorable for travelling, — and, on the 
 first w^eek in May, they departed for Boston, where 
 they soon after arrived, in health and safety. 
 
CHAPTER XVil. 
 
 Alas ! the tale is quickly told — 
 
 His love hath felt the curse of gold ! 
 
 And he is bartering his heart 
 
 For that in which it hath no part. 
 
 There 's many an ill that clings to love ; 
 
 But this is one all else above ; — 
 
 For love to bow before the name 
 
 Of this world's treasure : shame ! oh, shame I 
 
 The Improvisatrice. 
 
 to xiss grace osborne. 
 " Dear Grace : 
 
 " How very seldom you write ; and how woe-begone 
 are your epistles I Do not think me heartless, Tvdth re- 
 gard to your father's sickness. Indeed, I have felt most 
 keenly for you and for him ; but I have not the least 
 doubt that the fine, clear climate of Canada will restore 
 him ; and even if the event should be the woi^t that we 
 can fear, you must not thus mourn away your young 
 existence. When you wrote last, you were just on the 
 point of starting for Montreal ; and I assure you I envied 
 you the excursion. I wish I could have visited Gertrude 
 before I came to England. Not only because I loved 
 her more than I ever loved any one in so short a time ; 
 but I am really ashamed, when asked about Niagara 
 and the lakes, to say that I have never seen them. 
 People here are not aware how very unusual it is for 
 American ladies to go out of sight of their own chimneys; 
 and, as for ?pacc, they do not seem to imagine there is 
 
 IS 
 
206 THE REBELS. 
 
 such a tiling on the other side of the Atlantic. They 
 would ask a Vermontese about the Blue Ridge, or a 
 Georgian about Niagara, as readily as I should question 
 a Londoner about St. Paul's, or beg a description of 
 Snowdon from a Welchman born and bred within sight 
 of its cloud-kissing peak. 
 
 During the whole of last winter, we had the finest col- 
 lection of company in the world. Johnson, Burke, Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, Garrick, and Goldsmith, spent an 
 evening with us, almost as regularly as they did at the 
 Turk's Head, Gerard-street, Soho. The mere contact 
 of such great minds is enough to inspire one with genius. 
 I have the good fortune to be a favorite with that famous 
 cynic, Samuel Johnson; — principally, I believe, because 
 I treat him with the most profound reverence, and never 
 contradict his opinions. To Sir Joshua, I could listen 
 forever, because he talks of what I understand and love. 
 He has described half the fine paintings in Italy so viv- 
 idly, that I imagine I have seen them. Burke is becom- 
 ing famous as a speaker ; and if he is half as delightful 
 in Parliament as he is in the drawing-room, I do not 
 wonder at his fame. ' His talk,' says Johnson, ' is the 
 ebullition of his mind ; he does not talk from a desire of 
 distinction, but because his mind is full.' It would 
 amuse Henry to hear the political disputes between these 
 two great men. Johnson sneers about ' whig dogs,' 
 speaks of America as an uncivilized land, and says it 
 would puzzle any one to tell what good the discovery of 
 it has done the world. Burke contends that our country 
 will eventually be one of the greatest on the globe ; and 
 says that if Britain ever loses her American colonies, she 
 will part with a jewel worth her whole regalia. It is 
 
THE REBELS. 207 
 
 curious to observe how sharp contention will call forth 
 passions, which we little folks can hardly imagine to 
 exist in such mighty minds. These great men remind 
 me of Alfred's horse, cut in the side of a chalk hill, in 
 Berkshire. At a distance, it looks like a fine warlike 
 steed ; but, as you approach it, all its fine proportions are 
 lost, and at last you begin to doubt whether it be really 
 an animal, or merely a surface accidentally indented by 
 wind and storm. Among all the geniuses to whom I 
 have been introduced. Goldsmith is my favorite. -He 
 loves a broad laugh, but never a malicious one ; and his 
 constant flow of humor originates in fulness — not in 
 vacuity. 
 
 "We shall soon return to the city. I must say I 
 regret to leave our country-seat; for, thickly as this 
 beautiful island is gemmed with mansions and parks, cot- 
 tages and gardens, it can boast few spots so cultivated 
 and so varied. The Thames sparkles before it, like a 
 broad, bright line of silver, on the green robe of summer. 
 In the distance are seen the verdant hills of Kent and 
 Surrey, around w^hose majestic brows the setting sun 
 daily twines his topaz coronet of hght. In every direc- 
 tion the foliage is delightfully interspersed with majestic 
 domes, venerable turrets, and light, airy, graceful spires. 
 Boats, of all sizes and descriptions, from the eight-oared 
 barge to the slender skiff", are gliding up and down the 
 river, like a troop of wild swans on the Potomac, giving 
 life and motion to its slumbering beauty. 
 
 " Within doors, I can feast my eye on a fine galler)'- 
 of paintings. Here are the pictures of Rembrandt, 
 steeped in sunshine ; the gods and goddesses of Guido 
 — more like the seraphs of a Christian heaven, than the 
 
208 THE REBELS. 
 
 deities of Olympus; and the sublime productions of 
 Raphael, beaming with an expression of soul which his 
 pencil alone could giv'e. But there is one picture here 
 that seems to me like dreaming of a distant friend — 
 troubling while it pleases me. It is among the family 
 portraits which decorate my bed-chamber ; and was 
 taken, I am told, for my grandmother Fitzherbert. It 
 is Gertrude Percival, to the life ! The same high, intel- 
 lectual forehead; the same Aurora freshness of com- 
 plexion ; the same majestic contour of neck and shoul- 
 ders. I do not know how they would compare together ; 
 but I thought the likeness so striking, that I have em- 
 ployed Sir Joshua Reynolds to make me a copy to bring 
 to America. What associations that name awakens I 
 How much the very sound makes my heart leap toward 
 you ! Yet my affections cling to good old England. I 
 love her country scenes, embosomed in forests, and gar- 
 landed with flowers ; I love the rapid pulsation of her 
 mighty capital ; I love to gaze on her far-stretching gal- 
 axy of genius ; and, ' last, not least,' I love the bravery, 
 frankness and hospitality, of her sons. 
 
 " One other association knocks at my heart, dearer 
 than all that taste or reason can furnish. It was here I 
 first heard declarations of love from the only man I ever 
 wished to please. There was a time when you indulged 
 yourself in a little gentle raillery about my sliding heart; 
 and why, dear Grace, did you cease to be unreserved on 
 the subject ? I once supposed that Captain Somerville 
 had a powerfvd advocate in your own feelings. Was it 
 so ? and did you reject him from the dictates of judg- 
 ment ? Or are you still a stranger to that mj'sterious 
 affinity which draws two young souls toward each other? 
 
THE REBELS. 209 
 
 Perhaps timidity was the only enemy our patriotic young 
 friend had to contend with ; and, after all that is past 
 and gone, Mrs. Willard may stand ready to greet Mrs. 
 Somerville, on her return to America. I forgot, when I 
 said Mrs. Somerville, — for uncle will not consent to our 
 marriage, unless the captain will take my family name ; 
 and he is now going through the necessary forms for 
 that purpose. I wish you could have a share in the cer- 
 emony that gives me a hand invaluable to my heart, 
 though it proved unacceptable to yours. 
 
 " When you write again, I trust your father will be 
 quite recovered. You do not know how grateful I am 
 for the kind wishes he always sends me. Kiss his ven- 
 erable forehead, and tell him that, to such a generous 
 creditor, I shall never be a bankrupt in affection. I 
 thought happiness had dried up the fountain of my 
 tears ; but your last letter was so sad, that I wept, in 
 spite of myself. 
 
 " Ever yours, with all the intense affection 1 am capa- 
 ble of feeling, Lucretia Fitzherbert." 
 
 Fitzherbert Hall, Nov. 13, 17G7. 
 
 TO Miss LUCRETIA FITZHERBERT. 
 
 " Dear Lucretia : 
 
 " I found your letter, dated November 15th, waiting 
 our arrival, when we returned from Canada. Gertrude 
 and I wrote you a crowded epistle, last autum.n ; I won- 
 der you "had not received it before you wrote. She is 
 very happy. Indeed, her affectionate heart deserves it. 
 Had she been a sister, in very truth, she could not have 
 loved me more, or been more kindly attentive to my 
 father. 
 
210 TITF. RF.BELS. 
 
 I have heard you speak of people in whom delicacy 
 and refinement seemed like instinct. Mrs. Percival's 
 certainly is so. She perceived that images and pictures 
 of the saints distressed my good father (his soul you 
 know entereth not into their strange worship) — nothing 
 was said ; but the morning after our arrival, I noticed 
 they had all disappeared. I cannot tell such fine stories 
 about my Canadian excursion, as you tell of England. I 
 was ever seated at my father's bed-side, or supporting 
 his arm as he walked. You will think this was weari- 
 some ; but I assure you it is like cordial to the spirit, to 
 meet afTection in the languid eye of sickness, and to see 
 blessings and thanks quiver on lips that have not strength 
 to utter them. Truly, I would not have exchanged my 
 solitary task for all the treasures of Burke's eloquence, or 
 Goldsmith's wit. Your speaking of pictures, reminds 
 me of a Magdalen, which an Italian artist painted for 
 Mrs. Percival. It would doubtless appear mean to your 
 practised eye ; but it found its way to my heart. The 
 countenance is pale and melancholy — like one who has 
 loved, and been forsaken — one who has ear]y learned 
 that the flowers of earth wither away; but there is 
 devotion in the uplifted eye, which speaks of better 
 hopes than this vain world can offer. So purely did it 
 breathe of celestial joys, that my spirit fluttered like a 
 captive bird ; and I would fain have gone away and 
 slept the last quiet sleep. 
 
 " My father is recovering fast. A gentle light beams 
 from his eye, and his step is firm even as it was wont to 
 be, when you and I and all of us were happy together. 
 
 " Long, long, Lucretia, may you enjoy the scenes you 
 love so well, and the society you so well know how to 
 
THE REBELS. 211 
 
 adorn. I am often selfish enough to wish you were here. 
 However, the luxuriance of the park and the green-house 
 must be yours ; — enough for me, the trembling little 
 wild-flower that breathes its fragrance at my feet. Bless- 
 ings on its innocent beauty ! It smiles through a deli- 
 cious existence, and, at the end of one brief season, droops 
 its dying head on the bosom of the turf that nourished it. 
 Why should we envy them ? Are not mortals as fragile 
 as they ? I love flowers. They speak of nature, and 
 they speak of God. I would rather have them cluster 
 around my grave, and moisten it with the dew-drop of 
 morning and evening, than to repose beneath the cold, 
 heavy monuments of Westminster Abbey. 
 
 " 3.1ay you ever be happy, dear Lucretia ; — particu- 
 larly may 3'ou be fortunate in that important step — the 
 only one, save death, which can never be retraced. 
 Your allusion to Doctor Willard was very painful to me. 
 My heart is not cold and unfeeling — perhaps it has 
 thought on domestic happiness too deeply — too fondl)'' ; 
 but the day-dream has vanished. 
 
 "My kind remembrance to your intended husband. 
 
 " The blessing of Israel's God be with you. 
 
 " Your affectionate, 
 
 "Grace Osborxe." 
 Queen-street, June 30, 1768. 
 
 to miss sally sandford. 
 " Dear Auxt : 
 
 " I last week received a package from Boston, con 
 taining letters from Uncle Hutchinson, Grace Osborne, 
 and yourself. 
 
 " Many thanks for your bridal sash. I shall most cer- 
 
212 THE REBELS, 
 
 fainly wear it at the important time for which it was 
 designed. 
 
 " Captain Somerville now writes his name Frederic 
 Somerville Fitzherbert. I was sorr}^ uncle's family pride 
 required this sacrifice. There seems to be something 
 degrading in the bridegroom's losing his name, instead 
 of the bride. However, he seems resolved to repay this 
 acquiescence by the most rapid promotion. He is now 
 colonel of his majesty's 14th regiment of dragoons. I 
 have repeatedly told you that uncle is one of the most 
 formal, precise men in the world. You would have been 
 amused with his reception of Captain Somerville, the 
 day he came to make proposals in due form. It was at 
 an hour when he did not usually receive visitors. Mrs. 
 Edgarton had just placed the bolster of the couch so that 
 he could recline comfortably; and I, like a dutiful niece, 
 stood ready to read the newspaper, which had just been 
 brought in, when the servant entered, and, making a 
 low bow, said, ' Captain Somerville is in the library, 
 wishing to speak with your honor.' 
 
 " ' Show him up, John.' 
 
 "'He wishes to speak with 3'ou alone, if it pleases 
 you.' 
 
 " I guessed his errand, — for I had heard some intima- 
 tion of it, in the picture-gallery, the day before. My 
 uncle seemed to suspect, too ; for he chucked me under 
 the chin, as he rose, and said, ' These nieces are dear 
 creatures to an old, ease-lovino; man.' 
 
 " Captain Somerville afterwards told me that when he 
 entered the library, he made one of his most stately bows, 
 and inquired, ' What is your business, sir ? ' 
 
THE REBELS. 213 
 
 " ' I came to speak of your niece, — and to ask per- 
 mission — ' 
 
 " ' To-morrow, at four o'clock, post meridian, I will 
 give you an audience, sir. You are aware this is not 
 my hour of business ;' — and, with another haughty 
 inclination of the head, he left him to his meditations. 
 
 " Captain Somerville, somewhat daunted by his repul- 
 sive manner, came at the appointed time. Without 
 answering his salutation, or even requesting him to be 
 seated, uncle said, in a hurried, business tone, * Are you 
 willing to take the name and arms of Fitzherbert ? ' 
 
 " After a moment's hesitation, Somerville replied in 
 the affirmative. ' Follow me, then,' said he ; and he led 
 the way to the galler}'', where I was seated, copying a 
 Flemish landscape. He threw the door open, with an 
 air of great importance, pointed to a vacant seat, and 
 said, ' Whatever 3'ou value in this apartment, is yours.' 
 
 " If my uncle had mistaken the real nature of his 
 business, it vrould have been very embarrassing; as it 
 was, however, there was no mistake about the matter. 
 
 " You would be surprised to see how much I have 
 improved in my painting. Somerville is a great ama- 
 teur, you know; and there is no exertion too great for a 
 woman who loves. I have actually improved more, 
 within the last three months, than I ever did in my 
 whole life. 
 
 " Uncle Fitzherbert is evidently much pleased with 
 my approaching marriage ; and from Uncle Hutchinson's 
 letter, I should judge he was well-nigh mad with joy. 
 
 " I do not exactly know 'why it is, — but I do wish 
 the weddinor could be deferred until I have visited 
 America. ]\Iy friends here will not consent to it, I 
 
214 THE liEBELS. 
 
 know; especially as I should find it difficult to give 
 them any very good reasons for it. If I must tell the 
 truth, I have certain undefined apprehensions about 
 Grace Osborne. She seldom mentions Captain Somer- 
 ville in her letters — which is very strange, considering 
 how much he was with us, in the winter of '65, and 
 how obviously she was a favorite. Once, indeed, she 
 requested me to tell him that the rose-bush he had 
 given her was flourishing. "When I mentioned it, one 
 of those dreadful shadows passed over his face, and the 
 blood seemed starting from his temples. ' Tell Miss 
 Osborne,' said he, ' that no flower can be fairer than 
 herself.' These circumstances brought to my recollec- 
 tion, that when we parted, there were certain very 
 expressive glances about a broken ring, which I had 
 never seen before. As Captain Somerville had then 
 treated me with nothing more than gallantry and polite- 
 ness, I was confirmed in my supposition that they were 
 betrothed to each other. 
 
 " After our engagement, I once ventured to say to 
 him, that I had thought him very much fascinated by a 
 certain friend of mine in Boston. That darkening 
 frown, always so terrible to me, again came over his 
 face. ' She is a most beautiful creature,' said he ; ' and 
 you will forgive me, Lucretia, if I did love her, since 
 she did not consider my love worth her acceptance. I 
 have long ceased to regret it ; for I am convinced she 
 has not mind enough to make me happy.' I began to 
 vindicate Grace, — but he interrupted me, with an ear- 
 nest, almost authoritative request, never to mention the 
 subject to him again. This interdiction might originate 
 in wounded pride. But why was the rose kept ? From 
 
THE REBELS. 215 
 
 whence came the ring? During the winter he spent 
 with us, m}" own heart taught me how to judge of 
 another; and I would then have risked my Hfe that 
 Grace loved him with all the pure, deep tenderness of 
 which she is capable. Her letters seem to come from a 
 wear}^ and broken spirit ; and she dwells upon the peace- 
 fulness of the grave with a sort of sickening impatience 
 very remarkable in one so contented and devotional. If 
 my rank and wealth have purchased me his hand, while 
 his affections are lingering in America, mine will indeed 
 be splendid miser}'. 
 
 *' I loved Grace at that early age when the soul sends 
 forth its waters in warm and gushing torrents. I have 
 seen her the idol of every circle, while I, poor and 
 homely, was neglected. I have seen Love pass by me, 
 and shower his wreaths am.ong her beautiful flaxen hair ; 
 but she never was the less dear to me ; and if I now 
 supposed that her breaking heart was a stepping-stone to 
 H^Tnen's altar, my o'\mi would burst, ere I trod upon it. 
 In your last letter, you sneered at the possibility of her 
 having refused such a match ; — but you do not know 
 her, Aunt Sandford. I never saw one who had such 
 power to curb and to endure. If she doubted the firm- 
 ness of a man's principles, or feared her father's disap- 
 probation, she could tear an image from her heart, if 
 ever)'- fibre bled at the parting. 
 
 " However, in one fortnight I shall be a wedded wife ; 
 and I ought not to indulge an}' doubtings and misgiv- 
 ings; for I never had reason to doubt Colonel Fitzher- 
 bert's integrit}'. (It is the first time I have thought to 
 give him his new title.) 
 
 " I have introduced all my acquaintance, in town and 
 
216 THE REBELS. 
 
 country to you, I believe — unless Miss Anne Pitt be 
 excepted, whom I have not met till very recently. 
 She is the sister of Lord Chatham, and almost as cele- 
 brated as he is. j\Ir. Burke told me he thoudit her the 
 most perfectly eloquent person he ever saw. There is, 
 indeed, a charm in everj'thing she says. Her ideas 
 have great beauty; and she mingles her syllables in a 
 liquid cadence, w^hich gives to the English tongue the 
 far-famed softness of the Tuscan. 
 
 "Last Sabbath, I went to Stepney old church, St. 
 Dunstan, — a pile venerable for its extreme antiquity. 
 An inscription on one of the corner-stones imports that 
 it was brought from the ruins of Carthage. Colonel 
 Fitzherbert laughed at me for paying court to St. Dun- 
 stan just at this time. You know he consecrated a 
 fountain, which ever after had the blessed effect of mak- 
 ing wives obedient. The servant has just come up to 
 say that Sir Joshua Eeynolds and Garrick are below. 
 I may thank you and Uncle Hutchinson that I am not a 
 disgrace to the society in which fortune has placed me. 
 Good-night. August 14th — the anniversary of Oliver's 
 mob, — and of something far more important — viz., of 
 the evening on which I was introduced to Captain 
 Somerville. 
 
 "August 2ith, 1768. 
 *' How mutable are all human prospects ! My last 
 lines were written on the 14th ; and Uncle Fitzherbert 
 was then in fine health, and animated to a remarkable 
 degree. On the night of the 15th, he was suddenly 
 attacked by violent convulsions. The fits continued, 
 with increasing power, until the third day, when, with 
 anguish that cannot be described, I saw the only relative 
 
THE REBELS 217 
 
 I had on earth stretched on the bed of death. I have 
 never before seen Mrs. Edgarton subdued by emotion; 
 but now I am obhged to exert all my fortitude to support 
 her. Alas ! I shall never again be idolized as I was by 
 that dear old gentleman. He seemed to consider me 
 the prop of his house — the stay and support of his age. 
 Why did my heart ever accuse him of coldness and 
 formality ? 
 
 " Colonel Fitzherbert ^^Tote all the particulars of his 
 death to Uncle Hutchinson, immediately after his 
 decease ; but grief, and the pressure of cares to which I 
 have been unaccustomed, have hitherto prevented my 
 writing to you. Mrs. Edgarton has £5000 ; and all the 
 ser\'ants have legacies. To everj^thing else I am sole 
 heiress. 
 
 *' All preparations for the wedding are, of course, 
 delayed. It was the earnest request, indeed the com- 
 mand, of my dying uncle, that the marriage should be 
 solemnized in three or four weeks, at the utmost. 
 
 "I thought this arrangement very heartless and 
 unfeeling. I therefore told Colonel Fitzherbert that I 
 thought it best to go to America, with several ladies of 
 my acquaintance, who sail in September ; and added my 
 resolution to be married at the house where we first 
 met. 
 
 " At first, he urged me, with all possible eagerness, to 
 comply with my uncle's request ; then offered to throw 
 up his commission, and remain in England until the 
 period of mourning had expired; and when he found 
 that I continued firm in my purpose, he flew into the 
 most violent rage, and said he should not consider the 
 engagement binding, if 1 chose to display my obstinacy 
 
 19 
 
218 THE REBELS. 
 
 in this way, I answered, it was very well. He was 
 left entirely to his own choice, in that matter. 
 
 " He went away in great anger. The next day, how- 
 ever, he called to apologize, and to express his reluctant 
 acquiescence. I had rather die than doubt him ; but all 
 this powerful emotion does increase my suspicions, — 
 and yet they do not amount to suspicions, either. 
 
 " You will be displeased, I know ; but I must. Aunt 
 Sandford, I must have confidence in the man I marry. 
 I merely wish to see Grace, and satisfy m.y doubts. 
 Doubts, do^I say ? I will not suffer myself to doubt the 
 word of Colonel Fitzherbert; and if, as I believe, no 
 blame can be attached to him, I assure you I love him 
 too well to require from him any romantic sacrifice. 
 You have often wished to be present at my wedding ; — 
 I trust you will not be angry if your wish is gratified. 
 
 " Give my grateful, fervent affection to Uncle Hutch- 
 inson. I have been collecting a library more splendid 
 than the one destroyed by the mob, which I intend to 
 bring with me. 
 
 " Most affectionately, your dutiful niece, 
 
 " LucRETiA Fitzherbert." 
 
 Miss Sandford scarcely read the concluding line, 
 before she dipped her pen in ink, and rapidly scribbled 
 as follows : — 
 
 to miss lucretia fitzherbert. 
 " Silly Girl : 
 
 " I am, indeed, angry with you. In my day, a child 
 of six years old would have been whipped, and sent to 
 bed, for taking such foolish whims. Is a man of Colo- 
 
THE REBELS. 219 
 
 nel Fitzherbert's rank and talents, and the nephew of 
 your greatest benefactor, to be treated in this unbecom- 
 ing manner, because a simpleton of eighteen chooses to 
 talk about dying, as if it was a matter of pleasure or 
 convenience ? I suppose brother Henry had scolded 
 her, or papa had frowned on the trembling little one. 
 As for the ring and the flower, they weigh nothing at 
 all, in my mind. If girls of the present day will suffer 
 a gentleman to see as plain as daylight that they are liv- 
 ing and breathing only for him, what can you expect 
 from human vanity ? I dare say. Colonel Fitzherbert 
 made up the story about her rejection, wholly from mo- 
 tives of delicacy and generosity. I am not surprised 
 that he was in a passion, when he found you refused to 
 obey your uncle's dying command. 
 
 " To say nothing about the foolish jealousy you in- 
 dulge, are you not ashamed to cross the seas with a 
 regiment of soldiers ? In the days of my youth, a single 
 lady would have thought twice, before she undertook 
 anything so grossly improper ; but blushes are out of 
 fashion, now-a-days, I find. 
 
 " My indignation may have betrayed me into unlady- 
 like expressions ; and, perhaps, it may have made me 
 seem very indecorous, with regard to Mr. Fitzherbert's 
 death. You, no doubt, feel his loss very severely ; and, 
 under other circumstances, a year ought certainly to be 
 given to his memory ; but your destined husband loves 
 the army too well to quit it ; he is ordered to America, 
 and you are anxious to accompany him. As for staying 
 in England, unmarried, at the head of such a large 
 establishment, it would neither be pleasant nor proper. 
 To be sure, you have no thoughts of the last scheme. 
 
220 THE REBELS. 
 
 You must, forsooth, see Grace Osborne, and ask her if 
 she is willing you should marry her old favorite. Such 
 whims might pass, in a girl of fifteen, who had never 
 read anything but romances ; but for one of your good 
 sense, great advantages, and uncommon attainments, it is 
 highly ridiculous; — and let me tell you, that to set 
 your judgment against your elders, in this way, is paying 
 a poor compliment to those who brought you up. Come 
 to America as Mrs. Fitzherbert, and you will find all 
 hearts open to receive you. 
 
 ^^ !^ ^ dkit ^ 
 
 ^ •TV' 'Tr "TV" Vt* 
 
 " There is no chance to send this letter, for a week or 
 more. I earnestly hope you will not have taken any 
 rash step before you hear from me. I mentioned, in my 
 last, that your portrait, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, had 
 safely arrived; — and who do you think came, a few 
 days since, and craved permission to see it ? Assuredly, 
 no other than Molly Bradstreet, or Polly May, as she 
 styles herself. She marched in, with a very unceremo- 
 nious stride, looked earnestly at the picture for a few 
 moments, then threw herself into your uncle's chair, and 
 burst into tears, moving her right hand up and down all 
 the while, as if beating time to some funeral dirge. 
 
 " When she arose, I ventured to ask her what interest 
 she took in that yomig person. She looked at me very 
 keenly for a moment, and turned away, as she answered, 
 ' I knew her mother in Hahfax ; and she did me many a 
 kind turn, while she (pointing to your picture) was a 
 baby.' 
 
 " She would neither eat nor drink in the house, and 
 hurried out of it, as if afraid to trust herself to look back. 
 Mr. Hutchinson seemed to think of nothing else for two 
 
TTIE REBELS. 221 
 
 or three da3'S ; and he finally went off in search of this 
 mysterious creature ; but she could not be found. 
 
 " A woman who lives near her has been here to get 
 work, several times ; and when I think it necessar}', I 
 employ her in the kitchen. She says,' Some take Molly 
 for a desput bad woman ; howsomdever, I have gone into 
 her house agin and agin, and found her on her knees at 
 prayer. To be sure, she comes and goes like sulky 
 soap: and she is a sort of witch, I believe. At any rate, 
 she has a kind of half-crazed way with her.' 
 
 " You would have laughed one of your heartiest 
 laughs, if 3'ou had been here last week, when this poor 
 washerwoman came to make her complaints against the 
 whigs. 
 
 " * Don't you think, madam,' said she, drawing in her 
 breath, with violent sobs, ' don't you think, they have 
 torn the nice checked apron you gin me, all to pieces I ' 
 Then, turning to the lieutenant governor, with a profound 
 courtesy, she added, ' If there 's justice in the land, it 
 ought to reach such fellows, your honor.' 
 
 We asked what provocation there was for such an 
 injur}^ and who was guilty of it. ' Why, you see, I 
 took a few pence of the money you gin me for my labor,' 
 said she, ' and I went to Mr. Loveking's shop, and bought 
 me a quarter of a pound of nice Bohea. There was an 
 evil-lookinof lad on the door-stone, when I went in : and 
 I noticed he followed me, and kept his eye on me. The 
 next day, I had jest made me a comfortable dish of tea, 
 and set down to drink it, when, the first thing I know'd, 
 an egg come hard against my temples. Before I could 
 look up, another fell into my cup of tea, and spilled it 
 all over the floor. Thinks I to myself, some of the whig 
 
 19~^ 
 
228 THE REBELS. 
 
 lads are playing their tricks ; so I catched up my canis- 
 ter of tea, and put it up chimly, out of sight ; and I stept 
 out of the way of the window, and chucked my black 
 airthen tea-pot into my pocket. I 'm a sizeable woman, 
 you know, and they 'd never mind w^iat was in my 
 pocket, so long as the pleets of my gowiid kivered it. 
 So I thought myself safe ; but, to be sure, in comes one 
 of the young dogs, and gives a thundering Imock on the 
 chimly, and down falls my canister. Jest as I stooped 
 to pick it up, they throwed a stone at my pocket, and 
 brolie the tea-pot into a thousand bits ; — and they shook 
 the tea all out of my canister, and shoveled the ashes 
 over it ; — and they played football with my tea-cups, 
 till they broke 'em fine enough to scour knives with. 
 You may be sure I was as mad as if a line of clothes had 
 fell down jest as I got my washing out. I called 'em all 
 the rascals in the country ; and they made a great clamor 
 about the tea-tax, and the rights of man. If it is the 
 rights of man, I think, your honor, it is the wrongs of 
 woman ; and if there is sich a thing as justice in the 
 land, I ought to have it.' 
 
 " The story is good for nothing, even in her own 
 words, unless you could have heard her whining and 
 whimpering, and seen her visage of wrath. 
 
 " We gave her tea and money, and pacified her with 
 promises. But w^hat can the magistrates do ? These 
 things grow worse and worse, every day. We should 
 have another house pulled down about our ears, if they 
 knew your uncle had sent to request military assistance 
 from the king. When the royal troops come, Governor 
 Bernard will bear all the blame. 
 
 " Doctor Byles was gifted with the power to speak 
 
THE REBELS. 223 
 
 truth, once in his life, when he said, ' He is a well-mean- 
 ing gentleman. His heart is on the right side, as old 
 Townsend, that is dead and gone, once said; but he is 
 as clever a cat's-paw as ever took hot nuts out of the 
 fire.' 
 
 " I should not dare to write thus, if I were not^ sure 
 of putting my letter into the hands of a trust-worthy 
 Englishman myself; for, do you know% your last letter to 
 my brother-in-law was intercepted, and printed full length 
 in the Boston Gazette ? What you wrote about Charles 
 Townsend and the taxation bill is ever)' syllable that can 
 interest the rebels ; but they have placed it all before the 
 public. However, it is all of a piece with that scandal- 
 ous paper. I do not know what the world is coming to, 
 when kings have not the power to stop such proceed- 
 ings. Boston is like a house on fire over one's head. 
 If they continue so outrageous, I think your uncle will 
 conclude to reside altogether at his country-seat, in 
 Milton. 
 
 " As for St. Dunstan, — if I had not known the legend 
 about him, suffer me to remind you, that it is not re- 
 spectful or decorous in you to attempt to teach your 
 seniors. 
 
 " We talk much about our adopted niece. If you have 
 any love or gratitude for us, give us a legal title to rela- 
 tionship before you depart for America. I live upon the 
 hope of seeing you and your husband soon. 
 
 " Your loving aunt, 
 
 " Sally Sandford." 
 Boston, Oct. 6, 1768. 
 
 Lucretia was on her way to New England before this 
 letter reached Grosvenor-square. The reader will read- 
 
224 
 
 THE REBELS. 
 
 ily imagine that Miss Sandford had her own reasons for 
 urging a step which she would otherwise have thought 
 very improper. This union had always been the most 
 cherished wish of her heart. She, as well as Lucretia, 
 had long supposed Miss Osborne's affections fixed on 
 Captain Somerville ; and in the few visits she had lately 
 paid her, it was impossible not to notice her declining 
 health. These circumstances, united to what Miss Fitz- 
 herbert had written, gave rise to uncomfortable fears. 
 
 The matron was not cruel at heart ; but she some- 
 times thought to herself, " Brother Hutchinson will 
 break his heart to have Lucretia's large property go 
 wholly out of the family. It does seem to be a pity for 
 Lucretia to run the risk of losing her bright prospects, 
 for the sake of a puny little girl, who will not live long 
 to enjoy anything, whether or no, — for she has had con- 
 sumption handed down to her, both from the father's and 
 the mother's side, for ten generations." 
 
 As for Colonel Fitzherbert, he might well have en- 
 vied Tantalus and Ixion their torments. Henry Osborne 
 said truly, " Ambition was his guiding star — the shrine 
 at which he sacrificed both affection and principle." Yet 
 even in this he was inconstant. His feelings, chame- 
 leon-like, took their coloring from surrounding objects ; 
 and whatsoever was present with him was, for the time, 
 most important. If his heart had ever known genuine 
 affection. Miss Osborne certainly had inspired it ; but 
 when he was aware of Lucretia's vast expectations, — 
 when he witnessed the splendor and influence of her 
 high-born uncle, — when he saw her admired in the first 
 literary circles, and daily becoming more polished by 
 intercourse with the fashionable world, — he regretted 
 
THE KEBELS. 225 
 
 the tie that bound him to her huniLle friend. By de- 
 grees, Grace, in her pale and placid beauty, was forgot- 
 ten ; or, if memor}^ sometimes presented her image, and 
 ^yith it " many a proof of recollected love," he thought 
 of her only as an obstacle in the way of his prosperity. 
 But when the world supposed him at the very summit 
 of good fortune, it may well be imagined his situation 
 was anj'thing but enviable. He respected Lucretia — 
 and he had deceived her by the most direct falsehood. 
 He loved Grace Osborne — yet he must either lose the 
 much-coveted prize just within his grasp, or be married 
 to another, in the immediate vicinity of her whom he 
 had so shamefully "\^Tonged. 
 
 Could he have seen Grace, wasted as she was by 
 lingering illness, and utterly cheerless in her faithful 
 affection, his better nature would have prevailed ; and he 
 would have besought formveness with the earnestness of 
 a repentant sinner. But he had resolved to avoid her 
 sight entirely. His mind was a chaos of fear and con- 
 jecture, and only one hope floated distinctly on its sur- 
 face, namel}', that the impression he had made might be 
 as easily erased as the one he had received, and that 
 pride and delicacy would keep his secret. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 O ! what can sanctify the joys of home, 
 
 Like hope's gay glance from troubled ocean's foam ? 
 
 The Corsair. 
 
 In the October following, the regiments, with several 
 ships of war, arrived in Boston harbor, and drew up as 
 if to blockade the town. In a few days, the barracks at 
 the Castle, the Town House, and Faneuil Hall, were 
 filled; and a long line of tents, here and there sur- 
 mounted by the red cross standard, stretched across our 
 beautiful Common. Wherever the eye turned, it rested 
 on British uniforms ; — wherever the bright sun glanced, 
 it was reflected by British steel. There is no language 
 that can describe how the souls of men were goaded and 
 maddened, in this hour of trial. The hum of business 
 and of pleasure ceased ; the wrath that had hitherto 
 expended itself in flashes of wit, or hasty ebullitions of 
 feeling, now retreated to garrison the heart, and left men 
 stern, silent and reserved; the step of youth lost its 
 buoyancy, and became firm, bold and heavy, like the 
 platoon tread of battle ; even the exuberant glee of boy- 
 hood was checked ; and " the very air seemed like the 
 suppressed breathing of a curse." 
 
 A fortnight after the ships of war had drawn up 
 around the entrance of the harbor, a merchant-vessel, 
 bearing the national flag of England, passed through the 
 centre of their line, on her way to Boston. Handker- 
 chiefs were seen waving on the deck, and brief smiles 
 
THE REBELS. 227 
 
 were exchanged, as the brig rapidly cut her vrny through 
 the waters. The two men-of-war occupied by Colonel 
 Fitzherbert's troops fired a hea-vy salute as she passed, 
 for the betrothed wife of their commander was on board. 
 
 Lucretia had preferred accompanying a few friends 
 m the London packet, to an escort so warlike as that 
 which attended her lover. A separation of eight or ten 
 weeks had, of course, taken place ; but the moment the 
 brig was recognized by the national vessels, one of them 
 lowered a boat, the packet slackened sail, as it was 
 swiftly rowed toward her, and, ten minutes after. Colonel 
 Fitzherbert was on board. 
 
 Vrhen Lucretia saw his tall, elegant figure, when she 
 listened to the voice that had, for the last two months, 
 been heard only in her dreams, ail her doubts and cares 
 were forgotten, and she received him with a warm and 
 frank affection which she made no attempt to conceal; 
 but his brow was troubled, — he seemed absent and un- 
 easy, — and, though unbounded in his gallantry, it was 
 too m.uch like the heartless obsequiousness of habit. 
 
 " You have seen all our friends ? " said Lucretia, her 
 ver}' plain face brightening with eagerness and joy, as 
 she spoke. 
 
 " I have, and everj* one is impatient for your arrival. 
 I almost began to be jealous of your superior importance, 
 when I found every welcome cut short by inquiries and 
 lamentations for you." 
 
 Lucretia pla^-fully threw her handkerchief to his face, 
 as she smiled, and said, " Aunt Sandford is just as 
 precise, impatient and good-hearted, as ever, I suppose ; 
 and quite as learned with regard to the comparative 
 value of Hechlin and Brussels ? " 
 
228 THE REBELS. 
 
 " I have heard no disputes of that nature," replied the 
 colonel ; " but her arguments with Doctor Byles are as 
 acid as ever. Last evening they had some altercation 
 about grammar; at the close of which, she told him 
 she thoroughly disliked people that were always in the 
 imperative mood. 'And I, for my part,' rejoined the 
 doctor, ' have no patience with a person who is forever 
 in the accusative case. It is a pity she has not an active 
 verb for a husband.' " 
 
 " Has your good uncle altered any ? and does he lose 
 ■ his temper with my insubordinate countrymen ? " asked 
 / Miss Fitzherbert. 
 
 " O, you know Uncle Hutchinson well enough," said 
 he, in a confidential tone. " The more uproar, the better 
 sport for him, as long as the tea is consigned to his sons, 
 and commissions given to his nephews. He does but" 
 1 act from the motives that stimulate us all, in every pur- 
 suit. All mankind are selfish ; and the greater their 
 hypocrisy, the more credit they get for benevolence and 
 patriotism." 
 
 We will not develop the train of association in Miss 
 Fitzherbert's mind ; but her expression saddened, and 
 her voice was hurried, as she asked, " Have you seen 
 the Osbornes ? " 
 
 " I met Henry in the street," rejoined he ; " but the 
 interviews between whigs and dragoons are not likely 
 to be the most cordial in the world;" and when he had 
 given this laconic answer, his lips compressed firmly, as 
 if they were never more to open. 
 
 " Is it possible you have not called there ? " inquired 
 Lucretia. 
 
 Colonel Fitzherbert's face was even redder than his 
 
THE REBELS. 229 
 
 uniform; and he angrily answered, " I have not called, 
 madam. I have political as well as personal reasons ; 
 and you know them both. It is a subject upon which 
 I have desired you never to speak. Methinks you take 
 it upon you somewhat early to regulate my motions." 
 
 Miss Fitzherbert did not attempt to reply. The tears 
 started to her eyes, and she turned away to conceal 
 them. 
 
 "A plague on her jealousy ! " thought the colonel. "I 
 shall lose her, at this rate. Confound it I that ever I 
 should place myself in a dilemma, where I can neither 
 take a decided stand, nor retreat with honor." 
 
 " Pardon me. Miss Fitzherbert! " said he, aloud. "If 
 5'ou knew half the insults that have been heaped upon 
 his majesty's troops in this rebellious town, you would 
 not wonder that I speak of Bostonians with som.e asper- 
 ity. I assure you, dearest Lucretia, I did not mean to 
 wound your feeling-s." 
 
 " The offence that I cannot find it in my heart to for- 
 give you, Frederic, must, indeed, be of a deep die," she 
 replied. 
 
 As she finished speaking, she joined a group of ladies 
 on the quarter-deck, and the conversation became gen- 
 eral, until the vessel drew up to the wharf. The lieu- 
 tenant governor was standing beside his carriage, at the 
 landing, waving his handkerchief, in signal of welcome. 
 Lucretia's heart rose painfully high, as scenes so well 
 remembered and beloved came upon her view. It seemed 
 to her as if the packet would never reach its destined 
 point ; and scarcely had its motion ceased, ere fhe was 
 on shore, enfolded in the arms of her uncle. 
 
 After the first congratulations were over, he observed, 
 20 
 
230 
 
 THE REBELS. 
 
 " Our telescope has been in great demand, for several 
 days. We descried the packet before it passed the 
 castle, and hastened to receive you. The carriage has 
 been in waiting an hour; for Madam Sandford could 
 not believe that winds and waves would be no more 
 favorable to you than to other mortals." 
 
 Lucretia begged that they might be detained no longer 
 than was necessary; and Colonel Fitzherbert having 
 promised soon to follow with the ser^-ants and baggage, 
 they gave their parting salutations to the ladies on board, 
 and ordered the coachman to drive on. 
 
 Our traveller felt a sort of bewildered and incredu- 
 lous sensation, when she found herself whirled along in 
 the self-same carriage, and through the self-same streets, 
 which she had, two years before, traversed with such 
 totally different feelings. 
 
 She had then formed m.any plans for the single life 
 on which she thought herself firmh^ and forever resolved ; 
 she had returned the affianced bride of the yerj man 
 for whose sake she had made the resolution. She was 
 then anxious and frightened at the weight of splendor 
 she saw in prospect ; it now sat easily and gracefully 
 upon her; and so great was her improvement in mind 
 and manners, that few would have recognized the Amer- 
 ican orphan, in the richly dressed and highly cultivated 
 English heiress. 
 
 The changes that had taken place in Boston seemed 
 to Lucretia even greater than her own. The whole face 
 of that thriving and happy population was indeed most 
 sadly changed. The troops, in their gorgeous, flame- 
 colored uniform, were extended in long lines, or scattered 
 in groups, throughout the town. Cannon were placed in 
 
THE REBELS. 231 
 
 front of Faneuil Hall; and sentinels, with gleaming 
 bayonets, paced to and fro, in front of the building. 
 The citizens, in their plain republican dress, eyed their 
 gaudy oppressors with an angr^^ scowl, and, passing to 
 the other side, shunned them as if they were a " pesti- 
 lence walking at noon-day." 
 
 Lucretia had heard much of the increasing disorders 
 in her native land ; but she was not prepared for a sight 
 like this ; and her native generosity and high ideas of 
 freedom, for a moment, overcame the influences that 
 surrounded her. 
 
 " The Spanish have insulted England," she said, 
 " and the government have paused to deliberate, and 
 condescended to reason with them ; but when Americans 
 remonstrate, it seems they are answered in a voice of 
 thunder. Methinks the revenue must be costly that is 
 extorted at the point of so many bayonets." 
 
 " It is but for a short time," answered Hutchinson ; 
 " and the army lack employment just now. We have 
 only to show these rebels what England can do, and 
 they will then submit Tvith as good a grace as possible." 
 
 Miss Fitzherbert had no attention to give to such dis- 
 cussions at that moment, for the home of her youth 
 was before her. 
 
 Jethro flourished his whip, and the horses gave a 
 bound, as if they partook of her impatience. 
 
 To press her earliest friend again and again to her 
 heart, — to ask a thousand questions, — to call the ser- 
 vants around her, and bid. them welcome, — seemed but 
 the work of a moment. 
 
 After the first joyful agitation was over, Miss Sand ford 
 followed her to her dressing-room. " Why, you are 
 
232 THE REBELS. 
 
 quite a different being! " said she, taking her by the arm, 
 and carefully examining her dress, from the ornamented 
 India comb, to the embroidered hem of her travelling 
 habit. "I declare, how much good it does some folks to 
 travel ! " 
 
 "My heart is not changed," replied Lucretia. "I 
 hope it will never be chilled. Is Grace Osborne well ?" 
 
 " That is just what I want to speak with you about," 
 replied Miss Sandford. " You could not have received 
 my answer to the letter j^ou wrote me in August ? " 
 
 "No, I did not, dear madam ; but what of Grace ?" 
 
 " I was going to scold at you for your silly conduct ; 
 but it seems you did not receive my letter ; and we are 
 really glad to have you married here ; only, taking one 
 thing with another, I think it would have been far better 
 to have had the wedding before you left Fitzherbert 
 Hall." 
 
 "Well, dear aunt, I will talk of all this another time. 
 What were you going to say of Grace ? " 
 
 "Why, my child, I do not think it is proper for you 
 to ask Colonel Fitzherbert questions about her. It only 
 offends him." 
 
 "Heaven knows, I would sooner suffer myself, than 
 give him pain, at any time," replied Lucretia ; "but why 
 should that offend him. Aunt Sandford ? " 
 
 "Why, from all that I can gather, there was some 
 foolish business at Mr. Osborne's ; but then it was a frolic 
 of youth — nothing was ever meant by it. Grace told 
 me, last week, that she would not marry Colonel Fitzher- 
 bert, even if he wished it. I do not believe a word of 
 that ; but then it shows plainly enough that she cares 
 nothing about him. So, if she does look a little paler 
 
THE REBELS. 
 
 233 
 
 than she did when you went away, don't imagine she is 
 dying for love. Consumption has run in her family for 
 years," 
 
 "O, aunt!" exclaim.ed Lucretia, "why didn't you tell 
 me she was ill before this ? " 
 
 "She is not ill — that is, not ver^^ ill; only a little 
 thinner than she was two years ago. I dare say she will 
 be well as ever before the winter is gone." 
 
 Lucretia gave her a most anxious and distressed look. 
 She saw that her aunt wished to prepare her for some- 
 thing which she had not the courage to reveal. All her 
 native impetuosity rushed to her heart. " I must see 
 her now — this ver}^ hour!" said she. "0, how I shall 
 wish I had never seen England-I " and without regard- 
 ino- the arguments, tears and remonstrances, of the mat- 
 ron, she caught her bonnet, flew down stairs, and with 
 hurried step hastened to the well-remembered dvrelling 
 of her friend. 
 
 A loud and rapid knock indicated her impatience. 
 
 " How do 3-ou do, Phoebe ? " said she, as the servant 
 opened the door. " Is IMiss Grace at home ? Tell her 
 Lucretia Fitzherbert is here." 
 
 Miss Osborne's writing-desk was open on the library' 
 table, and a book in which she had just been writing lay 
 upon it. 
 
 The wind blew the leaves as Lucretia entered the 
 room, and she noticed one page all blistered with tears. 
 It was several minutes before Grace made her appear- 
 ance. She was tr}'ing to compose herself for the 
 dreaded, though much wished-for interview. Presently, 
 a light step was heard, and an instant after, she was 
 sobbing upon the neck of her long-absent friend. 
 
 20^ 
 
234 THE REBELS. 
 
 Her form was attenuated almost to a shadow of her 
 former self, and the bright red spot on her cheek pro- 
 claimed too well that, to her, the world had little more 
 to offer. 
 
 Lucretia saw the dreadful truth at a single glance ; 
 and when she drew her closely to her heart, that heart 
 ached almost to bursting. 
 
 Poor Grace had vainly endeavored to nerve her gentle 
 nature for the trying scene. Her early friendship, — her 
 bright and happy dream of love, — all — all were con- 
 jured up too vividly before her. Both wept, longer and 
 more Adolently than joy ever weeps ; — and when the first 
 tumult of emotion had at last subsided, neither of them 
 dared trust her own voice to express feelings so deep and 
 complicated. 
 
 After a very long silence, Lucretia brushed back her 
 disordered hair, and making an effort to be cheerful, 
 said, "Where is jom: father and Henry, dear Grace?" 
 
 "They have gone to Cambridge, to remain until 
 night," she replied. 
 
 A thrill ran through Miss Fitzherbert's whole frame. 
 That voice had still the spirit of melody within it — but, 
 oh, how feeble, how hollow, were its tones ! 
 
 "Then I will stay with you all day, if you can send 
 word to Aunt Sandford." 
 
 "It is kind — very kind in you to remain wnth me, 
 when so many other friends are wishing to see you," 
 said Grace. 
 
 "J never was unkind," she replied, pressing her hand 
 earnestly ; and, unable longer to crowd back the subject 
 that was ever uppermost in her heart, she burst into tears, 
 
THE REBELS. 235 
 
 and exclaimed, " 0, dearest Grace, if you had but told 
 
 me ! " 
 
 Her friend looked up inquiringly. The idea that 
 Lucretia suspected the truth, now, for the first time, 
 flashed upon her mind ; and, without reply, she buried 
 her face in her handkerchief. 
 
 Another long pause was interrupted by Miss Fitzher- 
 bert, who, in a frenzied tone, said, "Tell me, Grace, and 
 tell me truly, — did Colonel Fitzherbert offer you mar- 
 riage, before he left America ? " 
 
 "He never offered it," answered Miss Osborne. 
 
 " How, then, could he tell me you had rejected him ? " 
 
 Grace tried to smile, as she answered, "How came 
 you to doubt the word of your destined husband ? It is 
 a sad thing, Lucretia." 
 
 "If you think so," rejoined her friend, "speak but one 
 word, to tell me those doubts are unfounded. Can you, 
 ought you, in conscience, to conceal anything from me, 
 in a case where the whole happiness of my life is at 
 stake ? " 
 
 Grace gazed at her for a moment with intense expres- 
 sion, as if she would have gladly laid down her life to 
 speak that one consoling word, could she have spoken it 
 truly ; then, with a com-ulsed motion, she covered her 
 face with both her hands, and wept aloud. 
 
 "I wish you both happy," said she, in a voice stifled 
 with sobs; "and if you cannot be so otherwise, forget 
 that such a creature as Grace Osborne ever lived." 
 
 "1, for one, cannot be happy on such conditions," re- 
 plied Lucretia. In accents of exceeding tenderness, she 
 added, "You are ill, dear Grace; — verj' ill, and 
 ATetched." 
 
-2116 
 
 THE REBELS. 
 
 " I am ill, but not wretched," answered Miss Osborne. 
 "Consumption is handed down to our family through 
 many generations; but 'the cup that my Heavenly 
 Father hath given me to drink, shall I not drink it ? ' 
 Truly it is offered at an early age ; but religion sweetens 
 the draught." 
 
 " Colonel Fitzherbert still loves you," said Lucretia. 
 " He has struggled with his affection, but he cafmot con- 
 quer it ; for he never hears you mentioned, without deep 
 emotion. Were I to tell him all, he would return to 
 you ; I know he would, — for he is kind and generous, 
 with all his faults. Could you forgive him, and live for 
 his sake ? " 
 
 The shrinking delicacy of Grace revolted at the idea ; 
 and, forgetful of her caution, she exclaimed, "Could 
 you remind a lover of his broken vow ? When he had 
 turned from you, could you pluck him by the sleeve, 
 and entreat him for one kind glance ? " 
 
 " O, my God ! " exclaimed Lucretia, springing on her 
 feet, and pacing the room in the agony of her spirit, " it 
 is true ! — it is true ! " 
 
 Grace pitied her from her inmost soul. She pressed 
 her hand to her lips, twined her wasted arms around her 
 neck, and tried every soothing endearment that friend- 
 ship and compassion could suggest. 
 
 It was not long before Lucretia assumed her native 
 firmness and energy. " This subject is too distressing 
 to us both," said she. " How well I have loved him, and 
 what a wreck this is to all my hopes, mortal can never 
 know. Neither of us is to blame. You did not tell me 
 of this before I left America, because you well knew 
 how much my own feelings were entangled. Had I 
 
THE REBELS. 237 
 
 knoTNii it earlier, I would sooner have died than have 
 given such a stab to your peace ; and you, iu your disin- 
 terested kindness, would willingly have gone to your 
 grave, and left me in ignorance of it. I have only one 
 question more to ask ; if Colonel Fitzherbert were again 
 free, would you many him ? " 
 
 Grace was silent a moment ; and there seemed to be a 
 slight conflict of feeling ; but in her pure and well-prin- 
 cipled mind it could not last long. With a steady voice, 
 she answered, " No. I could not respect a man whose 
 principles had ever wavered. I could not intrust my 
 happiness to one whose affection for me had once been 
 shaken. It is a grievous disappointment, to find duplic- 
 ity where we had expected truth ; but love cannot remain, 
 when confidence has fled. His attachment to you will, 
 no doubt, continue ; for your mind is capable of reflect- 
 ing all the light of his." 
 
 " And you have truly expressed your decided senti- 
 ments ? " said Lucretia. 
 
 "I have." 
 
 " Then we will never more speak of it, dear Grace." 
 
 "With affected calmness, Miss Fitzherbert then asked 
 some general questions about her work, her books, &c. ; 
 but the conversation soon became languid. Lucretia 
 leaned her head on her hand in silence, watchinsf the 
 various fantastic figures formed by the glowing embers ; 
 and as Grace looked steadily at the same object, the tear 
 that would not drop rested on her long, drooping eye- 
 lash, like liquid pearl. 
 
 " You must excuse me, Lucretia, if I retire to my 
 bed," said she. "I am weak, and a trifle wearies me," 
 
238 
 
 THE REBELS. 
 
 She rose, and attempted to walk, but again sunk into 
 the chair, from extreme debility. 
 
 Lucretia and Phoebe supported her to her couch. For 
 an hour or more, her friend continued to walk softly 
 about the chamber, now and then pausing to bathe her 
 head, or whisper some word of kindness. 
 
 Phoebe prepared food ; but though Miss Fitzherbert 
 had tasted very slight refreshment since her arrival, it 
 was with difficulty she constrained herself to eat a few 
 morsels, just to satisfy the kind-hearted servant. 
 
 " You see I am restless, dear Grace," said she. " I 
 cannot feel easy anywhere, just now ; and you will be 
 more calm, if I leave you." 
 
 " You will come again, soon ? " said Grace, warmly 
 pressing her hand. 
 
 Lucretia stooped do^vn and kissed her fading cheek ; 
 " To-morrow, and next day, and every day, my dear girl," 
 said she. 
 
 When she descended to the library, she walked the 
 room slowly for several minutes, endeavoring to collect 
 her scattered thoughts, and decide on the course of con- 
 duct she was to pursue. 
 
 Miss Osborne's book still lay on the writing-desk, open 
 at the blistered page. Curiosity was powerfully excited, 
 and, without trusting herself to think of the impropriety 
 of such an action, she eagerly read its contents. It 
 appeared to have been dated on the same day that she 
 had received Lucretia's letter of November 15th; and 
 indicated a powerful struggle in the mind of the consci- 
 entious girl. 
 
 In one line she expressed a resolution to make her 
 friend acquainted with Colonel Fitzhcrbert's real charac- 
 
THE REBELS. 239 
 
 ter ; — in the next, she seemed to doubt whether this 
 purpose had been formed from a sense of duty, or from 
 pride, resentment, or some other lurking evil of her 
 nature. 
 
 On the first page of the book was pinned the billet 
 that had accompanied Somerv'ille's rose. Grace, secure 
 in the absence of all her family, had unguardedly left 
 her desk open ; and her friend's unexpected visit had 
 driven it entirely from her memor}'. 
 
 Lucretia was not, till now, aware hov*' strongly she 
 had hoped that her fears were all ungrounded ; — but 
 here was confirmation strong. The sparlding cup of 
 happiness was indeed broken at her feet. 
 
 Colonel Fitzherbert had spent the afternoon at Gov- 
 ernor Hutchinson's, in a state of mind scarcely more 
 enviable than that of Montezuma when stretched on his 
 bed of flaming coals. Apprehension, rem.orse, ambition 
 and avarice, were all struggling -^-ithin him for victor}'. 
 It was one of those eventful moments in life, when char- 
 acter and destiny seem to be entirely placed m the hand 
 of circumstance. His affection for Grace som.etimes / 
 returned upon his heart, like a bird of calm, not to be 
 driven away by the lowering storm. He had been told 
 that Lucretia 's sudden visit was owing to her slight illness. 
 Vanity, or something better, whispered that he might 
 possibly be the cause ; and for a moment the fresh garland 
 of youthful love seemed preferable to wealth's glittering 
 chain. His conscience whispered to him that he was 
 a knave ; and reason plainly told him he was a fool. 
 His fault had no tinge of spirit in it. It was base and 
 cowardly. He had sought to attain his wishes by means 
 not only unjustifiable, but strangely impolitic ; and now. 
 
240 THE REBELS. 
 
 while unbending- pride forbade him to take a single step 
 to extricate himself, he saw his happiness and his worldly 
 prosperity suspended by threads equally brittle. 
 
 However, he compelled himself to reject all thoughts 
 except Lucretia's princely fortune. He was alone in the 
 parlor, when she entered ; and, having studied his part, 
 he performed it well. 
 
 Raising her hand to his lips, he complained that, after 
 having been separated so long, she should leave him thus 
 abruptly. 
 
 Whatever Lucretia's feelings were, her manner was 
 polite, though melancholy, and fairly baffled all conjec- 
 ture. 
 
 After talking upon subjects of general interest, the 
 colonel at length ventured to speak of their marriage. 
 
 With a constrained smile, Lucretia answered, " I 
 leave that matter entirely to you and Aunt Sandford. 
 I promise to conform to any arrangement you choose to 
 make." 
 
 This was more than he had hoped. He had expected 
 to hear doubts stated, if not to be loaded with reproaches ; 
 and the ready acquiescence which lightened his heart of 
 such a load of apprehension utterly bewildered him. 
 " It is, then, as I hoped," thought he ; " Grace no longer 
 cares for me, and she has kindly and delicately con- 
 cealed what she no doubt considers a mere boyish 
 freak." 
 
 Once the thought crossed his mind, that Lucretia 
 knew all, but could not persuade herself to relinquish 
 him. If it was so, he certainly was not disposed to 
 quarrel with such strength of affection, at that moment. 
 His vanity was flattered, and his feelings gratified, by 
 
" THE REBELS. 241 
 
 such exclusive preference. The admiration she had 
 evinced during their first acquaintance, which he then 
 thought somewhat too undisguised, was now remembered 
 with pleasure ; and with no little exultation he recalled 
 to his mind, how often a single remark from him had 
 made her deaf to all the eloquence and flattery that sur- 
 rounded her in England. He well knew that this was 
 no stratagem — no trick of policy. It was the natural 
 movements of a glowing heart, unpractised in conceal- 
 ment ; and it did awaken gratitude that almost bordered 
 on affection. 
 
 Madam Sandford was even more surprised, rejoiced, 
 and puzzled; Governor Hutchinson, ignorant of his 
 nephew's "hair-breadth 'scapes," was warm and sin- 
 cere in his congratulations ; and all, save the heart of 
 Lucretia, " went merry as a marriage-bell." 
 
 She passed a sleepless, miserable night. To love and 
 doubt, is torment enough ; — but to love, and yet know 
 we are the victims of cold, selfish, deceitful policy, is 
 " anguish unmixed, and agony pure." 
 
 21 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 My laddie 's sae mickle in luve wi' the siller, 
 He canna hae luve to spare for me. Burns. 
 
 We pass over the very pathetic meeting between Lu- 
 cretia and the elder Mr. Osborne, as well as her various 
 interviews with Grace ; and leaving sundry unimportant 
 matters to the reader's imagination, we hasten on to the 
 first of December, the eventful day fixed upon for this 
 most inauspicious wedding. The bride seemed to be the 
 only one totally indifferent concerning the great prepara- 
 tions that were making for her marriage. Indeed, she 
 kept herself almost entirely secluded, even from her own 
 family. This conduct Madam Sandford attributed to a 
 proper maidenly reserve ; and the colonel considered the 
 rents of her vast English estates much more worthy sub- 
 jects of calculation than her views and feelings possibly 
 could be. 
 
 Thus the whole management devolved upon Madam 
 Sandford ; and truly it could not have fallen into more 
 able hands. 
 
 Her arrangements were altogether splendid, — such as 
 were well worthy of the sole descendant of the aristo- 
 cratic house of Fitzherbert. 
 
 The rooms were tastefully festooned with evergreens 
 and artificial roses ; in front of two large lamps were 
 placed the armorial bearings of Somerville and Fitzher- 
 bert, richly painted on glass ; a full band of music was 
 stationed near the house ; and at a very early hour in 
 
THE REBELS. 243 
 
 the evening, the whole mansion was brilliantly illumi- 
 nated. Such regal magnificence had never before been 
 seen in the colony ; and every avenue was crowded long 
 before the rooms began to fill with company. The Brit- 
 ish officers, in full uniform, their plumes glancing 
 beneath the rich flood of light that streamed from the 
 chandeliers, added much to the general enchantment of 
 the scene. 
 
 When Doctor Byles, in his canonical robes, followed 
 by his wife and daughter, entered, the throng respect- 
 fully made way for him to pass into the inner room. 
 There vras Governor Hutchinson, in his richest garb, 
 seated in a chair covered with blue velvet ; there was 
 Miss Sandford, smiling and courtesying to her visitors ; 
 tr}'ing with, all her might to be tranquil, but ever and 
 anon moving about to see that the transparencies were 
 rightly fitted to the lamps, or that the paper ornaments 
 were safe from fire; there, too, in a few moments, 
 appeared Lucretia Fitzherbert by the side of her bride- 
 groom, — glittering in silks and jewels, yet pale, anxious 
 and agitated, — more like a victim decorated for sacri- 
 fice than the joyful bride of the man she loved. A sig- 
 nal was given as they entered, and the band from with- 
 out struck up one of their boldest and most exhilarating 
 tunes. 
 
 Doctor Byles seemed in high spirits. " I never before 
 saw Mars in such close attendance upon Hymen," said 
 he. " If the Englishman you spoke of. Miss Fitzherbert, 
 could be present at this time, I think he would never 
 repeat his question, whether Massachusetts was on the 
 Facijic coast." 
 
244 THE REBELS. 
 
 " The music surely is not of a warlike character," said 
 Colonel Fitzherbert, smiling. 
 
 " Why, not exactly, to be sure ; but who ever heard 
 of Cupid's sounding a trumpet ? For my own part, I 
 wish there was a law passed against playing upon any 
 wdnd instruments, except words ^ 
 
 " That exception would touch you nearly, to be sure," 
 replied Hutchinson. " But if the English Parliament 
 should interfere with the concords, as well as the discords, 
 of these loyal provinces, they would be louder than ever 
 in their complaint of grievances." , 
 
 " I am sure," answered the clergyman, glancing round 
 on the gaudy uniforms, " if Dr. Willard himself were 
 here, he could not deny that New England grievances 
 are red-dressed.'*^ 
 
 " That is a bad joke," rejoined Miss Sandford. " You 
 make use of two D's." 
 
 " And who, I pray you, madam, has a better right to 
 two D's than myself? By the way, I believe it is time 
 for me to act in my clerical character. Shall we pro- 
 ceed to the ceremony ? " 
 
 Governor Hutchinson looked tow^ard the bride and 
 brideoToom, and bowed assent. 
 
 O, what a moment that was for Lucretia ! Her color 
 went and came, as rapidly as the lightning flickers in an 
 over-charged cloud. During the prayer which Doctor 
 Byles uttered for the happiness and prosperity of those 
 he was about to unite, the death-like paleness of her 
 cheek, and her lip, cold, damp and quivering, betrayed 
 emotion deep and agonizing. When he paused, — with 
 a quick gasp, and a start, sudden as that which precedes 
 a violent death, she said, " Stop, sir! I can never be the 
 
THE REBELS. 245 
 
 wife of Colonel Fitzherbert. That he sought me for my 
 wealth only, deserved my silent contempt ; — that his 
 falsehood has broken a generous heart, justifies this 
 public expression of scorn." Her eyes were fixed with 
 intense expression, her cheek glowed, and her stature 
 seemed to rise with the loftiness of her feelings, as she 
 left the apartment. 
 
 Every degree of surprise and curiosity, which the 
 human countenance is capable (»f expressing, was at that 
 moment visible. The bridegToom listened to her unex- 
 pected declaration, and watched her retiring figure, with 
 a look strangely complicated and embarrassed. All 
 eyes were fixed upon him, during this momentary' con- 
 fusion. But brief space, however, was given to the 
 eager gaze of wonder and curiosity. His proud heart 
 stung to the very core with shame, and his naturally 
 violent temper maddened into fur}', Colonel Fitzherbert 
 rushed out of the house, and was not again seen there 
 that night. 
 
 The clergjinan remained motionless with astonish- 
 ment ; the hum of voices gTew loud and general ; some 
 of the ladies smiled, some sneered, and all were busy in 
 conjecturing the causes of this singular catastrophe. 
 Many of the officers reddened with anger ; but not a few 
 said, " Hang it, I like the girl's spirit ; — but if a man 
 had offered this insult to our colonel, he would have 
 needed forty lives to answer for it." 
 
 The company soon began to consider that, under such 
 circumstances, it was highly proper for them to depart ; 
 and one after another went away, until the mansion was 
 entirely left in its solitary'' glare and unheeded splendor. 
 There are few scenes so very desolate as a brilliantly 
 
 21=^ 
 
246 THE REBELS. 
 
 lighted room, in which the sound of mirth and music has 
 ceased, and the echo of footsteps died away. It is like 
 gems and garlands on the still, cold corpse ; like vases 
 and statues in the desert. A mysterious hand writes 
 upon the wall, " Soul has been here," — and we shudder 
 at its meaning. 
 
 Governor Hutchinson and his sister were not present 
 to hear the eager inquiries, the shrewd conjectures, and 
 the malicious whispers, of their departing guests ; for 
 they had both followed Lucretia, the instant she left the 
 room. In her chamber they found the agitated girl, 
 with her face concealed in the pillow, sobbing, as if the 
 rushing tide of feeling would burst the proud heart that 
 had so long shut in its waters. Excitement may nerve 
 us with artificial strength, but springs wound too tightly 
 must either snap, or rebound with sudden, painful swift- 
 ness. 
 
 Miss Sandford began to sob out, " O, Lucretia ! " but 
 Governor Hutchinson interrupted her by saying, in a 
 stem voice, " Lucretia Fitzherbert, what do you mean 
 by this disgraceful conduct ? " 
 
 His peremptory manner roused all the latent fire of 
 one, who had, of late, been more accustomed to com- 
 mand than to obey. 
 
 She hastily brushed away the tears, and answered, 
 with much dignity, " I meant, sir, to convince your 
 nephew that my friends are not to be wronged, nor 
 myself insulted, with impunity." 
 
 "What insults, — what wrongs?" inquired Hutchin- 
 son. 
 
 " He broke his plighted faith to Grace Osborne, sir ; 
 
THE REBELS. 247 
 
 and then oifered to my wealth the heart he would never 
 have given to me." 
 
 The lieutenant governor looked toward his sister for 
 an explanation. 
 
 " There was some silly business, I believe," said Miss 
 Sandford. " He gave her a ring, or something like 
 that." 
 
 "And for this you are willing to have your name a 
 by -word and a reproach among all the British officers ? " 
 said the angry uncle. " For this you have given up an 
 alhance of which you had so much reason to be proud ? " 
 
 " I know not, sir, what reason the house of Fitzher- 
 bert have to be proud of a union with the house of 
 Somerville," replied Lucretia, somewhat haughtily. 
 " Methinks their rent-roll is not as large, nor their 
 ancestry as noble." The high color subsided from her 
 face as she added, " But it was not things like these I 
 thought of. I loved Somerville, because I knew he pos- 
 sessed exalted talents, and because I supposed that he 
 possessed stern integrity, and a high sense of honor. I 
 was deceived, — my friend was injured, — and I am ;y 
 now amply revenged." 
 
 Miss Sandford was seated during this speech, and 
 kept her feet and head moving rapidly, to express her 
 impatience and indignation. " I see it is nothing to you, 
 if my heart does break," said she ; — " and then to 
 think of all this lost trouble and expense ! " 
 
 "I am sorry that you should have taken so much 
 trouble, dear aunt," rejoined Lucretia; "but as for the 
 expense, there is gold enough in my desk to pay you 
 for ten such weddings, and it is all your own." 
 
 "And this is ^^our gratitude, is it, madam?" said 
 
248 THE REBELS. 
 
 Governor Hutchinson, eying her with excessive displeas- 
 ure. " Lucretia Fitzherbert, one of two things you 
 must do, — either implore the colonel's pardon, and 
 marr}' him this night, or quit my house forever." 
 
 " You think more meanly of him than I do," answered 
 Lucretia, her lip slightly curling with contempt. " I do 
 not believe he would marry the daughter of Croesus, 
 after she had held his name up to public odium, as I 
 have done. My pardon he may ask, if he chooses ; but 
 to him I have no atonement to make. I will not, how- 
 ever, annoy his uncle with my presence. The heiress 
 of Edmund Fitzherbert can be at no loss for a home." 
 
 She took her cloak, and made a motion to throw it 
 over her shoulders. She hesitated one moment, and 
 melting into tears, threw herself on her knees before 
 them, as she said, " Yet I would not part in anger. 
 You were both kind to me when I had no other friends ; 
 and there are debts monej?" can never pay. Bless me, 
 before I go." 
 
 " From henceforth we are strangers to each other," 
 rejoined Governor Hutchinson ; and without deigning to 
 bestow another word, he retired to his o\ati room. 
 
 "But 5-0U will. Aunt Sandford?" said Lucretia, in a 
 tone of entreaty. " You were ever kind to me ;" and as 
 she spoke, she hid her head in the matron's lap, like an 
 indulged and repentant child. 
 
 Miss Sandford, much affected, parted the ringlets, 
 which had been most carefully prepared for this eventful 
 evening. " Only say, dear Lucretia, that you will 
 marry him," whispered she. 
 
 " ]Marry him ! " exclaimed Lucretia, rising indignantly. 
 
THE REBELS. 249 
 
 " I would as soon marry my footman, — ay, sooner ; for 
 he has some nobility of soul about him." 
 
 " Then I cannot, and I will not say, God bless you," 
 replied the offended maiden. 
 
 Lucretia watched her as she stall^ed out of the apart- 
 ment in high displeasure, — and her soul, ever rapid and 
 vehement in its changes, sprung back elastic from the 
 momentary touch of remorse. 
 
 " A Fitzherbert is not to be twice insulted ! " said she ; 
 and calling for her servants, she ordered one to pack a 
 trunk of clothes, and another to ask Governor Hutchin- 
 son if the carriage might be ordered to Queen-street. 
 Answer was returned that anything which might facili- 
 tate Miss Fitzherbert's departure was entirely at her 
 service. Lucretia bit her lip at this instance of civil 
 rudeness ; but she concealed her resentment, and merely 
 said to the servant, " Bring the horses to the back door, 
 Richard ; and avoid the main street." 
 
 The fear of meeting Colonel Fitzherbert in his present 
 exasperated state, or of encountering the curious gaze of 
 some lingering remnant of the wedding party, occasioned 
 these orders. 
 
 Could the crowd have that night discovered the won- 
 derful particulars with which all Boston rung for weeks 
 after, Lucretia would unquestionably have found the 
 popular excitement very troublesome, during her short 
 ride. 
 
 Many, who from the neighboring streets had wit- 
 nessed the commencement of this gala scene, had deeply 
 and bitterly reproached the American girl who could find 
 it in her heart to bestow an immense fortune on one of 
 the hateful oppressors of her native country ; and could 
 
250 THE REBELS. 
 
 they have known how ingeniously the haughty Briton 
 had been humbled, they would have drawn her carriage 
 in triumph. 
 
 As it was, however, everj^body had gone to their 
 homes, lost in conjecture and amazement. The streets 
 were almost entirely deserted ; and as Lucretia and her 
 servants passed along, on their way to Mr. Osborne's, 
 they scarcely noticed a human figure, save the sentinels, 
 who, with shouldered arms, slowly paced their accus- 
 tomed rounds. 
 
 Mr. Osborne and his son were the only ones waking 
 in Queen-street, when Miss Fitzherbert arrived ; and it 
 may well be believed that their astonishment almost 
 amounted to terror, when the exiled bride came into 
 their presence so unexpectedly. 
 
 Lucretia, in a tone of sportive authority, told them 
 they must perforce, without asking any questions, grant 
 a lodging to her and her train for several days ; — and 
 then, whispering to the old gentleman, she promised, as 
 soon as the servants were disposed of, to tell him all. 
 
 Upon this hint, Phoebe was called, a cheerful fire 
 kindled in the kitchen, and all necessary arrangements 
 speedily made for her attendants. As soon as some- 
 thing like quiet was restored, Lucretia gave a brief out- 
 line of the events which had recently passed, together 
 with the causes that led to them. 
 
 The detail unfolded much that the father and brother 
 had never known. " I was aware that Captain Somer- 
 ville was much pleased with my sister's beauty," said 
 Henr}^, " and I saw too plainly how fast his insinuating 
 manners gained on her inexperienced heart, but I never 
 supposed he made a serious declaration of attachment." 
 
THE REBELS. 251 
 
 *' And from some indications we have noticed, we 
 have both suspected the cause of her unusual depres- 
 sion," continued Mr. Osborne; "and though we never 
 knew that he directly sought her love, we could not but 
 blame the vanit\- that had so thoughtlessly gratified 
 itself, at the expense of another's peace. I have ever 
 taught Grace to speak freely to me, and I cannot but 
 wonder at her reserve on this subject." 
 
 " I had cautioned her against Somerville's mfluence," 
 replied Henrj' ; " and she well knew that neither of us 
 trusted in his religious principles. Of late, I could not 
 seek her confidence — the painful subject too evidently 
 wounded the dear girl." 
 
 When Lucretia gave a minute account of the letter, 
 the ring, and the rose, — vrhen she mentioned the false- 
 hood that had been told to her at the commencement of 
 her ill-fated engagement, and the unifomi course of du- 
 plicity which Colonel Fitzherbert had aften\'ard pursued, 
 — the good old man never uttered one word of reproach 
 against the wTetched bemg who had destroyed the health 
 and happiness of his only daughter. But when, in ani- 
 mated terms, she told how keenly she felt the wrongs 
 her friend had suffered, and how thoroughly she despised 
 their author, Mr. Osborne gave her a look of speaking 
 tenderness, and Henr}', of most delighted admiration. 
 
 Miss Fitzherbert had resolved not to see Grace until 
 the ensuing morning; but before she retired to rest, 
 Phoebe cam.e with a message from her young lady, beg- 
 ging her to look in upon her, if she only gave time to 
 say good-night. 
 
 Lucretia could never deny anything to the little beauty; 
 
252 THE REBELS. 
 
 but she kissed her affectionately, and said, " You must 
 not talk to-night ; indeed, you must not, dear Grace." 
 
 "I will not," she replied. " Phcebe has told me the 
 meaning of all this." She paused a moment, and looked 
 on the full, round moon, which, through an opening in 
 the curtain, shed its holy light on her seraphic counte- 
 nance ; — then, pressing Lucretia's hand most earnestly, 
 she added, "It was alone for my sake, I know ; but I do 
 wish you could still have loved and respected him. It 
 was but one fault, Lucretia; and the best of us need 
 forgiveness." 
 
 Her friend put her finger to her lip, in signal of prohi- 
 bition, and smiling on her with unutterable tenderness, 
 bade her good-night. 
 
 The next day. Doctor Willard called, as usual ; and 
 finding that Grace had passed a restless night, and was 
 then sleeping, he was about to depart ; but seeing Miss 
 Fitzherbert on the stairs, he sprang forward, with all the 
 ready frankness that characterized his manner, and clasp- 
 ing her hand in both of his, exclaimed, " You are a fine, 
 noble-spirited girl. Miss Fitzherbert ! I like you for this 
 transaction, — by my soul, I do ! " 
 
 " The best of it all," observed Mr. Osborne, stepping 
 from his library, " is, that she has promised to remain 
 constantly with Grace." 
 
 The doctor warmly congratulated his friend on so val- 
 uable an accession to his family, and entered into a very 
 pleasant and animated conversation; in the course of 
 which, he observed that Cobnel Fitzherbert had thrown 
 vip his commission — that the resignation had been given 
 in to General Gage that very morning ; and lastly, that 
 Governor Hutchinson had had one short interview with 
 
THE REBELS. 253 
 
 his nephew, in which the latter had desired to have his 
 property collected and sent on to the south, whither he 
 had departed as secretly and expeditiously as possible. 
 As this information came from Doctor Byles, there was 
 every reason to suppose it true. That reverend gentle- 
 man, however, gave them no opportunity to make per- 
 sonal inquiries. He was highly indignant at what he 
 styled Lucretia's absurd conduct, and ever after treated 
 her with extreme coldness. 
 
 For reasons sufficiently obvious, this subject was sel- 
 dom alluded to in the domestic circle at Queen-street ; 
 and Lucretia had now no intercourse whatever with 
 Governor Hutchinson's family ; nevertheless, she heard, 
 once or twice, in the course of the season, that Colonel 
 Somerville (as he now chose to be called) remained at 
 the south, plunged in every excess of dissipation, 
 
 22 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The girl was d3'ing. Youth, and beauty, all 
 Men love, or women boast of, was decaying ; 
 And, one by one, life's finest flowers did fall 
 Before the touch of death, who seemed delaying, 
 As though he 'd not the heart at once to call 
 The maiden to his home. 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
 Grace, agitated by these events, and her slight form 
 daily becoming more shadowy, seemed like a celestial 
 spirit, which, having performed its mission on earth, melts 
 into a misty wreath, then disappears forever. 
 
 Hers had always been the kind of beauty that is elo- 
 quence, though it speaks not. The love she inspired 
 was like that we feel for some fair infant which we would 
 fain clasp to our hearts in its guileless beauty; and when 
 it repays our fondness with a cherub smile, its angelic 
 influence rouses all there is of heaven within the soul. 
 Deep compassion was now added to these emotions ; and 
 wherever she moved, the eye of pity greeted her, as it 
 would some wounded bird, nestling to the heart in its 
 timid loveliness. 
 
 Every one who knew her felt the influence of her 
 exceeding purity and deep pathos of character ; but very 
 few had penetrated into its recesses, and discovered its 
 hidden treasures. Melody was there, but it w^as too 
 plaintive, too delicate in its combination, to be produced 
 
THE REBELS. 255 
 
 I 
 
 by an unskilful hand. The coarsest minds felt its witch- 
 ing effect, though they could not define its origin; — like 
 the servant, mentioned by Addison, who drew the bow 
 across every string of her master's violin, and then com- 
 plained that she could not, for her life, find where the 
 tune was secreted. 
 
 Souls of this fine mould keep the fountain of love 
 sealed deep within its caverns ; and to one only is access 
 ever granted. Miss Osborne's affection had been tran- 
 quil on the surface, but it was as deep as it was pure. 
 It was a pool which had granted its healing influence to 
 one, but could never repeat the miracle, though an angel 
 should trouble its waters. 
 
 Assuredly, he that could mLx: death in the cup of love 
 which he offered to one' so young, so fair, and so true, 
 was guilty as the priest who administered poison in the 
 holy eucharist. 
 
 Lucretia, now an inmate of the famil}^, read to her, 
 supported her across the chamber, and watched her brief, 
 gentle slumbers, with an intense interest, painfully tinged 
 with self-reproach. She was the cause of this premature 
 decay, — innocent, indeed, but still the cause. Under 
 such circumstances, the conscience is morbid in its sensi- 
 bility, unreasonable in its acuteness: and the smiles 
 and forgiv^eness of those we have injured tear and scorch 
 it like burning pincers. 
 
 Yet there was one who suffered even more than Lu- 
 cretia, though he was never conscious of giving one 
 moment's pain to the object of his earliest affection. 
 During the winter, every leisure moment which Doctor 
 Willard's numerous avocations allowed him was spent 
 in Miss Osborne's sick chamber; and every tone — every 
 
25G THE REBELS. 
 
 look of his, went to her heart with a thrilling expression, 
 that seemed to say, "Would I could die for thee ! O, 
 would to God I could die for thee ! " 
 
 Thus pillowed on the arm of friendship, and watched 
 o.ver by the eye of love, Grace languidly awaited the 
 returning spring; and when May did arrive, wasted as 
 she was, she seemed to enjoy its pure breath and sunny 
 smile. Alas, that the month which dances around the 
 flowery earth, with such mirthful step and beaming 
 glance, should call so many victims of consumption to 
 their last home ! 
 
 Towards the close of this delightful season, the inva- 
 lid, bolstered in her chair, and surroimded by her affec- 
 tionate family, was seated at the window, watching the 
 declining sun. There was deep silence for a long while ; 
 as if her friends feared that a breath might scare the 
 flitting soul from its earthly habitation. Henry and Lu- 
 cre tia sat on either side, pressing her hands in mournful 
 tenderness ; Doctor Willard leaned over her chair, and 
 looked up to the unclouded sky, as if he reproached it 
 for mocking him with brightness ; and her father watched 
 the hectic flush upon her cheek, with the firmness of 
 Abraham, when he offered his only son upon the altar. 
 O, how would the heart of that aged sufferer have 
 rejoiced within him, could he, too, have exchanged the 
 victim ! 
 
 She had asked Lucretia to place Somerville's rose on 
 the window, beside her. One solitary blossom was on 
 it, and she reached forth her weak hand to pluck it ; 
 but its leaves scattered beneath her trembling touch. 
 She looked up to Lucretia, with an expression which her 
 friend could never forget, — and one cold tear slowly 
 
TTIE REBELS. 257 
 
 glided douTi her pallid cheek. Gently as a mother kisses 
 her sleeping babe, Doctor Willard brushed it away ; and, 
 turning hastily to conceal his quivering lip, he clasped 
 Henry's hand with con\'ulsive energy, as he whispered, 
 " 0, God of mercies, how willingly would I have wiped 
 all tears from her eyes ! " 
 
 There is something peculiarly impressive in manly 
 grief. The eye of woman overflows as readily as her 
 heart ; but when waters gush from the rock, we feel that 
 they are extorted by no gentle blow. 
 
 The invalid looked at him with affectionate regret, as 
 if she thought it a crime not to love such enduring kind- 
 ness ; and every one present made a powerful effort to 
 suppress painful, suffocating emotion. 
 
 Lucretia had a bunch of purple violets fastened in her 
 girdle, and, with a forced smile, she placed them in the 
 hands of her dying friend. 
 
 She looked at them a moment with a sort of abstracted 
 attention, and an expression strangely unearthly, as she 
 said, '-I have thought that wild-flowers might be the 
 alphabet of angels, whereby they write on hills and 
 fields mysterious truths, which it is not given our fallen 
 nature to understand. What think you, dear father ?" 
 
 " I think, my beloved child, that the truths we do 
 comprehend are enough to support us through all our 
 trials." 
 
 The confidence of the Christian was strono- within 
 him, when he spoke ; but he looked on his dying daugh- 
 ter, the only image of a wife dearly beloved, and nature 
 prevailed. He covered his eyes, and shook his white 
 hairs mournfully, as he added, " God, in his merc}^ grant 
 
258 THE REBELS. 
 
 that we may find them sufficient in this dreadful strug- 
 gle ! " 
 
 All was again still — still, in that chamber of death. 
 The birds sung as sweetly as if there was no such thing 
 as discord in the habitations of man ; and the blue sky 
 was as bright as if earth were a stranger to ruin, and the 
 human soul knew not of desolation. Twilight advanced, 
 unmindful that weeping eyes watched her majestic and 
 varied beauty. The silvery clouds that composed her 
 train were fast sinking into a gorgeous column of gold 
 and purple. It seemed as if celestial spirits were hover- 
 ing around their mighty pavilion of light, and pressing 
 the verge of the horizon with their glittering sandals. 
 
 Amid the rich, variegated heaps of vapor, was one 
 spot of clear, bright cerulean. The deeply-colored and 
 heavy masses which surrounded it gave it the effect of 
 distance, so that it seemed like a portion of the inner 
 heaven. Grace fixed her earnest gaze upon it, as the 
 weary traveller does upon an oasis in the desert. That 
 awful lustre which the soul beams forth at its parting 
 was in her eye, as she said, " I could almost fancy there 
 are happy faces looking down to welcome me." 
 
 "It is very beautiful," said Lucretia, in a subdued 
 tone. " It is such a sky as j^ou used to love to look upon, 
 dear Grace." 
 
 " It is such a one as we loved," she answered. " There 
 was a time when it would have made me very happy ; 
 but — my thoughts are now beyond it." 
 
 Her voice grew faint, and there was a quick gasp, 
 as if the rush of memory was too powerful for her weak 
 frame. 
 
 Doctor \Yillard hastily prepared a cordial, and offered 
 
THE REBELS. 259 
 
 it to her lips. Those lips were white and motionless ; 
 her long, fair eye-lashes drooped, but trembled not. He 
 placed his hand on her side ; — the heart that had loved 
 so well, and endured so much, had throbbed its last. 
 
 With a countenance as pale as the lifeless being 
 beside him, Doctor Willard whispered, " Your daughter 
 is dead ! " 
 
 One deep, piercing groan burst from the bosom of the 
 bereaved father ; and it was echoed by a faint shriek, as 
 they all involuntarily knelt beside the corpse. 
 
 For many minutes, no sound was uttered by an}" one. 
 The quick, con^nilsive motion of the foot, and the hand- 
 kerchief, which rose and fell on the throbbing temples, 
 alone betrayed the grief that was storming within their 
 souls. 
 
 At length Mr. Osborne arose, and observ'ed that it was 
 necessary they should leave the room. 
 
 Father, brother, and lover, kissed that pale brow as 
 they passed. "Thus, — thus — dear, loved one, must 
 we part ! " said Doctor Willard ; aiid he rushed out of the 
 house with the swiftness of one goaded on by the sting 
 of anguish. 
 
 It was years before he could hear Grace talked of 
 with composure. His footsteps were deeply marked 
 around her grave ; and not even the terrible scenes in 
 which his ardent soul was afterward actively en^as^ed 
 could drive her from his memor}'. A miniature was 
 copied from her portrait ; and when the body of the 
 young patriot was afterv\'ard buried on the field of bat- 
 tle, this valued relic was found incrusted in his heart's 
 blood. 
 
 In the ebony desk of the deceased w^as discovered 
 
 
260 THE REBELS. 
 
 " The Rape of the Lock," which had been the gift of 
 her faithless lover, during their earliest acquaintance ; 
 the ring, which had broken at their parting; and a 
 letter to be delivered to him after her death. It was as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Dear Frederic : 
 
 " If the frank avowal that you are still very dear to my 
 widowed heart requires any apology, let approaching 
 death be my excuse. 
 
 " Me thinks that my turf pillow will be as down, if you 
 know that my last prayer was breathed for you — my 
 last wishes for your happiness. The heart that you 
 once thought too cold, dearest Frederic, has never re- 
 proached him that crushed it. 
 
 " I have pitied you, wept for you, and prayed for 
 you ; but the ghost of our once plighted love ever spoke 
 to me like a voice from the tomb — and it would not let 
 me blame you. 
 
 " I do not think you were to me a hypocrite. I do 
 believe you loved me. But it is not strange that 1 
 should have been forgotten, in the midst of a busy, tempt- 
 ing world. The flower that we pluck may be very fra- 
 grant, — yet the remembrance of its sweetness passes 
 away, even before the frail thing withers ; — the bird's 
 wild note is music to human ears, — yet to-morrow it is 
 as if it had never been; — and woman's affectionate 
 smile is even as they are, in the memory of man. But 
 she may not thus forget her dream of love. Her heart 
 distils the fragrance, and echoes the sounds that are gone ^ 
 yea, even her very thoughts take root in affection. 1 
 love the books that you have read ; and, for your salce, 
 
THE REBELS. 261 
 
 their ideas have become my own. I cannot, if I Avould, 
 escape from your image. It is seated by our fire-side, — 
 it is walking in our paths, — it is stamped on everj^page 
 I open. 
 
 " ^yhen the grass grows above my grave, and the 
 violet weeps and dies there, shall you ever think of me ? 
 Yea, I know you will think of me ; and think of me, 
 too, as you did on the day we parted. Alas ! how little 
 either of us then thought it was forever I 
 
 " Should you come to look once more upon scenes 
 which our short acquaintance has rendered very dear to 
 me, you will find your rose blossoming in the window 
 where you have so often been seated, and the book in 
 which you last read to me placed by its side. These 
 will speak for her who will then have no voice to wel- 
 come you ; and when you ask the forgiveness of that 
 dear, good old man, whose gray hairs are going down to 
 the grave in sorrow, he will say to you, ' As my Heav- 
 enly Father forgiveth me, even so do I forgive you.' 
 You too will think of God; and thus will sorrow lose its 
 sting. You will not weep such bitter, scalding tears, as 
 I did when I was first deserted ; but you will think of 
 me with a gentle sigh, and my spirit will hover near, 
 and whisper, ' We meet in heaven.' Farewell. 
 
 "Grace Osborne." 
 
 We will not attempt to portray the sorrow that per- 
 vaded ]\Ir. Osborne's desolate home. The painter, called 
 upon to represent a father's grief, despaired of success, 
 and wisely shrouded the con-vulsed features in a m.antle. 
 
 Honest Dudley and his wife were the only ones who 
 were loud and boisterous in their lamentations ; but the 
 
262 THE REBELS. 
 
 peculiar circumstances of Miss Osborne's death excited 
 universal interest ; and the sternest nerves quivered when 
 the lifeless remains of so much loveliness were lowered in 
 the ground. The event, no doubt, produced much greater 
 sensation, on account of political fermentation. She 
 whom they followed to the grave was the only daughter 
 of a man that had ever firmly vindicated the rights of 
 America ; and she had been cut down, in the full bloom 
 of youth and beauty, by the cruelty of a haughty for- 
 eigner — a pampered connection of Hutchinson — an 
 insolent military oppressor. Some urged Mr. Osborne to 
 seek redress for his WTongs ; others talked loudly of 
 revenge ; but the soul of the old man was sick within 
 him, and he would turn away from them with loathing, 
 and, in the privacy of his own closet, he would pour forth 
 his sorrows to the God who heareth prayer. 
 
 Governor Hutchinson had great kindness of feeling, 
 though it had been too much chilled by ambition and 
 avarice. This sad catastrophe was sudden to him, and 
 it affected him deeply. Madam Sandford, too, forgot all 
 her disappointed schemes, in unfeigned contrition for 
 the prejudices she had indulged. The result of all this 
 was a long letter from Governor Hutchinson, thanking 
 Lucretia for various munificent presents, conjuring her to 
 return to them, and begging forgiveness for the hasty 
 resentment which had separated them from one they 
 loved so much. 
 
 When Miss Fitzherbert showed this epistle to Mr. 
 Osborne, he drew her affectionately to his bosom, and 
 said, " You shall do just as your heart dictates, my dear 
 child. Yet, for her sake, you are dear to me as a daugh- 
 iev; and who shall bathe the old man's throbbing head, 
 
THE REBELS. 263 
 
 or smooth his pillow, when you are away? Above all, 
 who shall talk to me of her that is gone, and give relief 
 to the troubled soul by sharing all its griefs ? " 
 
 " You still have Henry left, my dear sir," replied 
 Lucretia, with a tearful smile. 
 
 " True ; and the blessing of heaven will rest on that 
 dutiful son and affectionate brother; but the voice of 
 woman soothes the mourner, and the cordial is more 
 healing when prepared by her hand. Nevertheless, as 
 you will, dear friend of my beloved daughter. Wher- 
 ever you are, my affection and my blessing will rest 
 upon you." 
 
 Lucretia kissed away a tear before it had time to fall, 
 and immediately answered the benefactors of her youth, 
 by saying, that her love and gratitude had never abated 
 — that she should think much of them, and visit them 
 often; but that her heart was weary of splendor — that 
 she loved the quiet home of Mr. Osborne, and thought it 
 her duty to remain with, him during the remainder of his 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 ,^ .it, 44. ^ J.*>. ^i. 
 
 -7v* V7* •TO- 'TV' '/O- 'TV- 
 
 A bo at three weeks after Grace's farewell letter was 
 despatched to Somerville's supposed residence, a j'oung 
 man, wild and hurried in his manner, called upon the 
 sexton, and requested the key of Mr. Osborne's tomb. 
 With weak, irregular steps, he entered that house of 
 death, and raised the lid of the coffin last placed there. 
 Convulsed and shuddering, he started back ! The imag- 
 ination shrinks from mortal decay, yet it conveys a moral 
 which beauty should remember. 
 
 The stranger dared not trust himself with another 
 look. He leaned on the coffin, for a few minutes, as if 
 
264 THE REBELS. 
 
 Utterly unconscious of existence. Not a sigh, not a tear, 
 relieved the bursting anguish of his heart. His eye 
 accidentally rested on the inscription : 
 
 " Grace Osborne ; aged 19. Departed this life May 
 27th, 1769." 
 
 He sprang for^vard, as if an adder stung him, and 
 throwing himself on the ground, clasped the sod to his 
 forehead, as if to cool its burning agony. It was here 
 that the sexton found him ; and after a tedious effort, he 
 persuaded him to lean on his arm, and suffer himself to 
 be led to a neighboring hotel. The next day he was 
 gone. He had sought acquaintance with no one, and 
 no one knew his name ; but he was always supposed to 
 be Frederic Somerville Fitzherbert. 
 
 Four weeks after this mysterious visit, the Baltimore 
 paper announced that a young man had died at the 
 King's Head Tavern, in a high fever, and very delirious. 
 A postscript added, that letters were found among his 
 papers, some directed to Captain Frederic Somervdlle, 
 and others to Colonel Frederic S. Fitzherbert. 
 
 Governor Hutchinson immediately repaired thither. 
 The nephew of whom he had once been so proud had 
 indeed fallen a victun to his ovni fluctuating principles, 
 and misguided feelings. 
 
 A will was found, in which his small property, con- 
 sisting of about two thousand pounds, was left to Henry 
 Osborne. In this document was enclosed the following 
 fragment : — 
 
 "Much Injured Friend: 
 
 " Your sweet sister is dead ! Well, I shall not long 
 survive her. No matter what I think of; — I have hor- 
 
THE REBELS. 265 
 
 rible thoughts sometimes: but I shall not long survive 
 her. What money I have, I will leave to you. It is 
 the only atonement that I can now make, for all my 
 errors — all my cruelty. I have plunged into dissipa- 
 tion ; but the glance of beauty has made me writhe in 
 agony. I have looked on where others were happy ; but 
 at my approach, ever}" bud of joy withered. I am the 
 branded outcast of heaven. Every eye glances at me in 
 hatred. I know not what I write. Sense, memor}", 
 ever}"thing, lies buried in that cold, distant grave. I 
 wish I could pray, — but my stubborn knee will not bend, 
 and my proud heart rises in defiance of Almighty power. 
 From His eye, I cannot flee, — and it frowns upon me 
 in tremendous wrath. . I carry my hell within me ! " 
 
 ^ii, .ii. Ji, J/, .AA, JA. 
 
 •TC* -77' 'TV' 'Tf' •TC' VP" 
 
 Here this wild epistle broke suddenly off. Miss 
 Osborne's letter was found among his papers; but 
 whether he had received it before this was wTitten, 
 and whether it soothed or maddened him, seemed wholly 
 uncertain. Those whom he had so deeply injured 
 wept, when they heard of his death. If he had sinned, 
 he had likewise suffered ; and the grave covers all. 
 
 Among his papers was a journal, which, in many 
 places, betrayed a willingness to return to the object of 
 his first affection, and a thorough conviction that it would 
 be entirely useless. 
 
 In one place, he mentioned Lucretia, — said she had 
 treated him as he deserv^ed, — that he had ceased to 
 breathe her name with curses, and that his respect and 
 kind \vishes would ever follow her. 
 
 It is not in the nature of man to stand at the grave, 
 23 
 
266 THE REBELS. 
 
 even of an enemy, and hate the handful of dust that 
 lies beneath him ; and, oh, how bitterly do we remember 
 any pain we may have given those we once loved, what- 
 ever was the provocation ! 
 
 All the wrongs Lucretia had endured were forgotten. 
 She only remembered her youthful lover, splendid in his 
 talents, ardent and generous in his feelings. 
 
 "Were he but alive," thought she, "I could welcome 
 even insult from his lips, — nay, kneel to thank him for 
 one look, — though that look were hatred ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The time is coming now, and the weird 's dree'd, and the wheel 's 
 turning. — Guy Mannering. 
 
 The hatred that subsisted between the citizens of Bos- 
 ton, and the troops sent to compel them to submission, 
 grew every da}' more rancorous. There seemed likely 
 to be no end to insults, abuses, and petty stratagems of 
 malice. At length, a soldier having received a blow 
 from some one of the lower orders of people, implicated 
 his companions in the quarrel. This led to new and 
 repeated vexations ; and on the fifth of March, 1770, the 
 populace, exasperated beyond further endurance, armed 
 themselves with clubs, and ran to King-street, shouting, 
 "Drive out the rascals! they are not fit to breathe the 
 air of a free countr\' ! " 
 
 The sentinel at the barracks called out the guard to 
 his assistance ; and had they not been restrained by their 
 officers, they would have rushed on the citizens with 
 furious slausfhter. 
 
 " Stand back I and form a line I " said Captain 
 Preston, waving his sword as he spoke ; and obedient to 
 militar}' orders, they formed one long, firm phalanx, and 
 stood as motionless as pieces of ancient armor. 
 
 Infuriated by the cahn contempt which this stillness 
 indicated, the multitude rushed on to the ver)' points of 
 their bayonets. 
 
268 THE REBELS. 
 
 "Fire, cowards! fire!" was the general shout. 
 
 "Ay, spill blood!" cried the shrill voice of Molly 
 Bradstreet, who was at that moment towering along the 
 side-walk. "Spill blood, red from the hearts of your 
 brethren; — but do it at your peril! You '11 live to see 
 it fearfully avenged ! " 
 
 "Hush, woman, — hush, for Heaven's sake!" ex- 
 claimed John Dudley; "there will be horrid work here, 
 before the sun goes down." 
 
 " The villains lack courag-e to fire on freemen ! " 
 answered she, in her loudest and most insulting tones. 
 
 " Yes, they dare not ! they dare not ! " was echoed by 
 the crowd. 
 
 A deep, half-smothered sound of \\'Tath ran along the 
 troops ; and an instant after the fatal words were spoken, 
 a volley of musketry rent the air. The clashing of 
 clubs and ba5^onets, the loud rolling of drums, the violent 
 din of bells, the screams, the imprecations, the curses, 
 and the bowlings of the multitude, were terrible beyond 
 all description ; yet, even above them all, might be dis- 
 tinguished the piercing shrieks of the wounded, and the 
 groans of those who grasped the earth in their last, mor- 
 tal agony. 
 
 The witch, to whose mysterious conduct we have so 
 often alluded, was among the number of the dying. 
 There she lay, upon the cold, slippery earth, looking up- 
 ward with an intense expression of pain, — her bright 
 red cardinal fluttering at her side, like the outspread 
 banner of a fallen chieftain. In a most imploring voice, 
 she called out, "Wherever Lucretia Fitzherbert is, carry 
 me there ! oh, carry me there ! " Honest John Dudley 
 heard the name she mentioned, and drew near to under- 
 
THE REBELS. 269 
 
 Stand the nature of her request; but as he stooped to 
 listen, a ball grazed his ear, and sunk deep into his 
 shoulder. Staggering, he fell back, and his head rested 
 on the wounded side of the expiring woman. 
 
 The discordant uproar increased ; the clang of bells 
 grew louder and louder ; the heavy tramp of horses 
 mingled with the vociferations of the mob ; and Hutch- 
 inson was heard expostulating with the soldiers, at the 
 very top of his voice. 
 
 " How dared you fire without orders ? " said he. 
 
 " Because we would not brook the insolence of these 
 low-born rebels," was the reply. 
 
 The fierce altercation died away upon the ears of the 
 two unfortunate beinsfs we have mentioned. How long- 
 they remained insensible, they knew not; but when they 
 recovered, Doctor Willard was standing over them, bind- 
 ing up their wounds. 
 
 The first words the woman uttered were, " Fitzher- 
 bert I Fitzherbert ! "Will nobody axTry me there ? " 
 
 In compliance with her request, she was placed on one 
 of the litters, which had been hastily prepared, and 
 conveyed to Queen-street. 
 
 Henry Osborne had, on the first alami, joined the vast 
 multitude collected in King's-street ; but his father, at 
 Lucretia's earnest request, had remained at home, listen- 
 ing to the distant tumult with the most intense anxiety. 
 "When he saw the litter stop before his door, he ran out, 
 and eagerly inquired, " Is it Henrj^ ? Is it my only son ? 
 Has he gone, too ? " 
 
 " No my dear sir," answered Doctor Willard ; " it is 
 a poor crazy woman, who has fallen a victim to this 
 accursed soldier^-." 
 
 23=* 
 
270 THE REBELS. 
 
 " O, what a scene of horrors is this ! " rejoined Mr. 
 Osborne. " I knew it must be so, but I little thought 
 my old eyes would live to see it." 
 
 " YeSj the blow is struck," said Doctor Willard ; "and 
 the wound wall fester long, before it heals. The rascals 
 say we dare not fight. By Heaven, I hope I shall die 
 up to my knees in blood ! " 
 
 While this brief conversation took place between the 
 gentlemen, the wounded w^oman was removed from the 
 litter to a bed prepared for her reception. Doctor Wil- 
 lard, after careful examination, gave.it as his opinion, 
 that if the ball were speedily extracted, her life might 
 possibly be saved. 
 
 "It is better otherwise," said the wretched woman, 
 casting a searching glance around the apartment; " but 
 will she not come to see me die ? " 
 
 Lucretia entered just as she finished speaking, bring- 
 ing with her some cordial she had been preparing. The 
 sufferer raised her withered hands, and looked upward 
 with an expression of fervent gratitude. 
 
 " Send them all a-^vay," w^hispered she, as Lucretia 
 offered her the cup ; " I have somewhat to say to you." 
 
 As soon as her wish was intimated, the physician and 
 the servants withdrew; and even before the door had 
 closed, she clasped Lucretia's hand in hers, pressed it to 
 her lips, and kissed it again and again, with frantic joy. 
 " I had not hoped to die thus," she said. " I have lived, 
 sinned, and suffered alone ; and even thus did I think to 
 depart." 
 
 Miss Fitzhcrbert would have taken this for the ravings 
 of insanity, — but the remark she had heard her make 
 on her w^ay to Hollis-street church, the day Mr. Whit- 
 
THE REBELS. 271 
 
 field preached there ; her conduct at Mr. Wilson's fune- 
 ral ; and her emotions when viewing the portrait, formed 
 a strange and puzzling coincidence. 
 
 " Poor woman," said she, " what can occasion the 
 interest you take in me ? " 
 
 The invalid looked up as if imploring from her that 
 compassion and tenderness which the rest of the world 
 denied her. " Could you," said she, " endure the thought 
 that you were related to such an outcast in creation as I 
 am?" 
 
 " I could welcomie anything to my heart that was 
 connected with a mother I have been taught to love and 
 respect," replied Lucretia. 
 
 " O, Lucretia Fitzherbert ! " rejoined this mysterious 
 being, " may the end of 3'our pilgrimage be more cheer- 
 ful than mine has been. It is a sore thing to the heart 
 to live in this wide world, and know there is not a single 
 soul cares when or how you leave it. To feel that those 
 for whom you would sacrifice life and limb — yea, heart 
 and soul — would consider you as a blot upon their fair 
 name, — a vile weight to sink them into the mire of 
 poverty and shame ! You will hate me, — you will hate 
 me ! " 
 
 "Had you no children?" inquired Lucretia, in a tone 
 of heartfelt pity. 
 
 " I had. Your mother was my child." 
 
 " But," said Lucretia, in a faltering voice, " my 
 mother and Gertrude May were not sisters ? " 
 
 "No, they were not. But 3-ou have not a drop of 
 Fitzherbert blood in your veins." She covered her eyes 
 with both her hands, as she spoke, as if she feared to see 
 the effect her tidings produced. 
 
272 THE REBELS. 
 
 Lucretia was, for an instant, deadly pale ; and she 
 grasped her grandmother's arm in a manner that 
 expressed, more plainly than words could have done, 
 the intensity of her feelings, the eagerness of her 
 curiosity. 
 
 " I must," said the old woman, attempting to rise, but 
 wi'i thing with pain, as she again fell back upon the pil- 
 low, " I must tell my crime while I have the strength. 
 Time is precious now ; for never will these old eyes wit- 
 ness the rising of another sun. Matilda Howe and my 
 Gertrude were companions. She married Captain Fitz- 
 herbert, about the same time that Harry Wilson said he 
 married Gertrude. I was not in Halifax at that -period. 
 I always had a wandering, restless spirit, after my hus- 
 band left me ; — but I learned afterward that Wilson 
 was jealous of the captain ; and — " she drew her 
 breath hard as she spoke — " there was some dreadful 
 business." 
 
 ■4i- •H' ■ilr •Alf ■it' -it- 
 
 •TT' "TP T^ W TF •?? 
 
 " I took you from my dying daughter, when you were 
 six weeks old, and went to pour forth my griefs to the 
 kind-hearted Mrs. Fitzherbert. She was sick with a 
 fever, and the babe that is now Mrs. Percival lay 
 sleeping in her cradle. God forgive me for the wicked 
 deed ! Trouble had shattered my poor mind ; but I was 
 an ambitious woman, to the last. The daughter of 
 Captain Fitzherbert, I thought, would be rich and 
 respectable ; but who could tell what would become of 
 Harry Wilson's poor child. Satan tempted me, — and 
 I yielded. You are Gertrude Wilson. Can you forgive 
 m.e?" 
 
 She spoke in accents hurried and frantic, occasion- 
 
THE REBELS. 273 
 
 ally interrupted by violent spasms. Lucretia could not 
 look upon the poor wretch with anything like resent- 
 ment ; but a consciousness of degradation, and shame for 
 the gross imposture that had been practised, troubled 
 and confused her mind, — and she wept in silence. 
 
 " I knew^ it would be so ! " said the old woman, burst- 
 ing into tears. " I knew you could not forgive me for 
 telling you the unwelcome tidings ; — but, oh, my child, 
 it was a hea\'y weight, and I could not cany^ it down 
 to my grave. No other mortal is privy to it ; and the 
 secret which pride has kept so long death w^ill keep for- 
 ever. You need not be disgraced in the eye of the 
 world." 
 
 " I do not mourn that you have told me now," replied 
 Lucretia ; " but that 3'ou had not told me years before. 
 It is dreadful to think that I have wTonged another, 
 and that all my honors and enjoyments have been the 
 fruits of deception. But let that pass away. I will 
 atone for it, and never remember it against you, my 
 grandmother." 
 
 " 0, that I should ever live to hear that blessed 
 sound!" said the aged woman. "Eaise up my head; 
 let me look at you, and die in your arms." 
 
 Lucretia did as she desired, and in the depth of her 
 pity, she even imprinted a kiss on the wTinkled forehead 
 of one whose guilt and sufferings had all been for her 
 sake. "But m}^ mother — vras she murdered?" said 
 she, in a shuddering tone. 
 
 "Your father confessed it on his death-bed; but 
 Gertrude made me believe she died of an accidental 
 wound. The heart of woman is a stransfe thinir. It 
 
274 THE REBELS. 
 
 will live for years on the remembrance of kindness ; and 
 like a lamb, it Avill fondle upon the hand that stabs it." 
 
 "And my father? Did you see him afterward, till 
 the day he died ? " 
 
 " Once he came to my old hut, at the foot of Rattle- 
 snake Hill, to have his fortune told. I learned the black 
 art of a Scotch woman. I don't know whether there 
 was anything in it, but things would sometimes come to 
 pass as my books foretold. There was nobody in the 
 world to love me, and so I had a mind they should fear 
 me ; and it was pleasant enough to see, how strong as 
 well as weak were slaves to my power. 
 
 " Your father had been gone many a long year, 
 nobody knew where ; and well I guessed for no good 
 purpose. I laiew him at first sight, for hatred has a 
 memory like love. I knew, by his actions, that he was 
 the murderer of my child. I said I would be revenged, 
 and I had it in my heart to kill him ; but he was your 
 father, and I could not go through Avith it." 
 
 Here the invalid seemed exliausted with the extreme 
 exertion she had made; and Lucretia, alarmed at the 
 rapid changes in her countenance, hastened to call the 
 physician. " Say one thing before you go," exclaimed 
 the old woman ; " lest, when you come back, I should not 
 have ears to hear it. I have been a poor, wronged, half- 
 crazed, and furious creature ; but I am calm now ; and I 
 shall soon be calmer still. I have staid awa}^ from you 
 months and years, in my solitary pilgrimage, because 
 I would not come among your proud friends to disgrace 
 you ; but love was sometimes too strong for me, and I 
 would plod many a weary mile but to look on you, and 
 
THE REBELS. 275 
 
 hear the sound of your voice. Can you forgive your old 
 grandmother ? " 
 
 " I do, I do," repHed Lucretia. She was about to add 
 that she hoped she would yet live many years, happy 
 and respectable ; but an unbidden feeling rose up to pre- 
 vent her utterance ; and surely, in one whose pride of 
 rank had been so peculiarly fostered by education and 
 circumstances, this tinofe of the world's vanitv" miofht be 
 forgiven. 
 
 When Miss Fitzherbert descended to the parlor, she 
 was startled to find the doctor engaged in fastening a 
 bandage around Henry's arm. "It is a mere trifle," 
 said young Osborne, inwardly rejoicing at the injury 
 which had procured him such a look of anxious aflec- 
 tion. " Father has gone up to see honest Dudley, who 
 has a far worse wound; bat the doctor says he will 
 recover." 
 
 " Yes, he will do well enough," replied Willard ; '• and 
 if all the country were made of such stubborn stuff as he 
 is, we should soon gaze at the stems of those infernal 
 war-ships, and see the last blush of the red-cross flag 
 upon our waters." 
 
 " The time will come," said Hen^}^ " The land is 
 wide awake, and the good cause gains ground." 
 
 " True," rejoined the doctor ; " even Miss Lucretia 
 Fitzherbert has become a proselyte ; and surely she 
 would not, without powerful reasons.'' 
 
 Lucretia blushed deeply. "I told you," said she, 
 " that the poor woman above stairs is ver}^ weak. 
 Lideed, you must go to her. I will take care of ]Mr. 
 Osborne's arm." 
 
 "You had better take good care of it, — for the right 
 
276 THE REBELS. 
 
 hand is on it, you know," said the doctor, with a very 
 sly glance, as he closed the door after him. 
 
 Though Henry had said his wound was so very slight, 
 he now began to think it necessary for his kind nurse to 
 examine it, and tighten the bandages; then it was a 
 long time before the handkerchief which supported it 
 was rightly adjusted ; and no doubt he would have resort- 
 ed to a thousand other artifices, to secure the presence 
 and attentions of a beloved object, had not Lucretia very 
 decidedly said she must return to the sick stranger, and 
 leave Phoebe in attendance upon him. 
 
 She met Doctor Willard, just leaving the chamber. 
 "It is all over with the poor old creature," said he. "I 
 feared she would die as soon as the wound was opened." 
 
 The physician did not know how to account for the 
 agitation which this news produced. It did, indeed, 
 bring relief to Lucretia's mind to know that the unhappy 
 being had gone beyond the reach of earthly suffering, 
 and that the shame of such a connection was spared her ; 
 but this feeling was deeply mingled with self-reproach. 
 Had she lived, no sympathy could possibly have existed 
 between them ; yet it seemed very heartless to rejoice 
 at the death of one to whom she was so nearly allied by 
 nature. To feel that we ought to give our affections 
 where it is utterly out of our power, is painful indeed ; 
 and if we fail from the impossibility, it is long before our 
 own hearts excuse it. 
 
 The day following these melancholy occurrences, the 
 citizens met together, and, after a short consultation, sent 
 a message to the lieutenant governor, signifying that 
 there was everj^thing to fear, from the excited state of 
 the populace ; and that the army must be removed from 
 
tHE REBELS. 277 
 
 Boston, without delay. Governor Hutchinson had had 
 sufficient proof of the spirits he had to deal with ; accord- 
 ingly, he gave orders that the troops should immediately 
 embark for Castle William. Not satisfied with this 
 atonement for the injuries they had suffered, the inhab- 
 itants resolved to express their indignation, sorrow and 
 compassion, by celebrating the obsequies of the slain, in 
 the most public and honorable manner. True, none of 
 them were much superior to the miserable woman whose 
 strange story had produced such an unexpected change 
 in the prospects of Lucretia Fitzherbert ; but they were 
 fellow-citizens, slaughtered by the hand of violence and 
 oppression. On the morning of the 8th, business was 
 universally suspended, many of the windows were hung 
 with black, and all the bells of Boston, Charlestown and 
 Roxbury, joined in one funeral toll. Long files of car- 
 riasfes and horses, followed bv an immense train on foot, 
 were seen winding their way toward King-street, where 
 the multitude of human heads seemed like the waves of 
 the ocean, making the brain dizzy with their numbers. 
 Thus was the mother of Gertrude May conveyed to her 
 last home. 
 
 When the fraud which had placed Lucretia in the 
 possession of rank and fortune was first disclosed to her, 
 it seemed like some bewildered dream. The more she 
 thought on the subject, the more the value of what she 
 was about to lose increased in her estimation. It must 
 be confessed, she was sorely tempted to conceal the dis- 
 graceful truth ; but none of Lucretia's faults had a tinge 
 of meanness, or hypocrisy ; and she would have scorned 
 to purchase a crown, at the expense of generosity and 
 candor. Accordingly, she frankly disclosed all the cir- 
 
 24' 
 
278 THE REBELS. 
 
 cumstances to her astonished friends, a few days after 
 her grandmother's death. 
 
 " There is no end to the wonders in your life, my dear 
 girl," said Mr. Osborne. " Many a heroine of romance 
 does not meet with half your reverses." 
 
 " And few living heroines," rejoined Henr}^, " have 
 come forth so stainless from the midst of trials and 
 temptations." 
 
 " It does, indeed, argue no weak virtue, my child," 
 said Mr. Osborne, "to decide rightly, with so much 
 promptitude, in a case like this. But let us hear. your 
 letter to Mrs. Percival." 
 
 Lucretia opened the paper, and read as follows : — 
 
 " My Dear Mrs. Percival : 
 
 "It is long since I have written to you, — longer than 
 I once thought it ever would be ; but heart-trying scenes 
 prevented it, after my return from England ; and when 
 their bitterness had passed away, I was too much 
 depressed to make any mental exertion. 
 
 " I received your husband's letter, thanking me for the 
 picture which . I sent him, on account of its extreme 
 resemblance to you. 
 
 " That mystery is now solved. You, of course, recol- 
 lect Polly May, generally called Molly Bradstreet, who 
 behaved in so singular a manner at the funeral in Rox- 
 bury. She was my grandmother — not yours. The 
 papers will give you an account of the bloody affray 
 between the soldiers and citizens, in this oppressed town. 
 She was passing through King-street at the time, and 
 was mortally wounded. On her death-bed, she con- 
 fessed that she exchanged us, during our infancy. This 
 
THE REBELS. 279 
 
 explains the resemblance, which, I have been told, trou- 
 bled my poor father, in his dying moments. This accounts 
 for the indifference my grandmother evinced toward you, 
 and the eager interest she always took in everything 
 that concerned me. You may well believe that I am 
 deeply ashamed, as well as grieved, to think that I have 
 visited England, and associated with the rich, the power- 
 ful, and the learned there, under the mask of an impos- 
 tor. But I was innocent in my gnorance ; and I have 
 long since learned that conscious rectitude of purpose 
 will enable us to go through the most fiely trials vrhich 
 this changing world can offer. None of your vast capi- 
 tal has, of course, been expended. The large sums that 
 have, for four years past, supported me in luxur}", will, I 
 trust, be returned to you at some future season ; though, 
 I confess, I do not know vrhere I am to procure the 
 means. I will write immediately to my agent in Eng- 
 land, whom I would recommxcnd to you as a faithful and 
 disinterested man. The sooner a legal transfer of prop- 
 erty is made, the better. If you can gather any partic- 
 ulars concerning my grandmother, I wish you to "\;\Tite 
 them. She appeared to me to have uncommon strength 
 of mind, and ideas somewhat above her station. 
 
 " I am, very affectionately, 
 
 " Gertrude Wilson." 
 Queen-street, March 10th, 1770. 
 
 A few weeks after, the following answer was received : 
 
 *' Much Eespected Madam : 
 
 " We know not at which to admire most, the sudden 
 change that puts us in possession of such wealth, or 
 the noble integrity that could voluntarily relinquish it. 
 
280 THE REBELS. 
 
 " Do not insult us by talking of what you have ex- 
 pended. If my beloved wife had always knoAvn herself 
 as Lucretia Fitzherbert, she would have rejoiced to give 
 genius like yours every opportunity to improve itself. 
 Few could have travelled in England to so much advan- 
 tage, and very few have so richly deserved all the enjoy- 
 ment that could be found there. Never mention the 
 subject again, I beg of you ; — it seems as if you thought 
 we had not souls to appreciate your generous character. 
 You write as if you supposed this transfer of property 
 would leave you poor. My Uncle Tov/nsend's fortune 
 was ample for New England ; though a mere trifle com- 
 pared with what we all considered yours. Do you for- 
 get that his estates were all left to Gertrude Wilson, in 
 case Edward Percival did not marry her? And how, I 
 pray you, can Edward Percival comply with any such 
 requisition? However, I shall soon be in Boston, to 
 attend to this business. We will then exchange our 
 respective rights and titles ; and, be as disinterested as 
 you will, you shall not go beyond me. 
 
 " I made many inquiries concerning Mrs. Polly May, 
 when I returned to Canada, at the close of the year 
 1765, but I could never obtain much information. She 
 was, as you say, a woman of uncommon strength of 
 mind ; by means of which, she obtained an almost un- 
 bounded influence over the vulgar and the superstitious. 
 She was a favorite servant in a rich English family at 
 Halifax, I have been told, and received from them an 
 education rather above the common stamp. A wild 
 young Englishman, who visited this family, vras capti- 
 vated with her beauty, and married her privately. He 
 left her ; and soon after he returned to his native coun- 
 
THE REBELS, 281 
 
 try, he married the daughter of a Scottish nobleman. 
 She went over in search of him — was treated with 
 great cruelty and scorn — and returned, a poor, passion- 
 ate, insane creature. She never took much care of her 
 child ; though, in her intervals of reason, she treated her 
 with distracted fondness. This daughter was very beau- 
 tiful; and it is not strange that, under such circum- 
 stances, she grew up vain, giddy and headstrong. She 
 was your mother ; but j^ou know her story, and I will 
 not dwell upon its horrors. 
 
 " There are things to lament in the character of these 
 people, most surely ; but their faults ought not to throw 
 a shadow on their posterity. True majesty of soul, 
 like yours, madam, can derive no additional lustre from 
 the adventitious circumstances of wealth and station. 
 Lucretia (when shall I learn to call her so ?) desires her 
 sincerest love. 
 
 " I am, with great respect and admiration, 
 
 " Edward Percival." 
 
 Montreal, April 9th, 1770. 
 
 Mr. Percival soon after came to New England, as he 
 had proposed; and all necessary arrangements were 
 made with as much delicacy and generosity as possible. 
 Lucretia assumed the name of Gertrude Wilson ; and 
 again appsared in the newspapers, far and wide, as the 
 heroine of a wonderful and romantic story. 
 
 24^ 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 " It was not with the bands of common love 
 Our hearts were knit together ; they had been 
 Silent companions in those griefs which move 
 And purify the soul ; and we had seen 
 Each other's strength and truth of mind, and hence 
 We loved with passion's holiest confidence." 
 
 During the first year after Colonel Fitzherbert's 
 death, Lucretia (whom we must now call Gertrude 
 Wilson) suffered much more acutely than Grace had 
 ever done. But her superior strength of constitution 
 and of character resisted the fierce attacks which, for a 
 while, threatened to destroy them. The wounds in 
 youthful hearts heal slowly, — but they will heal. 
 Time had his usual soothing power ; and though Ger- 
 trude was never afterward the same gay, laughing 
 creature, overflowing with life, and health, and genius, 
 she gradually became cheerful, and even animated. Her 
 mind was now like a fine old painting, the dazzling 
 brilliancy of which had become delightfully mellowed by 
 the touch of time. 
 
 Blessings are frequently wafted to us on the wings of 
 disappointment; and the hand from which we shrink 
 often has healing in its touch. Affliction had done for 
 Gertrude what the music of Amphion did for Thebes, 
 when the confused materials of grandeur, which lay 
 scattered about in magnificent profusion, arose at the 
 voice of his lyre, and formed themselves into one beauti- 
 
THE REBELS. 283 
 
 ful and harmonious whole. In early life, she had bowed 
 too devoutly at the shrine of talents, heedless whether 
 or not it stood on the firm pedestal of virtue ; but experi- 
 ence had taught her that the greatest gifts might be* 
 most shamefully perverted. Genius is the electric fluid 
 of the soul. Alas ! that the mysterious and erratic 
 power which purifies the intellectual air should ever 
 leave scathe and blackening on the heart. 
 
 Wealth, with all its imposing pageantry", and rank, 
 with its embroidered baldric and blazing star, had been 
 idols before which her imagination had bowed with 
 scarcely inferior homage ; and she had proved theii* 
 utter insufficiency to satisfy the soul in its hour of trial ; 
 nay, she had been driven from their sunny paths, and 
 found happiness in more shaded and sequestered walks. 
 All these lessons, severely as they were taught, had 
 produced a good effect. She now began to estimate 
 men and things according to their real value, — to 
 appreciate qualities according to their usefulness, not 
 accordins: to their lustre. 
 
 No one was more pleased with these changes than 
 Henry Osborne, for no one had watched her singular, 
 and somewhat dangerous course, with such fearful, 
 anxious affection. She, too, acknowledged herself pleas- 
 antly disappointed in his character. Traits of mind 
 which she had not supposed to exist w^ere found, upon 
 intimate acquaintance, to be, like the hues of the rain- 
 bow, so equally blended as to be inconspicuous, until the 
 power of friendship drew them forth, in separate and 
 striking beauty. 
 
 It can readily be imagined what would be the result, 
 when two young people, never disagreeable to each 
 
284 THE REBELS. 
 
 Other, S3rmpatliized in the same griefs, shared the same 
 duties, read the same books, and frequented the same 
 walks. 
 
 Mr. Osborne had resolved to keep the anniversary of 
 Grace's death, during his life-time. Her portrait was 
 hung- with evergreens, — little mementos of her were 
 brought forward ; and they talked of her as they would 
 of an absent friend. The twenty-seventh of May 
 returned for the second time since the dear one had 
 gone out from among them ; and no other change had 
 taken place in that affectionate household. When 
 Henry entered the library early in the morning, he 
 found the ebony writing-desk open, and the work-box by 
 its side, just as they were wont to be before his lovely 
 sister had fallen a victim to her ill-judged but too con- 
 stant attachment. 
 
 His eye glanced from them to Gertrude, as if to thank 
 her for the arrangement which had so noiselessly called 
 up visions of the past. 
 
 " I like your father's manner of celebrating this day," 
 said Gertrude. " She who never gave any of us pain 
 while living, ought not to have her memory cherished 
 with sighs and tears." 
 
 " True," replied Henry; "^he is an angel in heaven; 
 and, if blessed spirits can know sorrow, it is fitter she 
 should weep for us, than that we should mourn for her. 
 Yet, I can hardly think of her as in another world. 
 When I look at that vacant chair, in which she used to 
 sit, I almost fancj'' that I see her beautiful golden hair 
 hanging over it. When I gaze on her portrait, it seems 
 to smile upon me, as she was wont to do, when I uttered 
 your praises. What a host of recollections these trifles 
 
THE REBELS. 285 
 
 have called up ! Here is a branch of cedar, which the 
 dear girl gathered at Castle William, the night before 
 the stamped paper had arrived there. Do you remem- 
 ber that sail, Gertrude ? " 
 
 " I do, indeed," replied she ; " and, oh, what changes 
 have taken place since then ! How altered are all my 
 thoughts and feelings ! " 
 
 " Do you recollect," said Henry, " that you once 
 promised, if I would Avait a few years, you should learn 
 to be collected and prudent, — just as calm as the river 
 in summer's moonlight ?" 
 
 " Yes, I remember it well," rejoined Gertrude, 
 smiling ; " and have I not become almost a Quaker, — 
 Friend, I should say, I suppose ? " 
 
 " I would have you something more than a friend^'' 
 answered he, with very peculiar emphasis. 
 
 "Upon this hint, they spake." Many kind things 
 were said, and in ver}'- tender accents ; but it is foolish to 
 describe such scenes ; — volatile as ether, the spirit 
 evaporates the moment you give it air. 
 
 Suffice it to say, that Gertrude's second nuptials, in 
 every respect so strikingly different from her first, had a 
 termination as pleasant as those were unfortunate. Her 
 hopes of happiness were now built on a firm foundation, 
 — that of strict principles and long-tried affection; and 
 they were fully realized. Mr. Osborne, his long white 
 hair streaming over his shoulders, and his countenance 
 beaming with calm enjoyment, seemed like a benignant 
 spirit, come do\\Ti to shed his blessing on an earthly 
 union. And it was blest, — blest in mutual love, 
 respect, and confidence, — blest, too, in the good old age 
 of a parent so justly dear to them both. 
 
286 THE REBELS. 
 
 Governor Hutchinson and Miss Sandford, with whom 
 Gertrude had always kept up a friendly intercourse, were 
 present at the wedding. The old lady, with all her foi- 
 bles, had a warm heart ; and she kissed the bride affec- 
 tionately, as she said, " I told you so. I told j^ou so. 
 I said you would marry him, that night he gave you 
 such a lecture at our house." 
 
 Governor Hutchinson was rather more cold, though 
 very polite, in his congratulations. If the truth must be 
 told, he regarded the daughter of Harr}^ Wilson, a pirate 
 and a murderer, as quite an unimportant personage, 
 compared with the rich descendant of the Honorable 
 Edmund Fitzherbert, of Tudor Lodge. That ill-fated 
 politician, forgetting, like too many statesmen, that " a 
 straight line is the shortest, whether in morals or m.athe- 
 matics," daily made himself more unpopular among his 
 fellow-citizens. His projects of personal aggrandizement 
 were frustrated, and his adherents baffled in all their 
 schemes. 
 
 As the troubles of the Revolution increased, he 
 thought it prudent to seek quiet and safety in the 
 mother country. Accordingly, a few years after the 
 period of which we speak, he sailed for England, accom- 
 panied by his sister-in-law, and a charming family, 
 whom we have not introduced to our readers, because 
 they had not the slightest connection with our story. 
 
 As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Perciv^l could arrange their 
 affairs, they embarked for Great Britain ; from whence 
 they afterward sent many a generous present to their 
 friend, Mrs. Osborne. 
 
 They spent their time between Tudor Lodge and 
 Fitzherbert Hall; and Edward Percival had the satis- 
 
THE EEBELS. 287 
 
 faction of seeing his 3'oung ^yife the blazing star of 
 fashion and of beauty, yet as exemplar}', as docile, 
 and as affectionate, as she was when she first left the 
 convent of St. Vallier. She often sent to Mrs. Osborne 
 the most urgent invitations to revisit England ; and flat- 
 tering letters from the first literar}^ characters contained 
 the same earnest request ; but Gertrude had now devoted 
 all the light of her understanding, and all the warmth of 
 her affections, to the happiness of her excellent husband. 
 The political horizon soon became m.ore stormy in its 
 aspect ; and Henry could not think of leaving America, 
 at a time when she needed all the firmness, the talents, 
 and the courage, of her sons. During the whole of the 
 bloody period which followed, he rendered important 
 services m the senate and the field; and when he 
 returned to his anxious family, in 1784, after a long 
 absence, the elder Mr. Osborne gave him a blessing 
 warm from the heart of the father and the patriot : and 
 when Gertrude came, with her group of smiling cherubs, 
 to welcome him to his happy home, he pressed them 
 warmly to his heart, as he said, "The bride was dear; 
 but how much dearer is the wife ! " 
 
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