As this was the room in which the family devotions were usually held, the auditors fancied the excited girl wished to return her thanks in that mode, one not unfrequent in that regulated family, and all followed her, who dared, with tender sympathy in her feelings, and profoundly grateful for her safety.  As soon as in the room, Maud carefully shut the door, and went from one to another, in order to ascertain who were present.  Finding none but her father, mother, sister, and the chaplain, she instantly related all that had passed, and pointed out the spot where the major was, at that moment, waiting for the signal to approach.  It is unnecessary to dwell on the astonishment and delight, mingled with concern, that this intelligence produced.

Maud then rapidly recounted her plan, and implored her father to see it executed.  The captain had none of her apprehensions on the subject of his people’s fidelity, but he yielded to the girl’s earnest entreaties.  Mrs. Willoughby was so agitated with all the unlooked-for events of the day, that she joined her daughter in the request, and Maud was told to proceed with the affair, in her own way.

A lamp was brought, and placed by Maud in a pantry that was lighted by a single, long, narrow, external window, at the angle of the building next the offices, and the door was closed on it.  This lamp was the signal for the major to approach, and with beating hearts the females bent forward from the windows, secure of not being seen in the night, which had now fairly closed on the valley, to listen to his approaching footsteps beneath.  They did not wait long ere he was not only heard, but dimly seen, though totally out of the line of sight from all in the Hut, with the exception of those above his head.  Captain Willoughby had prepared a rope, one end of which was dropped, and fastened by the major, himself, around his body.  A jerk let those above know when he was ready.

“What shall we do next?” asked the captain, in a sort of despair.  “Woods and I can never drag that tall, heavy fellow up such a distance.  He is six feet, and weighs a hundred and eighty, if he weighs a pound.”

“Peace,” half-whispered Maud, from a window.  “All will be right in a moment.”  Then drawing in her body, the pale but earnest girl begged her father to have patience.  “I have thought of all.  Mike and the blacks may be trusted with our lives—­I will call them.”

This was done, and the county Leitrim-man and the two Plinys were soon in the room.

“O’Hearn,” said Maud, inquiringly—­“I think you are my friend?”

“Am I my own!—­Is it yees, is the question?  Well, jist wish for a tooth, and ye may take all in my head for the asking.  Och, I ’d be a baste, else!  I’d ate the remain of my days wid not’ing but a spoon to obleege ye.”

“As for you, Pliny, and your son here, you have known us from children.  Not a word must pass the lips of either, as to what you see—­now pull, but with great care, lest the rope break.”