“But, ought I?—­Beulah, I cannot!”

“Ought you!—­Why not, Maud?  Are you in your senses, child?”

“But—­you know—­I’m sure—­you ought to remember—­”

“What?” demanded Beulah, really frightened at the other’s excessive agitation.

“That I am not his real—­true—­born sister!”

This was the first time in their lives, either had ever alluded to the fact, in the other’s presence.  Beulah turned pale; she trembled all over, as if in an ague; then she luckily burst into tears, else she might have fainted.

“Beulah—­my sister—­my own sister!” cried Maud, throwing herself into the arms of the distressed girl.

“Ah!  Maud, you are, you shall for ever be, my only, only sister.”

Chapter VI.

  O!  It is great for our country to die, where ranks are contending;
    Bright is the wreath of our fame; Glory awaits us for aye—­
  Glory, that never is dim, shining on with light never ending—­
    Glory, that never shall fade, never, O! never away.

  Percival.

Notwithstanding the startling intelligence that had so unexpectedly reached it, and the warm polemical conflict that had been carried on within its walls, the night passed peacefully over the roof of the Hutted Knoll.  At the return of dawn, the two Plinys, both the Smashes, and all the menials were again afoot; and, ere long, Mike, Saucy Nick Joel, and the rest were seen astir, in the open fields, or in the margin of the woods.  Cattle were fed, cows milked fires lighted, and everything pursued its course, in the order of May.  The three wenches, as female negroes were then termed, ex officio, in America, opened their throats, as was usual at that hour, and were heard singing at their labours, in a way nearly to deaden the morning carols of the tenants of the forest. Mari’ in particular, would have drowned the roar of Niagara.  The captain used to call her his clarion.

In due time, the superiors of the household made their appearance.  Mrs. Willoughby was the first out of her room, as was ever the case when there was anything to be done.  On the present occasion, the “fatted calf” was to be killed, not in honour of the return of a prodigal son, however, but in behalf of one who was the pride of her eyes, and the joy of her heart.  The breakfast that she ordered was just the sort of breakfast, that one must visit America to witness.  France can set forth a very scientific dejeuner a la fourchette, and England has laboured-and ponderous imitations; but, for the spontaneous, superabundant, unsophisticated, natural, all-sufficing and all-subduing morning’s meal, take America, in a better-class house, in the country, and you reach the ne plus ultra, in that sort of thing.  Tea, coffee, and chocolate, of which the first and last were excellent, and the second respectable; ham, fish, eggs, toast, cakes, rolls, marmalades, &c. &c. &c., were thrown together in noble confusion; frequently occasioning the guest, as Mr. Woods naively confessed, an utter confusion of mind, as to which he was to attack, when all were inviting and each would be welcome.