“The curtains partly shaded where she lay, and breathing a prayer to Heaven for protection, she silently stepped from the bed, scarce knowing how to proceed.

“Her woman’s tact led her to appeal to their sympathies, if sympathies they had—­if she died, she but risked her life for one dearer than herself whose existence to his country was invaluable—­and perhaps by this means enable him to escape.  In an instant she was before them, her infant at their feet, her pale beseeching face imploring what speech refused to utter.

“The officers started—­this sight was unexpected—­the least hesitation, and all would be lost.

“Captain Hartwell threw aside his heavy watch-cloak and said—­

“’Madam, let this uniform be the warrant for our honour—­our object is to take your husband alive, if possible—­that depends, however, on your silence.’

“At this moment General Sullivan awoke, and finding his wife in the hands of men whose calling he knew not, his good sword was soon in his hand, but a strong arm wrested it from him—­handcuffs were placed on his wrists, and he stood their prisoner.

“He enquired by what right they entered his house!  ‘Our object, sir,’ replied the officer, ’is to convey you to Long Island—­the least expression of alarm from you, that moment you breathe your last—­if peaceable, no violence will be offered.’  Mrs. Sullivan threw herself before them, and entreaties for mercy gushed from her agonized heart.  ’Oh! spare him—­take what money is here, but leave me my husband, the father of my children.  Think, if you have wives or families, what their sense of bereavement would be to see some murderous band tear you from their arms, and they left in horrid uncertainty as to your fate.  Take all that we have, but leave him.’  A sneer of scorn curled the officer’s lip, as he coolly replied—­

“’Madam, we are neither robbers nor assassins—­the compliment on our part is quite undeserved.  We are British officers.’

“‘Then, sir,’ exclaimed Mrs. Sullivan starting to her feet—­her eyes flashing, her proud form trembling, as her own wrongs were forgot in those of her country—­’Shame on the cause that sanctions such a deed as this—­in the silence of night to enter a peaceful dwelling and take an unoffending man from the arms of his wife and family—­Truly, such an act as this would well need the covering of darkness.  You may call yourselves servants of Britain—­that is your fit appellation.  Take him—­another victim is required for my country.  But the vengeance of Heaven is abroad, and, ere long, the men who war for the price of blood, will find the arm of him who fights for his fireside and liberty, nerved by a stronger consciousness of right.’

“‘Madam,’ interrupted the officer, awed by the stern majesty of her manner, ’I came not here to interchange words with a woman, or, I might speak about warring against our lawful king.—­But you know, Tom,’ turning to his companion, ‘I never was good at preaching.’  ’Not to a woman, certainly,’ said Tom, laughing, ’or rather you could never bring one to your way of thinking.’