“I will look to thee, instead of heaven, for my reward,” said the soldier.  “Meanwhile do thou have thine eyes like those in a peacock’s tail, all around thee, for this Master Spikeman is cunninger than all the foxes whose tails Samson tied together.”

“Trust me, Philip, and be thou discreet.  And now must I be going back, for I would not abuse the liberty the kind heart of dame Spikeman gives me by loitering too long; so good-bye.”

“And is this the way you take leave, when perhaps you may not see me again for a month?  Not one salute?”

“Methinks thou hast been firing salutes enough already to welcome a ship from England.  Be content, Sir Malapert, with their discharges;” and Prudence began tripping it away.

“I’ll not be content with such a discharge,” muttered the soldier; then raising his voice, he called after her, “Prudence, Prudence, hasten not away so fast; there is one thing I forgot.”

The girl at the sound of his voice retraced her steps a little, and met Philip.

“Harkee in thine ear,” said he, “for I must speak low.  I did omit to put my seal to our covenant;” and before Prudence was aware, he had imprinted a smack upon her cheek.

“And there is mine,” cried Prudence, hitting him a box upon the ear, “and I warrant it will be as red as thine,” and with that she bounded like a deer away.

“The foul fiend fly away with me, an’ I love not the girl dearly,” exclaimed the soldier, looking after her with admiring eyes, as like a red-winged butterfly she flew through the green bushes.  “If I ever have the luck to get her, I shall have a dame strong enough to carry her part of our bundle.  Well, go thy ways, Prudence Rix, for as comely, and as sweet-breathed, and as kind a lass, notwithstanding the weight of thy hand, as ever milked a cow in the old country.”

The frame of mind in which the soldier now pursued his walk was very different from that in which it had commenced.  The dampness of the prison which had begun to affect his health was forgotten, as the genial sun gradually dried the clamminess out of his clothing, and he inspired the reviving morning air.  It seemed to him he could not drink deep enough draughts of the woodland scents, which flowed so deliciously through his lungs, as almost to compensate for the suffering which he had endured.  His unexpected interview with Prudence, after he had given up all expectation of it, conduced also to impart vivacity to his spirits, and he advanced, not with a rapid pace, for of that his treatment in the jail had made him incapable, but cheerfully and resolutely.

It was perhaps an hour afterwards, when Philip, as he was walking slowly on, heard the sounds of a person coming after him, and looking round, he beheld the man whom of all the world he least desired to see.  The whole temper of his spirit was at once changed.  The peace which, like a stream of perfumes, had been flowing into his soul, was checked, and the atmosphere became hot and suffocating around him.  It was Spikeman approaching, who was on his way to a plantation he had in the neighborhood, for there were few things promising profit to which the adventurous speculator had not directed his attention.