Ralph Colleton, however, with praiseworthy decorum, lingered to the last—­his companion Forrester, under the influence of a whisper from one over his shoulder, having been among the first to retire.  He, too, could not in the end avoid the general disposition, and at length took his way to the animated and earnest knot which he saw assembled in the shade of the adjoining thicket, busied in the discussion of some concern of more than common interest.  In his departure from the one gathering to the other, he caught a glance from the eye of Lucy Munro, which had in it so much of warning, mingled at the same time with an expression of so much interest, that he half stopped in his progress, and, but for the seeming indecision and awkwardness of such a proceeding, would have returned—­the more particularly, indeed, when, encountering her gaze with a corresponding fixedness—­though her cheek grew to crimson with the blush that overspread it—­her glance was not yet withdrawn.  He felt that her look was full of caution, and inwardly determined upon due circumspection.  The cause of interruption may as well be reserved for the next chapter.

CHAPTER XII.

TROUBLE AMONG THE TRESPASSERS.

Ralph now made his way into the thick of the crowd, curious to ascertain the source of so much disquiet and tumult as now began to manifest itself among them.  The words of peace which they had just heard seemed to have availed them but little, for every brow was blackened, and every tongue tipped with oaths and execrations.  His appearance attracted no attention, if, indeed, it were not entirely unobserved.  The topic in hand was of an interest quite too fresh and absorbing to permit of a single glance toward any other of more doubtful importance, and it was only after much delay that he was enabled at length to get the least insight into the mystery.  All were speakers, counsellors, orators—­old and young, big and little, illustrious and obscure—­all but the legitimate and legal counsellor Pippin, who, to the surprise of the youth, was to be seen galloping at the uttermost stretch of his horse’s legs toward the quiet of his own abode.  The lawyer was known to have a particular care of number one, and such a movement excited no remark in any of the assembly.  There was danger at hand, and he knew his value—­besides, there might be business for the sessions, and he valued too highly the advantages, in a jury-case, of a clean conscience, not to be solicitous to keep his honor clear of any art or part in criminal matters, saving only such connection as might come professionally.