“Nay, dear Charles, I did not say it.”

“But you meant it, Blessington; yet, think not,”—­and he warmly pressed the hand of his captain,—­“think not, I repeat, I take your hint in any other than the friendly light in which it was intended.  That I have been no coward, however, I hope I have given proof more than once before the men, most of whom have known me from my very cradle; yet, whatever they may think, is to me, at this moment, a matter of utter indifference.  Blessington,” and again the tears rolled from his fixed eyes over his cheek, while he pointed with his finger to the western horizon, “I have neither thought nor feeling for myself; my whole heart lies buried there.  Oh, God of Heaven!” he pursued after a pause, and again raising his eyes in supplication, “avert the dreadful destiny that awaits my beloved sister.”

“Charles, Charles, if only for that sister’s sake, then, calm an agitation which, if thus indulged in, will assuredly destroy you.  All will yet be well.  The delay obtained by your father has been sufficient for the purpose proposed.  Let us hope for the best:  if we are deceived in our expectation, it will then be time enough to indulge in a grief, which could scarcely be exceeded, were the fearful misgivings of your mind to be realised before your eyes.”

“Blessington,” returned the young officer,—­and his features exhibited the liveliest image of despair,—­“all hope has long since been extinct within my breast.  See you yon theatre of death?” he mournfully pursued, pointing to the fatal bridge, which was thrown into full relief against the placid bosom of the Detroit:  “recollect you the scene that was acted on it?  As for me, it is ever present to my mind,—­it haunts me in my thoughts by day, and in my dreams by night.  I shall never forget it while memory is left to curse me with the power of retrospection.  On the very spot on which I now stand was I borne in a chair, to witness the dreadful punishment; you see the stone at my feet, I marked it by that.  I saw you conduct Halloway to the centre of the bridge; I beheld him kneel to receive his death; I saw, too, the terrible race for life, that interrupted the proceedings; I marked the sudden upspring of Halloway to his feet upon the coffin, and the exulting waving of his hand, as he seemed to recognise the rivals for mastery in that race.  Then was heard the fatal volley, and I saw the death-struggle of him who had saved my brother’s life.  I could have died, too, at that moment; and would to Providence I had! but it was otherwise decreed.  My aching interest was, for a moment, diverted by the fearful chase now renewed upon the height; and, in common with those around me, I watched the efforts of the pursuer and the pursued with painful earnestness and doubt as to the final result.  Ah, Blessington, why was not this all?  The terrible shriek, uttered at the moment when the fugitive fell, apparently dead, at the feet of the firing party,