Major Lockwood sat writing letters on a card-table, a cluster of tall candles at his elbow; Mr. Hunt was reading; his wife and Boyd still lingered on the stairs, and their light, quick laughter sounded prettily at moments.

Mrs. Lockwood, I remember, had been sewing while she and I conversed together.  The French alliance was our topic; and she was still speaking of the pleasure it had given all when Lewis Morris brought to her house young Lafayette.  Then, of a sudden, she turned her head sharply, as though listening.

Through the roar of the storm I thought I heard the gallop of a horse.  Major Lockwood lifted his eyes from his letters, fixing them on the rain-washed window.

Certainly a horseman had now pulled up at our very porch; Mr. Hunt laid aside his book very deliberately and walked to the parlour door, and a moment later the noise of the metal knocker outside rang loudly through the house.

We were now all rising and moving out into the hall, as though a common instinct of coming trouble impelled us.  The black servant opened; a drenched messenger stood there, blinking in the candle light.

Major Lockwood went to him instantly, and drew him in the door; and they spoke together in low and rapid tones.

Mrs. Lockwood murmured in my ear: 

“It’s one of Luther’s men.  There is bad news for us from below, I warrant you.”

We heard the Major say: 

“You will instantly acquaint Colonels Thomas and Sheldon with this news.  Tell Captain Fancher, too, in passing.”

The messenger turned away into the storm, and Major Lockwood called after him: 

“Is there no news of Moylan’s regiment?”

“None, sir,” came the panting answer; there ensued a second’s silence, a clatter of slippery hoofs, then only the loud, dull roar of the rain filled the silence.

The Major, who still stood at the door, turned around and glanced at his wife.

“What is it, dear—­ if we may know?” asked she, quite calmly.

“Yes,” he said, “you should know, Hannah.  And it may not be true, but—­ somehow, I think it is.  Tarleton is out.”

“Is he headed this way, Ebenezer?” asked Mr. Hunt, after a shocked silence.

“Why—­ yes, so they say.  Luther Kinnicut sends the warning.  It seems to be true.”

“Tarleton has heard, no doubt, that Sheldon’s Horse is concentrating here,” said Mr. Hunt.  “But I think it better for thee to leave, Ebenezer.”

Mrs. Lockwood went over to her husband and laid her hand on his sleeve lightly.  The act, and her expression, were heart-breaking, and not to be mistaken.  She knew; and we also now surmised that if the Legion Cavalry was out, it was for the purpose of taking the man who stood there before our eyes.  Doubtless he was quite aware of it, too, but made no mention of it.

“Alsop,” he said, turning to his son-in-law, “best take the more damaging of the papers and conceal them as usual.  I shall presently be busied with Thomas and Sheldon, and may have no time for such details.”