There was no reply, although the same looks of surprise were interchanged; but, as he continued to glance his eye around the circle, it encountered, either by accident or design, that of Captain Molineux, on whose rather confused countenance the gaze of Henry Grantham was at that moment bent with an expression of much meaning.

“No one answers,” continued the youth; “then the sting has been harmless.  But I crave your pardon, General—­I am claiming an exemption from censure which may not be conceded by all.  Commodore, how shall I dispose of my prisoners?”

“Not so, Mr. Grantham; you have sufficiently established your right to repose, and I have already issued the necessary instructions.  Yet, while you have nobly acquitted yourself of your duty, let me also perform mine.  Gentlemen,” he continued, addressing the large circle of officers, “I was the first to comment on Mr. Grantham’s supposed neglect of duty, and to cast a doubt on his fidelity.  That I was wrong I admit, but right I trust will be my reparation, and whatever momentary pain he may experience in knowing that he has been thus unjustly judged, it will I am sure be more than compensated for, when he hears that by General Brock himself his defence was undertaken, even to the pledging of his own honor—­Mr. Grantham,” concluded the gallant officer, “how you have obtained your knowledge of the conversation that passed here, during your absence, is a mystery I will not now pause to inquire into, but I would fain apologize for the wrong I have done.  Have I your pardon?”

At the commencement of this address, the visible heaving of his full chest, the curling of his proud lip, and the burning flush of his dark cheek, betrayed the mortification Gerald felt, in having been placed in a position to be judged thus unjustly; but, as the Commodore proceeded, this feeling gradually passed away, and when the warm defence of his conduct, by the General, was alluded to, closed as the information was with a request for pardon, his temporary annoyance was banished, and he experienced only the generous triumph of one who is conscious of having won his way, through calumny and slander, to the well merited approbation of all right minded men.

“Come, come,” interposed the General, more touched than he was willing to appear by the expressive manner in which the only hand of the Commodore now grasped that of his Lieutenant, and perceiving that the latter was about to reply; “We will defer all further explanation until a later period.  But, before we depart, this person must be disposed of—­Major Montgomerie, excuse my asking if you will be personally responsible for your fellow prisoner?”

“Certainly not,” returned the Major quickly, and with something like alarm at the required responsibility; “that is to say, he does not belong to the United States regular service, and I know nothing of him.  Indeed, I never saw him before last night, when he joined me with a verbal message from Detroit.”