THE LINWOODS. 'policy of war,' I have spoken more boldly than was fitting a humble, miserable suitor." Whether it is that the tone of submission is that which Heaven has ordained for women, and that which is the natural vehicle of a lofty sense of superiority, is a falsetto in which she rarely succeeds, we cannot say; but true it is, that the moment Isabella's voice faltered, Sir Henry's brow relaxed, and condescending to her weakness, he said, "It can hardly be expected, Miss Linwood, that a young lady should comprehend a subject quite out of her linewe will, therefore, if you please, wave its farther discussion, and return to the drawing-room." "Excuse me, Sir Henry, I cannot go back to the drawing-room," replied Isabella, in spite of her efforts, bursting into tears-"I came here solely for the purpose of obtaining something for poor Herbert, and I have utterly failed." It is not in man-a gentleman and a soldier, to be unmoved by the tears, the real distress of a young and beautiful woman. Sir Henry too, to his friends-to those of his own household (we have it on poor Andre's testimony), was generous and kind-hearted. "My dear girl," he said, "pray do not make yourself so unhappy. You know not how much your brother is already indebted to you-if he were not fenced about by such friends, your father on one side, and yourself and your devoted knight on the other-do not blush, my dear young lady-he would have fared much worse than he has, I assure you. He has only to suffer durance with patience-our bark is worse than our bite; and, believe me, the war cannot last much longer." "And he must remain in prison while the war lasts ?" "I fear so." "Then for mercy's sake, Sir Henry, grant us one favour. My father is old. His health and fortune, as you know, are shattered. This cruel war severed him from his only son, and drew down on poor Herbert the displeasure which has ended in all this wretchedness. Something may be saved from the wreck, their disjointed affections may be re-united if-if they are permitted to meet ?" "If your father wished to visit your brother, he would have asked permission-it certainly would not have been refused." Isabella well knew that her father, after having once (to use his favourite phrase) set his foot down, would not make so violent a recession as such a step demanded; but not choosing to allude to his infirmities, and anxious to secure for Herbert a greater alleviation than a single interview, she availed her. self of an obvious reason. "My father," she said, "is still confined to his apartment. He cannot go "This would be indeed an extraordinary departure "Yes; but it would be the very essence of kindness, which is better than all form and precedence. Oh, Sir Henry, have you not sometimes sleepless hours in the silent watches of the night; and will not then the thought that you have solaced an old man, your friend, and restored peace and love to his habitation, be better than the memory of victoriesdear Sir Henry, will it not?" "I should be too happy to oblige you-it would be a very great pleasure; but indeed, indeed, my dear Miss Isabella, this is an extraordinary proposition." "So much the better fitting you to accede to it; you who have the power to depart from the vulgar beaten track. You may have little reason to re member, with pleasure, this vexatious war, Sir Isabella had touched the right chord. "Well, not be abused." "I want an order from you to Cunningham, directing him to permit my brother to leave the prison in the evening between any hours you shall see fit to assign; and for your security, Sir Henry, I can offer the surest, the word not only of a man of ho nour, as you have said there are many and uncertain modifications of that principle, but the word of a man bound to you by every tie of gratitude and good faith." "You have persuaded me, my dear, against my better reason, it may be, but you have persuaded me; and to-morrow, after our cabinet council, 1 will send you the order." Oh, no-to-night, Sir Henry," urged Isabella, with her characteristic decision, determining to leave nothing to the possible influence of a cabinet council or a treacherous to-morrow; "to night, if you would make me completely happy. Here on the table is pen, ink, and paper; and here is a chair -sit down, and write three lines, and I will go home with them, and fall down on my knees, and pray God to bless you for ever and ever." If Sir Henry had been told one hour before that he should be persuaded to such an act, he might have exclaimed with Hazael-"Am I a dog," that I should be thus managed?" But, like many other great men, he yielded to a superior mind, albeit in He wrote the order, taking the form of woman. care to qualify it by requiring Cunningham to guard young Linwood's egress and ingress from observaCunningham himself, the most formidable of the tion, and stipulating that he should be attended by bull-dog race of gaolers. "Now," said Sir Henry, after Isabella, with a transport of gratitude, had received the order, and was about to take her leave, "you must not run away-you, of all others, are bound to grace a fête given to Jasper Meredith's cousin-you owe me this." "And most gratefully will I pay you all I can of the debt I owe you, Sir Henry," she replied, giving The consciousness of the advantage she had gained, him her hand, and returning to the drawing-room. the buoyant spirit of youth, that having taken one lit up her eye and cheek with their natural brightstep from the starting point believes the race won, ness. If a mask had fallen from her face, the change would not have been more startling to some of her observers, nor more puzzling to others. "I do marvel, cousin Jasper," said Lady Anne, when they were driving home, "that you have never fallen in love with Isabella Linwood !" "And how do you know that I have not?" he "How! bless me, do you think I am stone-blind? asked, willing to try the ground of her conclusions. -you have not danced with her-you have scarcely spoken to her this evening, when she appeared so perfectly irresistible." "I fancy, my dear," interposed Mrs. Meredith, "that your cousin Jasper, like other men of his stamp, prefers a person less prononcée-more quiescent-more ductile than Miss Linwood." "You mean, aunt, not shining with a light of her own-more of a reflector." "Pardon me, my dear Lady Anne,you interrupted I was going on to say, that men who are con me. scious of eminent talents, prefer those who, not ambitious to shine, will amuse and soothe their hours of relaxation." "Lesser lights-I understand you perfectly," said Lady Anne, cutting in to escape her aunt's tedious circumlocution: "do tell me, Jasper," she continued, "if you observed how changed Miss Linwood ap peared when she returned to the drawing-room. I was dancing with that tiresome colonel, and you were talking to me," "I was talking with you-how could I observe another ?" "Miss Linwood mistakes," said Mrs. Meredith, "in assuming such violent contrasts-in making such sudden transits from grave to gay. He is a poor artist who resorts to glaring lights and deep shadows to set off his pictures-she wants toning down." The mother was not more at fault in her expressed opinion, whether sincere or not, than her son was in his mental inference from the sudden change in Isabella's deportment. None are more fallible in their judgment than people of the world, and simply be. cause they make no allowance for truth as a basis of action. Notwithstanding Meredith's disclaimer, he had observed, and narrowly, the change so obvious, and thus had reasoned upon it:-"Isabella was piqued at my devotion to my cousin; she was, for no woman is above these little vanities, vexed at Lady Anne's superlative dancing; but she soon rallied, and determined to appear high as the stars above me, and all these matters. Her pride is invincible; it is quite time to show her that her power is not. Women are destined to be the lesser lights.' I have most generously committed myself, while she has remained as silent, if not as cold, as a statue ; therefore I am at liberty to retreat, if I should-at any future time-choose to do so. When I am with her I feel her full supremacy; but away from her, on reflection, I can perceive that an alliance with my cousin might, in the end, be quite-that is very tolerable, and vastly more eligible (and in these times that must be thought of) than this long, long dreamed of marriage with Isabella Linwood." CHAPTER XXVII. The wonder; or, a woman keeps a secret! Isabella moulded and arranged every thing to profit by Sir Henry's boon. She persuaded her father (one is easily led the way the heart inclines), in consideration of Herbert's past sufferings and uncertain future, to acquiesce in a present oblivion of his offences. She exacted a promise from Herbert that he would hear her father laud King George, his ministers, and all their acts, without interposing a disqualifying word, or even a glance; and, what was a greater feat for him, that he would sit quietly and hear the names of Washing. ton, Franklin, Jay, Hamilton, La Fayette-all that he most honoured, coupled with the most offensive epithets. This vituperation she knew was a sort of safety valve, by which her father let off the passion that might otherwise burst on poor Herbert's head. She felt that no sacrifice, short of that of principle, was too great to obtain affectionate intercourse between the father and son; that, between those thus related, there never could be a "good war, nor a bad peace." As Sir Henry had exacted a strict secrecy as to his indulgence. Isabella congratulated herself that she had long before this persuaded her father to dismiss Jupiter (an irreclaimable gossip), on the ground that he was a useless piece of lumber; but really because Rose had declared that it exceeded the ability of her commissary department to supply his rations. Rose herself was worthy of all confidence. Mrs. Archer, of course, was one of the family cabinet. The awkwardness of the first meeting got over, all difficulties were past. Little differences, if let alone, soon melt away in the warmth of hearty affection. Herbert was obliged sometimes to bite his lips, and at others, when his frank and hasty spirit prompted a retort, a glance from Isabella kept him silent. It was not till Herbert's second or third visit that Mr. Linwood manifested the uneasiness incident to persons of his age and habits when put out of their accustomed track. Rivington's Royal Gazette, issued twice a week, and the only newspaper in the city, was to Mr. Linwood, as newspapers are to most men, one of the necessaries of life. "My dear," he asked his wife, "where is the paper?" "I left it below, my dear. There is nothing in it." Mrs. Linwood had ventured this omission from consideration to Herbert, whose temper she feared might boil over at the hearing of one of those high-toned tory gazettes. Pshaw-nothing in it! just so all women say, unless they find some trumpery murder or shipwreck. Belle, be good enough to bring the paper and read it to me; and do ask Rose to bring us in a stick of wood-it is as cold as Greenland here. Five pounds I paid Morton yesterday for a cord 1 of hickory. D-n the rebels, I wish I had their bones for firewood." "They do their best, sir, to make it hot for the tories," said Herbert, very good humouredly. "Ah! Herbert, my son, I forgot you were here; I did, indeed. But I can't be mealymouthed-I must speak out, come what come will. But it is hard not to be able to get the wood from our own farms-is it not?" "Very hard, sir, to be deprived of any of our rights.' .་ "Rights!" Isabella entered, and Mr. Linwood added, in a softened tone, have a care, my boy: there are certain words that fall on my ear like sparks on gunpowder." "Here is something to prevent your emitting any more sparks, just now, Mr. Herbert," said .. Isabella, giving him a Boston paper, while she retained the orthodox journal to read aloud. "What's that?-what's that?" asked her father. "A Boston paper, sir, sent to you with Colonel Robertson's compliments." Herbert read aloud a few lines written on the margin of the paper, chuckling in spite of his filial efforts to the contrary:" Major-General Putnam presents his compliments to MajorGeneral Robertson, and sends him some American newspapers for his perusal. When General Robertson shall have done with them, it is requested they may be given to Rivington, in order that they may print some truth." THE LINWOODS. The impudent renegado! Come, Isabella, what says Rivington to day?' Isabella read aloud an order from Sir Henry Clinton, "That all negroes taken fighting in the rebel cause should be sold as slaves; and that all deserting should live at what occupation they pleased within the British lines." "Very salutary that!" interposed Mr. Linwood. Black sons of Belial-they fighting for liberty, d-n 'em." 64 My father-my upright father applauding a bounty offered to Oh! the moral percowardice and treachery. versions engendered by war!" thought Isabella; but she wisely kept her reflections to herself, and striking another chord, ran over one of Rivington's advertisements of fancy articles for sale by himself, the sole editor and publisher in the city. Oh! Smetz, Stewart, Gardiner, Tryon, Baily, ye ministers to the luxury of our city! well may ye exclaim, in your rich repositories of the arts and industry of the old world Herbert cleared his throat. Great streams from little fountains flow. For the curious in such matters, we permit our heroine to read aloud verbatim :-" For sale at this office, scarlet dress-frocks, with silk lining and capes, the work of celebrated operators west of London; the celebrated new-fashioned buckle, which owes its origin and vogue to the Count d'Artois, brother to the King of France; of the locket or depository for preserving the gentle Saccharissa's hair, a great variety; crow-quills for the delicate Constantia; scarlet riding-dresses for ladies, made to suit the uniform of their husbands or lovers; canes for the gallant gay Lo. thario; gold and silver strings for plain walkingcanes, with silver and gold tassels for plain Master Balance; vastly snug shaving equipages; brocaded shoes and slippers; ladies' shuttles for the thrifty in the knotting amusements; songs suited to the various humours and affections of the mind." "Bravo, friend Rivington!" exclaimed Herbert, do not expend all your imagination in you the invention of news.' Is there nothing but this nonsense in the What is that in capitals about paper, Belle ? letters from England?" "Letters from England say Isabella resumed. they will never acknowledge the Independence of the United States while there is a soldier to be raised, or a tester to be expended in the three kingdoms!" John Bull for ever! What say you to that, Mr. Herbert ?" asked his father, exultingly. Nous verrons, sir!-but mercy upon us! what is this ??? Herbert read aloud from the Boston paper:-"We regret to state that the daughter of Mrs. Lee, of Westbrook, left her mother's house two weeks since, with the supposed intention The young lady has of going to New York. been for some time in a state of partial mental alienation." A description of Bessie's person followed, and an earnest request that any information obtained might be transmitted to the unhappy mother. Both Herbert and Isabella were filled with consternation and anxiety, and after revolving the past, both came to the same conclusion as to the probable origin of poor Bessie's mental malady. Mr. Linwood, who only recollected her as a quiet, "We are as doleful as the tombs here," he said. The news was communicated to Mrs. Archer, who entered deeply into their feelings. "Ah!" said she, "this explains a note I received this morning from Captain Lee." "From Eliot?" exclaimed Herbert. "Yes; he sent by a courier, who came to Sir Henry, a most acceptable present-a set of chessmen for the children, which he has contrived, and aided by an ingenious private, made for them." "Chessmen contrived by a rebel!" said Mr. Linwood; of course he has left out the king, queen, and bishop." "Pardon me he may think kings, queens, and bishops, very fit playthings." "But what says the note?" asked Herbert, impatiently. "It says, that if the ehessboard should fail to be of use to Ned and Lizzy, it has at least served the purpose of partially diverting his thoughts from a grief that almost drives him mad. Of course he alludes to the sad affair." "Undoubtedly," replied Herbert; "and this I never knew business of the chessboard is just like himself-he is the most extraordinary fellow! him in any trouble, small or great, that he did not turn to doing something for somebody or other by way of a solace-a balm to his hurt mind." "I do not wonder you love him so devotedly," said Isabella. "O, Belle," whispered Herbert in return," had Heaven but put him in Jasper's place, or made Jasper like him!" "Mrs. Archer caught the words, and in spite of her own discretion and Isabella's painful blushes, she uttered a deep and insuppressible "Amen!'' "Come, come, what are you all about?" said "Suppose you imitate this wonMr. Linwood. derful hero of yours in the use of his mental panacea, and comfort me with a game of whist. Do you play as deep a game as you used to, Herbert; trump your partner's trick and finesse with a knave and ten?" Herbert confessed he had forgotten the little he knew. "Well, then, you may brood over your Yankee paper, and we will call in your mother, who, in fiveand-twenty year's drilling, has learned just enough not to trump her partner's tricks." Mrs. Linwood was summoned, and the party formed. Mr. Linwood was in high good-humour; and though Isabella made some inscrutable plays, all went smoothly till the family party was alarmed by a tap at the door, and before any one had time to reply to it, the door was opened, and Lady Anne Startled by the appearance Seton appeared. of a stranger, and somewhat disconcerted by per"Shall I go back?" she asked, her hand still on ceiving the embarrassment caused by her intrusion, the door." "Oh, no-no," cried Mr. Linwood, "come in, my dear little girl, by all means; you promised me a game of piquet, and I, an old savage, forgot it, and so I have forfeited my right, and now make it over to this young man, my son Herbert." "Lady Anne turned a surprised, sparkling, and inquiring glance at Herbert, as much as to say, Is it possible! and Herbert made his bow of presentation. "You know," continued the father, "that this young man is in limbo; but you do not know, and be sure you let no one else know, that Sir Henry, God bless him! permits the rascal to visit us privately." "Am I really trusted with an important secret? -delightful!-and does any thing depend on my keeping it?" "The continuance of my brother's visits and Sir Henry's favour," replied Isabella, emphatically, alarmed at the necessity of confiding their secret to one so gay and inexperienced as Lady Anne. Inexperienced she was, but true and single hearted. "Do not look so solemn, my dear Miss Lin. wood," she said; "indeed I will not tell. I am too much puffed up with the first important secret I ever had in my keeping to part with it carelessly. I am even with aunt and Jasper now, with their everlasting private talks; and when it is stupid at home, I may come here, may I not?" "Always," interposed Mr. Linwood, really delighted with the accession of the charming girl to their circle. Mrs. Linwood, who only waited for her husband to strike the key-note, was voluble in her hospi table expressions. Herbert looked the most unequivocal welcome; and Lady Anne, never querulous, did not trouble herself about Isabella's merely civil assent, and perhaps did not notice it. From this time her visits were almost as regular as Herbert's. She was little addicted to romance; but every young girl has a spice of it, and Herbert's romantic and precarious position increased the charm of his frank and spirited character. A dear lover of sunshine was Herbert; and these short domestic interludes, brightened by Lady Anne, were hours in paradise to him. All day in his gloomy prison he looked forward to his release from purgatory; and once engaged at a side-table with his lively partner in the most fascinating of all tête à tête games, or round the petit souper, which his good mother spent the day in contriving and concocting, he forgot the ills of life till the summons from his keeper reminded him that he had still to buffet with his portion of them. "If I do not mistake," said Mrs Archer to Isabella, after the breaking up of one of their evening meetings, "Herbert and Lady Anne are beginning to see visions and dream dreams." "Heaven forbid !" "And why, my dear Belle, should Heaven forbid so natural and pleasant a consequence of their familiar intercourse?" "How can you ask, aunt Mary! I could not forgive Herbert if he were so soon to forget poor Bessie." "We must take man as he is, Belle. Herbert is too light-hearted to cherish a hopeless passion; he regards his love for Bessie Lee as a dream, and rely on it, he is thoroughly awakened from it. You must have perceived that he has not been desperately afflicted about your unfortunate little friend?" "Yes, I have-but men do not show their feelings." "Some men do not, but Herbert does; and rely on it, Belle, he is not of a temper to continue to love a person (even if poor little Bessie were not, as she must now be, utterly lost to him) whose heart is another's." "I suppose you are right, aunt Mary," replied Isabella, after a moment's hesitation, colouring deeply; "the whole sex are alike incapable of the generosity of unrequited affection!" Unacknowledged was her mental reading of unrequited. Substitute folly or weakness for generosity, Belle, and you will take a more masculine, and if may be, a more rational view of the case.' "Oh, aunt Mary, are you, like the rest of the world, giving up all feeling for what you call rationality ?" "No, my dear child, but I have learned that what you call feeling, what constitutes the dream of a few weeks, months, or it may be years of youth, makes but a small portion of the reality or the worth of life. Providence has kindly so organised man that he cannot waste his affections in one hopeless, fruitless concentration; nor lose life in a tissue of vain regrets. The stream that is obstructed in one course will take another, and enrich and beautify regions for which it did not, at first, seem destined." Isabella was not just now in a humour to assent to Mrs. Archer's conclusions, but her mind was the good ground in which the seed could not be lost. She was conscious that, though her aunt's strictures were ostensibly directed to Herbert, they had some bearing on herself. She was in a position the most tormenting to a mind prompt both to decide and act. Since Lady Anne's arrival she had rarely seen Meredith. This she admitted was in part her own fault. She had been restrained by her promise to Sir Henry Clinton from communicating to Jasper the favour granted to Herbert. "But when she gave the promise to Sir Henry, ought she not to have excepted Jasper? Was it not due to him? and would she not have made the exception, through all the blushing and faltering it must have cost her, had she not felt sure that Sir Henry himself would have made Meredith a party to the secret?" Sir Henry, after a little reflection, was ashamed of the spell that had been wrought on him. and communicated it to no one. Meredith, partly spurred by pride, partly led on by the incessant manœuvres of his mother, partly incited by the worldly advantages of an alliance with Lady Anne, and flattered too by his cousin's frank and affectionate manner, was fast verging towards that point, to attain which his mother had compassed sea and land. He had confidently expected that Isabella would at once and fully have reciprocated his declarations of attachment. Her reserve had abased his pride, piqued his vanity, and disappointed his affection. He believed he truly loved her, and he did, as truly as he could love. But Jasper Meredith's love, like water that rises through minerals, was impregnated with much foreign material. He at first had no formed purpose in his devotion to Lady Anne; but after being twice or thrice repulsed from Mr. Linwood's door by "My master is better, sir, but not yet down stairs;" and "Miss Isabella is very much engaged," he half resolved no longer to resist the "tide in his affairs that was leading on to fortune. CHAPTER XXVII. Some die of weariness, Some of disease, and some insanity, Bessie Lee's sylvan lodge harmonised so well with her wild fancies, that when she awoke it seemed no more strange to her than her accustomed sleeping-place. Whatever she might be destined afterward to suffer from this exposure on the damp earth through a cold autumnal night, she was as unconscious of the ills that flesh is heir to as if she were a disembodied spirit. "Sluggard that I am!" she exclaimed, starting up and shaking off the heavy dew-drops, "the spirits of morning are at worship, and I sleeping! the birds are singing their hymns, and I, that have been watched and guarded, am silent." She leaned her cheek on the mossy stem of a tree, and began to repeat the Lord's Prayer: " Our Father-ay, nature worships with me-beautiful waterfall, majestic trees, glad light, is he not our father?- hallowed be his name,'-ye hallow his name, for ye are the manifestations of his wisdom, the ministers of his love, the shadows of celestial beauty 1-thy kingdom come'-it is come hereobedience, peace, serenity, are his kingdom-war is not-care is not love is not-love to fallible mortals, for there no peace is-so I will on my pilgrimage, and break the last link in the chain-then will I return here, finish my prayer, and lay me down and rest again." Thus mingling with her celestial meditations one earthly purpose, she retraced her way to the road, and looked about in vain for her horse, who, having obeyed his rational impulses, was now far on his way homeward. "It was not kind of you, Steady," she said, as she came to the conclusion he had abandoned her; but without one thought of relinquishing her purpose, or one doubt of her ability to effect it, she walked on for about half a mile, and probably began to have some obscure sense of tremulousness and weakness, for seeing a horse equipped with saddle and bridle hitched to the fence, and a basket standing by him containing biscuits and apples, she laughed, exclaiming, "Who would have thought it!" and then checking herself, raised her eyes devoutly and added, yet, I might have known they would be provided by the wayside, just when I wanted them. I wonder there is not a woman's saddle, but I can manage;" and taking the basket in one hand, she mounted, and rode briskly on. She proceeded without any hindrance or molestation whatever, now and then, probably, from an insupportable feeling of weariness, dismounting and lying for a moment under the shadow of a tree. It was about the middle of the afternoon, when she was entering the street of a little village, that she heard behind her the trampling of horses on the full gallop, and outcries of "Stop thief!" Her horse, incited more by the uproar at his heels than by any impulse she was able to give him, sprang forward. The people rushed from their houses their screams bewildered her. She gazed fearfully around her, her wearied horse soon slackened his speed, and one of her pursuers reached her just at the moment that, having dropped the bridle from her powerless hand, she was falling from her saddle. "Time you was spent, young madam," cried her rough assistant, as, supporting half her weight, he prevented her sinking to the ground. The people of the village, chiefly women and children, gathered around, all gazing on Bessie with scrutinising glauces. Her wandering eye and blanched cheek must have half told her story. for not one of them spoke till she, drawing up from the arm that supported her, asked, with an air of offended dignity, "Why are ye so unmannerly to me?" "Ha, ha-not quite so topping, miss-serve your writ, Mr. Sheriff," replied one of her pursuers. "Pretty high, to talk about manners, when you've been riding fifty miles on a stolen horse." "Stolen !" echoed Bessie, "Indeed, I did not steal him." "How upon 'arth did you get him then? answer that." "I took him-" the standers-by interrupted her with a coarse laugh; but Bessie, without heeding them, proceeded: "I took him, where he stood awaiting me." "Now, if that is not a high joke! Just hear me, good people-the sheriff can swear to all I say. This is Squire Saunders's horse-you have all heard of the squire?" They had all heard of Squire Saunders, whose fame rayed through a large circle. "Well, the squire rode up to his wood-lot this morning, to see about a trespass that's committing there-you know, sheriff; and the squire just hitched his horse to the fence, and went up into the woods, and got out of his reckoning; and two hours after, when he came, upon the road "Take care of that poor young woman," cried a benevolent-looking man who was passing in an ox-cart, "don't you see she can't stand?" "I am tired," said Bessie, sinking to the ground, and putting her hand to her head; "this noise tires me." The spectators exchanged glances of inquiry and pity; the sheriff looked compassionate; his companion sturdy, and resolved not to be taken in. The man of the ox-cart stopped his vehicle, and joined the group: "are ye all blind and deaf," he added, "that ye do not see the poor girl's mind is unsettled?" "Oh no, friend," said Bessie, shaking her head, and looking up with a faint smile, "you are very much mistaken-my mind is not the least unsettled-indeed, it every day becomes stronger and more capable than it was." Her champion looked to the standers by for their assent to this confirmation of his opinion, and then turning to the sheriff, said, "You will not, I am sure, trouble her farther ?" No, I'll be hanged if I do!" "Nor you?" appealing to the sheriff's attend ant. "I don't know-if I were sure-I don't like to be outwitted-remember, sheriff, it was for horse and thief the squire offered the reward." "The devil take the reward, Dan!" "You may say so-for you that's got an office can afford it, but I'm a volunteer. But since you all take on so about it, if you're a mind |