A loud, contemptuous laugh from Edmund interrupted this sentence, and for a moment the Royalist looked at his brother with an expression of the most unutterable contempt.

It was returned by Edmund, who, with a cynical smile, replied to this look by saying: "Why, Arthur, you don't think I was such a cursed fool as to marry a girl like that ?"

"Did you never promise to marry her, Edmund ? was the question I asked, Edmund; and I hope for a plain, straightforward answer, such as becomes a

man."

"And what if I did. Perhaps I am not the only one who has promised the same thing."

"And has she not trusted to your promise ?"

66

Well," and the young soldier stroked his beard complacently, "perhaps she has."

"And have you not wronged her, Edmund ?”

"I don't know what you mean by wronged, Arthur. I certainly have received abundant proof of her love." "And given because she believed you loved her, and trusted to your love and honor."

"Possible," was the cool reply.

"And you have been to see Miss Moncrieffe, and have dared to offer your love to her ?"

“There is a vast difference in their positions." "Only one difference, sir; Lizzie Brainard is beautiful and poor-Margaret Moncrieffe is wealthy as well

as beautiful. I ask you, Edmund, in honest sincerityI ask you as your elder brother-as the rightful representative of our name and the guardian of its honor, as yet unstained, have you brought this foul wrong on a loving, trusting girl?"

"I don't know what you call a wrong; I repeat I have received from Lizzie every proof of her love I could ask. What more do you require ?"

"Nothing more from you, sir. Henceforth we are no longer brothers. I will not raise my hand against you, nor will I provoke you to raise your own against me; for I consider you so far beneath the contempt of an honorable man you could not insult me. Edmund Blanchard, I blush for you and I despise you, for you

are no man."

"Sir-Arthur-brother, what does this mean? How dare you use this language to me?"

"How dare you ask that question, sir? How dare you, who have confessed to a crime which ought to shut you out from the society of every honorable man, ask such a question of me? I tell you, Edmund Blanchard, you will rue the day you have proved so false to everything that belongs to a gentleman and honorable man. Under the plea of an honorable promise, you have deceived and betrayed a fond, loving, trusting, virtuous girl. Oh, shame! shame! But, mark me, sir," and, hat in hand, he strode close up to his brother, who, conscious of guilt, was perfectly astounded at

such a rebuke from a quarter so unexpected—" that girl is not without friends. I believe and shall believe, until I have better evidence than your assertion, that until she knew you, she was as true and pure in heart as an angel; and, sir, if you ever again show your face within the house that holds her, the consequences rest on your own head, unless you go there to fulfill your promise to her."

"Now go to Miss Moncrieffe; I shall go there too; but I shall not betray you; for, coquette as she may be-reckless, heedless, impulsive as she is-she would I do now, spurn you as if she knew half your vileness. Your sure punishment will find you, so truly as there is an avenging God. Farewell, sir. Henceforth we are strangers!" and before Edmund Blanchard could recover from the effects of this terrible denunciation, or utter one word in reply, he was alone.

No, not alone; for even then, with his brother's words-almost curses-hissing in his ear, and burning into his very heart, with the recollection of the irreparable wrong he had inflicted upon the loving, trusting Lizzie, Margaret Moncrieffe was with him; and, in the remembrance of her cheering smiles, which bade him "hope for his reward," he was content to forget the world beside; and, throwing himself into a chair, when the door closed upon the retreating form of his brother, gave away to a reverie of which Margaret formed the only component part. Poor Lizzie Brainard!

CHAPTER XXIV.

SETH ADAMS A PRISONER.

SETH ADAMS threw himself on the deck of the ship, and strove to penetrate the darkness and gloom which surrounded him; but for a long time it was vain, as the berth deck in which the "brig" was located, was lighted by only one lantern, hung well forward, near the berth occupied by the master-at-arms, and where the sentry was stationed who watched over the prisoners. At length his eyes became accustomed to the dim light, and he was enabled to perceive that the hammocks were slung fore and aft, and that he was surrounded by some half dozen men, prisoners like himself, but who were buried in sleep. In vain he attempted to scan their countenances, but he could not distinguish the features of either; so, composing himself with perfect sang froid, he gave way to the thoughts which his position naturally called up.

He was, then, a prisoner on board a king's ship, and under circumstances which rendered his detention of the utmost consequence; for he was the possessor of a secret of the deepest importance, as well to his country as to its enemies. That some infernal plot and treachery

was in contemplation he knew; for, as has been seen, when he was secured at Corbie's house, Colonel Fanning and Corbie had conversed with perfect freedom as to the plans of the Royalists. For an instant he regretted that he had not dissembled with Governor Tryon, and, by manifesting a readiness to serve the enemies of his country, secured the opportunity of serving her interests; but he felt his cheek mantle with the blush of shame at the very idea, and the thought was as quickly dispelled as it was born in his mind-not his heart.

His only possible chance now was to pretend that he was at least content with his position, and gather all the information he could with reference to the movement in which the Royalists were engaged, and, having learned all he could, to escape if possible; if not, to lose his life in the attempt; for, as to serving against his country, that he never would do. He would lie, or ends, and having

deceive, or do anything to gain his comforted himself with the reflection that "what can't be cured must be endured," he closed his eyes, and was soon lost in a slumber, whose peacefulness could only be enjoyed by one whose conscience was at rest.

At daylight he was aroused by the customary morning gun, and in a few minutes the berth deck was cleared of all its occupants, save those like himself, in the "brig."

"Come out of that, you rebèl dog!" was his first