se places, all within a mile or two of
the Hut. As a matter of course, then, they were not neglected.

Beulah had now been a mother several months. Her little Evert was born
at the Knoll, and he occupied most of those gentle and affectionate
thoughts which were not engrossed by his absent father. Her marriage,
of itself, had made some changes in her intercourse with Maud; but the
birth of the child had brought about still more. The care of this
little being formed Beulah's great delight; and Mrs. Willoughby had all
that peculiar interest in her descendant, which marks a grandmother's
irresponsible love. These two passed half their time in the nursery, a
room fitted between their respective chambers; leaving Maud more alone
than it was her wont to be, and of course to brood over her thoughts
and feelings. These periods of solitude our heroine was much accustomed
to pass in the forest. Use had so far emboldened her, that apprehension
never shortened her walks, or lessened their pleasure. Of danger, from
any ordinary source, there was literally next to none, man never having
been known to approach the valley, unless by the regular path; while
the beasts of prey had been so actively hunted, as rarely to be seen in
that quarter of the country. The panther excepted, no wild quadruped
was to be in the least feared in summer; and, of the first, none had
ever been met with by Nick, or any of the numerous woodsmen who had now
frequented the adjacent hills for two lustrums.

About three hours before the setting of the sun, on the evening of the
23d of September, 1776, Maud Willoughby was pursuing her way, quite
alone, along one of the paths beaten by the cattle, at some little
distance from a rocky eminence, where there was a look-out, on which
Mike, by her father's orders, had made a rude seat. It was on the side
of the clearing most remote from all the cabins; though once on the
elevation, she could command a view of the whole of the little panorama
around the site of the ancient pond. In that day, ladies wore the well-
known gipsey hat, a style that was peculiarly suited to the face of our
heroine. Exercise had given her cheeks a rich glow; and though a shade
of sadness, or at least of reflection, was now habitually thrown
athwart her sweet countenance, this bloom added an unusual lustre to
her eyes, and a brilliancy to her beauty, that the proudest belle of
any drawing-room might have been glad to possess. Although living so