rushed to
the pickets to repel it--I was a reckless boy, anxious even at that
tender age to see a fray, and was at their side. Your father was one of
the first that fell; but Joyce and _our_ father beat the Indians
back from his body, and saved it from mutilation. Your mother was
buried in the same grave, and then you came to us, where our have been
ever since."

Maud's tears flowed fast, and yet it was not so much in grief as in a
gush of tenderness she could hardly explain to herself. Robert
Willoughby understood her emotions, and perceived that he might
proceed.

"I was old enough to remember both your parents well--I was a
favourite, I believe, with, certainly was much petted by, both--I
remember your birth, Maud, and was suffered to carry you in my arms,
ere you were a week old."

"Then you have known me for an impostor from the beginning, Bob--must
have often thought of me as such!"

"I have known you for the daughter of Lewellen Meredith, certainly; and
not for a world would I have you the real child of Hugh Willoughby--"

"Bob!" exclaimed Maud, her heart beating violently, a rush of feeling
nearly overcoming her, in which alarm, consciousness, her own secret,
dread of something wrong, and a confused glimpse of the truth, were all
so blended, as nearly to deprive her, for the moment, of the use of her
senses.

It is not easy to say precisely what would have followed this tolerably
explicit insight into the state of the young man's feelings, had not an
outcry on the lawn given the major notice that his presence was needed
below. With a few words of encouragement to Maud, first taking the
precaution to extinguish the lamp, lest its light should expose her to
a shot in passing some of the open loops, he sprang towards the stairs,
and was at his post again, literally within a minute. Nor was he a
moment too soon. The alarm was general, and it was understood an
assault was momentarily expected.

The situation of Robert Willoughby was now tantalizing in the extreme.
Ignorant of what was going on in front, he saw no enemy in the rear to
oppose, and was condemned to inaction, at a moment when he felt that,
by training, years, affinity to the master of the place, and all the
usual considerations, he ought to be in front, opposed to the enemy. It
is probable he would have forgotten his many cautions to keep close,
had not Maud appeared in the library, and implored him to remain
concealed, at least until there wa