ng near to the melancholy group that had halted in
the forest. Our heroine was recognised as she approached, and when she
came rushing up to the spot, all made way, allowing her to fall upon
her knees by the side of the lifeless body, bathing the placid face of
the dead with her tears, and covering it with kisses.

"Is there no hope--oh! Joyce," she cried, "_can_ it be possible
that my father is actually dead?"

"I fear, Miss Maud, that his honour has made his last march. He has
received orders to go hence, and, like a gallant soldier as he was, he
has obeyed, without a murmur;" answered the serjeant, endeavouring to
appear firm and soldier-like, himself. "We have lost a noble and humane
commander, and you a most excellent and tender father."

"No fader,"--growled Nick, at the serjeant's elbow, twitching his
sleeve, at the same time, to attract attention. 'Serjeant know
_her_ fader. He by; I by, when Iroquois shoot him."

"I do not understand you, Tuscarora, nor do I think you altogether
understand _us_; the less you say, therefore, the better for all
parties. It is our duty, Miss Maud, to say 'God's will be done,' and
the soldier who dies in the discharge of his duty is never to be
pitied. I sincerely wish that the Rev. Mr. Woods was here; he would
tell you all this in a manner that would admit of no dispute; as for
myself, I am a plain man, Miss Maud, and my tongue cannot utter one-
half that my heart feels at this instant."

"Ah! Joyce, what a friend--what a parent has it pleased God to call to
himself!"

"Yes, Miss Maud, that may be said with great justice--if his honour has
left us in obedience to general orders, it is to meet promotion in a
service that will never weary, and never end."

"So kind; so true; so gentle; so just; so affectionate!" said Maud,
wringing her hands.

"And so brave, young lady. His honour, captain Willoughby, wasn't one
of them that is always talking, and writing, and boasting about
fighting; but when anything was to be _done_, the Colonel always
knew whom to send on the duty. The army couldn't have lost a braver
gentleman, had he remained in it."

"Oh! my father--my father,"--cried Maud, in bitterness of sorrow,
throwing herself on the body and embracing it, as had been her wont in
childhood--"would that I could have died for you!"

"Why you let go on so," grumbled Nick, again. "_No_ her fader--you
know _dat_, serjeant."

Joyce was not in a state to answer. His own feelings h