r, if no moment was lost. To
reach the foot of the cliff, took just a minute; to ascend to the hole
in the palisade, half as much time; and to pass it, a quarter. Maud was
dragged ahead, as much as she ran; and the period when the three were
passing swiftly round to the gate, was pregnant with imminent risk.
They were seen, and fifty rifles were discharged, as it might be, at a
command. The bullets pattered against the logs of the Hut, and against
the palisades, but no one was hurt. The voice of Willoughby opened the
gate, and the next instant the three were within the shelter of the
court.

Chapter XXVIII.

"They have not perish'd--no!
Kind words, remembered voices, once so sweet,
Smiles, radiant long ago,
And features, the great soul's apparent seat;

"All shall come back, each tie
Of pure affection shall be knit again;
Alone shall evil die,
And sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign.

"And then shall I behold
Him, by whose kind paternal side I sprung,
And her, who still and cold,
Fills the next grave--the beautiful and young."

Bryant's Past.

The scene that followed passed like a hurricane sweeping over the
valley. Joyce had remained on the ridge of the roof, animating his
little garrison, and endeavouring to intimidate his enemies, to the
last moment. The volley of bullets had reached the palisades and the
buildings, and he was still unharmed. But the sound of the major's
voice below, and the cry that Miss Maud and Nick were at the gate,
produced a sudden change in all his dispositions for the defence. The
serjeant ran below himself, to report and receive his orders from the
new commander, while all the negroes, females as well as males, rushed
down into the court, to meet their young master and mistress.

It is not easy to describe the minute that succeeded, after Willoughby
and Maud were surrounded by the blacks. The delight of these untutored
beings was in proportion to their recent sorrow. The death of their
master, and the captivity of Master Bob and Miss Maud, had appeared to
them like a general downfall of the family of Willoughby; but here was
a revival of its hopes, that came as unexpectedly as its previous
calamities. Amid the clamour, cries, tears, lamentations, and bursts of
uncontrollable delight, Joyce could scarce find a moment in which to
discharge his duty.

"I see how it is, serjeant," exclaimed Willoughby; "the assault is now
making, and you desire o