o reprove the
intruders, when Maud pressed his arm, and whispered--

"Listen, Willoughby--those voices sound strangely to my ears! We have
heard them before."

"I tell ye, Nick--ould Nicky, or Saucy Nick, or whatever's yer name,"
said one within in a strong Irish accent "that Jamie, the mason that
was, is forenent ye, at this minute, under that bit of a sod--and, it's
his honour, and Missus, and Miss Beuly, that is buried here. Och! ye're
a cr'ature, Nick; good at takin' scalps, but ye knows nothin' of
graves; barrin' the quhantity ye've helped to fill."

"Good"--answered the Indian. "Cap'in here; squaw here; darter here.
Where son?--where t'other gal?"

"Here," answered Willoughby, leading Maud within the hedge. "I am
Robert Willoughby, and this is Maud Meredith, my wife."

Mike fairly started; he even showed a disposition to seize a musket
which lay on the grass. As for the Indian, a tree in the forest could
not have stood less unmoved than he was at this unexpected
interruption. Then all four stood in silent admiration, noting the
changes which time had, more or less, wrought in all.

Willoughby was in the pride of manhood. He had served with distinction,
and his countenance and frame both showed it, though neither had
suffered more than was necessary to give him a high military air, and a
look of robust vigour. As for Maud, with her graceful form fully
developed by her riding-habit, her soft lineaments and polished
expression, no one would have thought her more than thirty, which was
ten years less than her real age. With Mike and Nick it was very
different. Both had grown old, not only in fact, but in appearance. The
Irishman was turned of sixty, and his hard, coarse-featured face, burnt
as red as the sun in a fog, by exposure and Santa Cruz, was getting to
be wrinkled and a little emaciated. Still, his frame was robust and
powerful. His attire was none of the best, and it was to be seen at a
glance that it was more than half military. In point of fact, the poor
fellow had been refused a reinlistment in the army, on account of his
infirmities and years, and America was not then a country to provide
retreats for her veterans. Still, Mike had an ample pension for wounds,
and could not be said to be in want. He had suffered in the same battle
with Joyce, in whose company he had actually been corporal O'Hearn,
though his gallant commander had not risen to fight again, as had been
the case with the subordinate.