of many campaigns,
and brought, as a species of hecatomb, to the graves of the fallen.

"Out upon ye, Nick!" he cried. "Had I known the like of that, little
would I have campaigned in yer company! Och! 'twas an undacent deed,
and a hundred confessions would barely wipe it from yer sowl. It's a
pity, too, that ye've died widout absolution from a praist, sich as
I've tould ye off. Barrin' the brache of good fellieship, I could have
placed yer own scalp wid the rest, as a p'ace-offering, to his Honour,
the Missus and Miss Beuly----"

"Enough," interrupted Sir Robert Willoughby, with an authority of
manner that Mike's military habits could not resist; "the man has
repented, and is forgiven. Maud, love, it is time to quit this
melancholy scene; occasions will offer to revisit it."

In the end, Mr. Woods took possession of the Hut, as a sort of
hermitage, in which to spend the remainder of his days. He had toiled
hard for the conversion of Nick, in gratitude for the manner in which
he had fought in defence of the females. He now felt as keen a desire
to rescue the Irishman from the superstitions of what he deemed an
error quite as fatal as heathenism. Mike consented to pass the
remainder of his days at the Knoll, which was to be, and in time,
_was_, renovated, under their joint care.

Sir Robert and Lady Willoughby passed a month in the valley. Nick had
been buried within the bushes; and even Maud had come to look upon this
strange conjunction of graves, with the eye of a Christian, blended
with the tender regrets of a woman. The day that the general and his
wife left the valley for ever, they paid a final visit to the graves.
Here Maud wept for an hour. Then her husband, passing an arm around her
waist, drew her gently away; saying, as they were quitting the
inclosure--

"They are in Heaven, dearest--looking down in love, quite likely, on
us, the objects of so much of their earthly affection. As for
Wyandotte, he lived according to his habits and intelligence, and
happily died under the convictions of a conscience directed by the
lights of divine grace. Little will the deeds of this life be
remembered, among those who have been the true subjects of its blessed
influence. If this man were unmerciful in his revenge, he also
remembered my mother's kindnesses, and bled for her and her daughters.
Without his care, my life would have remained unblessed with your love,
my ever-precious Maud! He never forgot a favour, or forga