of the party; whose gait had been recognized by several,
his voice by one or two, while the mark of his bloody hand laid upon the
clothing of one of the women as he roughly pushed her out of his way,
seemed to furnish the strongest circumstantial evidence against him.

George Boyd's right hand had been maimed in a peculiar manner during the
war, and this bloody mark upon the woman's night-dress was its exact
imprint.

Already Mr. Travilla had procured his arrest, and had him imprisoned for
trial, in the county jail.

Yet this was but a small part of the day's work: lumber had been
ordered, and men engaged for the rebuilding of the school-house;
merchandise also to replace the furniture and clothing destroyed; and
arms for every man at the quarter capable of using them.

All this Elsie knew and approved, as did her father and brother. For
Mrs. Carrington's sake they deeply regretted that Boyd was implicated in
the outrage; but all agreed that justice must have its course.

The question had been mooted in both families whether any or all of them
should leave the South until the restoration of law and order should
render it a safe abiding place for honest, peaceable folk, but
unanimously decided in the negative.

The gentlemen scorned to fly from the desperadoes and resign to their
despotic rule their poor dependents and the land of their love; nay they
would stay and defend both to the utmost of their power; and the wives
upheld their husbands in their determination and refused to leave them
to meet the peril alone.

Returning from the burial of Uncle Mose, Mr. Dinsmore and Horace spent
an hour at Ion before riding back to the Oaks.

The three gentlemen were in the library earnestly discussing the state
of affairs, when Elsie, coming down from seeing her little ones settled
for the night, heard the sound of wheels in the avenue, and stepping to
the door saw the Ashlands carriage just drawing up in front of it.

The vehicle had scarcely come to a standstill ere its door was thrown
hastily open and the elder Mrs. Carrington alighted.

Elsie sprang to meet her with outstretched arms, and the exclamation,
"My dear old friend!" though her heart beat quickly, her cheek
crimsoned, and tears filled her eyes.

The old lady, speechless with grief, fell upon her neck and wept there
silently for a moment; then low and gaspingly, in a voice broken with
sobs, "I--have--come to--ask about--George," she said, "can it, oh can