door seemed to glow dimly with a wavering light.
He placed his hand on one of the Grecian pillars of the porch, and
watched. A moment later the door softly opened. A figure appeared,
beyond the threshold, bearing a candle. The figure wore a cloak with a
hood, but the hood was down.

"All is safe," whispered a low voice. "The officers went hours ago. I
knew you must have escaped from the house, and were hiding somewhere.
I saw you a minute ago from the roof gallery."

Peyton having entered, Elizabeth swiftly closed and locked the door
behind him, handed him the candle with a low "Good night," and fled
silently, ghostlike, up the stairs, disappearing quickly in the
darkness.

Harry made his way to his own room, as in a kind of dream. She herself
had waited and watched for him! This, then, was the effect wrought in
the proudest, most disdainful young creature of her sex, by that
feeling which he had, by telling and acting a lie, awakened in her.
The revelation set him thinking. How long might such a feeling last?
What would be its effect on her after his departure? He had read, and
heard, and seen, that, when these feelings were left to pine away
slowly, the people possessing them pined also. And this was the return
he was about to give his most hospitable hostess, the woman who had
saved his life! Yet what was to be done? His life belonged to his
country, his chosen career was war; he could not alter completely his
destiny to save a woman some pining. After all, she _would_ get over
it; yet it would make of her another woman, embitter her, change
entirely the complexion of the world to her, and her own attitude
towards it. He tried to comfort himself with the thought of her
engagement to Colden, of which he had not learned until after the
mischief had been done. But he recalled her manner towards Colden, and
a remark of old Mr. Valentine's, whence he knew that the engagement
was not, on her side, a love one, and was not inviolable. Yet it would
be a crime to a woman of her pride, of her power of loving, to allow
the deceit, his pretence of love, to go as far as marriage. A
disclosure would come in time, and would bring her a bitter awakening.
The falsehood, natural if not excusable in its circumstances, and
broached without thought of ultimate consequence, must be stopped at
once. He must leave her presence immediately, but, before going, must
declare the truth. She must not be allowed to waste another day of her
lif