r elevation to
the ladyship of Philipsburgh, and who shall blame her daughter and
namesake, now within a stone's throw of St. John's parsonage and in
full sight of the tree-bowered manorial home of her fathers, for
holding hers, which was younger, a trifle higher?

Not many high-held heads of this or any other day are or were finer
than that of Elizabeth Philipse was in 1778, or are set on more
graceful figures. For all her haughtiness, she was not a very large
person, nor yet was she a small one. She was neither fragile nor too
ample. Her carriage made her look taller than she was. She was of the
brown-haired, blue-eyed type, but her eyes were not of unusual size or
surpassing lucidity, being merely clear, honest, steady eyes, capable
rather of fearless or disdainful attention than of swift flashes or
coquettish glances. The precision with which her features were
outlined did not lessen the interest that her face had from her
pride, spirit, independence, and intelligence. She was, moreover, an
active, healthy creature, and if she commanded the dratting of the
wind, it was not as much because she was chilled by it as because it
blew her cloak and impeded her progress. In fine, she was a beauty;
else this historian would never have taken the trouble of unearthing
from many places and piecing together the details of this fateful
incident,--for if any one supposes that the people of this narrative
are mere fictions, he or she is radically in error. They lived and
achieved, under the names they herein bear; were as actual as the
places herein mentioned,--as any of the numerous patriotic Americans
who daily visit the genealogical shelves of the public libraries can
easily learn, if they will spare sufficient time from the laudable
task of hunting down their own ancestors. If this story is called a
romance, that term is used here only as it is oft applied to actual
occurrences of a romantic character. So the Elizabeth Philipse who,
before crossing the Neperan to approach the manor-house, stopped in
front of the snug parsonage at the roadside and directed Cuff to knock
at the door, was as real as was then the parsonage itself.

Presently a face appeared furtively at one of the up-stairs windows.
The eyes thereof, having dwelt for an instant on the mounted party
shivering in the road, opened wide in amazement, and a minute later,
after a sound of key-turning and bolt-drawing, the door opened, and a
good-looking lady appeared