abeth, of her body clasped by the man in a struggle, her
white skin reddened by his grasp. The spectacle, imaginary and lasting
but an instant, maddened Peyton beyond endurance, made him a giant, a
Hercules. He threw himself against the door repeatedly, plied foot and
body in heavy blows. Meanwhile Elizabeth had reached the window, and
thrown the key far out on the snow-heaped lawn. She had no sooner done
so than the man laid his clutch on her arm.

"Fly, Peyton, for God's sake! For my sake!" she shouted.

"You shall pay for aiding the enemy, if he does!" cried Colden. "Don't
let her escape, Thompson!"

At that instant the locked door gave way, and in burst Harry, having
broken, to save Elizabeth from a rude contact, the barrier she had
closed to save his life. That life, which he had once saved by
callously assailing her heart, he now risked, that her body might not
suffer the touch of an ungentle hand. So swift and sudden was his
entrance, that he had crossed the room, and floored Elizabeth's
captor, with a deep gash down the side of the head, ere Colden made a
step towards him.

The man who had been under the fallen spinet had now extricated
himself, and regained his feet, and he and Colden rushed on Peyton at
once. Elated by having so speedily wrought Elizabeth's release, and
reduced the number of his able adversaries to two, Peyton bethought
himself of a new plan. He fled through the deep doorway to the east
hall, and took position on the staircase. He turned just in time to
parry Colden's sword, which the major had picked up and made shift to
hold in his wrapped-up, wounded hand. Harry saw that an opportune
stroke might send the sword from his enemy's numb and weakening grasp,
and his heart swelled with anticipated triumph, until he heard
Colden's hoarse cry:

"Shoot him, James, while I keep him occupied!"

This order was now the more practicable from Harry's being on the
stairs, above Colden, a great part of his body exposed to an aim that
could not endanger his antagonist. Breathing heavily, his eyes afire
with hatred, Colden repeated his attacks, while Harry saw the other's
musket raised, the barrel looking him in the eyes. He leaped a step
higher, swung his broken sword against the pendent chandelier,
knocked the only burning candle from its socket, and threw the hall
into darkness. A moment later the gun went off, giving an instant's
red flame, a loud crack, and a smell of gunpowder smoke. Harry heard