nd moan of the night-wind
sounded like a dirge.

CHAPTER VII.

Several gentlemen of the neighborhood, whom Beverly, upon hearing little
Phil's story, had hastily summoned to his assistance, now entered the
cabin, together with the male negroes of his household, who had mounted
the farm horses and eagerly followed to the rescue of their young
mistress. They had been detained without by an unsuccessful pursuit of
Rawbon, whose flight they had discovered, but who had easily evaded them
in the darkness. A rude litter was constructed for Arthur, but Oriana
declared herself well able to proceed on horseback, and would not listen
to any suggestion of delay on her account. She mounted Beverly's horse,
while he and Harold supplied themselves from among the horses that the
negroes had rode, and thus, slowly and silently, they threaded the
lonely forest, while ever and anon a groan from the litter struck
painfully upon their ears.

Arrived at the manor house, a physician who had been summoned,
pronounced Arthur's hurt to be serious, but not dangerous. Upon
receiving this intelligence, Oriana and Harold were persuaded to retire,
and Beverly and his aunt remained as watchers at the bedside of the
wounded man.

Oriana, despite her agitation, slept well, her rest being only disturbed
by fitful dreams, in which Arthur's pale face seemed ever present, now
smiling upon her mournfully, and now locked in the repose of death. She
arose somewhat refreshed, though still feverish and anxious, and walking
upon the veranda to breathe the morning air, she was joined by Harold,
with his hand in a sling, and much relieved by the application of a
poultice, which the skill of Miss Randolph had prepared. He informed her
that Arthur was sleeping quietly, and that she might dismiss all fears
as to his safety; and perhaps, if he had watched her closely, the
earnest expression of something more than pleasure with which she
received this assurance, might have given him cause for rumination.
Beverly descended soon afterward, and confirmed the favorable report
from the sick chamber, and Oriana retired into the house to assist in
preparing the morning meal.

"Let us take a stroll by the riverside," said Beverly; "the air breathes
freshly after my night's vigil."

"The storm has left none but traces of beauty behind," observed Harold,
as they crossed the lawn. The loveliness of the early morning was indeed
a pleasant sequel to the rude tempest