love, stood at the wheel. Mr. Murray, the father, leaped away.
Mr. Humphreys drew his brood within-doors. There was mustering of
weapons, shrieking of children; Miss Houghton fell in hysterics; Mrs.
Arles brought her the camphor, as quietly as she would have done at any
other time; Miss Changarnier stood like the expiatory victim for the
white race. Then came runners, overseers galloped up the avenue,
gentlemen, crackers, and leashed blood-hounds. There followed hurried
words and counter-commands; then part remained, part dashed away on the
road to Blue Bluffs. Nobody thought of sleeping; in the dead of night
the dull tramp of infantry resounded from the distant turnpike, and
later they heard the clang of grounding arms, and by the faint morning
light they saw the forms of the silent sentries stalking stalwart about
them, while, all around, the Erne slaves pursued, some their usual
routine, some the steps of the moment's master or mistress, and others
watched, huddled into frightened groups. Eloise stood leaning against
one side of the long drawing-room window; without knowing it, her
fingers constantly closed around the knife that lay in her belt, and
which she had failed to restore to its owner. All night she kept her
motionless position, looking far out and away to the eastward, till the
dark mass of Blue Bluffs should resolve itself into the azure mist of
castellated height that by daylight ever loomed upon the sea-horizon.

Hours of suspense and of silence. At length, hurriedly resounding hoofs,
and St. George once more stood among them.

"A revolt at Blue Bluffs," said he.

"As I have expected every night this month," said Mr. Dean.

"They have captured the ringleaders?" demanded Mrs. Arles.

"What have they done with them?" cried Emma Houghton.

Every one paused.

"Never mind," said Mr. St. George, with a terrible hiatus.

"And where is Mr. Marlboro'?"

"Where should you expect a man to be who crowds down the steam and sits
on the valve,--who walks on crater-crust? Marlboro',--poor
Marlboro'!--Marlboro' is dead."

Eloise dropped in a heap upon the floor.

The women gathered over her and got her away, laid at last upon her
bed,--and then she ordered them all to leave her, which glad enough were
they to do.

Mr. St. George walked the room in silence then, and finally sitting down
and resting his elbows on the table, remained so a long time,--his
knotted brow hidden by the tightly clasped hands. Nobod