said Edith.

Reluctantly and cautiously the old man obeyed.

"Light another candle, Jenny--that is dying in its socket--it will be
out in a minute."

Trembling all over, Jenny essayed to do as she was bid, but only
succeeded in putting out the expiring light. The sound of the unbarring
of the door had deprived her of the last remnant of self-control. Edith
struck a light, while the sound of footsteps and voices in the hall
warned her that several persons had entered.

"It's Nell, and Liddy, and Sol, from Hay Hill! Oh, Miss Edy! Thorg and
his men are up dar a 'stroyin' everything! Oh, Miss Edy! an' us thought
it was so safe an' out'n de way up dar! Oh, what a 'scape! what a 'scape
we-dem has had!"

CHAPTER II.

THE ATTACK.

That summer day was so holy in its beauty, so bright, so clear, so cool;
that rural scene was so soothing in its influences, so calm, so fresh,
so harmonious; it was almost impossible to associate with that lovely
day and scene thoughts of wrong and violence and cruelty. So felt Edith
as she sometimes lifted her eyes from her work to the beauty and glory
of nature around her. And if now her heart ached it was more with grief
for Fanny's fate than dread of her own. There comes, borne upon the
breeze that lifts her dark tresses, and fans her pearly cheeks, the
music of many rural voices--of rippling streams and rustling leaves and
twittering birds and humming bees.

But mingled with these, at length, there comes to her attentive ear a
sound, or the suspicion of a sound, of distant horse hoofs falling upon
the forest leaves--it draws nearer--it becomes distinct--she knows it
now--it is--it is a troop of British soldiers approaching the house!

They rode in a totally undisciplined and disorderly manner; reeling in
their saddles, drunken with debauchery, red-hot, reeking from some scene
of fire and blood!

And in no condition to be operated upon by Edith's beautiful and holy
influences.

They galloped into the yard--they galloped up to the house--their leader
threw himself heavily from his horse and advanced to the door.

It was the terrible and remorseless Thorg! No one could doubt the
identity for a single instant. The low, square-built, thick-set body,
the huge head, the bull neck, heavy jowl, coarse, sensual lips,
bloodshot eyes, and fiery visage surrounded with coarse red hair--the
whole brutalized, demonized aspect could belong to no monster in the
universe but that cross bet