t
through the brush had some sound of a man's leap, and would, he hoped,
lead the enemy to think he might have escaped in that direction. By
the time the noise of a commotion reached him, with orders to turn out
the guard, he was past the building used as a prison for his fellow
rebels, and was hastening along the side of the common--now diverted
to camp uses of the British as it had been to those of the
rebels--able to find the rest of his way in Egyptian blackness. He
knew what alleys to take, what short cuts to make by traversing
gardens, what ways were most like to be deserted. The streets in the
part of the town through which he had to pass were nearly empty, the
taverns, the barracks, and most of the officers' quarters being
elsewhere. And so, with a heart elated beyond my power of expression,
he leaped finally into the rear garden of the Faringfield mansion, and
strode, as if on air, toward the veranda.

He had guessed that the family would be in the smaller parlour, or the
library, and so he was not surprised to see all the lower windows dark
that were visible from the direction of his approach. But, which gave
him a thrill of delightful conjecture, two upper windows shone with
light--those above the great parlour and hence belonging to one of the
chambers formerly occupied by Margaret and him. He knew no reason why
his wife should not still retain the same rooms. She would, then, be
there, and probably alone. He might go to her while none was present
to chill their meeting, none before whom her pride might induce her to
conceal the completeness of her reconciliation, or to moderate the joy
of her greeting. Would she weep? Would she laugh? Would she cry out?
Would she merely fall into his arms with a glad smile and cling in a
long embrace under his lingering kiss? He trembled like a schoolboy as
he climbed the trellis-work to enter by a window.

Creeping up the sloping, snow-covered roof of the veranda, he came at
length to the window, and looked in. The chamber was empty, but the
door was ajar that led to the apartment in front, used as a
sitting-room. She must be in that room, for his first glance had
recognised many of her trinkets and possessions in the first chamber.
He asked himself if the years had changed her: they would have made
her a little graver, doubtless.

He opened the window so slowly that the noise was scarce perceptible.
Then he clambered over the ledge into the chamber; strode tiptoe
towa