serjeant; "I would willingly lose my
left arm, could I see her sweet face in Fort Dearborn again."

"Good night, Nixon," said Mrs. Headley, quickly and much affected;
"you are a noble fellow!" and she took and warmly pressed his hand.

"Oh! Mrs. Headley, that is the way Mrs. Ronayne pressed my hand
after she had placed the packet in it, and obtained my assurance
that her directions should be punctually obeyed. I shall ever feel
that pressure--see the look of kindness that accompanied it. I
prayed inwardly to God, as I stood gazing on her while she rode
gracefully away, to shower all His choicest blessings on her."

"Good Nixon, no more;" and Mrs. Headley was in the next minute at
the side of her husband, who, with deep care on his brow, sat at
a table buried in papers, and with the despatch of General Hull in
his hand.

"Well, my dear, have you seen him--and how does he bear his
affliction?"

"Oh! Headley, I pity him from my inmost soul--pity him for what he
now suffers; and, oh! how much more for the greater agony he has
yet to endure!"

"You have not yet, then, told him?"

"No! Mrs. Elmsley and Von Voltenberg were there; and even the former
must not know the secret. Let all mourn her as one lost to us for,
ever, but not through her own fault. Let them continue to believe
that she has been violently torn from us, not that she has proved
unfaithful to her husband, ungrateful to her friends."

"Think you not, Ellen, that it would be better to continue Ronayne
in the same belief? As you have not opened the subject to him, it
is not too late to alter your first intention."

"Dear Headley, Ronayne must know all. In no other way can the wound
at his heart be healed. I comprehend his noble, generous character
well. Such is his love for Maria, that he will never recover the
shock of her loss while he believes her to have been unwillingly
torn from him. He will pine until he sickens and dies, and, indeed,
unless the whole truth be told to him, he will find some means of
leaving the fort in search of her; indeed he has said he will--that
nothing shall prevent him; and, alas, if he does, it will be
with but little disposition to return without her. Now, I know that
if his love be great, his pride and proper self-esteem are not less
so, and feel assured that however acute his first agony, he, will
dry up the fountain of his grief, from the moment that he learns
that her love for himself has been transferred to another;