iven to indulge in the mysterious or to believe in the romantic.
Every thing was plain matter of fact, as it now appeared before him;
and he thought it evident, as though it had been written in words of
fire, that if his son and his unfortunate servant had quitted the fort
in the manner represented, it was no less certain they had been forced
off by a party, at the head of whom was his vindictive enemy, and with
the connivance of Halloway. We have seen, that after the discovery of
the sex of the supposed drummer-boy when the prisoners were confronted
together, Colonel de Haldimar had closely watched the expression of
their countenances, but failed in discovering any thing that could be
traced into evidence of a guilty recognition. Still he conceived his
original impression to have been too forcibly borne out, even by the
events of the last half hour, to allow this to have much weight with
him; and his determination to carry the thing through all its fearful
preliminary stages became more and more confirmed.

In adopting this resolution in the first instance, he was not without a
hope that Halloway, standing, as he must feel himself to be, on the
verge of the grave, might be induced to make confession of his guilt,
and communicate whatever particulars might prove essential not only to
the safety of the garrison generally, but to himself individually, as
far as his personal enemy was concerned. With this view, he had charged
Captain Blessington, in the course of their march from the hut to the
fatal bridge, to promise a full pardon, provided he should make such
confession of his crime as would lead to a just appreciation of the
evils likely to result from the treason that had in part been
accomplished. Even in making this provision, however, which was met by
the prisoner with solemn yet dignified reiteration of his innocence,
Colonel de Haldimar had not made the refusal of pardon altogether
conclusive in his own mind: still, in adopting this plan, there was a
chance of obtaining a confession; and not until there was no longer a
prospect of the unhappy man being led into that confession, did he feel
it imperative on him to stay the progress of the tragedy.

What the result would have been, had not Halloway, in the strong
excitement of his feelings, sprung to his feet upon the coffin,
uttering the exclamation of triumph recorded in the last pages of our
first volume, is scarcely doubtful. However much the governor might
ha