moral strength, and superiority over those weaknesses, which,
however natural they may be, are nevertheless not often held becoming in
the man.

It was the pedler, Bunce, who made his appearance--choosing, with a
feature of higher characteristic than would usually have been allotted
him, rather to cheer the prison hours of the unfortunate, than to pursue
his own individual advantages; which, at such a time, might not have
been inconsiderable. The worthy pedler was dreadfully disappointed in
the result of his late adventure. He had not given himself any trouble
to inquire into the nature of those proofs which Lucy Munro had assured
him were in her possession; but satisfied as much by his own hope as by
her assurance, that all would be as he wished it, he had been elevated
to a pitch of almost indecorous joy which strongly contrasted with his
present depression. He had little now to say in the way of consolation,
and that little was coupled with so much that was unjust to the maiden,
as to call forth, at length, the rebuke of Colleton.

"Forbear on this subject, my good sir--she did what she could, and what
she might have said would not have served me much. It was well she said
no more. Her willingness--her adventuring so much in my behalf--should
alone be sufficient to protect her from everything like blame. But tell
me, Bunce, what has become of her--where is she gone, and who is now
attending her?"

"Why, they took her back to the old tavern. A great big woman took her
there, and looked after her. I did go and had a sight on her, and there,
to be sure, was Munro's wife, though her I did see, I'll be sworn, in
among the rocks where they shut us up."

"And was Munro there?"

"Where--in the rocks?"

"No--in the tavern?--You say his wife had come back--did he trust
himself there?"

"I rather guess not--seeing as how he'd stand a close chance of
'quaintance with the rope. No, neither him, nor Rivers, nor any of the
regulators--thank the powers--ain't to be seen nowhere. They're all
off--up into the nation, I guess, or off, down in Alabam by this time,
clear enough."

"And who did you see at the rocks, and what men were they that made you
prisoners?"

"Men--if I said men, I was 'nation out, I guess. Did I say men?"

"I understood you so."

"'Twan't men at all. Nothing better than women, and no small women
neither. Didn't see a man in the neighborhood, but Chub, and he ain't no
man neither."

"What is he?"