s again into his friendly counsels. More--he doubly
ironed his prisoner, whose wiles and resources he had more reason to
fear than those which his former captive could command. To cut off more
fully every hope which the outlaw might entertain of escape from his
bonds and durance, a detachment of the Georgia guard, marching into the
village that very day, was put in requisition, by the orders of the
judge, for the better security of the prisoner, and of public order.
CHAPTER XLI.
QUIET PASSAGES AND NEW RELATIONS.
We have already reported the return of Lucy Munro to the village-inn of
Chestatee. Here, to her own and the surprise of all other parties, her
aunt was quietly reinstated in her old authority--a more perfect one
now--as housekeeper of that ample mansion. The reasons which determined
her liege upon her restoration to the household have been already
reported to the reader. His prescience as to his own approaching fate
was perhaps not the least urgent among them. He fortunately left her in
possession, and we know how the law estimates this advantage. Of her
trials and sorrows, when she was made aware of her widowhood, we will
say nothing. Sensitive natures will easily conjecture their extent and
intensity. It is enough for the relief of such natures, if we say that
the widow Munro was not wholly inconsolable. As a good economist, a
sensible woman, with an eye properly regardful of the future, we are
bound to suppose that she needed no lessons from Hamlet's mother to make
the cold baked funeral-meats answer a double purpose.
But what of her niece? We are required to be something more full and
explicit in speaking to her case. The indisposition of Lucy was not
materially diminished by the circumstances following the successful
effort to persuade the landlord to the rescue of Ralph Colleton. The
feverish excitements natural to that event, and even the fruit of its
fortunate issue, in the death of Munro, for whom she really had a
grateful regard, were not greatly lessened, though certainly something
relieved, by the capture of Rivers, and his identification with the
outlawed Creighton. She was now secure from him: she had nothing further
to apprehend from the prosecution of his fearful suit; and the death of
her uncle, even if the situation of Rivers had left him free to urge it
further, would, of itself, have relieved her from the only difficulty in
the way of a resolute denial.
So far, then, she was
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