lton, holding a long string of fish, the result of their day's
sport; behind him stood the tall stalwart figure of the old sailor.
"Talbot--you? Where are father and Kate? What are these men doing in
the dining-room? Oh, what is that?" he said, shrinking back in horror
from the corpse of the soldier.

"Dunmore's raiders have been here."

"And Katharine?"

"A prisoner, with your father, Philip, but I trust both are uninjured."

"Mr. Seymour, sir, where is he?" said the deep voice of the boatswain,
as he advanced farther into the room. The light fell full upon him.
He was a splendid specimen of athletic manhood; tall, powerful,
long-armed, slightly bent in the shoulders; decision and courage were
seen in his bearing, and were written on his face, burned a dull
mahogany color by years of exposure to the weather. He was clothed in
the open shirt and loose trousers of a seafaring man, and he stood with
his feet slightly apart, as if balancing himself to the uneasy roll of
a ship. Honesty and fidelity and intelligence spoke out from his eyes,
and affection and anxiety were heard in his voice.

"Lieutenant Seymour," he repeated, "where is he, sir?"

"There," said Talbot, stepping aside and pointing to the floor.

"Not dead, sir, is he?"

"Not yet, Bentley," Seymour, with regaining strength, replied; "I am
not done for this time."

"Oh, Mr. John, Mr. John," said the old man, tenderly, bending over him,
"I thank God to see you alive again. But, as I live, they shall pay
dear for this--whoever has done it,--the bloody, marauding, ruffians!"

"Yes, Bentley, I join you in that vow," said Talbot.

"And I too," added Philip, bravely.

"And I," whispered the wounded man.

"It's one more score that has got to be paid off by King George's men,
one more outrage on this country, one more debt we owe the English,"
Bentley continued fiercely.

"No; these were Americans, Virginians,--more's the shame,--led by that
blackguard Johnson. He has long hated the colonel," replied Talbot.

"Curses on the renegades!" said the old man. "Who is it that loves
freedom and sees not that the blow must be struck to-day? How can any
man born in this land hesitate to--" He stopped suddenly, as his eyes
fell upon Talbot, whose previous irresolution and refusal had been no
secret to him.

"Don't stop for me, Bentley," said that young man, gently; "I am with
you now. I came over this evening to tell our friends here that I
start n