"Oh, Geoffrey, my beloved, it cannot be! I know what my dear and honored father would say. God guard you--farewell!" He caught the dainty form in his arms, he held her next his heart and vowed that come what would he defied fate itself to separate her from him. "See," he cried, snatching the knot of rose-colored ribbon from his breast, "I will wear this token always as I have done since the day it dropped from your gown on the grass. If it be twenty years, I will yet come, with your father's consent, to win you, and then, _then_, sweetheart, may I claim my reward?" "I cannot wed my country's foe," she faltered. "Oh, Geoffrey, be merciful--let me go." At that moment there came a violent knock upon the street door, a sound of voices, and Pompey's slow step approaching the library door. "An express for Massa Captain brought by Sir Henry's orderly," said the faithful old negro, handing a sealed envelope to Yorke, as he closed the door behind him. Yorke tore it open; it fell from his hand. For a moment he stood, tall, gallant, and brave, before Betty; his eyes met hers in long, lingering farewell. "Sir Henry leads the expedition to South Carolina to-night, Betty, and I go with him. Nay, sweetheart, sweetheart, we shall meet again in happier days." She gave a little cry and flung herself into his arms; she kissed him with all her warm frank heart on her lips, and then she slipped from his embrace and was gone as Yorke dashed from the house, mounted his horse, and galloped swiftly away. CHAPTER XVI MOPPET MAKES A DISCOVERY It was early autumn in Connecticut, and the maples had put on their most gorgeous robes of red and yellow. The weather had been mild for that region up to the middle of October, when a sudden light frost had flung its triumphant banner over hill and dale with a glow and glory seen to its greatest perfection in New England. The morning air was somewhat fresh, and Miss Bidwell, hearing Moppet's feet flying along the hall, opened the door of the sitting-room and called the child. "You will need your tippet if you are going beyond the orchard, and I think perhaps your hood." "Hood!" echoed Miss Moppet disdainfully, shaking her yellow curls over her shoulders until they danced almost of themselves; "I do not need to be muffled up as if I were a little girl, Miss Bidwell. You forget I was twelve years old yesterday," and she waltzed around the room, spreading her short skirt in a courtesy, to Miss Bidwell's admiring gaze. "Indeed, I am likely to recollect when I myself arranged the twelve candles in your birthday cake." "To be sure!" cried Moppet, with swift repentance, "and such an excellent, rich cake as it was, too. Do you think"--insinuatingly--"that I might have a slice, a very tiny slice, before I go forth with Betty to gather nuts in the Tracys' woods?"