“Yet, Ned, these words which you have repeated convey some such fear to my mind. It may be that the villain was only boasting to his companion. There are scoundrels in this world who conceive of no higher subject of boast than the successful deception and ruin of the artless and confiding. I sincerely hope that this may be the case now--that it was the mere brag of a profligate, to excite the admiration of his comrade. But when you speak of the beauty and the smartness of this poor girl, as of securities for virtue, you make a great mistake. Beauty is more apt to be a betrayer than a protector; and as for her talent, that is seldom a protection unless it be associated with humility. Hers was not. She was most ignorant where she was most assured. She knew just enough to congratulate herself that she was unlike her neighbors, and this is the very temper of mind which is likely to cast down its possessor in shame. I trust that she had a better guardian angel than either her beauty or her talents. I sincerely hope that she is safe. At all events, let me caution you not to hint the possibility of its being otherwise. We will take for granted that Stevens is a baffled villain.” “I only wish I had dropped him!” “Better as it is.” “What! even if the poor girl is--” “Ay, even then!” “Why, gran'pa, can it be possible YOU say so?” “Yes, my son; I say so here, in moments of comparative calmness, and in the absence of the villain. Perhaps, were he present, I should say otherwise.” “And DO otherwise! You'd shoot him, gran'pa, as soon as I.” “Perhaps! I think it likely. But, put up your pistols, Ned. You have nobody now to shoot. Put them up, and let us walk over to your uncle's at once. It is proper that he and John Cross should know these particulars.” Ned agreed to go, but not to put up his pistols. “For, you see, gran'pa, this rascal may return. His friend may have kept him in long talk. We may meet him coming into the village.” “It is not likely; but come along. Give me that staff, my son, and your arm on the other side. I feel that my eyes are no longer young.” “You could shoot still, gran'pa?” “Not well.” “What, couldn't you hit a chap like Stevens between the eyes at ten paces? I'm sure I could do it, blindfolded, by a sort of instinct.” And the youth, shutting his eyes, as if to try the experiment, drew forth one of his pistols from his bosom, and began to direct its muzzle around the room. “There was a black spider THERE, gran'pa! I'm sure, taking him for Stevens, I could cut his web for him.” “You have cut that of Stevens himself, and his comb too, Ned.” “Yes, yes--but what a fool I was not to make it his gills!”