The full moon was falling upon her face. Her eyes seemed to be looking far away. He saw for a moment a shade of sadness upon her countenance, succeeded by a smile. Her hand was still resting in his. "Good-by till we meet again," her parting words. Never before had he felt such an uplifting of spirit. "Till we meet again" would ever be like a strain of music. He lingered awhile, loath to leave the spot. A light was soon shining in her chamber. The curtains revealed her shadow. It was something to know she was there. Would she think of him when lying down to sleep? When would he again behold those loving eyes, that radiant face, that beauty of soul seen in every feature? What had the future in store for them? Ah! what had it? The light in the chamber was extinguished, and he turned away. Once more he lingered by the gray walls of King's Chapel to take a parting look at the white-curtained window, and then walked to Queen Street, past the jail and printing office. It would be a pleasure to stand once more upon the spot where first he met her. He heard a commotion in the direction of Dock Square,--oaths and curses; and suddenly beheld citizens running, followed by soldiers, whose swords were flashing in the moonlight. They followed the fleeing people nearly to the town pump, then turned and disappeared in an alley. "What has happened?" Robert asked of a man who had a pail of oysters in his hand. "What? Just see what I've got from the hellish rascals," the man replied, setting down the pail and pointing to a gash on his shoulder. "The red-coated devils are cutting and slashing everybody. They are ripping and swearing they'll kill every blasted Son of Liberty." While the oysterman was speaking, a little boy came along, piteously crying. "What's the matter, my boy?" Robert asked. Amid his sobs it was learned that the boy's father sent him on an errand; that while peacefully walking the street, a soldier rushed upon him swearing, aiming a blow, felling him to the ground with his sword. "I'll kill every Yankee whelp in Boston," said the redcoat. Again there was a commotion--soldiers rushing towards Dock Square. "Where are the blackguards? let's kill 'em," they shouted. "Come on, you dirty cowards; we are ready for ye," the answering shout. Robert could hear oaths and vile words, and then the whacking of clubs, and saw the soldiers fleeing towards their barracks followed by the people. A man with a stout club came along the street. "What's going on?" Robert asked. "We are giving it to the poltroons. We'll drive 'em off Long Wharf. They rushed out upon us just now, with shovels, tongs, swords, and baggernets, and called us cowards. We whacked 'em with our clubs and drove the ruffians--blast their picters."