“One might almost be tempted to join Marion after this, in order to raise the reputation of American courage, since just now British bravery has it dead hollow.” “Oh! pray,” said Kate, laughingly, “play the Atlas for the patriots then. That’s a good man: Be the St. George to destroy this British dragon.” Major Lindsay looked for a moment as if he thought there was more in this than met the ear; but he contented himself with retorting on Preston. “Do, by all means,” he said, “and, if you take Bobadil’s plan, you may defeat a whole army yourself. You know he proposed to challenge a single enemy and slay him by duello: then challenge a second, and slay him: then a third, and dispose of him also: and so on until the whole army was annihilated.” Kate, as well as the rest, laughed at this sally. Preston needed but this to complete his anger and disgust. The field, he saw, was his rival’s, and he was glad when other persons approached and broke up the colloquy, which, to tell the truth, was growing too personal. But Kate was piqued and Preston enraged: and as for the major, seeing there was a quarrel between his rival and mistress, he had striven to widen the breach. Preston hurried from the ball-room, and taking time only to change his dress, repaired to the rendezvous where Macdonald awaited him. Without a word he flung himself into the saddle, and his companion imitating his example, they were soon without the city. They had passed the outposts for some time, when Macdonald, pushing his horse close to Preston’s, opened the conversation. “We’re clear of that confounded town at last, thank Heaven!” he said, “and I, for one, aint sorry. Them Englishmen are as saucy as princes, and think nobody has any courage but themselves. But I know one stout fellow that can snuff a candle with his rifle at two hundred yards, and before a week we’ll have a rap at ’em, for I s’pose you go direct, sir, to Marion’s camp?” Preston nodded a gloomy assent, for buried in his own thoughts he cared not to be disturbed. Macdonald saw this, and, defeated in his attempt to open a conversation, dropped back, but when out of hearing muttered, “I see how it is. Them women’s always getting a man into trouble. For my part I’ll be a bachelor. Marrying’s like getting tipsy, very pleasant except for the after repentance.” CHAPTER II. Grave men there are by broad Santee, Grave men with hoary hairs, Their hearts are all with Marion, With Marion are their prayers. BRYANT.