“You know not how you transport me,” he said rapidly. “If the devotion of a life can repay you for this promise, here I swear to bestow it in requital,” and taking those fair but listless fingers in his hand, he would have raised them to his lips. But Kate instinctively drew them back, and with an almost haughty gesture. The next moment, however, she again burst into tears. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “is there no other way? Be generous, Major Lindsay.” She stood like an imploring Niobe, her eyes raised in supplication, her whole face beaming. The countenance of her auditor, on that sudden withdrawal of her hand, had flushed with sudden anger; but he had now once more controlled his features to a look of pity, and he replied— “Would I could do as you wish; would there was some other way.” “There is—there is,” said Kate, eagerly. “You yourself will go again to Col. Campbell and intercede for us.” “Alas! I have done that already.” “To Lord Rawdon, then,” breathlessly interposed Kate. “It would be useless. Nay, if he hears of this matter prematurely, before you are mine, neither Col. Campbell nor I can save your father.” There was a tone of decision in him as he pronounced these words, that shut out all farther entreaty. Kate felt, moreover, that what he said was true; from Lord Rawdon no hope could be entertained. With a groan she buried her face against the sofa. Major Lindsay stood at a respectful distance. During the interview he had more than once been smote to the heart by Kate’s agony. He was not a villain in the ordinary acceptation of the term. Impelled by his necessities, and stung by Kate’s persevering refusal, he had planned her father’s capture, intending to purchase her hand by his pardon, and little doubting that, in time, she would learn to love him. He had found little difficulty in persuading Col. Campbell to further his scheme, representing to that officer that Kate was not indifferent to him in secret, but was unwilling, on her father’s account, to marry a royal officer. But Major Lindsay, though engaged in this black plot, really loved Kate; and had he not gone too far to retreat, perhaps would have been moved from his purpose by the sight of her suffering. His commiseration was not, therefore, all affected; and even now, as he stood awaiting her final decision, which he no longer doubted would be in his favor, a pang of remorse shot through his heart on raising his eyes and beholding Mr. Mowbray’s picture—for the mute canvas seemed to rebuke him with its sad, earnest gaze. Perhaps five minutes thus passed—the major leaned on his sword—Kate, her face buried from sight, continued to sob. At length she looked up, and holding out her hand with averted head, she said, “My father shall be saved.” And then, as if almost choked by the words, she added, “Leave me now.” “Thank you for those blessed words,” said Major Lindsay; and bowing over her hand, which he just touched with his lips, he left the room.