“I find,” said Marion, “that I am in the minority here; and that, except Col. Lee, and Captains Horry and Preston, I am almost alone. I do not go quite so far as these two latter, however, in considering the enterprise as certain of success, but I think it affords a fair chance—and bravery can do the rest. Besides, gentlemen,” said he solemnly, “you know it was in an attempt on Georgetown that my nephew lost his life; and you all know, too, that I have sworn to avenge him. I have not forgotten my vow. Before God, he shall be avenged before to-morrow night is past. This very night a part of the troops shall set forth.” With these words he rose and dismissed the council. Every heart was now alive for the enterprise. The memory of the outrage alluded to strung all to a pitch of indignation little short of frenzy. The watchword, “The Oath of Marion!” was adopted by general consent, and passed from lip to lip. Preston, it may well be supposed, was even more excited than his commander. His only fear now was that his succor would arrive too late. Agitated by this thought, he tossed to and fro on his couch, vainly seeking slumber. Many a muttered imprecation left his lips on the villain who had destroyed his happiness and that of Kate. Frequently he half breathed aloud the wish that his enemy was before him, man to man, with none to interfere between him and his revenge. These thoughts mingled with his dreams, when, exhausted by his agitation, he sunk finally into a troubled and feverish slumber. Strange figures hovered around his bed, and haunted his morbid fancies. He imagined himself bound hand and foot, while his enemy came to exult over him, leading Kate by the hand, now a dejected, broken-hearted creature, whom to look at made tears start to the eyes. Then again she was seen, clothed in bridal white, extended, like a human sacrifice, upon an altar; while Major Lindsay, converted into a hideous priest of Moloch, stood ready to plunge the knife into her bosom. A third time he saw her, standing before a clergyman, while the marriage ceremony was performed between her and Major Lindsay; he thrilled with ecstasy to find he was not too late, and rushing forward to save her, the bridegroom was suddenly transformed into a grinning fiend, and she into a pale, cold corpse. Shivering with horror he awoke, and started from his bed; nor was it until he had passed his hand across his brow that the ghastly vision faded entirely. But his waking thoughts were scarcely less harrowing than his dreams. Slowly the recollection of Kate’s sacrifice, and his own unhappiness came back to him. “To learn that I am loved, yet perhaps too late,” he murmured. “Why was I so proud when we last met?”