Of the hundred and seventy which made the attack, thirty-one had paid forfeit with their lives, or been so grievously wounded as to be unable to regain shelter, and that there were many more, beyond view of the defenders, who were wounded seemed probable. The boys fully expected the most desperate hour would come after the earth was wrapped in darkness, but in this they were mistaken. Vigilant watch was kept by all in the dwelling, but only now and again could an Indian be seen, and then as he was dragging away the bodies of his fellows. When the sun rose next morning no sign of the enemy could be seen. The dead had been removed, and the song of birds in the thicket told that no intruder was concealed by the foliage. The savages believed the "garrison" had more defenders than they at first supposed, and had beat a retreat when only two boys and four women were opposed against them. OAKLEIGH. BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND. CHAPTER V. "Do you think they will really like me?" asked Mrs. Franklin for the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time her husband answered, smiling, "I think they really will." They were just arriving at Brenton. Many inquiring eyes had been turned towards them in the train, for every one knew John Franklin, and every one surmised at once that this was the much-discussed second wife. It was decided by those who saw her that she was a very attractive-looking woman. She was rather slight and of medium height, and she was quietly dressed in black, for she was in mourning. Though not actually pretty, she had a charming and very expressive face, and she was very young-looking. Somebody who sat in front of her said that her voice was low and very musical. Brenton decided at the first glance that Mr. John Franklin had done very well for himself. "There is the carriage," said he, as they crossed the station platform. "And this is Jack, I am sure," said his wife, holding out her hand with a smile which won her step-son on the spot. He was too shy, however, to do more than grasp it warmly as he stood beside her with uncovered head. "He is a dear," she said to herself, "and just like John. If only the others are as cordial. Somehow I dread Edith." She was quite as excited as were her step-daughters when she drove up the avenue, and her eyes fell for the first time upon the group on the piazza. Cynthia walked down the path to meet her, holding Janet and Willy by either hand. Edith remained standing on the step. "How do you do?" said Cynthia, with a cordial smile. Mrs. Franklin looked at her. Then she put her arms around her and kissed her. "This is Cynthia, I am sure," she whispered, tremulously, "and these are 'the children.'" She kissed them and passed on to her husband's eldest daughter, while they greeted their father. Edith was very tall, and her position on the step gave her the advantage of several inches in addition. She fairly towered above the new-comer.