"We have had strange news, Neville and I. An attack is to be made upon St. Mary's, and Neville feels his Maryland blood thrilling to go to the rescue." Aside he said low to his wife, "Take no notice of the change, we are seeing a miracle,--the dead has come to life again." Peggy grew white. "Christopher," she whispered, running up and laying her face against her brother's shoulder, "thou wilt not leave me!" "Dear, I must; but I do not leave thee alone. Answer me, Peggy," and holding her face between his hands he gazed deep into her eyes, "Dost thou love Romney Huntoon?" Peggy felt the same spell that had lain upon them all, the compelling force of an almost supernatural presence, before which her little doubts and hesitations vanished and her dimpling artifices faded into utter pettiness. She stood looking up at him, "in the eyes all woman, in the lips half child," till his earnest gaze forced an answer. "I do," she said, without blush or tremor. "Come here, Romney," said Neville; and placing Peggy's hand in the young man's, "be good to her!" he said. Then turning to where Elizabeth and Humphrey stood side by side, he took a hand of each. "Kind friends,--and better no man ever had,--do me one more favor in accepting this little sister of mine as your daughter." "Trust me!" said Humphrey; but Elizabeth said never a word, only moved across the room and threw her protecting motherly arms around Peggy. Christopher smiled. "I am answered. Now, where is dear old Philpotts?" "Here, my master," spoke the faithful retainer, who had been holystoning the bricks of the great fireplace. To him Neville stretched out his hand. "It all comes back to me now,--what you have dared and suffered and lost for me. I thank you from my soul. Perhaps 'tis too much to ask, but could you find it in your heart to bear me company in one more troublous time, one more life-risk?" "Ay, ay, I'll follow your lead to the death!" "Then to the wharf and loose the little boat that lies there, the one that you have been building all summer. For the rest of you, good-bye, and God bless you, one and all!" The little group stood on the dock and watched the boat as it stole out into the twilight, Philpotts at the helm, Neville before the mast, just as he had stood on that fatal day twelve months since, the sunlight streaming across his pale face. "He is like Sir Tristan," thought Humphrey Huntoon, "'born to sadness and cradled in sorrow.' God grant him one glimpse of happiness before he goes hence forever!" CHAPTER XXII CANDLEMAS EVE "Couthin Marget, dost think the ground-hog can see his shadow when he comes out of his hole to-morrow?" "I fear it, Cecil. See how bright the west is!"