Thus saying, she threw back her hood, and Francis, who had before discovered his own features, recognised those of Jane Lambert. “I bear you a note from your cousin Katharine,” she added, as he started at her utterance of his name. She drew it forth from her bosom, and placed it in his hand. He turned from her that he might read it without observation; but Jane could see by his action that he kissed it, and pressed it to his heart. With a glance it was perused, and then again and again; and with a bent head and staggering step he moved a few paces from Jane, and spoke in tones of anguish to himself words which she could not distinguish. At last, collecting himself, he returned towards the fair messenger of his Katharine, with a manly composure, and said, “Tell my beloved cousin that I will obey; that her wish is as a law to me: how could she dream that I would suffer the words of any one to outweigh her own?--but, she tells me that you are her devoted and faithful friend, and that to you I may safely intrust the object of my return, and the news of my father. There is, indeed, one subject on which she forbids me to speak even to herself; therefore my answer may be brief enough. My father is well:--all her kinsfolk in the Plantations are well, and free, and happy. For the object of my sudden return--it is the love of my country--a love that will not accept a divided heart; and yet the other love that lay enshrined beside it, was pure, was noble, was worthy such alliance, has filled my thoughts by day, has blessed the visions of my lonely nights. Tell Katharine she hath used me hardly--no, no, do not tell her that--not hardly--say that she bids me do something I cannot do--I am not of her order--forget her I never can--she is with me wherever I go--in all things that I do I think of her--and still must, if I would have fair and noble thoughts to bear me company.” “Such things, Master Francis, I may not carry to her ear. There is about her a reserve so maidenly and grave, she would chide her own messenger for proving so unfaithful;--but I may tell her that your father is well; that loyalty hath brought you home; and that you will quit these parts instantly--for that it is, methinks, she most earnestly requests of you.” “Even so: on that she is most urgent--cruel Katharine.” “Say, rather, wise, dutiful, loyal Katharine.” “Loyal, loyal!--that is a word of many imports. I, too, am loyal, and will learn to love the word:--mind you tell her that I am loyal.” “Can I truly tell her so?”