"He had practised under London fencing-masters, as he but now admitted," replied Colden, grumpily. "He made no secret of his desertion; and in a coffee-house discussion I said it was a dastardly act. So we--fought. Since then I've met officers of the regiment he left. Such a thing was never known before,--the desertion of an officer of the Sixty-third,--and General Grant, its colonel, has the word of Sir Henry Clinton that this fellow shall hang if they ever catch him." "Then I hope my horse will carry him into their hands!" said Elizabeth, heartily. "My poor Cato! I shall never see him again!" "We may get him back some day," said Colden, for want of aught better to say. "If you can do that, John Colden, and have this rebel hanged who dared treat me so--" Elizabeth paused, and her look dwelt on the major's face. "Well?" "Then I think I shall almost be really in love with you!" But Colden sighed. "A rare promise from one's betrothed!" "Heavens, Jack!" said Elizabeth, now diverted from the thought of her horse. "Don't I do the best I can to love you? I'm sure I come as near loving you as loving anybody. What more can I do than that, and promising my hand? Don't look dismal, major, I pray,--and now make haste back to New York." "How can I go and leave you exposed to the chance of another visit from some troop of rebels?" pleaded Colden, in a kind of peevish despair, taking up his hat from the settle. "Oh, that fellow showed no disposition to injure _me_!" she answered, reassuringly. "Trust me to take care of myself." "But promise that if there's any sign of danger, you will fly to New York." "That will depend on the circumstances. I may be safer in this house than on the road." "Then, at least, you will have guns fired, and also send a man to one of our outposts for help?" There was no pretence in the young man's solicitude. Such a bride as Elizabeth Philipse was not to be found every day. The thought of losing her was poignant misery to him. "To which one?" she asked. "The Hessian camp by Tippett's Brook, or the Highlanders', at Valentine's Hill?" "No," said Colden, meditating. "Those may be withdrawn if the weather is bad. Send to the barrier at King's Bridge,--but if your man meets one of our patrols or pickets on the way, so much the better. Good-by! I shall see your father to-night, and then rejoin my regiment on Staten Island." He took her hand, bent over it, and kissed it. "Be careful you don't fall in with those rebel dragoons," said Elizabeth, lightly, as his lips dwelt on her fingers. "No danger of that," put in old Valentine, from the settle, for the moment ceasing to chew an imaginary cud. "They took the road to Mile Square." The octogenarian's hearing was better than his sight. "I shall notify our officers below that this rebel force is out," said Colden, "and our dragoons may cut it off somewhere. Farewell, then! I shall return for you in a week." "In a week," repeated Elizabeth, indifferently.