"You are to take my horse Cato, and ride with this message to the British barrier at King's Bridge. It is for the officer in command there. When the sentries challenge you, show this, and say it is of the greatest consequence and must be delivered at once." "Yes, Miss Elizabeth." "The commander," she went on, "will probably send here a body of troops at once, to convey this prisoner within the lines. You are to return with them. If no time is lost, and they send mounted troops, you should be back in an hour." Peyton could hardly repress a start. "An hour at most, miss, if nothing stops," said the negro. "If any officer of my acquaintance is in command," said Elizabeth, "there will be no delay. Cuff shall let the troops in, through that hall, as soon as they arrive." Whereupon the black man, a stalwart and courageous specimen of his race, went rapidly from the room. "One hour!" murmured Peyton, looking at the clock. Molly, the maid, now reappeared, carrying carefully in one hand a cup, from which a thin steam ascended. "What is't now, Molly?" inquired Elizabeth, rising from her chair. Molly blushed and was much confused. "Tea, ma'am, if you please! I thought, maybe, you'd allow the gentleman--" "Very well," said Elizabeth. "Be the good Samaritan if you like, child. His tea-drinking days will soon be over. Come, aunt Sally, we shall be in better company elsewhere." And she returned to the dining-room, not deigning her prisoner another look. Miss Sally followed, but her feelings required confiding in some one, and before she went she whispered to the embarrassed maid, "Oh, Molly, to think so sweet a young gentleman should be completely wasted!" Molly heaved a sigh, and then approached the young gentleman himself, with whom she was now alone, saving the presence of the slumbering Valentine. "So your name is Molly? And you've brought me tea this time?" "Yes, sir,--if you please, sir." She took up the bowl from the chair and placed the cup in its stead. "I put sugar in this, sir, but if you'd rather--" "I'd rather have it just as you've made it, Molly," he said, in a singularly gentle, unsteady tone. He raised the cup, and sipped. "Delicious, Molly!--Hah! Your mistress thinks my tea-drinking days will soon be over." "I'm very sorry, sir." "So am I." He held the cup in his left hand, supporting his upright body with his right arm, and looked rather at vacancy than at the maid. "Never to drink tea again," he said, "or wine or spirits, for that matter! To close your eyes on this fine world! Never again to ride after the hounds, or sing, or laugh, or chuck a pretty girl under the chin!" And here, having set down the cup, he chucked Molly herself under the chin, pretending a gaiety he did not feel.