"She has had--she has had her revenge," cried the wretched man; "death had been too cheap a retribution, and therefore it has been ordained in a life of misery,--and _such_ misery, oh heaven! Would to God I had died in her place, though it had been with a world hooting me to the scaffold. Yes, Jessie, I _am_ a villain, and thou knowest, how much greater and viler than ever was thought, even by thee. But thou shalt have justice," he added, beating his breast, "yes, thou and thy murdered babe, though I give up my children to be sacrificed to thy memory." "My father was right," muttered Hyland, as the foe of his family poured forth the wild expressions of a remorseful spirit; "he charged me to leave the destroyer of his peace to God and his fate; and God has made his fate an existence of retribution.--Arise, Colonel Falconer," he added, sternly; "profane this holy resting-place no longer with the mockery of repentance. Fly, and secure your wretched life for further remorse; for here it is in a danger of which you do not dream. Begone, and remember what I charged you----Hah! do you hear?" he cried, as a whistle as of a bird came from the forest behind and below the rocks. "Up for God's sake!" he cried, seizing the penitent by the arm, as if fear had supplied him with new strength, and hurrying him across the brook. "Begone, or you are a dead man. To the bushes, quick--to your horse, too, or your carriage. Dally not a moment, but begone. Say nothing of what you have seen or heard; and fear not for your children or friends--no harm is designed any of them. Away--save your own life, for no other is in danger." With these charges, pronounced in the greatest haste, he took his leave, recrossing the brook, while Colonel Falconer, torn now as much by fear as he had been a moment before by anguish, fled through the wood, and over the hill, until he had reached the mansion. Here calling for his servant, and ordering a horse to be saddled instantly for himself, and another for the attendant, he prepared to leave the house, which he did in a few moments, and almost without being observed, the wedding-guests having retreated to the garden and the pleasant walks behind it. CHAPTER V. The bridegroom's doors are open'd wide, And I am next of kin; The guests are met, the feast is set, May'st hear the merry din! COLERIDGE--_Ancient Mariner_. The Colonel galloped through the park and down the hill, until he had approached nigh enough to Elsie's cottage to see that its porch was darkened by the bodies of several men, moving about in what seemed to him extraordinary commotion. He grew pale, and finally, drawing up his horse, beckoned to his servant, a young and active mulatto, with an exceedingly bold and free visage, to approach: "Give me the larger pistols, Reuben," he cried, "and do you take the smaller holsters----'Pshaw, they are fiddling and dancing! It is nothing.--Follow."