Out of it fell two letters. The writing was my cousin Dorothy's; and, trembling all over in spite of myself, I broke the seal of the first. It was undated: "DEAREST,--Your letter from Oriskany is before me. I am here in your room, the door locked, alone with your letter, overwhelmed with love and tenderness and fear for you. "They tell me that you have been made colonel of a regiment, and the honor thrills yet saddens me--all those colonels killed at Oriskany! Is it a post of special danger, dear? "Oh, my brave, splendid lover! with your quiet, steady eyes and your bright hair--you angel on earth who found me a child and left me an adoring woman--can it be that in this world there is such a thing as death for you? And could the world last without you? * * * * * "Ah me! dreary me! the love that is in me! Who could believe it? Who could doubt that it is divine and not inspired by hell as I once feared; it is so beautiful, so hopelessly beautiful, like that faint thrill of splendor that passes shadowing a dream where, for an instant, we think to see a tiny corner of heaven sparkling out through a million fathoms of terrific night.... Did you ever dream that? * * * * * "We have been gay here. Young Mr. Van Rensselaer came from Albany to heal the breach with father. We danced and had games. He is a good young man, this patroon and patriot. Listen, dear: he permitted all his tenants to join the army of Gates, cancelled their rent-rolls during their service, and promised to provide for their families. It will take a fortune, but his deeds are better than his words. "Only one thing, dear, that troubled me. I tell it to you, as I tell you everything, knowing you to be kind and pitiful. It is this: he asked father's permission to address me, not knowing I was affianced. How sad is hopeless love! "There was a battle at Bennington, where General Stark's men whipped the Brunswick troops and took equipments for a thousand cavalry, so that now you should see our Legion of Horse, so gay in their buff-and-blue and their new helmets and great, spurred jack-boots and bright sabres! "Ruyven was stark mad to join them; and what do you think? Sir Lupus consented, and General Schuyler lent his kind offices, and to-day, if you please, my brother is strutting about the yard in the uniform of a Cornet of Legion cavalry! "To-night the squadron leaves to chase some of McDonald's renegades out of Broadalbin. You remember Captain McDonald, the Glencoe brawler?--it's the same one, and he's done murder, they say, on the folk of Tribes Hill. I am thankful that Ruyven is in Sir George Covert's squadron.