Pale as death, and nearly as calm, Edith awaited his coming. She could not hope to influence this man or his associates. She knew her fate now--it was death!--death by her own hand, before that man's foot should profane her threshold! She knew her fate, and knowing it, grew calm and strong. There were no more hopes or fears or doubts or trepidations. Over the weakness of the flesh the spirit ruled victorious, and Edith stood revealed to herself richly endowed with that heroism she had so worshiped in others--in that supreme moment mistress of herself and of her fate. To die by her own hand! but not rashly--not till a trial should be made--not till the last moment. And how beautiful in this last fateful moment she looked! The death pallor had passed from her countenance--the summer breeze was lifting the light black curls--soft shadows were playing upon the pearly brow--a strange elevation irradiated her face, and it "shone as it had been the face of an angel." "By George! boys, what a pretty wench! Keep back, you d----d rascals!" (for the men had dismounted and were pressing behind him) "keep back, I say, you drunken ----! Let rank have precedence in love as in other things! Your turn may come afterward! Ho! pretty mistress, has your larder the material to supply my men with a meal?" Edith glanced around for her attendants. Jenny lay upon the hall floor, fallen forward upon her face, in a deep swoon. Oliver stood out upon the lawn, his teeth chattering, and his knees knocking together with terror, yet faintly meditating a desperate onslaught to the rescue with his wooden rake. "No matter! for first of all we must have a taste of those dainty lips; stand back, bl--t you," he vociferated with a volley of appalling oaths, that sent the disorderly men, who were again crowding behind him, back into the rear; "we would be alone, d---- you; do you hear?" The drunken soldiers fell back, and he advanced toward Edith, who stood calm in desperate resolution. She raised her hand to supplicate or wave him off, he did not care which--her other hand, hanging down by her side, grasped the pistol, which she concealed in the folds of her dress. "Hear me," she said, "one moment, I beseech you!" The miscreant paused. "Proceed, my beauty! Only don't let the grace before meat be too long." "I am a soldier's child," said Edith; her sweet, clear voice slightly quavering like the strings of a lute over which the wind has passed; "I am a soldier's child--my father died gallantly on the field of battle. You are soldiers, and will not hurt a soldier's orphan daughter." "Not for the universe, my angel; bl----t 'em! let any of 'em hurt a hair of your head! I only want to love you a little, my beauty! that's all!--only want to pet you to your heart's content;" and the brute made a step toward her. "Hear me!" exclaimed Edith, raising her hand.