“I have said that we are not midnight marauders, Colonel Howard,” he replied: “but if any there be here, who will deign to commit themselves to our keeping, I trust it will not be necessary to say, at this hour, what will be their reception.” “We have not time for unnecessary compliments,” cried the impatient Barnstable; “here is Merry, who, by years and blood, is a suitable assistant for them, in arranging their little baggage--what say you, urchin, can you play the lady's maid on emergency?” “Ay, sir, and better than I acted the peddler boy,” cried the gay youngster; “to have my merry cousin Kate and my good cousin Cicely for shipmates, I could play our common grandmother! Come, coz, let us be moving; you will have to allow a little leeway in time, for my awkwardness.” “Stand back, young man,” said Miss Howard, repulsing his familiar attempt to take her arm; and then advancing, with a maidenly dignity, nigher to her guardian, she continued, “I cannot know what stipulations have been agreed to by my cousin Plowden, in the secret treaty she has made this night with Mr. Barnstable: this for myself, Colonel Howard, I would have you credit your brother's child when she says, that to her, the events of the hour have not been more unexpected than to yourself.” The veteran gazed at her, for a moment, with an expression of his eye that denoted reviving tenderness; but gloomy doubts appeared to cross his mind again, and he shook his head, as he walked proudly away. “Nay, then,” added Cecilia, her head dropping meekly on her bosom, “I may be discredited by my uncle, but I cannot be disgraced without some act of my own.” She slowly raised her mild countenance again, and bending her eyes on her lover, she continued, while a rich rush of blood passed over her fine features: “Edward Griffith, I will not, I cannot say how humiliating it is to think that you can, for an instant, believe I would again forget myself so much as to wish to desert him whom God has given me for a protector, for one chosen by my own erring passions. And you, Andrew Merry! Learn to respect the child of your mother's sister, if not for her own sake, at least for that of her who watched your cradle!” “Here appears to be some mistake.” said Barnstable, who participated, however, in no trifling degree, in the embarrassment of the abashed boy; “but, like all other mistakes on such subjects, it can be explained away, I suppose. Mr. Griffith, it remains for you to speak--damn it, man,” he whispered, “you are as dumb as a codfish--I am sure so fine a woman is worth a little fair-weather talk:--you are muter than a four-footed beast--even an ass can bray!”