Was he dreaming? was it a mockery or a delusion that he saw Rose there--not dead--not even dying; but with her eyes seeking for him--blood already mantling in her pale cheek? And he learned that the blow of the felon's tulwar had--though cutting her tender forehead--only stunned her, for the hand of Macgregor had caused the blade to turn in his grasp! Some bright beams often fall from the gloomiest sky. So husband and wife had met again, and--after all they had undergone--survived to spend the coming Christmas at home in old England, and to hear the merry chimes in their peaceful Kentish village ring out upon the frosty air the message of Peace and Goodwill to All. [Illustration: Chapter 8 headpiece] THE STORY OF LIEUTENANT JAMES MOODY OF BARTON'S REGIMENT. [Illustration: Chapter 8 tailpiece] THE STORY OF LIEUTENANT JAMES MOODY OF BARTON'S REGIMENT. The exploits of this adventurous but forgotten Scot, who nearly perished miserably on an American scaffold, like Major André of the Cameronians, surpassed in some respects even those of Captain Colquhoun Grant, the famous scouting officer of Wellington, so extolled by Napier in his 'History of the Peninsular War.' During the progress of the strife with our revolted colonists in America, he rendered himself famous by the skill and audacity with which he intercepted many of their mails and brought them into New York, then the British headquarters after the Battle of Long Island. In May, 1780, when an ensign, with four trusty soldiers he penetrated into New Jersey, for the purpose of surprising Governor Livingstone, who cruelly oppressed the royalists, but failing to achieve his capture, his next idea was to blow up the magazine at Suckasanna, which also proved abortive, as he found it guarded by above one hundred bayonets. On being joined by a few soldiers who had been taken with Burgoyne at Saratoga, he entered the mountainous county of Sussex, in the principal gaol of which, he learned, several prisoners were confined for their loyalty, and among them a poor soldier of Burgoyne's, who had been doomed to death; merely for being a royalist. Moody determined on achieving the release of this man and all the other prisoners. Selecting six men he came to the gaol door late at night, and his business was demanded by the keeper from an open window. 'I have here a prisoner to put into your custody,' he replied. 'Is he one of Moody's fellows?' asked the gaoler, at a venture. 'Yes, exactly so,' replied the ensign, giving the name of some noted Tory in the neighbourhood, and desiring the keeper to come for him. The latter declined, saying that 'Moody was about, and he had orders to admit no man after sunset.' 'I am Ensign Moody,' said that officer sternly; 'I have a strong party with me, and if you do not surrender your keys, I will blow the place about your ears!' His men now imitated the Indian war-whoop, and shouted, 'The Indians--the Indians have come!'