Irene offered no resistance as Kingman drew her close to him, and, twining one arm around her, commenced the recital of his adventures. The night had now come on, and the room was dark, save where the mellow moonlight streamed within the half open door. Not another soul was in the house, save the two lovers. There was a delicious feeling that came over both, as they were together, _alone!_ where no curious eyes were gazing upon them, and no inquisitive ears were bent to catch their sacred words. Kingman proceeded, and, in a low tone, related all that has been given to the reader. As he spoke of the fearful escapes he had passed through, he could feel the heart of Irene flutter painfully, and she would start involuntarily when he referred to the sudden deliverances from all of them. The hours unnoticed flew by, and still they sat and conversed. “Did you see father and mother?” asked Irene. “Yes, they were at home, talking with Edwards.” “It is time they returned, is it not?” “O, never fear! they will be along after a while.” “But it seems to me it must be late, for see there is scarcely any moonlight upon the floor as there was a while ago.” “Something must be in the way—helloa! there!” This exclamation came from Kingman as he raised his hat and saw both Mr. and Mrs. Stuart standing in the door. “Why, how long have you been there?” asked Irene, springing to her feet, and bundling around for the pine knot with which to light the room. “Not more than a couple of hours,” laughed Stuart. “Gracious alive! what do you suppose will become of you?” indignantly demanded his wife. “I am sure I have no idea. Why do you ask?” “Just think what an awful falsehood you told!” “Pray, what was it, my dear?” “Why, that we had been standing here over two hours, when you know we just arrived. Only think of it!” “I told no story, my dear. I said we had not been here over a couple of hours, and I don’t think you will pretend to contradict it.” “Well, it’s all the same,” snapped Mrs. Stuart, bouncing into the house. Irene, by this time, had succeeded in lighting the pine knot, which threw out an oily, smoky light, making every part of the room, however, perfectly visible. Kingman arose, and after bidding all a good night, stepped forth and made his way toward his home. The sky was clear, and the bright moon rendered objects very distinct at a great distance. He had nearly reached his destination when he encountered Moffat. “Ah! how’s this, Moffat? What keeps you out so late?” “Something different from what has kept you.” “It is of more importance?” “I think so, as it concerns the welfare of the settlement.” “Why, what is it, then? Out with it.”