"Heavens! no," said Adelaide, "but how could I dream of such horrors as these? I thought but of some bloodless disturbance, of the same nature with those we have lately witnessed. Tell me, if I may know, what makes you anticipate such dreadful events."

Warenne thought that he violated no duty if he seized this chance of placing his character in its proper light before Adelaide; he therefore simply related to her the occurrences which had taken place, and the measures which he had determined to adopt.

" I leave," said he, as soon as he had finished his explanation, "three troops still behind me at Calbury, under the command of Frank, so that you will not be destitute of protection."

"Oh, I am not afraid for myself," answered Adelaide, "but have you told me all? I beg your pardon, if I have asked an impertinent question; do not answer it if I have; but there is a tone of desperation in your manner which alarms me."

At this moment it flashed upon Adelaide's mind that Warenne's feelings might in some way have reference to herself, she therefore hastily added, " Forgive me. I am two inquisitive."

"I know not," replied Warenne, "why I should withhold from you the causes of my uneasiness. You will perceive, that in my present position, I am forced to act upon my own responsibility in opposition to the express and repeated orders of my commanding officer. Whether I succeed in my undertaking, or whether I fail, I make myself liable to be brought to a court-martial for a breach of military discipline; and I confess that I have not that confidence in General Mapleton which encourages me to hope that he will overlook an opportunity of establishing his authority over an officer, whom he considers, though God knows without reason, as inclined to treat him with impertinence. I can hardly look forward to any thing but disgrace in this affair, view it which way I will. This is not a pleasing reflection, nor one that reconciles me to the prospect of a bloody affray with some of my misguided fellow-countrymen. I have little enough to boast of, but if of any thing, it is my fair fame as a soldier-that lost, I am poor indeed; but forgive me, Miss Marston, I have no right to talk thus of myself to you. There is no limit, it would seem, to my presumption, -yet, as I have said thus much, let me beg you not to condemn me hastily; -when the world points its finger of scorn at me, and when I am a dishonoured and ruined man, think of the difficulties in which I have been placed, and

do not, I beseech you do not cast me from your remembrance as utterly unworthy of all esteem. I can bear any thing but that-that" (as he spoke he pressed his hands violently upon his eyes, as if to shut out some object of horror) "I could not bear. You know not what value-but why do I speak thus to you? I am a fool, a madman! Pardon me-forget that I have dared to express the wild and presumptuous feelings of my heart. I have been wrong in giving utterance to them, but I can assure you, that I meant not to have spoken, that I did not seek this interview. I will not again betray my folly before you. Whatever I may feel, I will bury it in silence. God's mercy protect you!"

Having rapidly and passionately poured forth these broken sentences, Warenne rushed from the room, long before Adelaide, who, from the tone which had prevailed in their recent meetings, had been little prepared for such an avowal, had time to compose herself sufficiently to answer him. Ere she had regained her presence of mind, he had mounted his horse, and was on his road to Charnstead.

At first Adelaide gave herself up to the happy consciousness of being beloved by him to whom she had surrendered the first affections of her heart. In spite of all his proud resolutions, he had avowed it; and though she knew not when her hopes might be realized, she pictured to herself future years of happiness. After a while these bright visions faded from her mind, and she was tempted to despond; Warenne would not have looked so gloomily upon the case, had he not had reason so to do. Even success, she had been told, could hardly justify disobedience in military matters, and she herself saw that no general could be responsible for the operations of an army, if each subaltern under his command claimed the right to dispose of his own immediate force as he pleased. Then she dreaded the effect of disgrace upon Warenne's mind-proud and gallant as he was, he was sensitive on the score of honour, to a degree which his military education alone could explain.

By degrees she drew herself again from this train of thought; fixed her mind upon his unhesitating sacrifice of himself in the fulfilment of his duty; recollected his gallant actions in the Peninsula, which had won him his high name; thought of his calm courage in the hour of danger, and the almost instinctive sagacity with which he was wont to meet it; repeated to herself the many stories to his credit which Henry and Frank had gleaned from the old soldiers of the regiment; and comforted herself in the hope of his happy return amid the blessings of his rescued fellow-countrymen. His militry fault would be pardoned for the zeal he would show, and for the ability with which he would counteract the designs of the conspirators. She would see him return, crowned with fresh laurels, more beloved, more admired, more honoured than before.

CHAPTER XII.

There may be joys

د

Which to the strange o'erwhelming of the soul
Visit the lover's breast beyond all others;
E'en now, how dearly do I feel there may!
But what of them? they are not made for me,
The hasty flashes of contending steel
Must serve instead of glances of my love.

JOANNA BAILLIE'S Basil.

WHILE Adelaide thus soothed her perturbed spirit, Warenne's rose as he approached the scene of danger. His dark eye sparkled, and his noble brow expanded, when he again looked upon his old comrades, with whom he had passed triumphantly through so many fields; he turned his mind from the busy reminiscences of love, and with that power of abstraction which practical men possess, fixed it on the probable events of the coming evening. Adelaide's form, perhaps, sometimes met his mental eye, when it should have fallen upon the serried ranks of armed warriors, but he did not suffer even her form to occupy him to the prejudice of his duty. Its only effect was to stimulate him to a desire of fresh honours, that, whether he stood or fell, he might be deserving of her good opinion. He arrived at Charnstead about three o'clock, and found there the troop he had sent forward and the Charnstead troop, neither of them having yet started on their route to Fisherton. An express had arrived in the morning from Major Stuart, stating that in consequence of information he had received, he should only send the Fisherton troop as far as Swalesford, a place about five miles from Fisherton, and begging Captain Paulet to join them there, in time for them to enter Fisherton in a body shortly after dusk. Warenne immediately proceeded forward with the two troops, and picked up the Fisherton troop at Swalesford; when about a mile from the town, he galloped forward by himself, in order to communicate with Stuart about the disposition of the troops. He found that officer, and Mr. Seaforth, occupying his old quarters at the inn.

" I thought," said his friend Stuart, holding out his hand, "that yours would be the first soldier's face we should see tonight."

"And you would rather have seen any other," answered Waenne, laughing. "A senior officer is a sad bore on occasions like this. But what shall we have to do?"

Stuart laid before him the intelligence he had been able to collect since the alarm given by Nicholas, and Seaforth the result of his observations and inquiries, which he had unceasingly continued since their last interview. Both reports agreed in confirming the account of the intended attack upon the town, and stated the force of the insurgent peasantry at from seven to eight hundred, which was to be joined shortly before entering the place by a body of smugglers, mounted and well-armed, in number from one hundred and fifty to two hundred. To assist in the defence of the town, Seaforth had sworn in as special constables all the most respectable inhabitants, and such of the working classes as could be trusted. Warenne, in turn, informed them of the troops he brought with him, and of the disposition of them which he contemplated. They soon completed their arrangements. The soldiers were to be concentrated in the yard of the Cross Keys inn, which, as has been said, commanded both the entrances into the town. The by-streets, which were not practicable for cavalry, were consigned to the care of the constables, of whom a party was ordered to remove the women and children from the houses most open to attack. Arrangements were made to receive these poor outcasts in the dwellings of the wealthier townspeople, and in the parish church. Some of the neighbouring gentry who had come in, volunteered to act as scouts, and to give notice of the approach of the enemy. These measures being taken, Warenne placed himself under Seaforth's orders.

"I will not, you may depend upon it, call upon you unnecessarily," said Seaforth in return. "Till the work of devastation is commenced, or is so evidently on the point of commencement as not to be prevented by other means, I would not have you stir. I shall ride to meet the fellows, as soon as we hear of their approach, and try to deter them from their enterprise; if I fail, I must have recourse to you."

"You will fail," said Warenne, " and you will incur great danger in meeting them."

"Very likely," replied his spirited companion, " but it must be done."

During this time the three troops had arrived, and Warenne placed them for the present in some large farm stables and barns which were at the back of the inn. The horses remained bridled, and the men by them, ready to act on a moment's notice. He and Stuart then walked all over the town, and carefully examined each street, in order to be certain that no barricades were erected in any part, nor preparations made to embarrass the soldiery.

It was now past seven o'clock-the constables had brought in the inhabitants of the houses which they expected to be fired, and all was ready for the reception of the rioters. Eight o'clock struck--nine--ten, and Warenne and Seaforth were beginning to doubt whether the night for the attack had not been changed, when one of their most advanced scouts returned with the intelligence that all the labouring population, between Fisherton and the coast, seemed to be collecting on the coastroad, about three miles from the town.

Soon another, and another scout came with similar reports; and lastly Nicholas, who had returned from Calbury to the Plashetts at an early hour, and had ridden in to be of service to his friends, brought an account that a large body of mounted men had come up, and that they were marching together on the town. Warenne immediately drew his men out in front of the inn. Seaforth rode gently forward to meet the insurgents. They had halted to drill their ranks, and their leaders were ordering their variously armed forces to their respective places, having brought forward to the front the mounted smugglers, who were all armed with pistols and a cutlass.

Seaforth, with one or two of his friends, cantered up to them. He pulled up short when within about two horse-lengths of the leading rank, and with a loud voice demanded the meaning of the present tumultuous assembly, and the cause of their entering Fisherton at such an hour of night.

"I warn you," said he, "that you are breaking the king's peace, and acting contrary to the laws. I am a magistrate, and I charge you in the king's name to disperse immediately."

"We know you well enough, Mr. Seaforth," said a rough voice beside him, which he had heard before in his life, and which recalled unpleasant recollections; " I have reason to