CHAPTER XIII.
I DISPLAY MY INFINITE RESOURCES.
The morrow was full of anxiety and incident,
There was a skirmish with my aunt—a diversion to
be sure, but one of peril. There was also my distrust.
I was compelled to keep an unceasing eye
on Mr. Anthony, on Mrs. Emblem, on the soldiers,
on my Lady Grimstone, on Captain Grantley and
the document he held, and most of all on my own
susceptibilities. There was here plenty of material
for mischief. The conduct of the Captain was
abominable. Of the six troopers quartered on us,
five were despatched at daybreak to scour the surrounding
country for the rebel; the remaining one,
the Corporal, was retained in the library to protect
his commanding officer from the wiles of woman.
Never a doubt that Mr. Anthony had spoken true,
and that this prudent cowardice had struck my only
weapon from my hand. Only one means could
save his lordship now—the sacrifice of the poor
young fugitive.
I suppose it is the curse of persons of condition that the sword of pride swings above their heads, suspended tenderly on a single hair. The first breath of calumny brings it down. The Govern-
