“What do you mean?” demanded Walter, swelling with passion.
“Do not feign, maiden. Thy heart is rejoicing that the enemies of the righteous are escaped.”
“You are not wrong there, sir,” said Walter.
“I tell thee,” said the captain, sternly, “thy joy shall be turned to mourning. Thou shalt see thy mother thrown into a dungeon, and thou and thy sisters shall beg your bread, unless—”
Walter could not endure these empty threats, and exclaimed, “You know you have no power to do this. Is this what you call manliness to use such threats to a poor girl in your power? Out upon you!”
“Ha!” said the rebel, considerably surprised at the young lady’s manner of replying. “Is it thus the malignants breed up their daughters, in insolence as well as deceit?”
The last word made Walter entirely forget his assumed character, and striking at the captain with all his force, he exclaimed, “Take that, for giving the lie to a gentleman.”
“How now?” cried the rebel, seizing his arm. Walter struggled, the hood fell back. “’Tis the boy! Ha! deceived again! Here! search the house instantly, every corner. I will not be balked a second time.”
He rushed out of the room, while Walter, rending off the hood, threw himself into his mother’s arms, exclaiming, “O mother dear, I bore it as long as I could.”
“My dear rash boy!” said she. “But is he safe? No, do not say where. Thanks, thanks to heaven. Now I am ready for anything!” and so indeed her face proved.