“My presence disturbs you,” said Miss Peyton, rising; “I will leave you with my nephew, and offer those prayers in private that I did wish to mingle with his.”
So saying, she withdrew, followed by the landlady.
The minister stood erect, with grave composure, following with his eye the departure of the females. A third voice spoke.
“Who’s that?” cried the prisoner, in amazement, gazing around the room in quest of the speaker.
“It is I, Captain Wharton,” said Harvey Birch, removing the spectacles, and exhibiting his piercing eyes shining under a pair of false eyebrows.
“Good Heaven—Harvey!”
“Silence,” said the peddler, solemnly; “’tis a name not to be mentioned, and least of all here, within the heart of the American army.” Birch paused and gazed around him for a moment, with an emotion exceeding the base passion of fear, and then continued in a gloomy tone: “There are a thousand halters in that very name, and little hope would there be left me of another escape, should I be again taken. This is a fearful venture that I am making; but I could not sleep in quiet, and know that an innocent man was about to die the death of a dog, when I might save him.”
“No,” said Henry, with a glow of generous feeling on his cheek; “if the risk to yourself be so heavy, retire as you came, and leave me to my fate. Dunwoodie is making, even now, powerful exertions in my behalf; and if he meets with Mr. Harper in the course of the night, my liberation is certain.”
“Harper!” echoed the peddler, remaining with his hands raised, in the act of replacing his spectacles; “what do you know of Harper, and why do you think he will do you service?”
“I have his promise; you remember our recent meeting in my father’s dwelling, and he then gave me an unasked promise to assist me.”