“And was this the first of his visits out of the uniform of his regiment?” asked the colonel, in a suppressed voice, avoiding the penetrating looks of his companions.
“Oh! the very first,” exclaimed the eager girl. “His first offense, I do assure you, if offense it be.”
“But you wrote him—you urged the visit; surely, young lady, you wished to see your brother?” added the impatient colonel.
“That we wished it, and prayed for it,—oh, how fervently we prayed for it!—is true; but to have held communion with the royal army would have endangered our father, and we dared not.”
“Did he leave the house until taken, or had he intercourse with any out of your own dwelling?”
“With none—no one, excepting our neighbor, the peddler Birch.”
“With whom!” exclaimed the colonel, turning pale, and shrinking as from the sting of an adder.
Dunwoodie groaned aloud, and striking his head with his hand, cried in piercing tones, “He is lost!” and rushed from the apartment.
“But Harvey Birch,” repeated Frances, gazing wildly at the door through which her lover had disappeared.
“Harvey Birch!” echoed all the judges. The two immovable members of the court exchanged looks, and threw an inquisitive glance at the prisoner.