"For good or for evil our vow is now registered in heaven," replied Mildred, "and we must abide the end."
"I would not have it other than it is, dearest girl, except this stern resolve of your father—not for the world's wealth," said Butler warmly. "But you spoke of this Tyrrel—what manner of man is he? How might I know him?"
"To know him would answer no good end, Arthur. His soul is absorbed in stratagem, and my dear father is its prey. I too am grievously tormented by him; but it is no matter, I need not vex your ear with the tale of his annoyance."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Butler with a sudden expression of resentment.
"All that concerns my father, concerns me," said Mildred. "It is my evil destiny, Arthur, to be compelled to endure the associations of men, whose principles, habits, purposes, are all at war with my own. Alas, such are now my father's constant companions. This man Tyrrel, whose very name is a cheat put on, I doubt not, to conceal him from observation—goes farther than the rest in the boldness of his practice. I have some misgiving that he is better acquainted with the interest you take in me, than we might suspect possible to a stranger. I fear him. And then, Arthur, it is my peculiar misery that he has lately set up a disgusting pretension to my regard. Oh! I could give him, if my sex had strength to strike, the dagger, sooner than squander upon him one kind word. Yet am I obliged by circumstance to observe a strained courtesy towards him, which, frugal as it is, makes me an unwilling hypocrite to my own heart."
"Tyrrel," ejaculated Butler, "Tyrrel! I have heard no such name abroad!" then, muttering a deep curse, as he bit his lip with passion, he added, "Oh, that I could face this man, or penetrate his foul purpose! How is it likely I might meet him?"
"You shall have no temptation to a quarrel," said Mildred; "your quick resentment would but give activity to his venom. For the sake of my peace, Arthur, and of your own, inquire no further. Time may disclose more than rash pursuit."
"Leave that to sister Mildred and myself, major," said Henry, who listened with great interest to this conversation, "I have my eye upon him—let that satisfy you; and when sister Mildred puts up the game, depend upon it, I will bring him down."
"Thanks, thanks, dear Henry! I can trust you for a ready friend, and will even follow your good advice. A more favorable season for this concern may soon arrive; meantime, I will bear this hint in mind."
Again Henry made an appeal to the lovers to bring their conference to an end. It was a sorrowful moment, the events of which were brief, earnest and impassioned, and such as a dull scribbler, like myself, might easily mar in the telling; yet they were such as zealous and eager natures, who have loved with an intense and absorbing love, and who have parted in times of awful danger and uncertainty, may perchance be able to picture to themselves, when they recall the most impressive incident of their lives to memory. I will only say, that, in that dark shade where the beech tree spread his canopy of leaves over the cool bank, and marked his shadow's profile on the green sward—that grassy sward, on which "the constant moon" lit up the dewy lamps, hung by the spider on blade and leaf; and in that silent time, when the distant water-fall came far-sounding on the ear, when sleepless insects chirped in the thicket, and dogs, at some remote homestead, howled bugle-like to the moon; and in that chill hour, when Mildred drew her kerchief close around her dew-besprinkled shoulders, whilst Arthur, fondly and affectionately, half enveloped her in the folds of a military cloak, as he whispered words of tender parting in her ear, and imprinted a kiss upon her cheek; and when, moreover, Henry's teeth chattered like a frozen warder's, then it was, and there, that this enthusiastic girl again pledged her unalterable devotion to the man of her waking thoughts and nightly dreams, come weal, come woe, whatever might betide; and the soldier paid back the pledge with new ardor and endearment, in the strong language that came unstudied from the heart, meaning all that he said, and rife with a feeling beyond the reach of words. And, after "mony a locked and fond embrace," full tearfully, and lingeringly, and, in phrase oft repeated, the two bade "farewell," and invoked God's blessing each upon the other, and then, not without looking back, and breathing a fresh prayer of blessings, they separated on their dreary way, Mildred retiring, as she had come, on the arm of her brother, and Butler, springing hurriedly into the skiff and directing its swift passage to the middle of the stream, where, after a pause to enable him to discern the last footsteps of his mistress, as her form glided into the obscure distance, he sighed a low "God bless her," then resumed his oar, and sturdily drove his boat against the "opponent bank."