Nothing could prevail upon her to touch the coin, and so at last Richard turned away.
“Hist!” she said, holding him a moment, “’tis said there is a Continental force near Brunswick; keep to the southwest.”
“Thank you, and God keep you!” And the gathering shadows swallowed him up.
At that very moment, on board the prison-ship Good Hope, Eustace Singleton was listening to the story of his death from the obsequious warden, and wondering how he was to write it to Betty.
And far away in Hillsboro’ Joscelyn and Betty were going slowly home in bitter disappointment, after seeing the post-rider distribute his few letters, and finding there was nothing for them. How many and how long had been the weeks since they wrote to Eustace; for then it was summer-time, and now the red and ochre tints of the autumn flamed in the woodlands. And still Betty cried, and still Joscelyn counselled patience.