"No, indeed, madam," said M'Arthur, turning again round, but now with a look of intense curiosity; for, although his answer had been in the negative, the tones of the voice were familiar to him.
"Don't you know Miss M'Donald—Flora M'Donald—Mr M'Arthur?" rejoined the lady, smiling.
"Gracious heaven! is it possible?" exclaimed Mr M'Arthur, now aware that she who spoke to him was no other than the daughter of his employer, between whom and himself there had long been a secret and unavowed attachment—an attachment which they had never breathed to each other, but which did not the less certainly exist.
The exclamation of surprise and delight—for this feeling was also strongly expressed in it—which we have just recorded, Mr M'Arthur followed up, by inquiring how she had come into the dreadful situation in which he had found her.
This Miss M'Donald briefly explained, by stating that a party of insurgent negroes had attacked her father's premises, burned his mills to the ground, plundered his house, and, on their retreat, had carried her along with them.
Much more than this passed between the lovers, thus strangely brought together; but we do not think it necessary to record it; and, therefore, not to interrupt the progress of our story, we proceed to land them safely at Mr M'Donald's residence, a short distance from Kingston, where Mr M'Arthur left his fair charge, and proceeded himself to the town just named—Mr M'Donald being there at the moment, on some matters connected with the insurrection. On his finding the latter—
"Oh, Mr M'Arthur!" he exclaimed, in great agitation and distress of mind, "isn't this a dreadful business! I'm ruined—ruined for ever! I can no longer hold up my head—I can no longer be good for anything in this world!"
"Dear me, sir," said M'Arthur, "has the destruction of your property been so great?"
"Destruction of my property!" reiterated Mr M'Donald; "no—no; that is nothing—nothing at all. A few thousands will repair that. It's the loss of my daughter I bewail—my poor, dear Flora!" And he burst into tears. "You have doubtless heard, Mr M'Arthur," he continued, after a short while, "that the ruffians have carried her off, God knows whither; and her death—worse than her death—is, I fear, certain."
"Mr M'Donald," said Mr M'Arthur, "be no longer under any uneasiness regarding your daughter. She is safe, and at this moment under her father's roof, unscathed, unharmed."