But the latter hesitated. His glance rested on the figure of Grace, so graceful and almost spiritual, as it was brought forward in the shadowy moonlight.
“My brother, my own dear brother! What joy!” cried Georgiana, springing out eagerly to meet him; while Grace, startled and terrified at the idea of a stranger, hastily withdrew. General Lincoln at the same instant received a summons from below.
“Dearest Georgiana,” said the young man, “I am glad to see you again; looking, too, as lovely as ever, or else this evening hour deceives me. I fear me, though, you will deem yourself but little fortunate in my return, for I come back in no agreeable mood, I assure you.” So saying he entered, and threw himself listlessly on a lounge in the room.
“But I do rejoice to see you, dear Charles,” replied his sister, seating herself by his side, and gently stroking back the dark hair from his brow. “You will remain with us for a time, and we will be so happy.”
“Happy!” he exclaimed, with bitterness, “I see little prospect of my ever being happy in this life; or at least whilst our father continues this unjust persecution of the unpretending and religious settlers on the borders.”
He then proceeded to pour out to Georgiana the miserable intrigues in which Gen. Lincoln was engaged, and the embassy on which he had himself been absent. “But, my sister,” he continued, “I have resolved to take no further part in this accursed policy toward a defenseless and religious people. I have long enough worked out the will of others—a mere machine in the hands of my ambitious parent, who is striving by the course of heartless persecution I have described, to please a jealous monarch and a scheming court. The instigating of the Indians to massacre the Puritans, and exterminate their settlements, will cry aloud for vengeance.”
“Yes,” continued Charles, in an excited tone, “their death-shrieks are ever in my ears—in the dark night their massacre is ever before my eyes, in the day, heavy and dark upon my spirits—never away from me can it be in the future, but will haunt me throughout my desolate life, and seem to be calling on me to take vengeance against my father.”
“You talk wildly, dearest brother,” said Georgiana, looking at him in some alarm. “How canst thou be desolate with thy sister to love thee. And speak not of taking vengeance against our father, for that is God’s, even toward the humblest adversary, and not to be named by a son against his father.”
“Nay,” he answered, “hear me. I have just come from one of their exterminated villages, where, in the character of a spy, I resided among them some months ago, unsuspected by their guileless simplicity, and receiving their humble hospitalities. On my return thither recently, to visit one to whom I had become dearly attached, I found the place in ruins, and the hapless villagers destroyed by the firebrands of Gen. Lincoln’s emissaries.” He seemed overcome with his emotions, and rested his head on his hand for some moments in deep reflection.
His sister appeared not less affected with sadness, and held his hand silently.