The times which tried men's souls came on, and severe as the struggle was, to rend from his heart-strings all that he had most venerated, he failed not to do it. He gave himself to his suffering country; he cast his all into the scale; and though infirmities prevented him from personally engaging in her cause, his advice and counsel were not wanting. He had sent his son, a noble youth of twenty, to join Sumpter, with such hardy spirits as would follow him, and himself retired to his family mansion, to rouse the western mountaineers.
His daughter—Maria Edwards—how can I describe her? I have seen faces more delicately fair, but never one so calculated to express the varying emotions of the soul. The eye that now slumbered under that dark and beautifully-pencilled brow, and now instinct with life and spirit, flashed with sudden light, how beautiful it was! at one time awing by its deep and pure tranquillity, at another, startling by its brilliancy. Why should I try so vain a task, as to note down the items of that spiritual loveliness which one may feel but not portray? Do you, most imaginative reader, spare me the pains of so futile an attempt; recall to your memory the vision of her who once shone in your eyes the polar star of your affections; the rich and perfect form that glided before you in your moments of purest and holiest feeling, while your rapt sight rested entranced upon her every motion, and your head was dizzy with excess of loveliness, and your full soul throbbed in your bounding pulses, as you followed the object of your idolatry. The eye, which beamed upon you with insufferable light, the brightness of whose glance was your life, and which, when it fell upon you, thrilled through blood and bone. The hand, whose light and fairy touch could bind you more strongly than that of a giant, and whose gentle pressure was more to you than all the world beside; the fair, calm brow, on whose polished surface heaven had set the impress of its own purity and innocence. Does memory recall such a being? Such, but more spiritually beautiful, was Maria Edwards. Such she was, worthy to be daughter, sister, bride, of the men of olden times. She was indeed qualified to rouse the sleeping spirit of chivalry into action—into deep, firm, and unchanging devotedness to the cause of truth and principle. Startled from a prophetic reverie of the future independence of her country, by the rude clamor and clash of steel without, she at once comprehended the horror of her situation. Her father, her idolized father, had long been the object of suspicion to the invaders, and nothing but the danger of sending a detachment into the neighborhood of the mountain fastnesses, had prevented him from being long since a prisoner; but now, after the defeat of Sumpter, at Hanging Rock, they deemed the spirit of the country broken. Now the hour of peril was come, and that fair girl braced herself to do and dare. The rich color passed from her face, but resolution enthroned itself on that high, pale brow. She descended calmly to the room where her parents were, and found her mother, with more of woman in her composition, clinging in wild terror to the arms of her husband. Fear knew no place in Mr. Edwards's mind, but the sight of his weeping and fainting wife, as she hung upon him in despair, well nigh unmanned him.
Maria gently unclasped her mother's hand, and twining her own fond arms around her, whispered, 'Mother, if you love my father, let him prepare himself for this emergency.' She felt the appeal, and with a violent effort, subduing her emotion, permitted him to leave the room, though her tearful and straining eyes followed his retreating form with an ardent gaze. Mr. Edwards turned, as he reached the door, for one more look, and for a moment stood irresolute; but the violent knocking without, roused him into action. As he turned away, the clear, calm voice of his daughter thrilled on his ear: 'Remember, my father, you have a name, a country, and a God!' 'I do, I will!' was his energetic reply, as he ordered the servant to open the door, which now rang with redoubled blows.
It opened, and the venerable form and silver hair of the old man stood in strong contrast with the inflamed features and violent gestures of the officer who commanded the party. Violent and ruthless as he was, he retreated with involuntary respect; but soon recovering his roughness of manner, he demanded why an officer of the king was forced to stand so long before the door of his subject.
'I thank heaven, Sir,' said Mr. Edwards, 'that your King has few subjects here, and among those few, you are much mistaken if you number me. You are the first, Sir, who has ever had occasion to impeach the hospitality of my house; the first whom I could not heartily bid welcome.'
'Tis very well, Sir,' replied Captain G——, 'but, by Heaven! I carry with me the means of making myself at home, and scorn to accept as a favor the forced hospitality of a hoary and ungrateful traitor, when I can command it as my due. As long as rebellion finds a place in this land, I am at free quarters. You, Sir, and your treasonable practices, are well known; and you will prepare yourself to accompany me, within this hour, to meet the doom of a traitor.'
'Show me your warrant, even from your illegal authorities, if indeed you cover your violence under the pretence of law.'
'Here is one warrant,' said the officer, touching his sword, 'and there are fifty more without, if you wish to see them.'
'A most convincing authority, Sir, and one which, as I cannot resist, I must yield to. A few minutes to prepare, and then——'
'Well, Sir, yourself and family must be ready within an hour. Collins, let the men dismount, and take care of their horses; and hark ye, put careful fellows round the house, and see if you can get any of the dark skins to join you. Promise freedom, you know, and all that; and when we get to head quarters, we will see about a shipment to Jamaica. Do you hear me, Sir?