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How he had seen Priscilla, and how he had

sped in his courtship,

Only smoothing a little, and softening down her refusal.

But when he came at length to the words

Priscilla had spoken,

Words so tender and cruel: "Why don't you speak for yourself, John?"

Up leaped the Captain of Plymouth, and stamped on the floor, till his armor

Clanged on the wall, where it hung, with a

sound of sinister omen.

All his pent-up wrath burst forth in a sudden explosion,

Even as a hand-grenade, that scatters destruction around it.

Wildly he shouted, and loud: "John Alden!

you have betrayed me!

Me, Miles Standish, your friend! have supplanted, defrauded, betrayed me!

One of my ancestors ran his sword through

the heart of Wat Tyler;

Who shall prevent me from running my own through the heart of a traitor?

Yours is the greater treason, for yours is a

treason to friendship!

You, who lived under my roof, whom I cherished and loved as a brother;

You, who have fed at my board, and drunk at my cup, to whose keeping

I have intrusted my honor, my thoughts the

most sacred and secret,

You too, Brutus! ah woe to the name of

friendship hereafter!

Brutus was Cæsar's friend, and you were mine,

but henceforward

Let there be nothing between us save war, and implacable hatred!"

So spake the Captain of Plymouth, and strode about in the chamber,

Chafing and choking with rage; like cords were the veins on his temples.

But in the midst of his anger a man appeared at the doorway,

Bringing in uttermost haste a message of

urgent importance,

Rumors of danger and war and hostile incursions of Indians!

Straightway the Captain paused, and, without

further question or parley,

Took from the nail on the wall his sword with

its scabbard of iron,

Buckled the belt round his waist, and, frown

ing fiercely, departed.

Alden was left alone. He heard the clank of

the scabbard

Growing fainter and fainter, and dying away in the distance.

Then he arose from his seat, and looked forth into the darkness,

Felt the cool air blow on his cheek, that was hot with the insult,

Lifted his eyes to the heavens, and, folding

his hands as in childhood,

Prayed in the silence of night to the Father who seeth in secret.

Meanwhile the choleric Captain strode wrathful away to the council,

Found it already assembled, impatiently waiting his coming;

Men in the middle of life, austere and grave

in deportment,

Only one of them old, the hill that was near

est to heaven,

Covered with snow, but erect, the excellent

Elder of Plymouth.

God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for this planting,

Then had sifted the wheat, as the living seed of a nation;

So say the chronicles old, and such is the

faith of the people!

Near them was standing an Indian, in attitude

stern and defiant,

Naked down to the waist, and grim and fero

cious in aspect;

While on the table before them was lying

unopened a Bible,

Ponderous, bound in leather, brass-studded,

printed in Holland,

And beside it outstretched the skin of

rattlesnake glittered,

a

Filled, like a quiver, with arrows; a signal

and challenge of warfare,

Brought by the Indian, and speaking with arrowy tongues of defiance.

This Miles Standish beheld, as he entered, and heard them debating

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