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Clear and distinct, but not loud, in the dripping

air of the twilight. Still for a moment he stood, and listened, and

stared at the vessel, Then went hurriedly on, as one who, seeing a

phantom, Stops, then quickens his pace, and follows the

beckoning shadow. “Yes, it is plain to me now,” he murmured; "the

hand of the Lord is Leading me out of the land of darkness, the bond

age of error, Through the sea, that shall lift the walls of its

waters around me, Hiding me, cutting me off, from the cruel thoughts

that pursue me. Back will I go o'er the ocean, this dreary land will

abandon, Her whom I may not love, and him whom my

heart has offended. Better to be in my grave in the green old church

yard in England, Close by my mother's side, and among the dust of

my kindred; Better be dead and forgotten, than living in shame

and dishonor!

Sacred and safe and unseen, in the dark of the

narrow chamber With me my secret shall lie, like a buried jewel

that glimmers

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Bright on the hand that is dust, in the chambers

of silence and darkness, Yes, as the marriage ring of the great espousal

hereafter!”

Thus as he spake, he turned, in the strength of

his strong resolution, Leaving behind him the shore, and hurried along

in the twilight, Through the congenial gloom of the forest silent

and sombre, Till he beheld the lights in the seven houses of

Plymouth, Shining like seven stars in the dusk and mist of

the evening Soon he entered his door, and found the redoubt

able Captain Sitting alone, and absorbed in the martial pages of

Cæsar, Fighting some great campaign in Hainault or

Brabant or Flanders. “Long have you been on your errand,” he said

with a cheery demeanor, Even as one who is waiting an answer, and fears

not the issue. "Not far off is the house, although the woods are

between us; But you have lingered so long, that while you

were going and coming I have fought ten battles and sacked and demol

ished a city.

Come, sit down, and in order relate to me all that

has happened.”

Then John Alden spake, and related the won

drous adventure, From beginning to end, minutely, just as it hap

pened: 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 ex

plosion, 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 friend

ship 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.

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