CHAPTER XX.
She is lost!— |
Humphries, poor old man, placed himself at an eastern window, the moment his son had departed, to watch for the first glances of the daylight. What a task had he to perform! what a disclosure to make! and how should he evade the doubt—though complying with the suggestion of reason and his son alike—that he should, by the development he was about to make, compromise the safety of the latter. Should he be taken, the evidence of the father would be adequate to his conviction, and that evidence he was now about to offer to the enemy. He was to denounce him as a rebel, an outlaw, whom the leader of a single troop might hang without a trial, the moment he was arrested. The old man grew miserable with his reflections, and there was but one source of consolation. Fortunately, the supply of old Jamaica in the "Royal George" was still good; and a tumbler of the precious beverage, fitly seasoned with warm spices and sugar, was not ineffectually employed to serve the desired purpose.
And with this only companion, whose presence momently grew less, the worthy landlord watched for the daylight from his window; and soon the grey mist rose up like a thin veil over the tops of the tall trees, and the pale stars sped, retreating away from the more powerful array which was at hand. The hum of the night insects was over—the hoarse chant of the frog family was silent, as their unerring senses taught them the coming of that glorious and beautiful presence which they did not love. Fold upon fold, like so many variously shaded wreaths, the dim curtain of the night was drawn gradually up into heave, and once more the vast panorama of forest, river, and green valley came out upon the sight, rising, by little and little, into life, in the slowly illumined distance.
