"Go to sleep, dear," answered Betty, biting her lip; but her cheeks did
not grow cool until long after the soft, regular breathing told that her
little sister had gone into the land of dreams.

The Wolcott household was up early that cold winter morning, when Mrs.
Seymour's coach, with its pair of sturdy, strong gray horses, drew up at
the front door. It took some twenty minutes to bestow Betty's trunk and
boxes on the rumble behind, during which time Mrs. Seymour alighted and
received all manner of charges and advice from Miss Euphemia, who, now
that Betty was fairly on the wing, felt much sinking of heart over her
departure. Mrs. Seymour, a pretty young matron, whose natural gayety of
spirit was only subdued by the anxiety she was suffering in regard to
her only brother, now a prisoner in New York (and for whose exchange she
was bringing great influence to bear in all directions), listened with
much outward deference and inward impatience to the stately dame, and
turned with an air of relief to General Wolcott when he announced that
all was ready for their departure, and with much courtliness offered his
hand to conduct her to her coach.

"That you will take the best care of my daughter I am assured, madam,"
said the gallant gentleman. "It is our great good fortune to have found
this opportunity and your kind escort, for owing to the shortness of
time I have not been able to notify my son-in-law of Betty's coming. But
as you are going into the city yourself, I depend upon you to keep her
with you until you can place her safely in Gulian Verplanck's hands. I
trust that you have General Washington's pass close by you? It is quite
possible that you may need it even before you reach White Plains; there
are many marauding parties who infest the country beyond us."

"It is here, general," replied Mrs. Seymour, touching the breast of her