the weary days of his imprisonment.

"His hounds they all run masterless,
His hawks they flee from tree to tree."

Everything in the hospitable woodland home is changed. November,
December, January had passed by since Talbot was lodged in the
Gloucester prison, and still no hope dawned upon the afflicted lady. The
forest around her bowled with the rush of the winter wind, but neither
the wilderness nor the winter was so desolate as her own heart. The fate
of her husband was in the hands of his enemies. She trembled at the
thought of his being forced to a trial for his life in Virginia, where
he would be deprived of that friendly sympathy so necessary even to the
vindication of innocence, and where he ran the risk of being condemned
without defence, upon the testimony of exasperated opponents.

But she was a strong-hearted and resolute woman, and would not despair.
She had many friends around her,--friends devoted to her husband and
herself. Amongst these was Phelim Murray, a cornet of cavalry under the
command of Talbot,--a brave, reckless, true-hearted comrade, who had
often shared the hospitality, the adventurous service, and the sports of
his commander.

To Murray I attribute the planning of the enterprise I am now about
to relate. He had determined to rescue his chief from his prison in
Virginia. His scheme required the coöperation of Mrs. Talbot and one of
her youngest children,--the pet boy, perhaps, of the family, some two
or three years old,--I imagine, the special favorite of the father. The
adventure was a bold one, involving many hardships and perils. Towards
the end of January, the lady, accompanied by her boy with his nurse, and