of this well-furnished and affectedly aristocratic establishment, we
will now repair, in order to resume the thread of our narrative.

In an upper chamber of the house, at a late hour of the same evening
on which occurred the exciting scenes described in the preceding
pages, sat the two young ladies, to whom the reader has already been
introduced, silently indulging in their different reveries before an
open fire. They had safely arrived in town, about an hour before, with
all their company, except Jones, who had been left at Brattleborough;
and having been consigned to the family of this mansion, with whom
they had formed a previous acquaintance at Albany, where Brush, the
greater part of the year, resided, and where both of the young ladies
were educated, they had taken some refreshment, and retired to the
apartment prepared for their reception. The demeanor of these fair
companions, always widely different, was particularly so at the
present moment. Miss Haviland, with her chin gracefully resting on one
folded hand, and her calm and beautiful, but now deeply-clouded brow,
shaded by the white, taper fingers of the other, was abstractedly
gazing into the glowing coals on the hearth before her, while the
gentle, but less reflective McRea, with a countenance disturbed only
by the passing emotions of sympathy that occasionally flitted over it,
as she glanced at the downcast face of her friend, sat quietly
preparing for bed, by removing her ornaments, and adjusting those
long, golden tresses, with which, in after times, her memory was
destined to become associated in the minds of tearful thousands, while
reading the melancholy history of her tragic fate.

"Come, Sabrey," at length said the latter, soothingly, "come, cheer
up. I cannot bear to see you so dejected. I would not brood over that
frightful scene any longer, but, feeling grateful and happy at my