Chapter 31 - Page 2

surprise, should betray so much ignorance in the forms of approaching a
picket!"

"'Tis now of no moment," returned the Pilot; "my knowledge and my
ignorance are alike immaterial, as the command of the party is
surrendered to other and perhaps more proper hands. But I would talk to
this lady alone, sir; she is an acquaintance of my youth, and I will see
her on her way to the abbey."

"The step would be unmilitary, Mr. Pilot, and you will excuse me if I do
not consent to any of our expedition straggling without the sentries. If
you choose to remain here to hold your discourse, I will march the
picket out of hearing; though I must acknowledge I see no ground so
favorable as this we are on, to keep you within range of our eyes. You
perceive that I have a ravine to retreat into in case of surprise, with
this line of wall on my left flank and the trunk of that tree to cover
my right. A very pretty stand might be made here, on emergency; for even
the oldest troops fight the best when their flanks are properly covered,
and a way to make a regular retreat is open in their rear."

"Say no more, sir; I would not break up such a position on any account,"
returned the Pilot; "the lady will consent to retrace her path for a
short distance."

Alice followed his steps, in compliance with this request, until he had
led her to a place, at some little distance from the marines, where a
tree had been prostrated by the late gale. She seated herself quietly on
its trunk, and appeared to wait with patience his own time for the
explanation of his motives in seeking the interview. The pilot paced for
several minutes back and forth, in front of the place where she was
seated, in profound silence, as if communing with himself; when suddenly
throwing off his air of absence, he came to her side, and assumed a
position similar to the one which she herself had taken.

"The hour is at hand, Alice, when we must part," he at length commenced;
"it rests with yourself whether it shall be forever."

"Let it then be forever, John," she returned, with a slight tremor in
her voice.

"That word would have been less appalling had this accidental meeting
never occurred. And yet your choice may have been determined by
prudence--for what is there in my fate that can tempt a woman to wish
that she might share it?"

"If ye mean your lot is that of one who can find but few, or even none,
to partake of his joys, or to share in his sorrows--whose life is a
continual scene of dangers and calamities, of disappointments and
mishaps--then do ye know but little of the heart of woman, if ye doubt
of either her ability or her