Chapter 5

Through Solway sands, through Taross moss,
Blindfold, he knew the paths to cross:
By wily turns, by desperate bounds,
Had baffled Percy's best bloodhounds.
In Eske, or Liddel, fords were none,
But he would ride them, one by one;
Alike to him was time or tide,
December's snow or July's pride;
Alike to him was tide or time,
Moonless midnight or matin prime.
--WALTER SCOTT.

All the members of the Wharton family laid their heads on their pillows
that night, with a foreboding of some interruption to their ordinary
quiet. Uneasiness kept the sisters from enjoying their usual repose, and
they rose from their beds, on the following morning, unrefreshed, and
almost without having closed their eyes.

On taking an eager and hasty survey of the valley from the windows of
their room, nothing, however, but its usual serenity was to be seen. It
was glittering with the opening brilliancy of one of those lovely, mild
days, which occur about the time of the falling of the leaf; and which,
by their frequency, class the American autumn with the most delightful
seasons of other countries. We have no spring; vegetation seems to leap
into existence, instead of creeping, as in the same latitudes of the Old
World; but how gracefully it retires! September, October, even November
and December, compose the season for enjoyment in the open air; they
have their storms, but they are distinct, and not of long continuance,
leaving a clear atmosphere and a cloudless sky.

As nothing could be seen likely to interrupt the enjoyments and harmony
of such a day, the sisters descended to the parlor, with a returning
confidence in their brother's security, and their own happiness.

The family were early in assembling around the breakfast table; and
Miss Peyton, with a little of that minute precision which creeps into
the habits of single life, had pleasantly insisted that the absence of
her nephew should in no manner interfere with the regular hours she had
established; consequently, the party were already seated when the
captain made his appearance; though the untasted coffee sufficiently
proved that by none of his relatives was his absence disregarded.

"I think I did much better," he cried, taking a chair between his
sisters, and receiving their offered salutes, "to secure a good bed and
such a plentiful breakfast, instead of trusting to the hospitality of
that renowned corps, the Cowboys."

"If you could sleep," said Sarah, "you were more fortunate than Frances
and myself; every murmur of the night air sounded to me like the
approach of the rebel army."

"Why," said the captain, laughing, "I do acknowledge a little inquietude