Chapter 23

And now her charms are fading fast,
Her spirits now no more are gay:
Alas! that beauty cannot last!
That flowers so sweet so soon decay!
How sad appears
The vale of years,
How changed from youth's too flattering scene!
Where are her fond admirers gone?
Alas! and shall there then be none
On whom her soul may lean?
--_Cynthia's Grave_.

The walls of the cottage were all that was left of the building; and
these, blackened by smoke, and stripped of their piazzas and ornaments,
were but dreary memorials of the content and security that had so lately
reigned within. The roof, together with the rest of the woodwork, had
tumbled into the cellars, and a pale and flitting light, ascending from
their embers, shone faintly through the windows. The early flight of the
Skinners left the dragoons at liberty to exert themselves in saving much
of the furniture, which lay scattered in heaps on the lawn, giving the
finishing touch of desolation to the scene. Whenever a stronger ray of
light than common shot upwards, the composed figures of Sergeant
Hollister and his associates, sitting on their horses in rigid
discipline, were to be seen in the background of the picture, together
with the beast of Mrs. Flanagan, which, having slipped its bridle, was
quietly grazing by the highway. Betty herself had advanced to the spot
where the sergeant was posted, and, with an incredible degree of
composure, witnessed the whole of the events as they occurred. More than
once she suggested to her companion, that, as the fighting seemed to be
over, the proper time for plunder had arrived, but the veteran
acquainted her with his orders, and remained inflexible and immovable;
until the washerwoman, observing Lawton come round the wing of the
building with Sarah, ventured amongst the warriors. The captain, after
placing Sarah on a sofa that had been hurled from the building by two of
his men, retired, that the ladies might succeed him in his care. Miss
Peyton and her niece flew, with a rapture that was blessed with a
momentary forgetfulness of all but her preservation, to receive Sarah
from the trooper; but the vacant eye and flushed cheek restored them
instantly to their recollection.

"Sarah, my child, my beloved niece," said the former, folding the
unconscious bride in her arms, "you are saved, and may the blessing of
God await him who has been the instrument."

"See," said Sarah, gently pushing her aunt aside, and pointing to the
glimmering ruins, "the windows are illuminated in honor of my arrival.
They always receive a bride thus--he told me they would do no less.
Listen, and you will hear the bells."

"Here is no bride, no rejoicing, nothing but