Chapter 26

These limbs are strengthened with a soldier's toil,
Nor has this cheek been ever blanched with fear--
But this sad tale of thine enervates all
Within me that I once could boast as man;
Chill trembling agues seize upon my frame,
And tears of childish sorrow pour, apace,
Through scarred channels that were marked by wounds.
--_Duo._

The friends of Henry Wharton had placed so much reliance on his
innocence, that they were unable to see the full danger of his
situation. As the moment of trial, however, approached, the uneasiness
of the youth himself increased; and after spending most of the night
with his afflicted family, he awoke, on the following morning, from a
short and disturbed slumber, to a clearer sense of his condition, and a
survey of the means that were to extricate him from it with life. The
rank of Andre, and the importance of the measures he was plotting,
together with the powerful intercessions that had been made in his
behalf, occasioned his execution to be stamped with greater notoriety
than the ordinary events of the war. But spies were frequently arrested;
and the instances that occurred of summary punishment for this crime
were numerous. These were facts that were well known to both Dunwoodie
and the prisoner; and to their experienced judgments the preparations
for the trial were indeed alarming. Notwithstanding their apprehensions,
they succeeded so far in concealing them, that neither Miss Peyton nor
Frances was aware of their extent. A strong guard was stationed in the
outbuilding of the farmhouse where the prisoner was quartered, and
several sentinels watched the avenues that approached the dwelling.
Another was constantly near the room of the British officer. A court was
already detailed to examine into the circumstances; and upon their
decision the fate of Henry rested.

The moment at length arrived, and the different actors in the
approaching investigation assembled. Frances experienced a feeling like
suffocation, as, after taking her seat in the midst of her family, her
eyes wandered over the group who were thus collected. The judges, three
in number, sat by themselves, clad in the vestments of their profession,
and maintained a gravity worthy of the occasion, and becoming in their
rank. In the center was a man of advanced years, and whose whole
exterior bore the stamp of early and long-tried military habits. This
was the president of the court; and Frances, after taking a hasty and
unsatisfactory view of his associates, turned to his benevolent
countenance as to the harbinger of mercy to her brother. There was a
melting and subdued expression in the features of the veteran, that,
contrasted with the rigid decency and composure of the others, could
not fail to