Madge's, was the only witness against her.
Against her who was watching over the fortunes
of this house at this moment. Poor Lady
Humphrey! It was this sorrow of her youth
that had made her hard and cold. How would
it be with her, Hester, at this moment, did
Miss Golden get some laudanum by mistake,
and were she to be accused of having given it
to her? Then Hester put her hands to her
face in shame at the parallel her thoughts were
thus drawing between the position in which she
found herself in the castle at this moment, and
that of Judith Blake in the times long ago.
She wondered, with a frightened wonder that
did not dare to dwell upon the thought, if Sir
John had troubled Judith as his son had
troubled her. And then she flew off to assure
herself of how gladly she, in her sad old age,
would watch over the fortunes of a son of Sir
Archie.

Then she thought of all the letters she had
written to Lady Humphrey, and the urgent
anxious letters which she had received from
Lady Humphrey in return. Only for the secresy
so constantly recommended in those letters,
Hester would have made up her mind to
enlighten Miss Madge as to the real state of Lady
Humphrey's feelings. But patience for a little
and all would be seen. Lady Humphrey's good
service must be known some day, and all
prejudice and mistakes cleared away. Then they
would thank her, Hester, for her silence and
her diligence. And Miss Madge would be
ashamed of her little whisper. For it never for
one moment occurred to this ignorant Hester,
that the woman could make other than a friendly
use of her knowledge. Had she not been so
scrupulously obedient to Lady Humphrey, and
given Miss Madge never so delicate a hint, that
lady might have enlightened her with another
little whisper. But a thousand little whispers
must now have come too late. Hester's mischief
was already quite accomplished.

A few days after this Hester was sitting at
her window, the inevitable needle in her hand.
She could see the tracks of raving streams that
desolated the valleys, the smoke of cottages,
the rainy fields, the wilder weeping peat-moss
stretching in long red miles, the brown grandeur
of upland moors, and the vivid purple of
heathery crags, peeping out of the swathing
vapours. She could see the gathering of mists
and the mustering of clouds, and the wrestling
of a fiery sunset with wintry chills and shadows.
There was a gloom over the glens, and there
was a gloom over the castle. Lady Helen
talked no more about little Christmas festivities.

Miss Madge came weeping into Hester's
tower-room. Miss Madge, weeping. The sight
was so strange that Hester knew not what
dreadful thing to imagine. She let fall her
needle and arose, and stood timidly before the
poor lady, begging with her eyes to be allowed
to offer sympathy.

"My dear," said Miss Madge, "seat yourself.
It is nothing which need trouble you.
But it is woe and death to thousands in this
unhappy country. Our fleet has been scattered
and lost. Our fleet from France, which we
have expected."

"We!" Hester repeated, mechanically, with
an accent of terror.

"Yes, we," said Miss Madge. "My dear, I
thought you understood that I was a rebel. I
am a rebel. I do not deny it. I do not wish
to conceal it, except as far as may be prudent
for the safety of this household. My dear, I
am not afraid that you will betray us."

"Oh, Miss Madge!" said Hester.

"There will be danger enough on all sides
presently," said Madge. "We must all be
careful for the sake of our friends. For me, I
am ready to give my life; but not to give the
lives of those I love. Remember, my dear, that
you are not a rebel. You are English, and the
king will protect you. Terrible days are coming,
and Irish blood will flow. Remember, my dear,
that you are not a rebel."

Christmas came and went, and the spring
advanced. Larks began to sing, and the sun to
laugh in the rivers. The long brown sides of
the mountains basked in the returning warmth,
and the crags that had frowned all winter
seemed to unbend their brows and smile as the
little gold clouds floated over their heads. The
heavy grey furrows were smoothed from the
face of the sea, and the airy waves brought the
blue of heaven to the shore. Cottage doors
began to be opened fearfully, and anxious faces
looked into the sunshine and brightened with
passionate hope. Affliction ought surely to follow
the threatening of the storm, and the mourning
of the rain, and depart out of the land, and be
forgotten. So gay a spring-tide could never
smile on death and torture. So benignant a
sun could not shed its benediction upon outrage.
The singing of the birds, and the voices of the
children at their play in the newly budded
woods, must chase the phantom of terror from
the world.

This was a dream, and only simple people
indulged in it. Poor mothers who knew no better,
and whose aching eyes would fain have seen
dungeons open, and their sons coming back to
them, even with the mark of the bitter scourge
or the scars of cruel burning on their flesh;
tender children, who held the robbing of a
bird's nest to be an act undeserving of forgiveness;
and desperate men, who had nerved their
strong arms to strike one blow which should
sweep misery and degradation from their homes
for evermore.

Only a dream. The spring ripened and
mellowed into summer. The rivers might laugh,
but men had decreed that they should run red
with blood before the touch of another winter
should bind them round their rocks. The
sunshine might lie softly on the snug yellow-
thatches, and the pigeons might coo about the
chimneys, but the homesteads so tenderly
fostered must crumble into ashes, the flames of
their destruction must make the stars grow
pale.