The last half hour had opened Major Gordon's eyes. He had yielded, for more than a fortnight, to the fascination of Kate's society, without inquiring what was the nature of the spell which bound him; but that moment, when he thought death inevitable, had suddenly, as if by a lightning-flash, revealed the truth. He knew that he loved Kate with all the ardor of his soul. Nor, if he had interpreted her look aright, was he indifferent to her. At any other time, he would at once have urged his daring suit. But the agitation of Kate forbade it now.

He followed her in silence, therefore, until they reached the vicinity of the church near Sweetwater, when, just as they were crossing the old bridge in its rear, Kate drew Arab in.

"I never pass this spot without wishing to stop," she said. "Running water and its musical sound always fascinates me."

The old bridge fascinated Major Gordon also, as he looked at the dark waters, some twenty feet below, swirling and rushing from under it. Almost completely shaded by the sombre cedars, which here entirely overarched it, the river swept swiftly onwards, the color of dark walnut, except when a stray sunbeam, penetrating the thick canopy, and falling in broken gleams on its surface, burnished it momentarily into gold. Insects skimmed to and fro on the water, now darting out into mid-current to be borne rapidly downwards, and now dozing on the very edge of the rushing tide, or circling in the eddies that revolved under the mossy banks. An almost undistinguishable hum pervaded the atmosphere, from the thousands that buzzed on busy wing about. Occasionally a low sound, as if the cedars audibly sighed, rose up when some faint breeze stirred through their ancient boughs. The scene was the more lovely and absorbing, for its contrast to the conflagration they had just witnessed.

Suddenly a horse's hoofs were heard striking the bridge. Kate and her companion looked up, the former with peceptible embarrassment; a circumstance which induced Major Gordon to examine the new comer narrowly.

This person was a young man apparently about eight and twenty years of age, and attired in an elegant riding-dress, such as only gentlemen of birth and fortune wore in that day. Slender and tall, though not disproportionally so, and with a haughty yet graceful carriage, he had that peculiar air which the world is accustomed to call aristocratic. He sat his steed with careless ease, managing him principally by the heel. To the Major's practiced eye he was plainly an adept in horsemanship; though his skill was that of the manege rather than of the field; in short, he was evidently no military man, though so finished a rider. His face was of the high Norman cast, and would have been strikingly handsome, if less cold and supercilious in expression. In his fiery eye were traces of a daring, if not passionate will. But either care, or late hours, or excessive dissipation, had given to his countenance a worn and exhausted look, not generally seen out of great cities, nor often even there in persons so young.

A perceptible scowl gathered on the face of the stranger at sight of the Major. But without noticing him further, he checked his horse, and addressing Kate, said, authoritatively

"Your aunt has sent me for you. She became alarmed at your long absence, and the woods on fire, too. So, the moment a horse could be saddled, I galloped in search of you, without even stopping to change my dusty coat."

Kate colored, but, to Major Gordon's surprise, she showed no signs of resentment, though the Major felt as if he would have liked to punish the speaker for his insolent tone. In fact, she turned Arab's head immediately home

ward, as if obedience to the mandate so surlily delivered was a matter of course.

"Who can the fellow be ?" said Major Gordon to himself.

But his curiosity was not destined to annoy him. Kate directly remembered that the gentlemen were strangers to each other, and proceeded to introduce them.

"Cousin, this is Major Gordon," she said, turning to the new comer. 'Major Gordon," she said, turning to the latter, "my cousin Charles;" then correcting herself, she added, "Mr. Aylesford."

The gentlemen bowed distantly. Kate's cousin, with a supercilious air he did not attempt to conceal. Major Gordon, with a look, at first of surprise, and then of marked resentment.

"A cousin," said the latter to himself, his whole feelings taking a sudden revulsion, "and I never even so much as heard one mentioned before! Strange! He seems to exercise more than a cousin's authority over her." And a jealous pang shot through his heart.

A constrained silence followed, which was first broken by the lady.

"When did you leave town, Charles?" she said.

"At daybreak this morning," was the reply. Then, as if he could no longer contain himself, he said, emphasizing her name formally, "Really, Catharine, you do wrong in worrying your aunt in this way. She insists that you will come to harm, riding out in these troubled times." And he looked as if he echoed the opinion. But, above all, what

or who induced you to go out to-day ?"

"Oh! you forget," answered Kate lightly, affecting not to notice this last remark, "that Major Gordon attends

me."

"I beg Major Gordon's pardou," said the cousin, without even an attempt to conceal a sneer. "I had quite overlooked that circumstance, which of course insures your

safety, though unfortunately it does not, it seems, prevent

your aunt's alarm.”

But she said

Kate's face was crimson at these words. nothing, and did not even look to Major Gordon to implore his forbearance, as the latter, with a lover's exacting nature, thought she ought. The consequence was that the Major, already jealous of the cousin, became irritated at Kate herself; and insensibly drawing his horse to one side, left Mr. Aylesford and lady to ride together; for, during this conversation, the speakers had set off slowly towards Sweetwater.

"What a fool I would have made of myself," soliloquized Major Gordon, angrily, "if I had told her, five minutes ago, I loved her, as I was tempted to do. She is evidently plighted to this cousin, for in no other way can his cool assumption of authority over her be explained; and she has been only amusing herself with me; her look I misinterpreted, or, which is probably truer, she is the most arrant of coquettes." An angry lover is rarely just or logical. "Why did I not see whither I was being led? Yes; if she had not been trifling with me, she would have mentioned her cousin at some time or another," he continued, getting more enraged, "but it was necessary to her success to keep me ignorant of him, and so his name was studiously avoided. All she seems to think of now is the possibility of a collision between us, for he has probably returned sooner than she expected; and she dreads his haughty insolence. Well, my pretty lady, it would give me a pleasure, if the gentleman and I were alone, to make him taste my sword."

In this way he rode on, sullen and apart, till they reached the gate of Sweetwater, where courtesy compelled him to approach to make his adieus.

"Wont you come in ?" said Kate, in her old, frank way, though in a lower, perhaps softer tone than usual.

In an instant he forgot his indignation. But recollecting

that he could not be mistaken, and saying to himself that this was only another of her wiles, he answered, coldly

"No, I thank you," and, replacing his hat ceremoniously, he rode stiffly on, internally cursing the whole sex, from Kate back to mother Eve, as irritated lovers will.

+

CHAPTER XVII.

JEALOUSY.

I care not for her, I.-Shakspeare.

It is a quarrel most unnatural,

To be revenged on him that loveth thee.-Shakspeare.

THE instant Major Gordon was out of sight of Sweetwater, and had plunged into the forest that lay between it and his quarters, he gave vent to the angry emotions that had raged, like a suppressed volcano, in his bosom.

His first ebullition was directed against Aylesford. The insolent tone of the cousin, in recalling, galled him to the quick; and his hand instinctively sought the hilt of his sword, when he remembered that supercilious and confident look. A savage, almost murderous feeling took possession of him. He muttered between his teeth. "If I had him alone, here in the forest, with a clearing of but a dozen yards or so, he should answer for his conduct with his life."

The angry lover felt that he could not return to the Forks as yet, where prying eyes might read his mortification, so he turned into a cross-road, which led into the heart of the wilderness, and, giving the rein to Selim, galloped till the panting beast was covered once more with foam. In this rapid motion the turbulence of his soul gradually