With a mingled feeling of anxiety and relief Jean watched the Loyalists
and rangers march forth against the rebels. She had no doubt as to the
outcome of the undertaking, but she felt uneasy about her father, and
how he would stand the journey. On the other hand, she cherished the
thought that on the morrow Dane would be with her, and all would be
well.

For a while she stood in the doorway, looking out upon the river over
which the mantle of night had settled. Mammy was crooning to the
Indian baby before the fire. It was an old darky lullaby, and the
faithful servant had sung it to her when she was a child. It brought
back memories of her youthful days, which now seemed so long ago and
like a dream.

"Doan stan' dere, chile," Mammy at length reminded. "Yo'll get yo'
deff a col'."

Jean turned, picked up a shawl and threw it over her head.

"I am going to run over to see Mrs. Watson for a while," she said.
"Danny was not well to-day, so I am anxious to know how he is getting
along. With her husband away, Mrs. Watson must be very lonely tonight."

Mrs. Watson was greatly pleased to see the girl, and offered her a seat
near the fire.

"How is Danny?" Jean asked.

"He is much better, I think, and is sleeping soundly," the mother
replied, as she stole on tip-toe to the side of the rough cradle, and