Harper had dropped his book, and he sat an admiring witness of the
scene; and Frances enjoyed a double satisfaction, as she received an
approving smile from a face which concealed, under the traces of deep
thought and engrossing care, the benevolent expression which
characterizes all the best feelings of the human heart.
CHAPTER IV
"It is the form, the eye, the word,
The bearing of that stranger lord,
His stature, manly, bold, and tall,
Built like a castle's battled wall,
Yet molded in such just degrees
His giant strength seems lightsome ease.
Weather and war their rougher trace
Have left on that majestic face;
But 'tis his dignity of eye!
There, if a suppliant, would I fly,
Secure, 'mid danger, wrongs, and grief,
Of sympathy, redress, relief--
That glance, if guilty, would I dread
More than the doom that spoke me dead."
"Enough, enough!" the princess cried,
"'Tis Scotland's hope, her joy, her pride!"
--WALTER SCOTT.
The party sat in silence for many minutes after the peddler had
withdrawn. Mr. Wharton had heard enough to increase his uneasiness,
without in the least removing his apprehensions on behalf of his son.
The captain was impatiently wishing Harper in any other place than the
one foe occupied with such apparent composure, while Miss Peyton
completed the disposal of her breakfast equipage, with the mild
complacency of her nature, aided a little by an inward satisfaction at
possessing so large a portion of the trader's lace; Sarah was busily
occupied in arranging her purchases, and Frances was kindly assisting in
the occupation, disregarding her own neglected bargains, when the
stranger suddenly broke the silence by saying,--
"If any apprehensions of me induce Captain Wharton to maintain his
disguise, I wish him to be undeceived; had I motives for betraying him,
they could not operate under present circumstances.
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