The Secret Shot; Or, The Rivals Of Misty Mount — page 26: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ae 4 oo — _—- ——s Se Saphieaieae ae — eo — < = ° « as z 24 Ida also pressed him to stay ; and, as the weather really seemed too threatening,Cleave- land at length consented. The evening was spent in the usual way. Mr. Dudley, an old gentleman who_liyed but a mile away, was invited in for a game ef whist. Then, when Mr. Dudley had be- @me tired and gone home, and after both Ida and the colonel had played and sung pretty much every thing they could bring to mind, Mr. Gwin sat down to con over the old newspapers and to dream of vic- tories over the red-coats, while the young persons played backgammon till bedtime. “ Bonne nuit, Mademoiselle, et songes de plaisir /” said Cleayveland, gayly, as he went up stairs, receiving as sweet a little frag- ment of French, in reply, as was ever pouted from pretty lips. Her face would come before the colonel even when he closed his eyes. He remem- bered every little word she had spoken— every gesture—every smile; and it. was long before he fell asleep. He did sleep at last, however, and sound- ly for some time. When he awoke it seemed to be in the dead of night. The atorm was sweeping out of doors with ter- tific violence, and yet Cleaveland was cer- tain that he had been awakened by some sound not produced by the strife of elements —what it was he could not guess. There it was again. It sounded like a shrick, and yet so much like the yell of the wind around the chimneys that he listened again. It came once more, and this time there was no mistaking it; it was the shriek of a fe- male in distress, and appeared to come from below his room. Bounding from the bed, he hastily huddled on his clothes, grasped his sword and pistol, and rushed out into the utter darkness of the hall. As he reached the head of the stairs, he heard a great uproar below—the oaths and wrang- ling of angry men, the loud voice of God- frey, and, finally, that shriek again, and ealling on his own name for help. With- eut a moment’s hesitation, he sprung down the stairs, gained the lower floor almost at a bound, and burst into the drawing-room, whence the sounds proceeded. For an in- stant he staggered back, bewildered at the unexpected sight that greeted his horrified yision. The room was full of ruffians; the old man and a negro, who had fought for him, lay on the floor, weltering in their blood; and the beautiful Ida was struggling in the grasp of a fellow whose face was THE SECRET SHOT. concealed by a mask, as, indeed, were those of most of the party. The colonel recoiled for an instant; but it was for an instant only. His presence of mind returned in a flash. Crack! went his pistol, and the nearest robber rolled to the floor a corpse ; another one dropped with a perforated heart as his sword leaped from its scabbard; and, the next instant, he was upon the ruffian in whose grasp the lady was struggling, who thereupon dropped his burden, and crossed swords with the rescuer with a growl of satisfaction. The weapons rung like bells as they clashed together, but they had bare-. ly done so before the weapon of the ravish- er went whirling across the room, and _his breast was defenseless. But a stroke from behind pierced the colonel’s arm at this critical moment, and, before he was aware of it, a heavy slash descended on his head, partially stunning him, and immediately fill- ing his eyes with blood. Fearful that he should be overcome, he sprung forward, as a last effort, and tore the mask from the face of the ruffian whom he had disarmed, disclosing the features of Heartstead Glea- son; and then he fainted away. It was broad daylight when he awoke, The storm had ceased, and the bright sun was streaming through the shattered. win- dow. His wounds. had been merely flesh ones, but he was, nevertheless, weak from loss of blood, and regained his fect with difficulty. The prostrate forms around him, the confusion of the chamber and the shat- tered window quickly brought his wander- ing senses to the horrible recollection of what had passed. He examined the forms about him, and found that Mr. Gwin still breathed, though senseless ‘from loss of blood; the rest—the negro, and the two. ruffians whom his own hand had stricken down—were lifeless. With some difficulty on the part of the colonel, in a few minutes Mr. Gwin was reviyed and able to speak. “Where am I?” he cried, wildly; “ Oh, yes! Atthem! Strike them down! Donot cry, Ida, you shall be saved !” “Compose yourself, my dear sir.” said Cleaveland, tenderly. “ Collect your thoughts that we may see what can be done.” Reason was not long in Teturning to old Godfrey, and with it the horrible conscious- ness that his daughter was gone. Together they searched the house, which everywhere bore marks of depredation. In the room of the young lady there were heart-rending evidences of the crucl raid. A rope-ladder,