“Oh, you are too kind,” cried Betty, as the stranger disappeared in the underbrush.  “Moppet, Moppet, what can we say to prove our gratitude?  You had been drowned twice over but for him.”

“Ask him to come to the manor,” said Miss Moppet, much less agitated than her sister, and being always a small person of many resources.  “Father will be glad to bid him welcome, and you know”—­

“Yes,” interrupted Betty, as their new friend appeared at her elbow with a cape of dark blue cloth over his arm.

“Here is my cape,” he said, “and though not very large it will cover her sufficiently.  Let me untie your horses and help you to mount.”

“Oh, we can mount alone,” said Miss Moppet, who had by this time recovered her spirits, “but you must come home with us; you are dripping wet yourself; and if you like, you may ride my pony.  He has carried double before now, and I am but a light weight, as my father says.”

“Will you not come home with us?” asked Betty wistfully.  “My father, General Wolcott is away just now from the manor, but he will have warm welcome and hearty thanks, believe me, for the strength and courage which have rescued his youngest child from yonder grave,” and Betty shuddered and grew pale again at the very thought of what Miss Moppet had escaped.

“General Wolcott,” said the stranger, with a start.  “Ah, then you are his daughters.  And he is away?”

“Yes,” said Betty, as they walked toward the tree where the horses were tied.  “There has been a raid upon our coast by Governor Tryon and his Hessians; we got news three days ago of the movement of the Loyalists, and my father, with my brother Oliver, has gone to the aid of the poor people at Fairfield.  Do you know of it, sir?  Have you met any of our troops?”

“I have seen them,” said the stranger briefly, with a half smile curving his handsome mouth, “but they are not near this point”—­and beneath his breath he added, “I devoutly hope not.”

“Which way are you traveling?” asked Betty, as she stood beside her bay mare.  “Surely you will not refuse to come to the manor?  Aunt Euphemia and my elder sister are there, and we will give you warm welcome.”

“I thank you,” said the stranger, with great courtesy, “but I must be on my way westward before night overtakes me.  Can you tell me how many miles I am from Goshen, which I left this morning?”

“You are within Litchfield township,” said Betty.  “We are some four miles from my father’s house.  Pray, sir, come with us; I fear for your health from that sudden plunge into the icy waters of our pond.”

“Oh, no,” said the stranger, laughing.  “I were less than man to mind a bath of this sort.  With all my heart I thank you for your solicitude; that I am unable to accept your hospitality you must lay at the door of circumstances which neither you nor I can control.”

“But your cape, sir,” faltered Betty, her eyes dropping, as she blushed under the ardent yet respectful gaze which sought hers; “how are we to return that?  And you may need it; I am sorely afraid you will yet suffer for your kindness.”