“Some years.  May I offer Captain Yorke a pinch of snuff?” and the pretended Mynheer Gansevoort produced a gold snuff-box from his waistcoat pocket, which he courteously extended to the English officer.

“You must excuse me; I have not yet acquired the habit,” replied Geoffrey.  “A glass of wine with you, sir, instead, if you will do me the honor.”

“With great pleasure.”  And as they moved a step onward, Kitty passed first with Yorke, thereby giving Betty time to whisper to Oliver what she had overheard behind the screen.

“Your very good health, sir,” said Geoffrey, as he took the glasses of port wine from a servant standing near the lavishly filled table; “and if you will not consider me intrusive, do you purpose stopping in New York?”

“That is as may be,” replied the other.  “I am not, however, returning to Albany immediately.  Will you name a toast?”

“Aye,” said Yorke quickly, raising his glass, with a searching look into Oliver’s eyes,—­“To your safe return to the Albany beverwyck; the climate of New York is somewhat unhealthy at present.”

“Yorke,” said a young officer, coming hastily up behind the group, “Colonel Tarleton desires speech with you for a moment; you will find him and Sir Henry by the screen in the ballroom.”

“You heard?” whispered Betty, as Geoffrey left them; “Captain Yorke has recognized you—­fly, fly, at once!”

“Is there another exit from this room, Kitty?” asked Oliver, finishing his glass of wine as he spoke, and handing the empty glass to the waiting servant.

“Only the window behind us,” gasped Kitty; “quick! they are all too busy eating and drinking to notice if you slip through the curtains, and the balcony is but a few feet from the ground.”

“Then I must run for it.  Farewell,” murmured Oliver, as the heavy damask curtains dropped back over his vanishing figure.  The two girls gazed into each other’s faces with dilated eyes and quivering lips.  Would the alarm be speedily given, and would they see him captured and carried to certain death?  For one breathless moment they listened, and then Kitty turned sick and faint; her eyes closed as Betty flung an arm around her waist.

“Some wine at once,” she said aloud, and two gentlemen sprang forward to assist her to place Kitty in a chair.  “She is affected by the heat of the room; it will pass in a moment,” and she gave the reviving girl a good hard pinch, which made her start in her chair.  “Oh, Gulian, I am glad you are here.  Had you not better seek Madam Cruger?”

“No, no,” cried Kitty, struggling to rise, and most heartily ashamed of herself for her lack of self-control.  “My mother is not strong and must not be alarmed.  I am better; will you come into the hall with me, Betty?  It is cooler there.”

“Of course, and you can rest awhile; Gulian will bring us supper.”

But supper and everything connected with it was far from Betty’s thoughts; all she wished was a few words with Kitty alone, which she knew Gulian’s absence would give her.