“Mercy!” shrieked Mrs. Bloomfield, clinging to her husband. “What can it be?”
“Be composed, dear,” returned the man; “this arm shall defend you!” And taking the child in his arms, he led the way quickly to the house, where, securing themselves within doors, they awaited the final issue. Mr. Bloomfield armed himself with a sword, and planted his stand at the open window, where he could overlook the foreground, and detect approaching danger.
The moon shone brightly, lighting up the landscape with her mellow beams, and shedding rays of grandeur on the world. There he stood, the only earthly protector of his wife and son and sister-in-law, hardly daring to hope success, in the event of an attack from a nightly assassin; while the fear-stricken females breathed heavily and tremulously near his back.
That night of blood and death passed away, and the first beams of the morning sun penetrated the dismal room where lay the bleeding bodies of three mortal beings—a husband—a wife—and youthful maiden!—The infant son was not there: the murderers had borne him away, and no traces of them could ever be found!
When the spring flowers again sent forth their fragrance, and the twittering birds began to build their nests, and when the ice and snow of winter had melted, and bud and blossom made the forest green; and the winds blew softly and pleasantly; and when every thing told that the cold season was gone, and sweet spring had come, busy preparations were going on throughout all the village for a wedding. Every little house, and tree, and fence had been newly whitewashed. The church steeple looked whiter than when first built, and every face beamed with a brighter smile, and every cheek glowed with purer health than ever. And whose wedding was it? Rumor abroad said it was one Mr. Dobbs, a schoolmaster, who was about to espouse the pretty Miss Brigs. But all the villagers _knew_ that the parties to be joined in wedlock were Mr. Timothy Bloomfield (formerly Dobbs) and his sweet cousin, Miss Nanny Brigs, daughter of Allen Brigs, Esq. Miss Betty Lachevers, on hearing the degree of relationship between the “itinerant pedagogue” and Miss Nanny, had become perfectly reconciled to everybody, and to Miss Nanny in particular, and the day previous to the wedding it was generally understood that Miss Betty Lachevers was to be “chief cook and bottle-washer.”