more--they would remember Crittenden. And then the speaker closed with
the words of a certain proud old Confederate soldier to his son:

"No matter who was right and who was wrong in the Civil War, the matter
is settled now by the sword. The Constitution left the question open,
but it is written there now in letters of blood. We have given our word
that they shall stand; and remember it is the word of gentlemen and
binding on their sons. There have been those in the North who have
doubted that word; there have been those in the South who have given
cause for doubt; and this may be true for a long time. But if ever the
time comes to test that word, do you be the first to prove it. You will
fight for your flag--mine now as well as yours--just as sincerely as I
fought against it." And these words, said Crittenden in a trembling
voice, the brave gentleman spoke again on his death-bed; and now, as he
looked around on the fearless young faces about him, he had no need to
fear that they were spoken in vain.

And so the time was come for the South to prove its loyalty--not to
itself nor to the North, but to the world.

Under him he saw his mother's eyes fill with tears, for these words of
her son were the dying words of her lion-hearted husband. And Judith had
sat motionless, watching him with peculiar intensity and flushing a
little, perhaps at the memory of her jesting taunt, while Grafton had
stood still--his eyes fixed, his face earnest--missing not a word. He
was waiting for Crittenden, and he held his hand out when the latter
emerged from the crowd, with the curious embarrassment that assails the
newspaper man when he finds himself betrayed into unusual feeling.

"I say," he said; "that was good, _good_!"