did not content himself with the usual formal inclination of
courtesy, but actually advanced, and, taking her cold little hand
in his, graciously led her to the chair he had just vacated.

"Even if your name were not known to me, Mistress Thankful," said
the commander-in-chief, looking down upon her with grave
politeness, "nature has, methinks, spared you the necessity of any
introduction to the courtesy of a gentleman. But how can I
especially serve you?"

Alack! the blaze of Mistress Thankful's brown eyes had become
somewhat dimmed in the grave half-lights of the room, in the
graver, deeper dignity of the erect, soldier-like figure before
her. The bright color born of the tempest within and without had
somehow faded from her cheek; the sauciness begotten from bullying
her horse in the last half-hour's rapid ride was so subdued by the
actual presence of the man she had come to bully, that I fear she
had to use all her self-control to keep down her inclination to
whimper, and to keep back the tears, that, oddly enough, rose to
her sweet eyes as she lifted them to the quietly critical yet
placid glance of her interlocutor.

"I can readily conceive the motive of this visit, Miss Thankful,"
continued Washington, with a certain dignified kindliness that was
more reassuring than the formal gallantry of the period; "and it
is, I protest, to your credit. A father's welfare, however erring
and weak that father may be, is most seemly in a maiden--"

Thankful's eyes flashed again as she rose to her feet. Her upper
lip, that had a moment before trembled in a pretty infantine