character in happier days. But now Mrs. Colfax's conduct carried a
prophecy with it. Virginia sat down on the landing to ponder on the years
to come,--on the pain they were likely to bring with them from this
source--Clarence gone to the war; her father gone (for she felt that he
would go in the end), Virginia foresaw the lonely days of trial in
company with this vain woman whom accident made her cousin's mother. Ay,
and more, fate had made her the mother of the man she was to marry. The
girl could scarcely bear the thought--through the hurry and swing of the
events of two days she had kept it from her mind.

But now Clarence was to be released. To-morrow he would be coming home to
her joyfully for his reward, and she did not love him. She was bound to
face that again and again. She had cheated herself again and again with
other feelings. She had set up intense love of country in the shrine
where it did not belong, and it had answered--for a while. She saw
Clarence in a hero's light--until a fatal intimate knowledge made her
shudder and draw back. And yet her resolution should not be water. She
would carry it through.

Captain Lige's cheery voice roused her from below--and her father's
laugh. And as she went down to them she thanked God that this friend had
been spared to him. Never had the Captain's river yarns been better told
than at the table that evening. Virginia did not see him glance at the
Colonel when at last he had brought a smile to her face.

"I'm going to leave Jinny with you, Lige," said Mr. Carvel, presently.
"Worington has some notion that the Marshal may go to the Arsenal
to-night with the writ. I mustn't neglect the boy."

Virginia stood in front of him. "Won't you let me go?" she pleaded