"Well, sir."

"Cuss me if I understand him," said Mr. Worington. "He told us to
disperse, and that he proposed to remain a prisoner and go where they
sent him."

There was a silence. Then-- "Move on please, gentlemen," said the sentry,
and they started to walk toward the car line, the lawyer and the Colonel
together. Virginia put her hand through the Captain's arm. In the
darkness he laid his big one over it.

"Don't you be frightened, Jinny, at what I said, I reckon they'll fetch
up in Illinois all right, if I know Lyon. There, there," said Captain
Lige, soothingly. Virginia was crying softly. She had endured more in the
past few days than often falls to the lot of one-and-twenty.

"There, there, Jinny." He felt like crying himself. He thought of the
many, many times he had taken her on his knee and kissed her tears. He
might do that no more, now. There was the young Captain, a prisoner on
the great black river, who had a better right, Elijah Brent wondered, as
they waited in the silent street for the lonely car, if Clarence loved
her as well as he.

It was vary late when they reached home, and Virginia went silently up to
her room. Colonel Carvel stared grimly after her, then glanced at his
friend as he turned down the lights. The eyes of the two met, as of old,
in true understanding.

The sun was still slanting over the tops of the houses the next morning
when Virginia, a ghostly figure, crept down the stairs and withdrew the