ran toward him as he entered the door, calling his name.

"Max, you are going to stay here?"

"Yes, until I am exchanged."

Aglow with admiration, she threw herself into his arms. Now, indeed, was
she proud of him. Of all the thousand defenders of the state, he alone
was true to his principles--to the South. Within sight of home, he alone
had chosen privation.

She looked up into his face, which showed marks of excitement and
fatigue. But above all, excitement. She knew that he could live on
excitement. The thought came to her--was it that which sustained him now?
She put it away as treason. Surely the touch of this experience would
transform the boy into the man. This was the weak point in the armor
which she wore so bravely for her cousin.

He had grown up to idleness. He had known neither care nor
responsibility. His one longing from a child had been that love of
fighting and adventure which is born in the race. Until this gloomy day
in the Arsenal, Virginia had never characterized it as a love of
excitement---as any thing which contained a selfish element. She looked
up into his face, I say, and saw that which it is given to a woman only
to see. His eyes burned with a light that was far away. Even with his
arms around her he seemed to have forgotten her presence, and that she
had come all the way to the Arsenal to see him. Her hands dropped limply
from his shoulders She drew away, as he did not seem to notice.

So it is with men. Above and beyond the sacrifice of a woman's life, the