out. Only true sons of the sunny South are to be trusted.

In free converse, the duty of watching well-known Unionists is
enjoined upon all. Name by name, dangerous men of the North are
marked down for proscription or special action. "Removal," perhaps.

With wild cheers, the Knights of the Golden Circle receive the
news that the South is surely going out. The dream long dear to the
Southern heart! Any attempt of the senile Buchanan to reinforce
the garrisons of the national forts will be the signal for the
opening roar of the stolen guns. They know that the inauguration
of Lincoln on March 4, 1861, means war without debate. He dare not
abandon his trust. He will be welcomed with a shotted salute across
the Potomac.

When the move "en masse" is made, the guests, warmed with wine and
full of enthusiasm, file away. Hardin and Valois sit late. The
splashing rain drenches the swaying trees of the Judge's hillside
retreat.

Lists and papers of the principal men on both sides, data and
statistics of stock and military supplies, maps, and papers, are
looked at. The deep boom of the Cathedral bell, far below them,
beats midnight as the two friends sit plotting treason.

There is something mystical in the exact hour of midnight. The rich
note startles Hardin. Cold, haughty, crafty, and able, his devotion
to the South is that of the highest moral courage. It is not the
exultation which culminates rashly on the battle-field. These lurid
scenes are for younger heroes.