the room, with the light burning low, dressed in a dainty, filmy chemise de nuit, another gauzy robe falling gracefully about her, her hair flowing in an ebon torrent to her waist, her eyes glowing, her breast gently rising and falling, and her face illuminated with a welcome more eloquent than words could express, she smiled and bade him enter.

"You need not repeat what you told Papa, for I overheard it all. Besides, Harold, concealed, was an eye-witness, and has given me some details which you did not relate to Papa-the sleeping potion, for instance, you administered, surgically, and without instruments, to old Bill Jason, the wife-beater.

"But," and she now placed both hands on his arm, "we were interrupted tonight, and there are some things I so much wish to say, and you to know."

She was very close to him and he could see the outline of her lithe and sinuous body, the marble-white of her throat, through which a faint rose-tint was rising, and the perfect curve of her lips that seemed to invite kisses.

"Could you would you come again to-morrow evening?" If there was lacking aught of cordiality in her words or manner-and there was not-it was more than atoned for by the witchery of her wistful, pleading eyes.

Would he return? Would flowers refuse to leap into Resurrection life and celestial glory at the awakening kiss of the Easter-sun? Would the wild migrating swan in the far North refuse the lure of Southern climes when the autumn chill has come? Do ocean tides ever refuse obedience to laws primeval-perhaps eternal? Certainly not! They obey the fundamental laws of their being. Ah? And Samuel Simonson and Virginia Lee Culpepper, they?

An hour later, as Vergie was retiring, the parrot, disturbed and possibly hungry, with a raucous voice, shrieked, "Polly wants a cracker! Polly wants a cra-acker!"

"So-do-I," Vergie responded.

Her maid, in the adjoining room, hearing her mistress, brought her a bowl of bread and milk, and couldn't understand why Vergie refused it. And Vergie, with a glad laugh that was good to hear, said: "You dear thing, you don't quite understand what I want. go to bed, please."

But no matter now;

CHAPTER XII

DEFECTIONS GILDERSLEEVE, GOLDBECK, HAROLD CULPEPPER

IN

N great crises the kaleidoscope of events seemingly revolves rapidly, and there are many surprises. Then men seem to change their opinions, even their principles, over night; suddenly to become basely inconsistent, and to jus、 tify the, charge of treason to their former doctrines and associates. This is because men in great and solemn crises hold counsel in the deep silences and solitudes of their consciences, investigate by stealth, act warily, and do not assume the new position resolved upon till everything is settled beyond peradventure. Were men to do all their thinking aloud, to keep their mental processes exposed to public gaze, as Hegel is said to have done, and to sound each successive evolution on a megaphone in the public square, there would be no dramatic surprises, or surprises of any sort. Hence, darkness is the bating place of conspiracy, and secrecy the conspirator's native air, whether the conspirators and the conspiracies be good or evil.

Thus New Richmond, the Northern Gibraltar of the Southern Confederacy, was shocked by a number of startling sensations.

The first, in order of unexpectedness and dramatic quality, was the defection to Lincoln and the Union of Harold Culpepper.

The second was a calm and judicial statement issued by Judge Gildersleeve, published in the local papers, that, everything considered, he felt himself duty-bound to support Mr.

Lincoln in all honorable endeavors to restore the Union to

its original status quo.

The third was a brief interview with New Richmond's wealthiest citizen and leading banker, Mr. Hiram Goldbeck, published in the Chicago dailies. Mr. Goldbeck, being in Chicago, attending the annual convention of the National Bankers' Association, felt constrained to say to the reporters that, for the sake of business, the safeguarding and encouragement of our vast commercial and industrial enterprises, and the maintenance of the public credit, he had concluded that it was his duty to come out boldly, regardless of consequences, for the Union.

When the young lawyer came out of The Elms, after bidding Vergie good-night, to his surprise, he found her brother at the gate.

"Why, Harold, what are you doing here? Standing guard?"

"Waiting for you, Mr. Simonson," not observing the jest. "Do you mind if I walk up to your room with you? Or maybe you're going to your office first."

"Glad to have you, Harold. Have a weed? Ah, you've got a match. I'm going to my office first, and there's no one with whom I'd rather have a quiet smoke and visit than yourself."

"Does me good to hear you say that. I was afraid you'd never forgive Vergie, and that you'd always hold a grudge against us.'

"Vergie? Miss Culpepper? Never forgive your sister? Why" He looked up and, seeing Harold eyeing him humorously, checked himself.

"That's all right, old man. Of course you like Vergie, and I think all the more of you for it. In my heart I knew you couldn't hold out against her-nobody can. Even

Quoth Horace has to give in to her. But if I do say it myself, no brother ever had a finer sister: pure as an angel, sweeter than honeydew, quick to anger but quicker to penitence-that's Vergie!" He flicked the ashes from his cigar and took a fresh light.

"Mr. Simonson," there was a long pause. Simonson was busy putting away some papers and, for the time, didn't observe Harold's silence; in fact, was not conscious of the young man's presence. Presently, however, he looked up and said, "Well?"

"I'm going to tell you something, Simonson-something I've not told anyone. Just why I should tell you, instead of some of my more intimate friends, I don't know. Maybe it's because I like you and believe in you. I don't want you to argue with me, for I've made up my mind and you can't change it-nobody can change it. I'm a Culpepper, you know. I don't want you to say anything to me unless I ask you to; nor will I promise to answer any questions. Is it agreed?"

"All right, Harold. Blaze away."

"I'm going to leave home tonight to enlist in the Union army."

"What! Leave home? Join the Union army? Are you joking, or simply-crazy?"

"No, I'm not joking, and I'm not crazy.'

"When did you make up your mind?”

"Don't know. Been making it up a long while." "Since when ?"

"Couldn't say. Always talking politics at our house. You know, Jefferson Davis and Mother are cousins."

"That'll do, Simonson. I've gone over the whole ground

-fought over it! Good God, I feel bad enough about it."