my duty!" he added, hastily putting back a check which
his host had filled out and now handed him.

"I think you may take it without scruple," said Mr. Travilla; "it is
not a bribe, but simply a slight expression of my appreciation of an
invaluable service you have already rendered me."

"Still I'd rather not, sir, thank you," returned the detective rising to
go. "Good morning. I shall hope to hear to-morrow that the raiders have
got the worst of it."

Left alone, Mr. Travilla sat for a moment in deep thought; then hearing
Mr. Lilburn's voice in the hall, stepped out and exchanged with him the
usual morning salutations.

"So you are not off yet?" remarked the guest.

"No, but am about to ride over to the Oaks. Will you give me the
pleasure of your company?"

"With all my heart."

Elsie was descending the stairs.

"Wife," Mr. Travilla said, turning to her, "your cousin and I are going
to ride over to the Oaks immediately; will you go with us?"

"Yes, thank you," she answered brightly, as she stepped to the floor;
then catching sight of her husband's face, and seeing something unusual
there, "What is it, Edward?" she asked, gliding swiftly to his side and
laying her hand upon his arm, while the soft eyes met his with a loving,
anxious look.

He could scarce refrain from touching the sweet lips with his own.

"My little friend, my brave, true wife," he said, with a tender sadness
in his tone, "I will conceal nothing from you; I have just learned
through a detective, that the Ku Klux will make a raid upon Ion
to-night, between twelve and two; and my errand to the Oaks is to
consult with your father about the best means of defense--unless your
voice is for instant flight for ourselves, our children, and guests."

Her cheek paled, but her eye did not quail, and her tones were calm and
firm as she answered, "It is a question for you and papa to decide; I am
ready for whatever you think best."

"Bravo!" cried her cousin, who had listened in surprise to Mr.
Travilla's communication, "there's no coward blood in my kinswoman's
veins. She is worthy of her descent from the old Whigs of Scotland; eh,
Travilla?"

"Worthy of anything and everything good and great," returned her
husband, with a proud, fond glance at the sweet face and graceful form
by his side.

"Ah ha! um h'm! so I think. And they are really about to attack
you,--those cowardly ruffians? Well, sir, my voice is for war; I'd
like to help you give them