em downstairs again. With a
flutter she opened her wardrobe door, to take one last look at the gowns
there. You will pardon her. They were part of happier days gone by. She
fell down on her knees and opened the great drawer at the bottom, and
there on the top lay the dainty gown which had belonged to Dorothy
Manners. A tear fell upon one of the flowers of the stays. Irresistibly
pressed into her mind the memory of Anne's fancy dress ball,--of the
episode by the gate, upon which she had thought so often with burning
face.

The voices below grow louder, but she does not hear. She is folding the
gown hurriedly into a little package. It was her great-grandmother's; her
chief heirloom after the pearls. Silk and satin from Paris are left
behind. With one glance at the bed in which she had slept since
childhood, and at the picture over it which had been her mother's, she
hurries downstairs. And Dorothy Manners's gown is under her arm. On the
landing she stops to brush her eyes with her handkerchief. If only her
father were here!

Ah, here is Ned back again. Has Mr. Brinsmade come?

What did he say? Ned simply pointed out a young man standing on the steps
behind the negroes. Crimson stains were on Virginia's cheeks, and the
package she carried under her arm was like lead. The young man, although
he showed no signs of excitement, reddened too as he came forward and
took off his hat. But the sight of him had acurious effect upon Virginia,
of which she was at first unconscious. A sense of security came upon her
as she looked at his face and listened to his voice.

"Mr. Brinsmade has gone to the hospital, Miss Carvel," he said. "Mrs.
Brinsmade asked me to come here with your man in the hope that I might
persuade you to stay where you are."

"Then the Germans are not moving on the city?" she said.

In spite of himself, Stephen smiled. It was that smile that angered her,
that made her rebel against the advice he had to offer; that made her
forget the insult he had risked at her hands by coming there. For she
believed him utterly, without reservation. The moment he had spoken she
was convinced that the panic was a silly scare which would be food for
merriment in future years. And yet--was not that smile in derision of
herself--of her friends who were running away? Was it not an assumption
of Northern superiority, to be resented?

"It is only a malicious rumor, Miss Carvel," he answered. "You have been
told so upon good authori