lp of some
kind.

"Virginia is right, Anne," he said. "John has gone to fight for his
principles, as every gentleman who is free should; we must remember that
this is his home, and that we must not quarrel with him, because we think
differently." He paused, and came over to Virginia. "There is something I
can do for you, my dear?" said he.

She rose. "Oh, no, Mr. Brinsmade," she cried. And yet her honesty was as
great as Anne's. She would not have it thought that she came for other
reasons. "My aunt is in such a state of worry over Clarence that I came
to ask you if you thought the news true, that the prisoners are to be
paroled. She thinks it is a--" Virginia flushed, and bit a rebellious
tongue. "She does not believe it."

Even good Mr. Brinsmade smiled at the slip she had nearly made. He
understood the girl, and admired her. He also understood Mrs. Colfax.

"I'll drive to the Arsenal with you, Jinny," he answered. "I know
Captain Lyon, and we shall find out certainly."

"You will do nothing of the kind, sir," said Virginia, with emphasis."
Had I known this--about John, I should not have come."

He checked her with a gesture. What a gentleman of the old school he was,
with his white ruffled shirt and his black stock and his eye kindling
with charity.

"My dear," he answered, "Nicodemus is waiting. I was just going myself to
ask Captain Lyon about John." Virginia's further objections were cut
short by the violent clanging of the door-bell, and the entrance of a
tall, energetic gentleman, whom Virginia had introduced to her as Major
Sherman, late of the army, and now president of the Fifth Street
Railroad. The Major bowed and shook hands. He then proceeded, as was
evidently his habit, directly to the business on which he was come.

"Mr. Brinsmade," he said, "I heard, accidentally, half an hour ago that
you were seeking news of your son. I regret to say, sir, that the news I
have will not lead to a knowledge of his whereabouts. But in justice to a
young gentleman of this city I think I ought to tell you what happened at
Camp Jackson."

"I shall be most grateful, Major. Sit down, sir."

But the Major did not sit down. He stood in the middle of the room. With
some gesticulation which added greatly to the force of the story, he gave
a most terse and vivid account of Mr. John's arrival at the embankment by
the grove--of his charging a whole regiment of Union volunteers. Here was
honesty again. Mr. Sherman did not