g
his inauguration speech, does he always think of the help the little wife
has given him. And so, in moments of excitement, when we see far ahead
into a glorious future, we do not feel the arms about us, or value the
sweets which, in more humdrum days, we labored so hard to attain.

Virginia drew away, and the one searching glance she gave him he did not
see. He was staring far beyond; tears started in her eyes, and she turned
from him to look out over the Arsenal grounds, still wet and heavy with
the night's storm. The day itself was dark and damp. She thought of the
supper cooking at home. It would not be eaten now.

And yet, in that moment of bitterness Virginia loved him. Such are the
ways of women, even of the proudest, who love their country too. It was
but right that he should not think of her when the honor of the South was
at stake; and the anger that rose within her was against those nine
hundred and ninety-nine who had weakly accepted the parole.

"Why did Uncle Comyn not come?" asked Clarence.

"He has gone to Jefferson City, to see the Governor.."

"And you came alone?"

"No, Mr. Brinsmade brought me."

"And mother?"

She was waiting for that question. What a relief that should have come
among the first.

"Aunt Lillian feels very badly. She was in her room when I left. She was
afraid," (Virginia had to smile), "she was afraid the Yankees would kill
you."

"They have behaved very well for Yankees," replied he, "No luxury, and
they will not hear of my having a servant. They are used to doing their
own work. But they have treated me much better since I refused to take
their abominable oath."

"And you will be honored for it when the news reaches town."

"Do you think so, Jinny?" Clarence asked eagerly, "I reckon they will
think me a fool!"

"I should like to hear any one say so," she flashed out.

"No," said Virginia, "our friends will force them to release you. I do
not know much about law. But you have done nothing to be imprisoned for."

Clarence did not answer at once. Finally he said. "I do not want to be
released."

"You do not want to be released," she repeated.

"No," he said. "They can exchange me. If I remain a prisoner, it will
have a greater effect--for the South."

She smiled again, this time at the boyish touch of heroics. Experience,
responsibility, and he would get over that. She remembered once, long
ago, when his mother had shut him up in his room for a punishment, and