lever
of him to worm out the story--if, indeed, he did not invent it. But
that young man has genius for pathos."

"I did not know that you corresponded."

"Indeed, nor did I. He chose to write. I may answer; and, again, I may
not. To tell you the truth, I have never been sure if we condemned him
quite justly."

Dorothea found herself able to look straight into the kindly old eyes.

"It was a beautiful story. Did you tell it for me?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle, in thanks and in contrition. We are all prisoners
in this world; but while it is certain you have made fortitude easier
for us, I have suspected that there was a time when I, for one, might
have been bolder and repaid you, but stood aside. Also, I think you no
longer require help."

"No longer, General. But what you say is true: we are all prisoners
here, or sentries at the best." And Dorothea, resting her fan on her
lap, let these lines fall from her, not consciously quoting, but
musing on each word as it fell:

"Brutus and Cato might discharge their souls,
And give them furloughs for another world;
But we, like sentries, are obliged to stand
In starless nights, and wait the appointed hour."

The General stared.

"Ah, Mademoiselle, what poet taught you that?"

"It was a kinswoman," she answered, and caught herself blushing. "I do
not know the author."

* * * * * * * * *

The secret of the Commissary's dinner-party came out early next morning,
when the call came for the prisoners to leave Axcester. And, whenever
Dorothea looked back on this epoch in her life, what she found most
wonderful was the suddenness of its end. As day broke in a drizzle, and
before she was well awake, a troop of dragoons, followed by a company
of the 52nd Regiment of foot, passed the Bayfield gates on the way to
Axcester. The troopers entered the town while the Ting-tang was
sounding, and before the roll could be called the prisoners were
surrounded. Their release had come; and though many had sighed for it
for years, it found them quite unprepared.

Their release had come; but first they must be marched through the
length of the country to Kelso, there to await the formalities of
exchange. At four in the afternoon the infantry marched out with the
first great batch. Early next morning the rest--owners of furniture,
granted a few hours to arrange for its storage or sale--followed their
comrades. There was no cloud of dust upon