le.

Yet--the sudden thought warmed and thrilled his breast--he might be pure
as then, he might be innocent as then, and all the stronger for having
known what temptation was, and fallen, and risen again. And he might keep
those promises in a higher and nobler sense than he dreamed of when he
made them; and his mother's prayer might, after all, be answered.

"Frank," said the voice of Captain Edney. He had come to visit the
quarters of his company, and, seeing the boy sitting there so absorbed,
his young face charged with thought and grief, had stopped some moments
to regard him, without speaking.

Frank started, almost like a guilty person, and gave the military salute
rather awkwardly as he got upon his feet. He had been secretly dreading
Captain Edney's displeasure, and now he thought he was to be called to an
account.

"I have something for you in my room," said the officer, with a look of
serious reserve, unlike the cheerful, open, brotherly glance with which
he formerly regarded the drummer boy.

Frank accompanied him, wondering what that something was. A reproof for
his drunkenness, or for gambling away the watch, he expected more than
any thing else; and his heart was heavy by the way.

"Did you know a mail came on board to-day?" said the captain, as they
entered his stateroom.

Frank remembered hearing Atwater say he had that day got a letter from
his wife. But his mind had been too much agitated by other things to
consider the subject then.

"No, sir, I didn't know it."

"How happens that? You are generally one of the most eager to receive
letters."

Frank hung his head. What answer could he make? That he was intoxicated
in his berth when the mail arrived? A sweat of shame covered him. He was
silent.

"Well, well, my boy!"--Captain Edney patted him gently on the
shoulder,--"you are forgiven this time. I am sure you did not mean to
get drunk."

"O, sir!" began Frank, but stopped there, over whelmed by the captain's
kindness.

"I know all about it," said Captain Edney. "Tucket assures me that he and
the rest were more to blame than you. But, for the sake of your friends,
Frank, take warning by this experience, and never be betrayed into any
thing of the kind again. I trust you. And here, my boy, are your
letters."

He put half a dozen into Frank's hands. And Frank, as he took them, felt
his very heart melt within him with gratitude and contrition. He was not
thinking so much of the letters as