similar.
Their clean habits of life were alike. Their ideals were equally high
and noble. How could two such men fight each other to the death over an
issue of politics when some wife or sister or mother must look on a dead
face when the smoke has cleared?

Her soul rose in rebellion against it all. She summoned every power of
her mind to the struggle with her father.

She brought them together at last in the room with her babies, asleep in
their cradles. She sat down between the two and held a hand in each of
hers.

"Now, daddy dear, you must tell me why you're going to fight Virginia if
she secedes from the Union."

The gentle face smiled sadly.

"How can I make you understand, dear baby? It's foolish to argue such
things. We follow our hearts--that's all."

"But you must tell me," she pleaded.

"There's nothing to tell, child. We must each decide these big things of
life for himself. I'll never draw my sword against the Union. My fathers
created it. I've fought for it. I've lived for it. And I've got to die
for it, if must be, that's all--"

He paused, withdrew his hand from hers, rose and put it on Stuart's
shoulder.

"You've chosen a fine boy for your husband, my daughter. I love him. I'm
proud of him. I shall always be proud that your children bear his name.
He must fight this battle of his allegiance in his own soul and answer
to God, not to me. I would not dare to try to influence him."

Stuart rose and grasped the Colonel's hand. His eyes were moist.

"Thank you, Colonel. I shall always remember this hour with you and
my Flora. And I shall always love and respect you, in life or death,
success or failure."

The older man held Stuart's hand in a strong grip.

"It grieves me to feel that you may fight the Union, my son. I have seen
the end in a vision already. The Union is indissoluble. The stars in
their courses have said it."

"It may be, sir," Stuart slowly answered. "Who knows? We must do each
what we believe to be right, as God gives us to see the right."

The little mother was softly crying. Her hopes had faded. There was the
note of finality in each word her men had uttered. She was crushed.

For an hour she talked in tender commonplaces. She tried to be cheerful
for her father's sake. She saw that he was suffering cruelly at the
thought of saying a goodbye that might be the last.

She broke down in a flood of bitter tears. The father took her into his
arms and soothed her with tender