peace till he has you promoted to a colonelcy."

"All in good time, Mr. Dinwiddie. There are hundreds of brave fellows
who have a prior claim. And now, Sir, permit me to say, that I have
consulted with the Provost-Marshal, and my official duty requires me to
call on your wife and daughter, and notify them that they are at liberty
to go where they please."

The Captain might have added, had he thought it discreet, that the
police authorities had concluded they should learn more of the secrets
of the Rebel plotters by allowing Madam to go at large than by keeping
her shut up.

Dinwiddie stood nervously playing with his watch-key. An idea had
occurred to him,--a glorious, a ravishing idea,--an idea which, if
concreted successfully into action, would revenge him triumphantly on
his wife for the tricks revealed in the letter he had just read.

"Captain," said he, "if you are going to my house, have you any
objection to take a letter for my daughter?"

"I shall be pleased to do so," returned the Captain; but he would have
put more warmth into his reply, had it not been for certain chilly
misgivings in regard to the preoccupation of Barbara's heart.

Mr. Dinwiddie sat down at a table, and wrote these lines:--

"BARBARA,--Captain Arthur Penrose, of Maine, visits you in
pursuance of his yesterday's promise. If you have any regard
for your poor, distracted father,--if you would save me from
the deepest, the direst mortification,--exert all your
powers to conciliate Captain Penrose, and to detain him
till I return home and relieve you. I will explain all to
you hereafter. My peace of mind depends largely on your
being able to do this. Urge him to call again. In haste,
your father."

The Captain received this missive, bowed, and walked off in the
direction of Dinwiddie's house.

Nero came to the door.

"Is Mrs. Dinwiddie in?"

"No, Cap'n, but Miss Barbara is in," said the conspiring Nero, in a tone
of encouragement.

Madam, it should be remarked, was out making calls on a few leading
feminine sympathizers; but she did not notice, that, wherever she went,
a little man in black, with a postman's big pocket-book in his hands,
followed, as if busily employed in delivering letters.

Captain Penrose sent up his card, together with the missive he was
charged with. Nero returned the next minute, and ushered him into the
drawing-room, assuring him, with overflowing suavity, that