en steadying of ranks; the level flash of shouldered steel; a
thousand men marking time; and at last the drums' quick outbreak;
and the 1st Vermont Infantry passed onward into the unknown.

"I'd rather like to go there--to see what there is there," observed
Berkley.

"Where?"

"Where they're going--wherever that may be--and I think I know."

He glanced absently at his letter again.

"I've sold some stock--all I had, and I've made a lot of money," he
said listlessly.

Stephen dropped an impulsive hand on his shoulder.

"I'm terribly glad, Berkley! I'm delighted!" he said with a warmth
that brought a slight colour into Berkley's face.

"That's nice of you, Stephen. It solves the immediate problem of
how to go there."

"Go where?"

"Why--where all our bright young men are going, old fellow," said
Berkley, laughing. "I can go with a regiment or I can go alone.
But I really must be starting."

"You mean to enlist?"

"Yes, it can be done that way, too. Or--other ways. The main
thing is to get momentum. . . . I think I'll just step out and
say good-bye and many thanks to your father. I shall be quite busy
for the rest of my career."

"You are not leaving here?"

"I am. But I'll pay my rent first," said Berkley, laughing.

And go he did that very afternoon; and the office of Craig & Son
knew him no more.

A few days later Ailsa Paige returned to New York and reoccupied
her own house on London Terrace.

A silk flag drooped between the tall pilasters. Under it, at the
front door stood Colonel Arran to welcome her. It had been her
father's house; he had planted the great catalpa trees on the
grassy terrace in front. Here she had been born; from here she had
gone away a bride; from here her parents had been buried, both
within that same strange year that left her widowed who had
scarcely been a wife. And to this old house she had returned alone
in her sombre weeds--utterly alone, in her nineteenth year.

This man had met her then as he met her now; she remembered it,
remembered, too, that after any absence, no matter how short, this
old friend had always met her at her own door-sill, standing aside
with head bent as she crossed the sill.

Now she gave him both hands.

"It is so kind of you, dear Colonel Arran! It would not be a
home-coming without you--" And glancing into the hall, nodded
radiantly to the assembled servants--her parents' old and
privileged and spoiled servants gathere