caught in the toils. I love
you just as you are, Louise; I rejoice to find you just what I left you.
You will make me young again, child; by your side I will learn again
to laugh and be happy. We have lost the power to do either amidst the
fatigues and hardships of our rude campaigns."

"Yes, yes," said Louise; "we dismissed you, handsome, well-formed
cavaliers, and you return to us clumsy, growling bears; good-humored but
savage pets, rather too willing to learn again to dance and sing. The
only question is, will the women consent to become bear-leaders, and
teach the uncultivated pets their steps?"

"Well, they will be obliged to do this," said the major, laughing. "It
is their duty."

"Dear friend, if you begin already to remind us of our duty, I fear your
cause is wholly lost. Come, let us sit here awhile upon this grass plot
and talk together."

"Yes, you will be seated, but I do not see exactly why we should talk
together. I would much rather close your laughing, rosy lips with
kisses." He drew her to his side, and was about to carry out this
purpose, but Louise waved him off.

"If you do not sit perfectly quiet by my side," said she, "I will unfold
the gay wings, of which you have just spoken, and fly far away!"

"Well, then, I will sit quietly; but may I not be permitted to ask my
shy prudish mistress why I must do so?"

"Why? Well, because I wish to give my savage pet his first lecture after
his return. The lecture begins thus: When a man remains absent from
his wife seven years, he has no right to return as a calm, confident,
self-assured husband, with his portion of home-baked tenderness; he
should come timidly, as a tender, attentive, enamoured cavalier,
who woos his mistress and draws near to her humbly, tremblingly, and
submissively--not looking upon her as his wife, but as the fair lady
whose love he may hope to win."

"But why, Louise, should we take refuge in such dissimulation, when we
are assured of your love?"

"You are assured of nothing! How can you be so artless as to believe
that these seven years have passed by and left no trace, and that we
feel exactly to-day as we did before this fearful war? When you have
opened the door and given liberty to the bird whose wings you have cut,
and whose wild heart you have tamed in a cage; when the captive flies
out into the fresh, free air of God, floats merrily along in the midst
of rejoicing, laughing Nature--will he, after years have passed, wi