acy
of criticism, a mastery of the arts of diplomacy which placed him among
the foremost statesmen of any age, and all the ages.

He saved the Nation from a second disastrous war, as a mere matter of
the routine of his office, and at once turned to the pressing work of
the approaching battle.

John Vaughan had joined the army as correspondent for his paper, and
Betty had been his companion on many tours of inspection through camp,
hospitals and drill grounds. Her quick wit and brilliant mind were an
inspiring stimulus. She was cool and self-possessed and it rested him to
be near her. She was the only restful woman he had ever encountered at
short range. He was delighted that she seemed content without
love-making. There was never a moment when he could catch the challenge
of sex in a word or attitude. He might have been her older brother, so
perfect and even, so free and simple her manner.

Betty had watched him with the keenest caution. The first glance at
John's handsome face had convinced her of his boundless vanity and
beneath it a streak of something cruel. She would have liked him
instantly but for this. His vanity she could forgive. All good-looking
men are vain. His character was a study of which she never tired. He
strangely distressed and disturbed her--and this kept puzzling and
piquing her curiosity. Every time she determined to end their
association this everlasting question of the man's inner character came
to torment her imagination.

She was a little disappointed at his not volunteering at the first call
as his gallant young brother had done. Yet his reasoning was sound.

"What's the use?" he replied to her question. "Five men have already
volunteered for every one who can be used. I'm not a soldier by
profession or inclination. A campaign of thirty days, one big battle and
the war's over. The President has more men than he can arm or equip. My
paper needs me----"

The army encamped along the banks of the Potomac received orders to
advance for the long expected battle in the hills of Virginia.

Betty stood with the crowds of sweethearts and wives and sisters and
mothers and watched them march away through the dust and heat and grime
of the Southern summer, drums throbbing, banners streaming, bayonets
flashing and bands playing.

John Vaughan was in the ranks of a New York regiment. He pressed Betty's
hand with a lingering touch he hadn't intended. She seemed unconscious
that he was holding it.