reep quietly to the kitchen
door, call out Carl if he was there, or secretly make known his
condition to old Toby, and thus obtain admission to the house,
seclusion, and assistance, without letting Virginia, or her father even,
know of his presence.

How this honest wish was thwarted we have seen. When the door was first
opened, he had turned to fly. But that was cowardly; so he returned, and
knocked, and called the negro by name, to reassure him. And the door was
once more opened, and Virginia saw him--recognized him--knew in an
instant what brutal deed had been done, and covered her eyes
instinctively to shut out the hideous sight.

But it was no time to indulge in feelings of false modesty, if she felt
any. It was no time to be weak, or foolish, or frightened, or ashamed.

"It is Penn!" she exclaimed in a burst of indignation and grief. "Toby!
Toby! you great stupid----! what are you staring for? Take him in! why
don't you? O, father!" And she threw herself on the old man's bosom, and
hid her face.

"What has happened to Penn?" asked the old man.

"I have been tarred-and-feathered," answered Penn, entering, and closing
the door behind him. "And I have been shut out of Mrs. Sprowl's house.
This is my excuse for coming here. I must go somewhere, you know!"

"And where but here?" answered the old man. He had suppressed an
outburst of feeling, and now stood calm, compassionating, extending his
hands,--his staff fallen upon the floor. "I feared it might come to
this! Terrible times are upon us, and you are only one of the first to
suffer. You did well to come to us. Are you hurt?"

"I hardly know," replied Penn. "I beg of you, don't be alarmed or
troubled. I hope you will excuse me. I know I am a fearful object to
look at, and did not intend to be seen."

He stood holding the bed-tick over him, and his clothes before him, to
conceal as much as possible his hideous guise, suffering, in that moment
of pause, unutterable things. Was ever a hero of romance in such a
dismal plight? Surely no writer of fiction would venture to show his
hero in so ridiculous and damaging an aspect. But this is not altogether
a romance, and I must relate facts as they occurred.

"Do not be sorry that I have seen you," said Virginia, lifting her face
again, flashing with tears. "I see in this shameful disguise only the
shame of those who have so cruelly treated you! Toby will help you. And
there is Carl at last!"

She retreated from th