" he added. "Good-night."

As he passed out into the street the snow was still falling, soon
covering his cap and military cloak, and clothing him, like the city, in
a robe of white.

Raymond had said truthfully that a deep snow was to the advantage of the
South, but as for himself, he resolved that on the next day he would
investigate the identity of Miss Charlotte Grayson.

Prescott knew to whom it was best to turn for information in regard to
the mysterious Charlotte Grayson, and in the doing so it was not
necessary for him to leave his own home. His mother was likely to know
everybody at all conspicuous in Richmond, as under her peaceful exterior
she concealed a shrewd and inquiring mind.

"Mother," he said to her the next day as they sat before the fire, "did
you ever hear of any lady named Miss Charlotte Grayson?"

She was knitting for the soldiers at the front, but she let the needles
drop with a faint click into her lap.

"Grayson, Charlotte Grayson?" she said. "Is that the name of a new
sweetheart of yours, Robert?"

"No, mother," replied he with a laugh; "it is the name of somebody whom
I have never seen so far as I know, and of whom I never heard until a
day or two ago."

"I recall the woman of whom you speak," she said, "an old maid without
any relatives or any friends in particular. She was a seamstress here
before the war. It was said that she went North at its outbreak, and as
she was a Northern sympathizer it would seem likely; but she was a good
seamstress; she made me a mantle once and I never saw a better in
Richmond."

She waited for her son to offer an explanation of his interest in the
whilom seamstress, but as he did not do so she asked no questions,
though regarding him covertly.

He rose and, going to the window, looked out at the deep and all but
untrodden snow.

"Richmond is in white, mother," he said, "and it will postpone the
campaign which all Southern women dread."

"I know," she replied; "but the battle must come sooner or later, and a
snow in Richmond means more coal and wood to buy. Do you ever think,
Robert, what such questions as these, so simple in peace, mean now to
Richmond?"

"I did not for the moment, mother," he replied, his face clouding, "but
I should have thought of it. You mean that coal and wood are scarce and
money still scarcer?"

She bowed her head, for it was a very solemn truth she had spoken. The
coil of steel with which the North had belted in the