r, it
is all over, and we have lost the colonies!' So that means the end of
the war."

"And will you not stay a soldier? You are so brave and handsome,
Andrew."

She meant it from her full heart, and the admiration shone in her eyes.
But she was thinking that Rachel would never marry a soldier.

"Nay, little one," smiling with manly tenderness. "I have no love for
soldiering without a cause. When all is gained you will see even our
great commander come back to private life. I think to-day he would
rather be at Mount Vernon with his wife and the little Custis children
than all the show and trappings of high military honors. And there
should never be any love or lust of conquest except for the larger
liberty."

Madam Wetherill comforted him with great kindliness.

"I think thou wilt lose nothing in the end," she said gravely. For
though she was somewhat set against cousins marrying, and Andrew seemed
too grave a man for butterfly Primrose, she remembered Bessy Wardour had
been very happy.

Allin Wharton could walk out with a cane, and found his way often down
to Arch Street. He was sitting there one morning, making Primrose sing
no end of dainty songs for him, when a chaise drove up to the door.

"Now there is a caller and I will sing no more for you," she exclaimed
with laughing grace. "Some day these things will be worn threadbare with
words falling out and leaving holes."

"And you can sing la, la, as you do sometimes when you pretend to
forget, and so patch it up."

"Then my voice will get hoarse like a crow. Ah, someone asks for Miss
Henry. How queer! I hardly know my own name."

She ran out heedlessly. Allin was no longer pale, and gaining flesh, but
this man was ghostly, and for a moment she stared.

"Oh, Phil! Phil!" she cried, and went to his arms with a great throb of
sisterly love.

"Oh, Primrose! Surely you have grown beautiful by the hour. And such a
tall girl--why, a very woman!"

"But how have you come? We have been waiting and waiting for word. Oh,
sit down, for you look as if you would faint."

He took the big splint armchair in the hall, and she stood by him
caressing his hand, while tears glittered on her lashes.

"I reached the town yesterday. I had not the courage to come, and was
very tired with my journey, so I went to Mrs. Grayson's, on Second
Street. I knew her during Howe's winter; some of our officers were
there."

"'Our.' Oh, Phil! now that all is over I want to hear you s