re 's how it was." And as he
spoke, he took Agincourt to one side and whispered eagerly in his ear.

"But they know it all, my dear Colonel," broke in Agincourt. "Charles
Heathcote has had the whole story in a long letter from Layton. I was
with him this morning when the post arrived, and I read the letter
myself; and, so far from entertaining any of the doubts you fear, they
are only impatient to see dear Clara once more and make her 'One of
Them.'"

"Well, sir, I 'm proud to know it," said the Colonel, "not only because
it was my own readin' of 'em, but whenever I hear anything good or
generous, I feel as if--bein' a human crittur myself--I came in for some
of the credit of it. The doubt was never mine, sir. It was my friend,
Mr. Harvey Winthrop, that thought how, perhaps, there might be a
scruple, or a hesitation, or a sort of backwardness about knowin' a gal
with such a dreadful story tacked to her. 'In Eu-rope, sir,' says he,
'they won't have them sort of things; they ain't like our people, who
are noways displeased at a bit of notoriety.

"There!--look there!--the whole question is decided already," said
Agincourt, as he drew the other towards the window and pointed to the
street below. "There go the two girls together; they have driven off in
that carriage, and Clara has her home once more in the midst of those
who love her."

"I'm bound to say, sir," said Quackinboss, after a moment's pause, "that
you Britishers are a fine people. You have, it is true, too many class
distinctions and grades of rank among you, but you have a main hearty
sympathy that teaches you to deal with human sufferin' as a thing that
makes all men kindred; and whenever it's your lot to have to do a
kindness, you double the benefit by the delicacy you throw into it."

"That's a real good fellow," said O'Shea, as Quackinboss quitted the
room.

"Is he not?" cried Agincourt. "If I ever harbor an ungenerous thought
about Yankees, I know how to correct it, by remembering that he 's 'One
of Them.'"

CHAPTER XII. CONCLUSION

Most valued reader, can you number amongst your life experiences that
very suggestive one of revisiting some spot where you had once
sojourned pleasantly, with scarcely any of the surroundings which first
embellished it? With all the instruction and self-knowledge derivable
from such an incident, there is a considerable leaven of sorrow,
and even some bitterness. It is so very hard to believe that we are
oursel