forgets. It is said that men do, but this I doubt.

The troublesome days of Reconstruction came on, and Mr. Crawford felt more
aggrieved than ever toward the South. He believed that the facts bore out
his views, that the North had been too lenient. As for Joyce, she gave
little thought to politics. She believed that her father would surely
relent before Calhoun had finished his college course; but as the time for
his graduation approached, and her father was still obdurate, her courage
failed. Her step grew languid, her cheeks lost their roses, the music of
her voice in song was no longer heard.

Strange that her father did not notice it, but there was one who did. That
was her brother Mark. He was now a major in the Regular Army, had been
wounded in a fight with the Apaches, and was home on leave of absence. To
him Joyce confided all her sorrows, and found a ready sympathizer, for he
was as tender of heart as he was brave.

He went to his father and talked to him as he had never talked before.
"Your opposition is all nonsense," said Mark. "Young Pennington is in
every way worthy of her. I have taken pains to investigate."

The old gentleman fairly writhed under his son's censures, and tried to
excuse himself by saying, "Mark, I have said I had rather see her dead
than married to a Rebel, one of Morgan's men."

"Well, you will see her dead, and that very soon," retorted Mark,
thoroughly aroused. "Have you no eyes? Have you not noticed her pale
cheeks, her languid steps? Is she the happy girl she was? Your foolish,
cruel treatment is killing her."

Mr. Crawford groaned. "Mark, Mark," he cried, "I can't bear to hear you
talk like that, you my only son. I have only done what I thought was
right. You must be mistaken about Joyce."

"I am not; look at her yourself. Never was there a more dutiful daughter
than Joyce. She would rather die than break her promise to you. Free her
from it. Make her happy by telling her she can see Pennington."

"Mark, don't ask too much. Joyce is all I have to comfort me. When I am
gone you will be the head of the family. You can then advise her as you
please."

"Better be kind to her and give her your blessing while you live," said
his son, turning away, believing that his words would bear fruit.

What Mark had said deeply troubled Mr. Crawford. He now noticed Joyce
closely, and was surprised that he had not perceived the change in her. He
meant to speak to her, but kept putting it off