d devoutly that he would never see his young mistress any more.

And while Ned is running to Mr. Brinsmade's, Mrs. Colfax is summoning
that courage which comes to persons of her character at such times. She
gathers her jewels into a bag, and her fine dresses into her trunk, with
trembling hands, although she is well enough now. The picture of Clarence
in the diamond frame she puts inside the waist of her gown. No, she will
not go to Bellegarde. That is too near the city. With frantic haste she
closes the trunk, which Ephum and Jackson carry downstairs and place
between the seats of the carriage. Ned had had the horses in it since
church time. It is not safe outside. But where to go?

To Glencoe? It is three in the afternoon, and Jackson explains that, with
the load, they would not reach there until midnight, if at all. To
Kirkwood or Webster? Yes; many of the first families live there, and
would take them in for the night. Equipages of all sorts are passing,
--private carriages and public, and corner-stand hacks. The black drivers
are cracking whips over galloping horses.

Pedestrians are hurrying by with bundles under their arms, some running
east, and some west, and some stopping to discuss excitedly the chances
of each direction. From the river comes the hoarse whistle of the boats
breaking the Sabbath stillness there. It is a panic to be remembered.

Virginia leaned against the iron railing of the steps, watching the
scene, and waiting for Ned to return from Mr. Brinsmade's. Her face was
troubled, as well it might be. The most alarming reports were cried up to
her from the street, and she looked every moment for the black smoke of
destruction to appear to the southward. Around her were gathered the
Carvel servants, most of them crying, and imploring her not to leave
them. And when Mrs. Colfax's trunk was brought down and placed in the
carriage where three of them might have ridden to safety, a groan of
despair and entreaty rose from the faithful group that went to her heart.

"Miss Jinny, you ain't gwineter leave yo' ol mammy?"

"Hush, Mammy," she said. "No, you shall all go, if I have to stay myself.
Ephum, go to the livery stable and get another carriage."

She went up into her own deserted room to gather the few things she would
take with her--the little jewellery case with the necklace of pearls
which her great-grandmother had worn at her wedding. Rosetta and Mammy
Easter were of no use, and she had sent th