e, and Oriana, her raiment being partially dried,
rested her head upon her arm and slumbered.

The storm increased in violence, and the rain, pelting against the cabin
roof, with its weird music, formed a dismal accompaniment to the
grotesque discomfort of their situation. Arthur threw fresh fuel upon
the fire, and the crackling twigs sent up a fitful flame, that fell
athwart the face of the sleeping girl, and revealed an expression of
sorrow upon her features that caused him to turn away with a sigh.

"Arthur," asked Harold, abruptly, "do you think this unfortunate affair
at Sumter will breed much trouble?"

"I fear it," said Arthur, sadly. "Our Northern hearts are made of
sterner stuff than is consistent with the spirit of conciliation."

"And what of Southern hearts?"

"You have studied them," said Arthur, with a pensive smile, and bending
his gaze upon the sleeping maiden.

Harold colored slightly, and glanced half reproachfully at his friend.

"I cannot help believing," continued the latter, "that we are blindly
invoking a fatal strife, more in the spirit of exaltation than of calm
and searching philosophy. I am confident that the elements of union
still exist within the sections, but my instinct, no less than my
judgment, tells me that they will no longer exist when the
chariot-wheels of war shall have swept over the land. Whatever be the
disparity of strength, wealth and numbers, and whatever may be the
result of encounters upon the battle-field, such a terrible war as both
sides are capable of waging can never build up or sustain a fabric whose
cement must be brotherhood and kindly feeling. I would as soon think to
woo the woman of my choice with angry words and blows, as to reconcile
our divided fellow citizens by force of arms."

"You are more a philosopher than a patriot," said Harold, with some
bitterness.

"Not so," answered Arthur, warmly. "I love my country--so well, indeed,
that I cannot be aroused into hostility to any section of it. My reason
does not admit the necessity for civil war, and it becomes therefore a
sacred obligation with me to give my voice against the doctrine of
coercion. My judgment may err, or my sensibilities may be 'too full of
the milk of human kindness' to serve the stern exigencies of the crisis
with a Spartan's callousness and a Roman's impenetrability; but for you
to affirm that, because true to my own opinions, I must be false to my
country, is to deny me that indepe