. There was no mistaking that fact. With every letter to his Chief
in Washington he had made this plain. The deeper he had penetrated the
lower South the more overwhelming this conviction had become.

For the moment he put the thought of his tragic mission out of his
heart. There was something wonderful in the breath of this early
Southern spring. The first week in February and flowers were blooming on
every lawn of every embowered cottage and every stately house! The song
of birds, the hum of bees, the sweet languor of the perfumed air found
his inmost soul. The snows lay cold and still and deathlike over the
Northern world.

This was fairyland.

And the Bartons' home on the banks of the river was the last touch that
completed the capture of his imagination. Through a vista of overhanging
boughs he caught the flash of its white fluted pillars in the distance.
The broad verandas were arched with climbing roses. In the center of the
sunlit space in front a fountain played, the splash of its cooling
waters keeping time to the song of mocking birds in shrubs and trees. In
the spacious grounds which swept to the water's edge more than a
thousand magnificent trees spread their cooling shade. The white rays of
the Southern sun shot through them like silver threads and glowed here
and there in the changing, shimmering splotches on the ground.

And everywhere the grinning faces of slowly moving negroes. The very
rhythm of their lazy walk seemed a part of the landscape.

This fairy world belonged to his country. His heart went out in renewed
devotion. Not one shining Southern star should ever be torn from her
diadem! He swore it.

For three days he bathed in the beauty and joy of a Southern home. He
saw but little of Jennie. The boys absorbed him. They were eager for
news. They plied him with a thousand questions. Tom was going to join
the navy, Jimmie and Billy the army.

"Would the United States Army stand by the old flag?" Tom asked with
painful eagerness.

Socola was non-committal.

"As a rule the sailor is loyal to the flag of his ship. It's the symbol
of home, of country, of all he holds dear."

"That's so, too," Tom answered thoughtfully. "Well, we'll build a navy.
We built the old one. We can build a new one!"

The last night he spent at Fairview was one never to be forgotten. It
gave him another picture of the old regime. They sat on the great
pillared front porch looking out on the silvery surface of the m