as' Eric?"

"Yes. Has Irene come home?"

"Not yet, sir."

"Bring some more wood."

Owing to the scarcity of coal, the grate had been removed, and massive
brass andirons substituted. John piled them with oak wood, swept the
hearth, and retired. After a time, the door opened and the mistress came
in.

"Irene! you must be nearly frozen. What kept you out so late?"

"I had more than usual to attend to at the Asylum this afternoon."

"What was the matter?"

"We have a new matron, and I was particularly anxious that she should start
right in one or two respects. I waited, too, in order to see the children
at supper, and satisfy myself about the cooking."

"How many orphans are there in the Asylum?"

"Thirty-four. I admitted two this evening--children of one of our soldiers,
who died from a wound received at Leesburg."

"Poor little things! I am afraid you will find numbers of similar instances
before this war is at an end."

"We will try to find room for all such cases. The building will accommodate
one hundred."

"You must be very cold; I will make John bring you a glass of wine."

"No, sir; I do not need it. My shawl was thick and warm."

"Irene."

She turned her head slightly, and raised her eyes.

"Did you receive a letter which I sent to your room?"

"Yes, sir. It was from Dr. Arnold."

"He has established himself in Richmond."

"Yes, sir; his recent attack of rheumatism unfitted him for service in the
field."

"I had a letter from Colonel Aubrey to-day. He wants to buy my house."

She made no comment, and her eyes drooped again to the perusal of the
strange shapes which danced and flickered on the burnished andirons.

"What use do you suppose he had for it?"

"I cannot imagine, unless he intends it as a home for Electra."

"What a witch you are at guessing; that is exactly it. He says, in this
letter, that he may not survive the war, and wishes to have the assurance
that his cousin is comfortably provided for, before he goes into another
battle. His offer is liberal, and I shall accept it."

"Well, I am glad she will own it--for I have often heard her speak of those
old poplar trees in the front yard. She has always admired the place."

At this juncture the tea-bell summoned them to the dining-room, and she
allowed her uncle no opportunity of renewing the conversation. When the
meal was concluded, and they had returned to the library, Irene drew her
table and basket near the lamp, and r