mpressive points; but they lingered longest in the presence of the
white, ranged tablets, each of which, in its proud, sad clearness, is
inscribed with the name of a student-soldier. The effect of the place is
singularly noble and solemn, and it is impossible to feel it without a
lifting of the heart. It stands there for duty and honour, it speaks of
sacrifice and example, seems a kind of temple to youth, manhood,
generosity. Most of them were young, all were in their prime, and all of
them had fallen; this simple idea hovers before the visitor and makes
him read with tenderness each name and place--names often without other
history, and forgotten Southern battles. For Ransom these things were
not a challenge nor a taunt; they touched him with respect, with the
sentiment of beauty. He was capable of being a generous foeman, and he
forgot, now, the whole question of sides and parties; the simple emotion
of the old fighting-time came back to him, and the monument around him
seemed an embodiment of that memory; it arched over friends as well as
enemies, the victims of defeat as well as the sons of triumph.

"It is very beautiful--but I think it is very dreadful!" This remark,
from Verena, called him back to the present. "It's a real sin to put up
such a building, just to glorify a lot of bloodshed. If it wasn't so
majestic, I would have it pulled down."

"That is delightful feminine logic!" Ransom answered. "If, when women
have the conduct of affairs, they fight as well as they reason, surely
for them too we shall have to set up memorials."

Verena retorted that they would reason so well they would have no need
to fight--they would usher in the reign of peace. "But this is very
peaceful too," she added, looking about her; and she sat down on a low
stone ledge, as if to enjoy the influence of the scene. Ransom left her
alone for ten minutes; he wished to take another look at the inscribed
tablets, and read again the names of the various engagements, at several
of which he had been present. When he came back to her she greeted him
abruptly, with a question which had no reference to the solemnity of the
spot. "If Miss Birdseye knew you were coming out to see me, can't _she_
easily tell Olive? Then won't Olive make her reflexions about your
neglect of herself?"

"I don't care for her reflexions. At any rate, I asked Miss Birdseye, as
a favour, not to mention to her that she had met me," Ransom added.

Verena was silent a m