only about to say," he added, as he opened the door, "that
it would be necessary for you to rejoin your promoted commander as
a major-general. And," he continued, lifting his voice, as he gently
pushed his guest into the room, "he hasn't even thanked me for it, Miss
Faulkner!"

The door closed behind him, and he stood for a moment dazed, and still
hearing the distant voice of the President, in the room he had just
quitted, now welcoming a new visitor. But the room before him, opening
into a conservatory, was empty, save for a single figure that turned,
half timidly, half mischievously, towards him. The same quick,
sympathetic glance was in both their faces; the same timid, happy look
in both their eyes. He moved quickly to her side.

"Then you knew that--that--woman was my wife?" he said, hurriedly, as he
grasped her hand.

She cast a half-appealing look at his face--a half-frightened one around
the room and at the open door beyond.

"Let us," she said faintly, "go into the conservatory."

*****

It is but a few years ago that the veracious chronicler of these pages
moved with a wondering crowd of sightseers in the gardens of the White
House. The war cloud had long since lifted and vanished; the Potomac
flowed peacefully by and on to where once lay the broad plantation of a
great Confederate leader--now a national cemetery that had gathered the
soldier dead of both sections side by side in equal rest and honor--and
the great goddess once more looked down serenely from the dome of the
white Capitol. The chronicler's attention was attracted by an erect,
handsome soldierly-looking man, with a beard and moustache slightly
streaked with gray, pointing out the various objects of interest to a
boy of twelve or fourteen at his side.

"Yes; although, as I told you, this house belongs only to the President
of the United States and his family," said the gentleman, smilingly, "in
that little conservatory I proposed to your mother."

"Oh! Clarence, how can you!" said the lady, reprovingly, "you know it
was LONG after that!"

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