r ten thousand pounds, as some atonement by a wounded
conscience.

"Now," said the Colonel, as he finished his long story, and we drove up
to his house, "I say it was a mean cowardice that kept that man from
doing his daughter justice. But then he was a scoundrel all through. And
now for my reason for telling you. I have my doubts, after all, about
the first marriage. There are the certificate and all the papers safe in
my desk. Earls may die, and worms may eat them,--and so with their sons
and daughters. It isn't among the impossibilities that my little Percy
may be a countess yet! Any way, if an advertisement should appear
calling for heirs to the Earl of Blank, somebody besides me and my
little woman would know all about it."

Mrs. Lunt insisted on my stopping to tea with them, and I had a strange
curiosity to look at Percy Lunt again, surrounded with this new halo,
thrice circled, of mystery. If she only knew or guessed what she really
was!

She sat by the fire, for the evening was a little cool, and, as we came
in, roused herself from her sad posture to give me welcome. How white
her face was! It was grievous to see such a young spirit so
blanched,--so utterly unelastic. If she could receive tidings of his
death, she would reconcile herself to the inevitable; but this wearing,
gnawing pain, this grief at his desertion, this dread of meeting him
again after he had been willing to leave her so long,--death itself
would be less bitter! But there were no words to console her with.

"You have had letters from Robert?" she inquired.

"Only a telegram came saying that the Barton boys were safe. It must
have been a dreadful battle! They say twelve thousand were killed on
each side."

"But you will hear very soon?"

"O, yes," I said, "but Robert must have his hands very full. He will
write as soon as he has a minute of leisure."

Robert was colonel now, and we were very proud of him. He had not yet
received a scratch, and he had been in eleven battles. We felt as if he
bore a charmed life.

After tea, we four sat round the sparkling wood-fire, knitting and
talking, (people in war-time have enough to talk about,) when a loud,
sudden knock at the door startled us. The old knocker thumped again and
again. The servant hurried to the door, and a moment after a man rushed
by him, with swift and heavy steps into the parlor, caught up Percy as
if she had been a feather, and held her tight to his heart and mouth.

He ha