hape, of the darkness of death which the courage
of human souls had power to illumine as the rays of the sun the
tempest-cloud. Something more like quickened and pleasured expectation
than any one among her many lovers had ever had power to rouse, moved
her as she heard of the presence of the man who, in that day, had saved
the honor of his Flag. She came of a heroic race; she had heroic blood
in her; and heroism, physical and moral, won her regard as no other
quality could ever do. A man capable of daring greatly, and of suffering
silently, was the only man who could ever hope to hold her thoughts.

The room was darkened from the piercing light without; and in its gloom,
as he was ushered in, the scarlet of her cashmere and the gleam of her
fair hair was all that, for the moment, he could see. He bowed very low
that he might get his calmness back before he looked at her; and her
voice in its lingering music came on his ear.

"You have found my chain, I think? I lost it in riding yesterday. I am
greatly indebted to you for taking care of it."

She felt that she could only thank, as she would have thanked an equal
who should have done her this sort of slight service, the man who had
brought to her the gold pieces with which his Colonel had insulted him.

"It is I, madame, who am the debtor of so happy an accident."

His words were very low, and his voice shook a little over them; he was
thinking not of the jeweled toy that he came here to restore, but of the
inheritance that had passed away from him forever, and which, possessed,
would have given him the title to seek what his own efforts could do to
wake a look of tenderness in those proud eyes which men ever called so
cold, but which he felt might still soften, and change, and grow dark
with the thoughts and the passions of love, if the soul that gazed
through them were but once stirred from its repose.

"Your chain is here, madame, though broken, I regret to see," he
continued, as he took the little box from his coat and handed it to
her. She took it, and thanked him, without, for the moment, opening the
enamel case as she motioned him to a seat at a little distance from her
own.

"You have been in terrible scenes since I saw you last," she continued.
"The story of Zaraila reached us. Surely they cannot refuse you the
reward of your service now?"

"It will make little difference, madame, whether they do or not."

"Little difference! How is that?"

"To my ow