filled Virginia's heart. In his just anger Colonel
Carvel remembered that he was the host, and strove to think only of his
affection for his old friend.

"To invade a sovereign state, sir, is a crime against the sacred spirit
of this government," he said.

"There is no such thing as a sovereign state, sir," exclaimed the Judge,
hotly. "I am an American, and not a Missourian."

"When the time comes, sir," said the Colonel, with dignity, "Missouri
will join with her sister sovereign states against oppression."

"Missouri will not secede, sir."

"Why not, sir!" demanded the Colonel.

"Because, sir, when the worst comes, the Soothing Syrup men will rally
for the Union. And there are enough loyal people here to keep her
straight."

"Dutchmen, sir! Hessians? Foreign Republican hirelings, sir," exclaimed
the Colonel, standing up. "We shall drive them like sheep if they oppose
us. You are drilling them now that they may murder your own blood when
you think the time is ripe."

The Colonel did not hear Virginia leave the room, so softly had she
gone, He made a grand figure of a man as he stood up, straight and tall,
those gray eyes a-kindle at last. But the fire died as quickly as it had
flared. Pity had come and quenched it,--pity that an unselfish life
of suffering and loneliness should be crowned with these. The Colonel
longed then to clasp his friend in his arms. Quarrels they had had
by the hundred, never yet a misunderstanding. God had given to Silas
Whipple a nature stern and harsh that repelled all save the charitable
few whose gift it was to see below the surface, and Colonel Carvel had
been the chief of them. But now the Judge's vision was clouded.

Steadying himself by his chair, he had risen glaring, the loose skin
twitching on his sallow face. He began firmly but his voice shook ere he
had finished.

"Colonel Carvel," said he, "I expect that the day has come when you
go your way and I go mine. It will be better if--we do not meet again,
sir."

And so he turned from the man whose friendship had stayed him for the
score of years he had battled with his enemies, from that house which
had been for so long his only home. For the last time Jackson came
forward to help him with his coat. The Judge did not see him, nor did he
see the tearful face of a young girl leaning over the banisters above.
Ice was on the stones. And Mr. Whipple, blinded by a moisture strange to
his eyes, clung to the iron railing as he fe