onel merely made a
pretence of eating. About six o'clock Mrs. Addison Colfax had driven in
from Bellegarde, nor could it rain fast enough or hard enough to wash
the foam from her panting horses. She did not wait for Jackson to come
out with an umbrella, but rushed through the wet from the carriage
to the door in her haste to urge the Colonel to go to the Arsenal and
demand Clarence's release. It was in vain that Mr. Carvel assured her
it would do no good, in vain that he told her of a more important matter
that claimed him. Could there be a more important matter than his
own nephew kept in durance, and in danger of being murdered by Dutch
butchers in the frenzy of their victory? Mrs. Colfax shut herself up in
her room, and through the door Virginia heard her sobs as she went down
to tea.

The Colonel made no secret of his uneasiness. With his hat on his head,
and his hands in his pockets, he paced up and down the room. He let his
cigar go out,--a more serious sign still. Finally he stood with his face
to the black window, against which the big drops were beating in a fury.

Virginia sat expressionless at the head of the table, still in that gown
of white and crimson, which she had worn in honor of the defenders of
the state. Expressionless, save for a glance of solicitation at her
father's back. If resolve were feminine, Virginia might have sat for
that portrait. There was a light in her dark blue eyes. Underneath there
were traces of the day's fatigue. When she spoke, there was little life
in her voice.

"Aren't you going to the Planters' House, Pa The Colonel turned, and
tried to smile.

"I reckon not to-night, Jinny. Why?"

"To find out what they are going to do with Clarence," she said
indignantly.

"I reckon they don't know at the Planters' House," he said.

"Then--" began Virginia, and stopped.

"Then what?" he asked, stroking her hair.

"Then why not go to the Barracks? Order the carriage, and I will go with
you."

His smile faded. He stood looking down at her fixedly, as was sometimes
his habit. Grave tenderness was in his tone.

"Jinny," he said slowly, "Jinny, do you mean to marry Clarence?"

The suddenness of the question took her breath. But she answered
steadily:

"Yes."

"Do you love him?

"Yes," she answered. But her lashes fell.

Still he stood, and it seemed to her that her father's gaze pierced to
her secret soul.

"Come here, my dear," he said.

He held out his arms, and she