"Where are you going?" cried Virginia, in alarm.

"To Jefferson City, dear, to see the Governor. I got word this
afternoon."

"In the rain?"

He smiled, and stooped to kiss her.

"Yes," he answered, "in the rain as far as the depot, I can trust
you, Jinny. And Lige's boat will be back from New Orleans to-morrow or
Sunday."

The next morning the city awoke benumbed, her heart beating but feebly.
Her commerce had nearly ceased to flow. A long line of boats lay idle,
with noses to the levee. Men stood on the street corners in the rain,
reading of the capture of Camp Jackson, and of the riot, and thousands
lifted up their voices to execrate the Foreign City below Market Street.
A vague terror, maliciously born, subtly spread. The Dutch had broken
up the camp, a peaceable state institution, they had shot down innocent
women and children. What might they not do to the defenceless city under
their victorious hand, whose citizens were nobly loyal to the South?
Sack it? Yes, and burn, and loot it. Ladies who ventured out that day
crossed the street to avoid Union gentlemen of their acquaintance.

It was early when Mammy Easter brought the news paper to her mistress.
Virginia read the news, and ran joyfully to her aunt's room. Three times
she knocked, and then she heard a cry within. Then the key was turned
and the bolt cautiously withdrawn, and a crack of six inches disclosed
her aunt.

"Oh, how you frightened me, Jinny!" she cried. "I thought it was the
Dutch coming to murder us all, What have they done to Clarence?"

"We shall see him to-day, Aunt Lillian," was the joyful answer. "The
newspaper says that all the Camp Jackson prisoners are to be set free
to-day, on parole. Oh, I knew they would not dare to hold them. The
whole state would have risen to their rescue."

Mrs. Colfax did not receive these tidings with transports. She permitted
her niece to come into her room, and then: sank into a chair before the
mirror of her dressing-table, and scanned her face there.

"I could not sleep a wink, Jinny, all night long. I look wretchedly. I
am afraid I am going to have another of my attacks. How it is raining!
What does the newspaper say?"

"I'll get it for you," said Virginia, used to her aunt's vagaries.

"No, no, tell me. I am much too nervous to read it."

"It says that they will be paroled to-day, and that they passed a
comfortable night."

"It must be a Yankee lie," said the lady. "Oh, what a night! I sa