him, seeming to have no intention of serving his country in her
need. And yet I knew him to be the truest, noblest, tenderest, and most
loyal fellow among all my friends. He looked at me with real envy, and
then exclaimed: 'I wish to Heaven I could go with you, Allen!' and I
answered: 'Why don't you? I have never asked before because I knew you
had some worthy reason.' After some hesitation, he began: 'Because you
have never doubted or questioned me I will tell you why I am here, when
every feeling is against my inactivity. You will keep my secret?' Of
course I promised, and he went on: 'You know I am very wealthy, Max,
that my income is, for these times, extremely large; but you do not know
that, by my grandfather's will, the next heir, in case of my death, is
my cousin, a man who aids and abets the Tories in every possible way, a
man unscrupulous and unprincipled to the last degree. I have but one
life; I might lay it down in my first battle, and that property, over
which I have no control, would be worse than useless to my country. It
would aid her foes, and, much as she needs men, she needs money even
more. So I stay here, and put my income, as fast as I get it, to the
national use. You know what my income is. I'll show you my expenses';
and he showed me the merest fraction--less than I spend myself, I began
to expostulate on his endurance of suspicion and blame for what might be
so nobly explained, but he would only say, 'Oh, it would sound quixotic
and sentimental; and, after all, what does it matter? I know _myself_
that I am serving my country to the best of my poor ability.' But at
last, Dorris, he is rewarded, for he was born to be a soldier; and when,
three weeks ago, he received news of the sudden death of that cousin, he
immediately enlisted, and is now serving his country in the way he has
so long desired. What do you think of such a man as he?"

"He is a hero," answered Dorris, steadily, though a suspicion, quick as
a ray of light, had flashed through her mind as to who this hero was. "A
hero as true as any my fancy could paint. Who is he--this noble friend
of yours?"

"Keith Endicott," is the quiet answer, adding, quickly, as he rose to
take his leave. "Forgive me, sweet friend, that I could no longer bear
that you should do injustice to him, for those quick words of yours the
last evening we were all together have rankled in my heart, as I know
they have in his, ever since."

Dorris was not too proud