hat he found the daring
to begin a direct approach.

It was a cold, bright evening in December, and the Major unfolded the paper
and read it by the firelight, which glimmered redly on the frosted window
panes. When he had finished, he looked over the fluttering sheet into the
pale face of the rector, and waited breathlessly for the first decisive
words.

"May she depart in peace," said the minister, in a low voice.

The old gentleman drew a long breath, and, in the cheerful glow, the other,
looking at him, saw his weak red eyes fill with tears. Then he took out his
handkerchief, shook it from its folds, and loudly blew his nose.

"It was the Union our fathers made, Mr. Blake," he said.

"And the Union you fought for, Major," returned the rector.

"In two wars, sir," he glanced down at his arm as if he half expected to
see a wound, "and I shall never fight for another," he added with a sigh.
"My fighting days are over."

They were both silent, and the logs merrily crackled on the great brass
andirons, while the flames went singing up the chimney. A glass of Burgundy
was at the rector's hand, and he lifted it from the silver tray and sipped
it as he waited. At last the old man spoke, bending forward from his
station upon the hearth-rug.

"You haven't seen Peyton Ambler, I reckon?"

"I passed him coming out of town and he was trembling like a leaf," replied
the rector. "He looks badly, by the way. I must remember to tell the doctor
he needs building up."

"He didn't speak about this, eh?"

"About South Carolina? Oh, yes, he spoke, sir. It happened that Jack Powell
came up with him when I did--the boy was cheering with all his might, and I
heard him ask the Governor if he questioned the right of the state to
secede?"

"And Peyton said, sir?" The Major leaned eagerly toward him.

"He said," pursued the rector, laughing softly. "'God forbid, my boy, that
I should question the right of any man or any country to pursue folly.'"

"Folly!" cried the Major, sharply, firing at the first sign of opposition.
"It was a brave deed, sir, a brave deed--and I--yes, I envy the honour for
Virginia. And as for Peyton Ambler, it is my belief that it is he who has
sapped the courage of the state. Why, my honest opinion is that there are
not fifty men in Virginia with the spirit to secede--and they are women."

The rector laughed and tapped his wine-glass.

"You mustn't let that reach Mrs. Lightfoot's ears, Major," he cautione