e, or only the blue of
the morning creeping among woods. Upon the stir of my entrance she did
not so much as turn about her face: a circumstance from which I augured
very ill.

"Madam," I began; and then again, "Madam"; but could make no more of it.
Nor yet did Mrs. Henry come to my assistance with a word. In this pass I
began gathering up the papers where they lay scattered on the table; and
the first thing that struck me, their bulk appeared to have diminished.
Once I ran them through, and twice; but the correspondence with the
Secretary of State, on which I had reckoned so much against the future,
was nowhere to be found. I looked in the chimney; amid the smouldering
embers, black ashes of paper fluttered in the draught; and at that my
timidity vanished.

"Good God, madam," cried I, in a voice not fitting for a sick-room,
"Good God, madam, what have you done with my papers?"

"I have burned them," said Mrs. Henry, turning about. "It is enough, it
is too much, that you and I have seen them."

"This is a fine night's work that you have done!" cried I. "And all to
save the reputation of a man that ate bread by the shedding of his
comrades' blood, as I do by the shedding of ink."

"To save the reputation of that family in which you are a servant, Mr.
Mackellar," she returned, "and for which you have already done so much."

"It is a family I will not serve much longer," I cried, "for I am
driven desperate. You have stricken the sword out of my hands; you have
left us all defenceless. I had always these letters I could shake over
his head; and now--what is to do? We are so falsely situate we dare not
show the man the door; the country would fly on fire against us; and I
had this one hold upon him--and now it is gone--now he may come back
to-morrow, and we must all sit down with him to dinner, go for a stroll
with him on the terrace, or take a hand at cards, of all things, to
divert his leisure! No, madam! God forgive you, if He can find it in His
heart; for I cannot find it in mine."

"I wonder to find you so simple, Mr. Mackellar," said Mrs. Henry. "What
does this man value reputation? But he knows how high we prize it; he
knows we would rather die than make these letters public; and do you
suppose he would not trade upon the knowledge? What you call your sword,
Mr. Mackellar, and which had been one indeed against a man of any
remnant of propriety, would have been but a sword of paper against him.
He would smile i