be said in that length of time. I choose that
you should hear from one who wishes you nothing but good the strange
story that troubles me."

"I remain, Mr. Muir," was the answer; and she sat down.

The subject was too disagreeable for him to dally with it. If the charge
were a true one, no consideration was due; if untrue, the sooner that
was made apparent, the better.

"It is said that the organist of St. Peter's is not as loyal a citizen
of the United States as might be hoped by those who admire and trust her
most; and not only so, but that she is the wife of a Rebel leader, and
in communication with Rebels. It sounds harsh, but I speak as a friend.
I do not credit these things; but they're said, and I repeat them to
relieve others of what they might deem a duty."

Swiftly on his words came her answer.

"You have not believed it, Sir?"

Looking at her, it was the easiest thing for the minister to feel and
say,--and, oh, how he wished for Deane!--

"Not one word of it, Madam."

"That is sufficient,--sufficient, at least, for me. But do they, does
any one, desire that I should take the oath of fealty to the
Constitution and to the Government? I am ready to do either, or both. I
hardly reverence the Constitution more than I do the man who is at the
head of our affairs. To me he is the hero of this age."

The minister smiled,--a cordial smile, right trustful, cordial, glad.

"It may be well," said he. "These are strange days to live in, and we
all abhor suspicion of our loyalty. Besides, it may be necessary; for
suspicion of this character is an ungovernable passion now. For myself,
I should never have asked these questions; but it is merely right that
you should know the whole truth. A person who reports of himself that he
has escaped from Charleston avers that he has recognized in the organist
of St. Peter's the wife of General Edgar. I don't know the man's name.
But his statement has reached me directly. I give you information I
might have withheld, because I perfectly trust both the citizen and the
lady who has rendered us such noble service here."

"And such trust, I may say, is my right. I shall not forfeit it," said
the organist, rising. "I am ready, at any time, to take the oath, and to
bear my own responsibilities, Mr. Muir. I have neither fellowship nor
communication with Rebels, and I deem it a strange insult to be called a
spy. 'T is a great pity one should stay here to vex himself with puerile
go