al of Prescott. Conspicuous in the
crowd was the Member of Congress, Redfield, not at all improved in
appearance since the spring. His face was redder, heavier and coarser
than ever.

"I tell you it is so," he said oratorically and dogmatically to the
others. "The Secretary is in love with her. He was in love with Helen
Harley once, but now he has changed over to the other one."

Prescott shifted uneasily. Here was the name of the Secretary dogging
him and in a connection that he liked least of all.

"It's the 'Beautiful Yankee,' then," said another, a young man named
Garvin, who aspired eagerly to the honours of a ladykiller. "I don't
blame him. You don't see such a face and figure more than once in a
lifetime. I've been thinking of going in there myself and giving the
Secretary something to do."

He flecked a speck of dust off his embroidered waistcoat and exuded
vanity. Prescott would have gone away at once, but such an act would
have had an obvious meaning--the last thing that he desired, and he
stayed, hoping that the current of talk would float to a new topic.
Winthrop and Raymond glanced at him, knowing the facts of the Wilderness
and of the retreat that followed, but they said nothing.

"I think that the Secretary or anybody else should go slow with this
Yankee girl," said Redfield. "Who is she--and what is she? Where did she
come from? She drifted in with the army after the battles in the
Wilderness and that's all we know."

"It's enough," said Garvin; "because it makes a delightful mystery which
but adds to the 'Beautiful Yankee's' attractions. The Secretary is far
gone there. I happen to know that he is to take her to the President's
reception to-morrow night."

Prescott started. He was glad now that he had not humbled himself.

"At any rate," said Redfield, "Mr. Sefton can't mean to marry her--an
unknown like that; it must be something else."

Prescott felt hot pincers grip him around the heart, and a passion that
he could not control flamed to his brain. He strode forward and put his
hand heavily on the Member's shoulder.

"Are you speaking of Miss Catherwood?" he demanded.

"I am," replied Redfield, throwing off the heavy hand. "But what
business is that of yours?"

"Simply this; that she is too good and noble a woman to be spoken of
slightingly by you. Such remarks as you have just made you repeat at
your risk."

Redfield made an angry reply and there were all the elements of a fierce
enc