urse of human existence is run;
and yet they are none the less _follies_. The events of yesterday were
part of that general plan on which the world was first formed and on
which it may have been conducted through all the hundreds of centuries
which puzzle Agassiz and frighten the theologists. The downfall of an
empire and the picking up of a basket of chips by a ragged child in a
ship-yard, may each have equally formed part of it, and each been
equally impossible to avert. Human will seemed to move each event, and
human responsibility certainly attached to each; but the event itself,
unknown until accomplished, moved in its appointed course and could no
more be jarred from it than one of the planets from its orbit.

But all this by the way. Joe Harris had her own odd work to do, hundreds
of miles away, and there was no hindrance in the way of her
accomplishing it, from any new ties suddenly added to bind her to the
city.

Of course that strange and unexpected arrival from the seat of war (for
John Crawford had not even taken the precaution to telegraph from
Fortress Monroe or Washington) created a sensation in the Crawford
household. A mixed sensation--for while both the brothers were heartily
glad to meet, each had a cause for sorrow on meeting the other. Richard
was naturally sorry to see John, who had passed through so many fights
without harm, wounded at last and disabled for an indefinite period; and
John was correspondingly sorry to see Richard, whom he had left in such
high health and spirits, a broken-down and house-ridden invalid. Not
long before he had another cause for anxiety; for in the first half hour
of private conference which ensued, on the very evening of their
arrival, in response to a question from John, as to the health of the
family at West Falls and the progress of his expected marriage with
Mary, Richard revealed the unaccountable state of coldness which had
sprung up, Mary's neglect to answer his late letters, and the fact that
Egbert remained all the visiting-link between the city and country
branches of the family.

"Egbert, eh?" asked John, whose service at looking out for skulking
enemies when on picket-duty, might have made him more watchful and
suspicious than he would have been under other circumstances. "Egbert,
eh? Well, all I can say is that I don't like the link!"

Richard Crawford started, as he lay reclining upon the sofa. He was
decidedly better than he had been a week before,