ty moves in the
games evolving about that promise of civil war; the creeping forward
of England to help widen the breach between the divided sections, and
the swift swinging of Russian war vessels into the harbors of the
Atlantic--the silent bear of the Russias facing her hereditary English
foe and forbidding interference, until the lion gave way with low
growlings, not daring to even roar his chagrin, but contenting himself
with night-prowlings during the four years that followed.

All those wheels within wheels were discussed around the Marquise de
Caron in those days. Her acquaintance with the representatives of
different nations and the diplomats of her own, made her aware of many
unpublished moves for advantage in the game they surveyed. The
discussion of them, and guesses as to the finale, helped to awake her
from the lethargy she had deplored. Remembering that the McVeighs
belonged to a seceding state, she asked many questions and forgot none
of the replies.

"Madame La Marquise, I was right," said a white moustached general one
night at a great ball, where she appeared. "Was it not a rose you
wagered me? I have won. War is declared in America. In South Carolina,
today, the Confederates won the first point, and secured a Federal
fort."

"General! they have not dared!"

"Madame, those Southerons are daring above everything. I have met
them. Their men are fighters, and they will be well officered."

Well officered! She thought of Kenneth McVeigh, he would be one of
them; yes, she supposed that was one thing he could do--fight; a thing
requiring brute strength, brute courage!

"So!" said the Countess Biron, who seldom was acquainted with the
causes of any wars outside those of court circles, "this means that if
the Northern States should retaliate and conquer, all the slaves would
be free?"

"Not at all, Countess. The North does not interfere with slavery where
it exists, only protests against its extension to greater territory."

"Oh! Well; I understood it had something to do with the Africans. That
clever young Delaven devoted an entire hour to my enlightenment
yesterday. And my poor friend, Madame McVeigh, you remember her,
Judithe? She is in the Carolinas. I tremble to think of her position
now; an army of slaves surrounding them, and, of course, only awaiting
the opportunity for insurrection."

"And Louisiana seceded two months ago," said the Marquise, and then
smiled. "You will think me a mercenary