re of my own people of the great past, whose tears and
sufferings are our common glory and birthright. Come, you must hear me--I
will take no denial. Give me now the order to see my husband!"

The President hesitated, struggling with deep emotion, called his
secretary, and gave the order.

As she hurried away with Elsie, who insisted on accompanying her to the
jail door, the girl said:

"Mrs. Cameron, I fear you are without money. You must let me help you
until you can return it."

"You are the dearest little heart I've met in all the world, I think
sometimes," said the older woman, looking at her tenderly. "I wonder how I
can ever pay you for half you've done already."

"The doing of it has been its own reward," was the soft reply. "May I help
you?"

"If I need it, yes. But I trust it will not be necessary. I still have a
little store of gold Doctor Cameron was wise enough to hoard during the
war. I brought half of it with me when I left home, and we buried the
rest. I hope to find it on my return. And if we can save the twenty bales
of cotton we have hidden we shall be relieved of want."

"I'm ashamed of my country when I think of such ignoble methods as have
been used against Doctor Cameron. My father is indignant, too."

The last sentence Elsie spoke with eager girlish pride.

"I am very grateful to your father for his letter. I am sorry he has left
the city before I could meet and thank him personally. You must tell him
for me."

At the jail the order of the President was not honoured for three hours,
and Mrs. Cameron paced the street in angry impatience at first and then in
dull despair.

"Do you think that man Stanton would dare defy the President?" she asked
anxiously.

"No," said Elsie, "but he is delaying as long as possible as an act of
petty tyranny."

At last the messenger arrived from the War Department permitting an order
of the Chief Magistrate of the nation, the Commander-in-Chief of its Army
and Navy, to be executed.

The grated door swung on its heavy hinges, and the wife and mother lay
sobbing in the arms of the lover of her youth.

For two hours they poured into each other's hearts the story of their
sorrows and struggles during the six fateful months that had passed. When
she would return from every theme back to his danger, he would laugh her
fears to scorn.

"Nonsense, my dear, I'm as innocent as a babe. Mr. Davis was suffering
from erysipelas, and I kept him in my house that