“I love manliness and the sense of right, which is called duty, better than I love a man who is blind to the first impulse of real manhood—­”

“Would you ask a Jew to give up his synagogue to gain your hand?”

“The synagogue is the temple of a creed as divine as my own, and the faith of the man I loved would never swerve me in accepting or refusing him.”

“We of the South believe slavery a divine institution—­that is, first established by the fathers!”

“The tribes in the Fiji Islands believe man-eating an ordinance of the gods!”

“Well, this sort of discussion leads to nothing,” Vincent said, ruefully.  “The world is well lost for the woman one loves, when I come to you shorn of my world!”

“Ah! then, Vincent, you will find another!”

He drew her hand from the clinging vines and kissed it.

“I am very happy.  I shall lose my world with a very light heart.”

“The world is a very tough brier; we sometimes bring it closer, when its thorns prick us more painfully in the struggles to cast it off.”

“Then I’ll cut the brambles, and not risk tearing my flesh!”

“That’s the soldier’s way—­the heroic way; but wait for the future; I am young and you are not old.”

Vincent’s gayety when they returned to the drawing-room attracted the observant Dick, and he slyly whispered to the warrior, “Been practicing the Roman strategy with the Sabines?”

“No, I’ve been at the Temple of Minerva and taken a pledge to hold my tongue.”

“Ah! the goddess of the owls; but, as they see light only in darkness, I fear you groped in blackness.”

The whole household were to meet President Davis and his party in Williamsburg, assist at the review, and get back with the distinguished guests in time for a state dinner.  Merry and Mrs. Sprague were reluctant to go, but they feared a refusal would be misunderstood.  Poor Merry was very tearful and disconsolate at the thought of leaving Dick, but she strove heroically to hide her grief when the cavalcade set out, the elder ladies driving, the young people mounted.  The ancient capital of Virginia was aflame with the new rebel bunting.  President Davis, with Generals Lee and Magruder, were in place on the pretty green before the old colonial college edifice when the Rosedale people came up.  Davis saluted Mrs. Atterbury with cordial urbanity; but, as the troops were already in column, there was only time for hasty presentation of the strangers.

Jack watched the rather piebald pageant with absorbed interest.  The infantry marched wretchedly.  The arms were as varied as the uniforms, and the artillery seemed a relic of Jackson’s time.  But the cavalry was superb.  Never had he seen such splendid ranks, such noble horses.  At sight of the tall, elegant figure of the President, the troops broke into the peculiar shrill cheer that afterward became a sound of wonder, almost terror, to unaccustomed