courtesied, tripped forward and retreated, with such bending and twisting as would turn a ballet-master mad with envy.  In all the movement of the overture the two dancers merely touched the tips of each other’s fingers, and when the solemn measure came to a close the President slid across the floor in one graceful, immense pirouette, handing the lady who confronted him, bent nearly to the ground, into her seat.  There was an outburst of applause, and then the assembly took places, repeating, in as far as the mass would permit, the stately evolutions of the leader.

Later, a Virginia reel followed, danced with old-time verve, some of the more accomplished dancers bounding over the floor in pigeon-wings, such as were cut by the nimble a hundred years ago, when Richmond danced in honor of Washington and Lafayette.  There was no end of drinking among the men, and as soon as the dancing seemed at its height the matrons began to gather into groups and send out signals to the younger ladies.  The feast ended in drinking-bouts between dispersed bodies, who seemed to know the names of all the servants, and ordered as liberally as if in their own houses.  In the melee of separation, Jack felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Remember, every moment is precious.  Many lives, perhaps a great campaign, depend upon your discretion, promptitude, and loyalty.  Be ready when the signal reaches you, and remember you do not know me beyond the civility of a presentation, and do not like me.”

Jack had hardly turned as these words were whispered in his ear, and he gave the kind lady’s hand a warm pressure, as she moved away unremarked in the throng.

Jack, confiding Mrs. Gannat’s disclosures to Olympia, was elated by his sister’s enthusiasm, and was strengthened in his conviction that he was doing right by her approval.

“But you know, Polly, that—­I—­I, too, must be of the party?  I must fly to the Union lines.”

“Of course you will!  I should be ashamed of you were you to let such a chance pass.  It is the only thing to do; it is your duty as a soldier to be with your flag; any means to get to it is justified.  The Atterburys will feel hurt, perhaps outraged, but I can soon convince them that you have only done what Vincent would do, and whatever he would do they will soon see is right for you to do, even though it may bring them into temporary disgrace with the authorities.  Of late I have begun to suspect that the Atterburys are to blame for your detention.”

“What do you mean to blame?  Surely they can not hasten the slow business of negotiation?”

“No; but I’m convinced that they have given out hopes that you can be seduced into a soldier of secession.  It is common talk in the drawing-rooms I have visited, where I was not always recognized as your sister.  The silly tale has angered me, but for prudence sake I kept silent.  I have heard in a score of places that the Atterburys were detaining you until another reverse to the Union arms should convince you of the uselessness of remaining in the service of the abolitionists.”