‘This,’ she continued, returning with a miniature specimen of the dear old flag, ’a real flag, the emblem of a real living nation, must be kept hidden, its glorious lustre fading away in the dark, while that,’ pointing to where the ‘stars and bars’ were fluttering in the breeze, ’that miserable abortion is insolently flaunted before our eyes, nothing about it original or suggestive—­except its stolen colors, reminding us of the financial operations of Floyd!  Oh, if hope could be prophecy—­if a life that is an unceasing prayer for the success of the federal arms could avail, it would not be long before this bright banner would wave in triumph over all the land, its starry folds gleaming with a purer, more glorious light than ever!’

    And as she stood there, with eyes uplifted as in mute prayer, and
    fervently kissed the silken folds of the flag, Hugh wished that
    his station in life had been that of an American flag.

Time passed on, and the prisoner was to be exchanged for a rebel officer of equal rank.  Captain Dumars brought him the intelligence, and was surprised at the seeming indifference with which he received it.

    ’You don’t seern particularly elated by the prospect of getting
    among the Yankees again.’

’I am eager to take my sword again; but my stay here has been far from unpleasant.  You, Captain, have been away so much that I have not been able to thank you for making my imprisonment so pleasant.  I am at a loss to know why you have shown such favor to me especially.’

    ‘This is the cause,’ replied the Captain, laying his finger upon a
    breast-pin that Hugh always wore upon his coat, at the same time
    unbuttoning his own; ‘you see that I wear the same.’

It was a simple jewel, embellished only by a few Greek characters, but it was the emblem of one of those college societies, in which secrecy and mystery add a charm to the ties of brotherhood.  And it was this fraternal tie, stronger than that of Free-Masonry, because more exclusive, that made Hugh’s a pleasant imprisonment, and made him happy in the love of one faithful among the faithless, loyal among many traitors.  For of course the reader has surmised—­for poetic justice demands it—­that Hugh fell desperately in love with Annie, and Annie ditto Hugh.  How he told the tender tale, and how she answered him,—­whether with the conventional quantity of blushes and sighs, or not,—­is none of your business, reader, or mine; so don’t ask me any questions.

It was the evening of the day before Hugh’s departure.  They, Annie and Hugh, sat in the little porch, silent and sad, watching the shadows slowly creeping up the mountain side towards its sun-kissed summit, like a sombre pall of sorrow shrouding a bright hope.

    ‘And to-morrow you are free.’