“Thank you, not now.  I’ll just sit here for a moment.  The air is delightful this morning.”

“So it is, sir.  And do ye bring ony news frae our friends in Naples?”

“No; I have heard nothing since I saw you last.”

“But what’s this, Mr. Walter, that I hear the servants saying aboot a fight wi’ the United States troops?”

“Fort Sumter has fallen, Mrs. Murray.  There’s an account of the whole affair,” he added, taking a newspaper from his pocket and handing it to her.

She received it eagerly, and with a hearty thanks.

“I am going out into the grounds,” he said, and walked away, leaving her to its perusal.

He strolled down a green alley, inspected it, the lawns, the avenue, the flower and vegetable gardens, to see that all were in order; held a few minutes’ conversation with the head gardener, making some suggestions and bestowing deserved praise of his faithful performance of his duties; then wandering on, at length seated himself in Elsie’s bower, and took from his breast-pocket—­where he had constantly carried it of late—­a small morocco-bound, gilt-edged volume.

He sat there a long time, reading and pondering with grave, anxious face, it may be asking for heavenly guidance too, for his eyes were now and then uplifted and his lips moved.

The next day and the next he spent at the Oaks, passing most of his time in solitude, either in the least frequented parts of the grounds, or the lonely and deserted rooms of the mansion.

Walter had always been a favorite with Mrs. Murray.  She had a sort of motherly affection for him, and watching him furtively, felt sure that he had some heavy mental trouble.  She waited and watched silently, hoping that he would confide in her and let her sympathize, if she could do nothing more.

On the evening of the third day he came in from the grounds with a brightened countenance, his little book in his hand.  She was on the veranda looking out for him to ask if he was ready for his tea.  He met her with a smile.

“Is it gude news, Mr. Walter?” she asked, thinking of the distracted state of the country.

“Yes, Mrs. Murray, I think you will call it so.  I have been searching here,” and he held up the little volume, “for the pearl of great price; and I have found it.”

“Dear bairn, I thank God for ye!” she exclaimed with emotion.  “It’s gude news indeed!”

“I cannot think how I’ve been so blind,” he went on in earnest tones; “it seems now so simple and easy—­just to believe in Jesus Christ, receive His offered pardon, His righteousness put upon me, the cleansing of His blood shed for the remission of sins, and trust my all to Him for time and eternity.  Now I am ready to meet death on the battle-field, if so it must be.”

“But, O Mr. Walter, I hope you’ll be spared that, and live to be a good soldier of Christ these many years.”

They were startled by the furious galloping of a horse coming up the drive; and the next moment Arthur drew rein before the door.