you refuse these tempting offers, we brand you cowards.  If, under these infamous restraints and disadvantages, you fail to equal the white troops by your side, you are written down—­inferiors.  If you equal them, you are still inferiors.  If you perform miracles, and surpass them, you are, in a measure, worthy commendation at last; we consent to see in you human beings, fit for mention and admiration,—­not as types of your color and of what you intrinsically are, but as exceptions; made such by the habit of association, and the force of surrounding circumstances.’

“These are the terms the American people offer you, these the terms which you stoop to accept, these the proofs that they are learning a lesson of justice!  So be it! there is need.  Let them learn it to the full! let this war go on ’until the cities be wasted without inhabitant, and the houses without man, and the land be utterly destroyed.’  Do not you interfere.  Leave them to the teachings and the judgments of God.”

Ercildoune had spoken with such impassioned feeling, with such fire in his eyes, such terrible earnestness in his voice, that Robert could not, if he would, interrupt him; and, in the silence, found no words for the instant at his command.  Ere he summoned them they saw some one approaching.

“A fine looking fellow! fighting has been no child’s play for him,” said Robert, looking, as he spoke, at the empty sleeve.

Mr. Ercildoune advanced to meet the stranger, and Surrey beheld the same face upon whose pictured semblance he had once gazed with such intense feelings, first of jealousy, and then of relief and admiration; the same splendor of life, and beauty, and vitality.  Surrey knew him at once, knew that it was Francesca’s father, and went up to him with extended hand.  Mr. Ercildoune took the proffered hand, and shook it warmly.  “I am happy to meet you, Mr. Surrey.”

“You know me?” said he with surprise.  “I thought to present myself.”

“I have seen your picture.”

“And I yours.  They must have held the mirror up to nature, for the originals to be so easily known.  But may I ask where you saw mine? yours was in Miss Ercildoune’s possession.”

“As was yours,” was answered after a moment’s hesitation,—­Surrey thought, with visible reluctance.  His heart flew into his throat.  “She has my picture,—­she has spoken of me,” he said to himself.  “I wonder what her father will think,—­what he will do.  Come, I will to the point immediately.”

“Mr. Ercildoune,” said he, aloud, “you know something of me? of my position and prospects?”

“A great deal.”

“I trust, nothing disparaging or ignoble.”

“I know nothing for which any one could desire oblivion.”

“Thanks.  Let me speak to you, then, of a matter which should have been long since proposed to you had I been permitted the opportunity.  I love your daughter.  I cannot speak about that, but you will understand all that I wish to say.  I have twice—­once by letter, once by speech—­let her know this and my desire to call her wife.  She has twice refused,—­absolutely.  You think this should cut off all hope?”