If he had known the impression he made, he would have felt less anxiety with reference to this particular possibility.  Miss Silence expressed herself gratified with his appearance, and thought he looked like a good young man,—­he reminded her of a young friend of hers who—­[It was the same who had gone to one of the cannibal islands as a missionary,—­and stayed there.] Myrtle was very quiet.  She had nothing to say about Clement, except that she had met him at a party in the city, and found him agreeable.  Miss Cynthia wrote a letter to Murray Bradshaw that very evening, telling him that he had better come back to Oxbow Village as quickly as he could, unless he wished to find his place occupied by an intruder.

In the mean time, the country was watching the garrison in Charleston Harbor.  All at once the first gun of the four years’ cannonade hurled its ball against the walls of Fort Sumter.  There was no hamlet in the land which the reverberations of that cannon-roar did not reach.  There was no valley so darkened by overshadowing hills that it did not see the American flag hauled down on the 13th of April.  There was no loyal heart in the North that did not answer to the call of the country to its defenders which went forth two days later.  The great tide of feeling reached the locality where the lesser events of our narrative were occurring.  A meeting of the citizens was instantly called.  The venerable Father Pemberton opened it with a prayer that filled every soul with courage and high resolve.  The young farmers and mechanics of that whole region joined the companies to which they belonged, or organized in squads and marched at once, or got ready to march, to the scene of conflict.

The contagion of warlike patriotism reached the most peacefully inclined young persons.

“My country calls me,” Gifted Hopkins said to Susan Posey, “and I am preparing to obey her summons.  If I can pass the medical examination, which it is possible I may, though I fear my constitution may be thought too weak, and if no obstacle impedes me, I think of marching in the ranks of the Oxbow Invincibles.  If I go, Susan, and I fall, will you not remember me . . . as one who . . . cherished the tenderest . . . sentiments . . . towards you . . . and who had looked forward to the time when . . . when . .”

His eyes told the rest.  He loved!

Susan forgot all the rules of reserve to which she had been trained.  What were cold conventionalities at such a moment?  “Never! never!” she said, throwing her arms about his neck and mingling her tears with his, which were flowing freely.  “Your country does not need your sword .... but it does need . . . your pen.  Your poems will inspire . . . our soldiers. . . .  The Oxbow Invincibles will march to victory, singing your songs . . . .  If you go . . . and if you.. . fall . . .  O Gifted! . . .  I . . .  I . . . . yes, I shall die too!”