“This I wish you to do, Ronayne.  Take the first favorable opportunity, either while on guard to-day, or when relieved to-morrow, to see Headley privately, and by such language as you well know how to use, remove the unfavorable impression you have left on his mind—­depend upon it, although extremely cold and inflexible when apparently braved, my husband has a warm and generous—­aye, a noble heart, and will freely grant what is frankly solicited.  Bear in mind, moreover, Ronayne, that it is no humiliation to admit error when conscious of having committed it; and if this be so in the social relations of life, how much less derogatory is it in a military sense.”

“Say no more, dearest Mrs. Headley, since it is your wish, I will go, no matter what the reception I encounter; and any further rebuke I may meet with, I will cheerfully endure for your sake.”

“Now then, Ronayne, you are once more yourself, the generous, high-minded boy, in whom I delighted, even as a mother would delight in her son, when you first arrived here about three years ago.  Yet, recollect that not only I shall be gratified and benefitted by this, but you and yours.  Let but this unhappy discord terminate, and we shall then be what soldiers and those connected with them, ought ever to be—­one undivided family.  And now, for the present, farewell.”

“God bless you!” fervently exclaimed the ensign, as he took his leave of the graceful and noble wife of the commanding officer, with emotions that fully testified the effect produced upon him by her generous confidence and candor.

From the frequent reference made by Mrs. Headley to her own riper years, one might have been induced to consider her rather in the decline of life; but such was not the case.  Her splendid and matronly figure might indeed have impressed the superficial observer with the belief that she had numbered more than forty summers, but the unchained and luxuriant hair—­the white, even and perfect teeth—­ the rich, full lip, and unwrinkled brow, and smooth and brilliant cheek, would not have permitted the woman most jealous of her charms, could such have been found, to pronounce her more than six-and-thirty, which was, indeed, her age.  It was a source of gratification to her to consider and represent herself as older than she really was; and if she had any peculiarity—­a weakness it could not be called—­it was that of loving to look upon those younger persons who claimed a place in her friendship and esteem, as though she actually stood in the maternal relation to them.  This may have, in some degree, arisen from the fact of her having ever been childless herself.