“Yes, sir,” he said incisively, in response to Mr. Brinsmade’s question, “we are forced to retain Captain Colfax.  He prefers to remain a prisoner until he is exchanged.  He refuses to take the oath of allegiance to the United States.

“And why should he be made to, Captain Lyon?  In what way has he opposed the United States troops?”

It was Virginia who spoke.  Both looked at her in astonishment.

“You will pardon me, Miss Carvel,” said Captain Lyon, gravely, “if I refuse to discuss that question with you.”  Virginia bit her tongue.

“I understand that Mr. Colfax is a near relative of yours, Miss Carvel,” the Captain continued.  “His friends may come here to see him during the day.  And I believe it is not out of place for me to express my admiration of the captain’s conduct.  You may care to see him now—­”

“Thank you,” said Virginia, curtly.

“Orderly, my respects to Captain Colfax, and ask him if a he will be kind enough to come in here.  Mr. Brinsmade,” said the Captain, “I should like a few words with you, sir.”  And so, thanks to the Captain’s delicacy, when Clarence arrived he found Virginia alone.  She was much agitated She ran toward him as he entered the door, calling his name.

“Max, you are going to stay here?”

“Yes, until I am exchanged.”

Aglow with admiration, she threw herself into his arms.  Now, indeed, was she proud of him.  Of all the thousand defenders of the state, he alone was true to his principles—­to the South.  Within sight of home, he alone had chosen privation.

She looked up into his face, which showed marks of excitement and fatigue.  But above all, excitement.  She knew that he could live on excitement.  The thought came to her—­was it that which sustained him now?  She put it away as treason.  Surely the touch of this experience would transform the boy into the man.  This was the weak point in the armor which she wore so bravely for her cousin.

He had grown up to idleness.  He had known neither care nor responsibility.  His one longing from a child had been that love of fighting and adventure which is born in the race.  Until this gloomy day in the Arsenal, Virginia had never characterized it as a love of excitement—–­as any thing which contained a selfish element.  She looked up into his face, I say, and saw that which it is given to a woman only to see.  His eyes burned with a light that was far away.  Even with his arms around her he seemed to have forgotten her presence, and that she had come all the way to the Arsenal to see him.  Her hands dropped limply from his shoulders She drew away, as he did not seem to notice.

So it is with men.  Above and beyond the sacrifice of a woman’s life, the joy of possessing her soul and affection, is something more desirable still—­fame and glory—­personal fame and glory, The woman may share them, of course, and be content with the radiance.  When the Governor in making his inauguration speech, does he always think of the help the little wife has given him.  And so, in moments of excitement, when we see far ahead into a glorious future, we do not feel the arms about us, or value the sweets which, in more humdrum days, we labored so hard to attain.