“This will not answer,” said Mr. Vosburgh, in a tone that quieted both mother and daughter, who at this stage were inclined to be a little hysterical.  “A moment’s rational thought will convince you that words cannot influence me.  I know exactly what I owe to you and to my country, and no earthly power can change my course a hair’s breadth.  If I should be brought home dead to-morrow, Marian would not have the shadow of a reason for self-reproach.  She would have no more to do with it than with the sunrise.  Your feelings, in both instances, are natural enough, and no doubt similar scenes are taking place all over the land; but men go just the same, as they should do and always have done in like emergencies.  So wipe away your tears, little women.  You have nothing to cry about yet, while many have.”

The master mind controlled and quieted them.  Mrs. Vosburgh looked at her husband a little curiously, and it dawned upon her more clearly than ever before that the man whom she managed, as she fancied, was taking his quiet, resolute way through life with his own will at the helm.

Marian thought, “Ah, why does not mamma idolize such a man and find her best life in making the most of his life?”

She had, as yet, scarcely grasped the truth that, as disease enfeebles the body, so selfishness disables the mind, robbing it of the power to care for others, or to understand them.  In a sense Mr. Vosburgh would always be a stranger to his wife.  He had philosophically and patiently accepted the fact, and was making the best of the relation as it existed.

It was now decided that the family should return at once to their city home.  Mr. Vosburgh had a few days of leisure to superintend the removal, and then his duties would become engrossing.

The evening before their departure was one of mild, charming beauty, and as the dining-room was partially dismantled, it was Mr. Vosburgh’s fancy to have the supper-table spread on the veranda.  The meal was scarcely finished when a tall, broad-shouldered man appeared at the foot of the steps, and Sally, the pretty waitress, manifested a blushing consciousness of his presence.

“Wud Mr. Vosburgh let me spake to him a moment?” began the stranger.

Marian recognized the voice that, from the shrubbery, had given utterance to the indignant protest against traits which had once characterized her own life and motives.  Thinking it possible that her memory was at fault, she glanced at Sally’s face and the impression was confirmed.  “What ages have passed since that June evening!” she thought.

“Is it anything private, my man?” asked Mr. Vosburgh, pushing back his chair and lighting a cigar.

“Faix, zur, it’s nothin’ oi’m ashamed on.  I wish to lave the country and get a place on the perlace force,” repeated the man, with an alacrity which showed that he wished Sally to hear his request.

“You look big and strong enough to handle most men.”