“Oh that you were with her, my child!”

“I’m better contented where I am,” said the girl, with a decided little nod.

“Yes, but great God! think of what might have happened if Merwyn had not been here,—­what might still have happened had he not had the nerve to take, probably, the only course which could have saved you!  There, there, I can’t think of it, or I shall be utterly unnerved.”

“Don’t think of it, papa.  See, I’m over the shock of it already.  Now don’t you be hysterical as I was yesterday.”

He made a great effort to rally, but it was evident that the strong man was deeply agitated.  They all, however, soon regained self-control and composure, and spent a genial half-hour together, Merwyn often going to the parlor, that he might scan the street.  After a brief discussion of plans for the morrow they separated for the night, Merwyn resuming his bivouac in the parlor.  After listening for a time he was satisfied that even mobs must rest, and, as the soldiers slept on their arms, he slumbered, his rifle in hand.

When Marian bade her father good-night he took her face in his hands and gazed earnestly down upon it.  The girl understood his expression, and the color came into her fair countenance like a June dawn.

“Do you remember, darling, my words when I said, ’I do not know how much it might cost you in the end to dismiss Mr. Merwyn finally’?”

“Yes, papa.”

“Are you not learning how much it might have cost you?”

“Yes, papa,” with drooping eyes.

He kissed her, and nothing more was said.

CHAPTER L.

Zeb.

Merwyn awoke early, and, as soon as he heard the German servant coming down-stairs, wrote a line to Mr. Vosburgh saying that he would call on his way to headquarters, and then hastened through the almost deserted streets to his own home.  To his great satisfaction he found everything unchanged there.  After luxuriating in a bath and a bountiful breakfast he again instructed his man to be on the watch, and to keep up a fire throughout the coming night, so that a hot meal might be had speedily at any time.

More than once the thought had crossed his mind:  “Unless we make greater headway with the riot, that attack on Mr. Vosburgh’s house will be repeated.  Vengeance alone would now prompt the act, and besides he is undoubtedly a marked man.  There’s no telling what may happen.  Our best course is to fight, fight, knock the wretches on the head.  With the quelling of the mob comes safety;” and, remembering the danger that threatened Marian, he was in a savage mood.