“Through no fault of yours, Mr. Merwyn.  I’ve thought so much of poor mamma to-day!  She must be wild with anxiety about us.”

“I think not,” said Mr. Vosburgh.  “I telegraphed to her yesterday and to-day.  I admit they were rather misleading messages.”

From time to time Mr. Vosburgh went to the outlook on the street, but all remained apparently quiet in their vicinity.  Yet an hour of fearful peril was drawing near.  A spirit of vengeance, and a desire to get rid of a most dangerous enemy, prompted another attack on Mr. Vosburgh’s home that night; and, taught by former experience, the assailants had determined to approach quietly and fight till they should accomplish their purpose.  They meant to strike suddenly, swiftly, and remorselessly.

The little group in the dining-room, however, grew confident with every moment of immunity; yet they could not wholly banish their fears, and Mr. Vosburgh explained to Merwyn how he had put bars on the outside of the doors opening into the back yard, a bolt also on the door leading down-stairs to the basement.

But they dined very leisurely, undisturbed; then at Marian’s request the gentlemen lighted their cigars.  Mr. Vosburgh strolled away to see that all was quiet and secure.

“I shouldn’t have believed that I could rally so greatly in so short a time,” said Merwyn, leaning back luxuriously in his chair.  “Last night I was overcome with drowsiness soon after I lay down.  I now feel as if I should never want to sleep again.  It will be my turn to watch to-night, and you must sleep.”

“Yes, when I feel like it,” replied Marian.

“I think you bear the strain of anxiety wonderfully.”

“I am trying to retrieve myself.”

“You have retrieved yourself, Miss Vosburgh.  You have become a genuine soldier.  It didn’t take long to make a veteran of you.”

“So much for a good example, you see.”

“Oh, well, it’s easy enough for a man to face danger.  Think how many thousands do it as a matter of course.”

“And must women be timid as a matter of course?”

“Women do not often inspire men as you do, Miss Marian.  I know I am different from what I was, and I think I always shall be different.”

“I didn’t treat you fairly, Mr. Merwyn, and I’ve grieved over the past more than I can tell you.”

“And you won’t mistrust me again?”

“Never.”

“You make me very happy, and you will never know how unhappy I have been.  Even before I left the country, last autumn, I envied the drummer-boys of Strahan’s regiment.  I don’t wish to take advantage of your present feeling, or have you forget that I am still under a miserable restraint which I can’t explain.  I must probably resume my old inactive life, while your other friends win fame and rank in serving their country.  Of course I shall give money, but bah! what’s that to a girl like you?  When all this hurly-burly in the streets is over, when conventional life begins again, and I seem a part of it, will you still regard me as a friend?”