The conscience-stricken woman covered her face with her hands and glided away.  As by a lightning-flash the reason why she had forfeited her place by the couch of her son was revealed.

CHAPTER LIII.

“Missy S’wanee.”

There is no need of dwelling long on subsequent events.  Our story has already indicated many of them.  Mrs. Merwyn’s bitter lesson was emphasized through many weary days.  She hovered about her son like a remorseful spirit, but dared not speak to him.  She had learned too well why her voice might cause fatal agitation.  For a time she tried to ignore Marian, but the girl’s gentle dignity and profound sorrow, her untiring faithfulness, conquered pride at last, and the mother, with trembling lips, asked forgiveness and besought affection.

Blauvelt arrived in town on the evening of the day just described, proposing to offer his services to the city authorities, meanwhile cherishing the secret hope that he might serve Marian.  He at last found Strahan at Merwyn’s home.  The brother officers talked long and earnestly, but, while both were reticent concerning their deeper thoughts, they both knew that a secret dream was over forever.

Marian came down and gave her hand to the artist soldier in warm pressure as she said, “My friends are loyal in my time of need.”

He lingered a day or two in the city, satisfied himself that the insurrection was over, then went home, bade his old mother good-by, and joined his regiment.  He was soon transferred to the staff of a general officer, and served with honor and distinction to the end of the war.

Mrs. Vosburgh joined her husband; and the awful peril through which he and her daughter had passed awakened in her a deeper sense of real life.  In contemplation of the immeasurable loss which she might have sustained she learned to value better what she possessed.  By Estelle’s tact it was arranged that she could often see Marian without embarrassment.  So far as her nature permitted she shared in her husband’s boundless solicitude for Merwyn.

Warm-hearted Estelle was soon conscious of a sister’s affection for the girl of her brother’s choice, and shared her vigils.  She became also a very good friend to Strahan, and entertained a secret admiration for him, well hidden, however, by a brusque, yet delicate raillery.

But Strahan believed that the romance of his life was over, and he eventually joined his regiment with some reckless hopes of “stopping a bullet” as he phrased it.  Gloomy cynicism, however, was not his forte; and when, before the year was out, he was again promoted, he found that life was anything but a burden, although he was so ready to risk it.

At last the light of reason dawned in Merwyn’s eyes.  He recognized Marian, smiled, and fell into a quiet sleep.  On awakening, he said to her:  “You kept your word, my darling.  You did not leave me.  I should have died if you had.  I think I never wholly lost the consciousness that you were near me.”