When, one September evening, her father quietly entered his home he gave her an impulse towards convalescence beyond the power of all remedies.  There were in time mutual confidences, though his were but partial, because relating to affairs foreign to her life, and tending to create useless anxieties in respect to the future.  He was one of those sagacious, fearless agents whom the government, at that period, employed in many and secret ways.  For obvious reasons the nature and value of their services will never be fully known.

Marian was unreserved in her relation of what had occurred, and her father smiled and reassured her.

“In one sense you are right,” he said.  “We should have a broader, kindlier charity for all sorts of people, and remember that, since we do not know their antecedents and the influences leading to their actions, we should not be hasty to judge.  Your course might have been more Christian-like towards young Merwyn, it is true.  Coming from you, however, in your present state of development, it was very natural, and I’m not sure but he richly deserved your words.  If he has good mettle he will be all the better for them.  If he spoke from mere impulse and goes back to his old life and associations, I’m glad my little girl was loyal and brave enough to lodge in his memory truths that he won’t forget.  Take the good old doctrine to your relenting heart and don’t forgive him until he ‘brings forth fruits meet for repentance.’  I’m proud of you that you gave the young aristocrat such a wholesome lesson in regard to genuine American manhood and womanhood.”

Mrs. Vosburgh’s reception of her husband was a blending of welcome and reproaches.  What right had he to overwhelm them with anxiety, etc., etc.?

“The right of about a million men who are taking part in the struggle,” he replied, laughing at her good-naturedly.

“But I can’t permit or endure it any longer,” said his wife, and there was irritation in her protest.

“Well, my dear,” he replied, with a shrug, “I must remain among the eccentric millions who continue to act according to their own judgment.”

“Mamma!” cried Marian, who proved that she was getting well by a tendency to speak sharply, “do you wish papa to be poorer-spirited than any of the million?  What kind of a man would he be should he reply, ’Just as you say, my dear; I’ve no conscience, or will of my own’?  I do not believe that any girl in the land will suffer more than I when those I love are in danger, but I’d rather die than blockade the path of duty with my love.”

“Yes, and some day when you are fatherless you may repent those words,” sobbed Mrs. Vosburgh.