“You can’t name a day too soon for me, marm,” assented Philemon, eagerly; “and as I just hearn the sound of hoofs outside, ’t is likely some officers has arrived, and I’ll speak ter them so ’s ter get word ter the chaplain, and ter my regiment.  You need n’t be afraid, Miss Janice, that ’t won’t be done in high style.  Like as not, General Grant will put the whole post under arms.”  In truth, the lover was not at his ease, and was glad enough for an excuse which took him from the room.  Nor was he less eager to announce his success to his comrades, hoping it would put an end to their attentions to his bride.

“Then ye’ll do as I bid ye, Jan?” questioned her father.

“Yes, dadda,” Janice assented dutifully, while striving to stifle her sobs.  “I—­I’ve been a—­a—­wicked creature, I know, and now I’ll do as you and mommy tell me.”

If Philemon had been made uneasy by the girl’s tears, her manner during the balance of the day did not tend to make him happier.  Her sudden gravity and silence were so marked that his fellow-officers who had come to supper, and who did not know the true situation, rallied them both on Miss Meredith’s loss of spirits.

“I’ faith,” declared Sir Frederick Mobray, moved perhaps by twinges of the little green monster, “but for the lieutenant’s word I’d take oath ’t was a funeral we were to attend, and issue orders for the casing of colours and muffling of drums.  In the name of good humour, Mr. Meredith, have in the spirits, and I’ll brew a punch that shall liquidate the gloom.”

After one glass of the steaming drink, the ladies, as was the custom, rose to leave the room.  At the door Janice was intercepted by Peg, with word that Sukey wished to advise with her anent some matter, so the maid did not follow her mother, but turned and entered the kitchen.

The cook was not in view; but as the girl realised the fact, a cloaked man suddenly stepped from behind the chimney breast, and before the scream that rose to Janice’s lips could escape, a firm hand was laid on them.  Yet, even in the moment of surprise, the girl was conscious that, press as the fingers might, there was still an element of caress in their touch.

“I seem doomed to fright you, Miss Meredith,” said Brereton, “but, indeed, ’t is not intentional.  Twice in the last week I’ve tried to gain speech of you without success, and so to-night have taken desperate means.”  He took his hand from her mouth.  “This time I know myself safe in your hands.  Ah, Miss Janice, wilt not forgive me the suspicion? for not one easy hour have I had since I knew how I had wronged you.  I was sent to eastward with despatches to the New England governors, or nothing would have kept me from earlier seeking you to crave a pardon.”

“Yet thou wouldst not believe me, sir, when I sent thee word.”

“Sent me word, when?”

“By Lord Clowes.”

“Clowes?”

“Yes.  The morning after you were captivated.”