"Yes, he was your favorite always, while you have been very hard upon poor Arthur's youthful follies; but you see now which is the more worthy of the two."
Mr. Dinsmore shook his head. "Not yet, wife; 'tisn't always the braggart that turns out bravest in time of trial."
"Yes, we shall see," she answered, with a slight toss of her haughty head. "I trust no son of mine will prove himself so cowardly as to run away from his country in her time of need, on whatever pretext."
And having winged this shaft, perceiving with pleasure that her husband winced slightly under it, she sailed from the room, ascending the stairway, and presently paused before the door of Walter's dressing-room. It was slightly ajar; and pushing it gently open she entered without knocking.
He stood leaning against the mantel, his tall erect figure, the perfection of manly grace, his eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the carpet, and his fine, open, expressive countenance full of a noble sadness.
There was something of motherly pride in the glance that met his as he looked up at the sound of Mrs. Dinsmore's step. Starting forward, he gallantly handed her to a seat: then stood respectfully waiting for what she had to say.
"Walter, my dear boy," she began; "your father and I think we were all a trifle hard on you this morning."
He colored slightly but made no remark, and she went on. "Of course we can't believe it possible that a son of ours will ever show himself a coward; but it is very trying to us, very mortifying, to have you holding back in this way till all our neighbors and friends begin to hint that you are disloyal to your native State, and look scornful and contemptuous at the very mention of your name."
Walter took a turn or two across the room, and coming back to her side, "Mother," said he, "you know it is my nature to be slow in deciding any matter of importance, and this is the weightiest one that ever I had to consider. Men much older and wiser than I are finding it a knotty question to which their loyalty is due, State or General Government; where allegiance to the one ends, and fealty to the other begins."
"There is no question in my mind," she interrupted, angrily. "Of course your allegiance is due to your State; so don't let me hear any more about that. Your father and brother never hesitated for a moment; and it would become you to be more ready to be guided by them."
"Mother," he said, with a pained look, "you forget that I am no longer a boy; and you would be the first to despise a man who could not form an opinion of his own. All I ask is time to decide this question and—another."
"Pray what may that be? whether you will break with Miss Aller, I presume," she retorted, sneeringly.
"No, mother," he answered with dignity; "there is no question in my mind in regard to that. Mary and I are pledged to each other, and nothing but death can part us."
"And" (fiercely) "you would marry her, though she is ready to cheer on the men who are coming to invade our homes and involve us in the horrors of a servile insurrection!"
"I think it is hardly an hour since I heard you say the North would not fight; and since we have shown our determination in capturing Sumter, the next news would be that we were to be allowed to go in peace. You may be right; I hope you are; but the fellows I know in the North are as full of pluck as ourselves, and I fear there is a long, fierce, bloody struggle before us." He stood before her with folded arms and grave, earnest face, his eyes meeting hers unflinchingly. "And ere I rush into it I want to know that I am ready for death and for judgment."
"No need to hesitate on that account," she said, with a contemptuous smile; "you've always been a remarkably upright young man, and I'm sure are safe enough. Besides, I haven't a doubt that those who die in defense of their country go straight to heaven."
He shook his head. "I have been studying the Bible a good deal of late, and I know that that would never save my soul."
"This is some of Horace's and Elsie's work; I wish they would attend to their own affairs and let you and others alone." And she rose and swept angrily from the room.
Walter did not appear at dinner, nor was he seen again for several days; but as such absences were not infrequent—he having undertaken a sort of general oversight of both the Oaks and Ion—this excited no alarm.
The first day in fact was spent at Ion; the next he rode over to the Oaks. Mrs. Murray always made him very comfortable, and was delighted to have the opportunity; for the place was lonely for her in the absence of the family. She was on the veranda as he rode up that morning attended by his servant.
"Ah, Mr. Walter," she cried, "but I'm glad to see you! You're a sight for sair een, sir. I hope ye've come to stay a bit."
He had given the reins to his servant and dismounted. "Yes," he said, shaking hands with her, "for two or three days, Mrs. Murray."
"That's gude news, sir. Will ye come in and take a bite or sup o' something?"
"Thank you, not now. I'll just sit here for a moment. The air is delightful this morning."
"So it is, sir. And do ye bring ony news frae our friends in Naples?"
"No; I have heard nothing since I saw you last."
"But what's this, Mr. Walter, that I hear the servants saying aboot a fight wi' the United States troops?"
"Fort Sumter has fallen, Mrs. Murray. There's an account of the whole affair," he added, taking a newspaper from his pocket and handing it to her.
She received it eagerly, and with a hearty thanks.
"I am going out into the grounds," he said, and walked away, leaving her to its perusal.
He strolled down a green alley, inspected it, the lawns, the avenue, the flower and vegetable gardens, to see that all were in order; held a few minutes' conversation with the head gardener, making some suggestions and bestowing deserved praise of his faithful performance of his duties; then wandering on, at length seated himself in Elsie's bower, and took from his breast-pocket—where he had constantly carried it of late—a small morocco-bound, gilt-edged volume.
He sat there a long time, reading and pondering with grave, anxious face, it may be asking for heavenly guidance too, for his eyes were now and then uplifted and his lips moved.
The next day and the next he spent at the Oaks, passing most of his time in solitude, either in the least frequented parts of the grounds, or the lonely and deserted rooms of the mansion.
Walter had always been a favorite with Mrs. Murray. She had a sort of motherly affection for him, and watching him furtively, felt sure that he had some heavy mental trouble. She waited and watched silently, hoping that he would confide in her and let her sympathize, if she could do nothing more.
On the evening of the third day he came in from the grounds with a brightened countenance, his little book in his hand. She was on the veranda looking out for him to ask if he was ready for his tea. He met her with a smile.
"Is it gude news, Mr. Walter?" she asked, thinking of the distracted state of the country.
"Yes, Mrs. Murray, I think you will call it so. I have been searching here," and he held up the little volume, "for the pearl of great price; and I have found it."
"Dear bairn, I thank God for ye!" she exclaimed with emotion. "It's
