"You have been so still, so quiet since Aunt Clarisse died that I feared that you thought me to blame in some way." "No, no, sister. I have been thinking of Cherie, and of what a mixture she was of tenderness and vindictiveness. I thought once that I should never forgive her for turning me against you, and for trying to wean me from my country." "But you do forgive her, don't you, Dick? She is dead now and can never harm us any more." "Yes; I forgave her when she was lying there in my arms," said Dick. "But I will never forget how good you have been, Jeanne. You stood by me as no sister ever stood by a brother before. Why, had it not been for you I might have been made to sign that paper." "I do not believe that you ever would," cried Jeanne. "And you saved me," and Dick kissed her tenderly. "How proud father and mother will be of you, Jeanne." "Do you think that we shall ever see them again?" asked the girl mournfully. "Yes, I do," said Dick positively. "I feel sure that the city will be taken soon. It cannot hold out much longer. The soldiers have only pea soup to live on now, and men can't fight on a diet like that. Oh, if I were only in it!" and the boy looked wistfully over at the Federal fleet as it lay on the broad bosom of the river. "My place is there, and yet here I am mewed up like a girl! If ever I do get out I'll pepper the rebs for this." "If the Federals take the city you will soon be free," comforted Jeanne. "Come, you must go to your rest," said Dick. "Isn't it fine the way we are giving it to them, Jeanne? I just stand and watch those shells in wonder. General Grant has worked for months for this and now the end is near." "What makes you so positive, Dick?" "Yesterday there were some people who tried to pass out," answered the boy. "They sent a flag of truce to the Federals asking permission to enter their lines, and Grant sent back word to stay quietly in the city as he would be in possession the Fourth of July. And he will, Jeanne. Mark my words, if Grant says so, he will be here." "Oh, Dick," and Jeanne clapped her hands for joy. "Hush! not a word," said Dick. "I am sorry for these people. They are nice folks, and Bob will never get over it. But of course we just had to win." "I wonder where Snowball is," mused Jeanne, as she retired. The morning brought the answer. As the shelling was resumed with more frequency than ever for the delay, a number of negroes rushed into the cave. "We 'longs ter yer now," said Snowball acting as spokesman for the others. "Hyar's me, an' Jeff, an' Feliciane, lill' missy. Missus Adele's niggas done gone ter her folks, an' we reckoned we 'longed ter yer an' Massa Dick." "To me?" exclaimed Jeanne bewildered. "Why, what in the world will I do with you all?"