If Merwyn still retained some hold upon her thoughts and curiosity, so much could scarcely be said of her sympathy. He had disappeared from the moment when she had harshly dismissed him, and she was beginning to feel that she had been none too severe, and to believe that his final words had been spoken merely from impulse. If he were amusing himself abroad, Marian, in her intense loyalty, would despise him; if he were permitting himself to be identified with his mother's circle of Southern sympathizers, the young girl's contempt would be tinged with detestation. He had approached her too nearly, and humiliated her too deeply, to be readily forgotten or forgiven. His passionate outbreak at last had been so intense as to awaken strong echoes in her woman's soul. If return to a commonplace fashionable life was to be the only result of the past, she would scarcely ever think of him without an angry sparkle in her eyes. After she had learned that her friends were in the field and therefore exposed to the dangers of battle at any time, she had soliloquized, bitterly: "He promised to 'measure everything by the breadth of my woman's soul.' What does he know about a true woman's soul? He has undoubtedly found his selfish nature and his purse more convenient gauges of the world. Well, he knows of one girl who cannot be bought." Her unfavorable impression was confirmed one cold November morning. Passing down Madison Avenue, her casual attention was attracted by the opening of a door on the opposite side of the street. She only permitted her swift glance to take in the fact that it was Merwyn who descended the steps and entered an elegant coupe driven by a man in a plain livery. After the vehicle had been whirled away, curiosity prompted her to retrace her steps that she might look more closely at the residence of the man who had asked her to be his wife. It was evidently one of the finest and most substantial houses on the avenue. A frown contracted the young girl's brow as she muttered: "He aspired to my hand,--he, who fares sumptuously in that brown-stone palace while such men as Mr. Lane are fortunate to have a canvas roof over their heads. He had the narrowness of mind to half-despise Arthur Strahan, who left equal luxury to face every danger and hardship. Thank Heaven I planted some memories in his snobbish soul!" Thereafter she avoided that locality. In the evening, with words scarcely less bitter, she mentioned to her father the fact that she had seen Merwyn and his home. Mr. Vosburgh smiled and said, "You have evidently lost all compunctions in regard to your treatment of the young fellow." "I have, indeed. The battle of Antietam alone would place a Red Sea between me and any young American who can now live a life of selfish luxury. Think how thousands of our brave men will sleep this stormy night on the cold, rain-soaked ground, and then think of his cold-blooded indifference to it all!"