MR. VOSBURGH and his daughter had passed a very anxious day, the former going out but seldom. The information obtained from the city had not been reassuring, for while the authorities had under their direction larger bodies of men, and lawlessness was not so general, the mob was still unquelled and fought with greater desperation in the disaffected centres. In the after-part of the day Mr. Vosburgh received the cheering intelligence that the Seventh Regiment would arrive that night, and that other militia organizations were on their way home. Therefore he believed that if they escaped injury until the following morning all cause for deep anxiety would pass away. As the hours elapsed and no further demonstration was made against his home, his hopes grew apace, and now, as he and his daughter waited for Merwyn before dining, he said, "I fancy that the reception given to the mob last night has curbed their disposition to molest us." "O papa, what keeps Mr. Merwyn?" "Well, my dear, I know he was safe at noon." "Oh, oh, I do hope that this will be the last day of this fearful suspense! Isn't it wonderful what Mr. Merwyn has done in the past few days?" "Not so wonderful as it seems. Periods like these always develop master-spirits, or rather they give such spirits scope. How little we knew of Acton before this week! yet at the beginning he seized the mob by the throat and has not once relaxed his grasp. He has been the one sleepless man in the city, and how he endures the strain is almost beyond mortal comprehension. The man and the hour came together. The same is true of Merwyn in his sphere. He had been preparing for this, hoping that it would give him an opportunity to right himself. Fearless as the best of your friends, he combines with courage the singularly cool, resolute nature inherited from his father. He is not in the least ambitious for distinction, but is only bent on carrying out his own aims and purposes." "And what are they, papa?" "Sly fox! as if you did not know. Who first came to your protection?" "And to think how I treated him!" "Quite naturally, under the circumstances. The mystery of his former restraint is still unexplained, but I now think it due to family reasons. Yet why he should be so reluctant to speak of them is still another mystery. He has no sympathy with the South or his mother's views, yet why should he not say, frankly, 'I cannot fight against my mother's people'? When we think, however, that the sons of the same mother are often arrayed against each other in this war, such a reason as I have suggested appears entirely inadequate. All his interests are at the North, and he is thoroughly loyal; but when I intimated, last evening, that he might wish to spend the night in his own home to insure its protection, it seemed less than nothing to him compared with your safety. He has long had this powerful motive to win your regard, and yet there has been some restraint more potent."