They both shook hands with her, the old gentleman saying, "My dear, I am rejoiced to have you among us again;" Harold silently, but with a sad, wistful, yearning look out of his large bright eyes, that filled hers with tears. His father and Adelaide helped him to an easy chair, and as he sank back pantingly upon its cushions, Elsie--completely overcome at sight of the feeble, wasted frame, and wan, sunken features--stole quickly from the room. Adelaide followed, to find her in the sitting-room on the opposite side of the hall, weeping bitterly. "Oh, Aunt Adie," she sobbed; "he's dying!" "Yes," Adelaide answered, with the tears coursing down her own cheeks, "we all know it now; all but father and mother, who will not give up hope. Poor May! hers will be but a sad wedding. She would have put it off, but he begged her not, saying he wanted to be present and to greet Duncan as his brother--Duncan, to whom he owed so much. But for him, you know, Harold would have perished at Andersonville; where, indeed, he got his death." "No, I have heard very little about it." "Then Harold will tell you the story of their escape. Oh! Rose dear," turning quickly, as Mrs. Dinsmore and Mrs. Carrington entered, "how kind! I was coming to see you directly, but it was so good of you not to wait." Elsie was saying, "Good-morning, mamma," when her eye fell upon the other figures. Could it be Sophie with that thin, pale face and large, sad eyes? Sophie arrayed in widow's weeds. All the pretty golden curls hidden beneath the widow's cap? It was indeed, and the next instant the two were weeping in each other's arms. "You poor, poor dear girl! God comfort you!" Elsie whispered. "He does, He has helped me to live for my children, my poor fatherless little ones," Sophie said, amid her choking sobs. "We must go back to father and Harold," Adelaide said presently. "They are in the parlor, where we left them very unceremoniously." "And Harold, I know, is longing for a chat with Elsie," Sophie said. They found the gentlemen patiently awaiting their return. Elsie seated herself near Harold, who, somewhat recovered from his fatigue, was now able to take part in the conversation. "You were shocked by my changed appearance?" he said, in an undertone, as their eyes met and hers filled again. "Don't mind it, I was never before so happy as now; my peace is like a river--calm, deep, and ever increasing as it nears the ocean of eternity. I'm going home!" And his smile was both bright and sweet. "Oh, would you not live--for your mother's sake? and to work for your Master?" "Gladly, if it were His will; but I hear Him saying to me, 'Come up hither'; and it is a joyful summons." "Harold, when----" her voice faltered, but with an effort she completed her sentence--"when did this begin?"