“Oh, Justin! Oh, Justin! Oh, my dear, dear brother!” she cried, and forgetting all her pride, she hastened to his side, put her arms around his neck, drew his head upon her bosom, and bending her face upon it, wept with him. And her sympathy was an unspeakable consolation. Later in the day Justin nerved himself to write a letter to his sister, and this letter he inclosed in another one directed to a clerical friend in Washington, to whom he announced his return, and whom he solicited to go and break the news cautiously to Erminie, and prepare her for his arrival. Having posted this letter with his own hand, to insure its going by the evening mail, he returned, and dined alone with Britomarte in their sitting-room. Lieutenant Ethel, true to his engagement, came to spend the evening with them. He entered at first, full of a project to take the whole party to the Academy of Music, to see a new opera that was creating a great sensation. But as soon as he saw the faces of Justin and Britomarte, he knew that some distressing intelligence had met them on their arrival, and he forbore to mention his plan. He greeted them both gravely, and then took the chair offered him by Justin, and looked from one to the other in mute, respectful sympathy. “I have received ill news since I saw you last. I have to mourn the death of my father,” said Justin, in a low voice, while Britomarte turned away her face to conceal “the teardrops that from pity fell.” “I am very much grieved,” said the young lieutenant, simply and earnestly. “Is there anything that I can do for you? If there is, pray order me. It will be a satisfaction to me to be of service to you in any way.” “Thanks, thanks,” murmured Justin, earnestly pressing the hand that he had extended to him; “I do not know that you can do anything.” “And now tell me frankly—I came with the intention of spending the whole evening with yourself and Miss Conyers, either here or somewhere else, no matter where—but now tell me candidly, would you rather I should remain here, or go away? Speak freely. If you wish me to remain, I will do so with comfort, or if you wish me to go, I shall not take offense,” said young Ethel, earnestly. “I do not wish you to go, good friend, for your presence will be a comfort to us; neither dare I press you to stay, for the evening will be as dull to you as it is sad to us.” For all answer Lieutenant Ethel took off his gloves and put them in his pocket, and drew his chair nearer to that of Justin. Britomarte arose and rung for tea to be brought up. “Will you tell me more? How did your honored father die? That he died the death of the righteous I know, as a matter of course; but was he ill long?”