“Elfie! you! You in this dress! And weeping so! What is the meaning of it?” demanded the old soldier, in unbounded astonishment. “Oh, papa, papa dear, don’t blame me, and—don’t blame him, or my heart will break!” sobbed Elfie. “But—what do you mean, girl? Blame who? Blame what?” cried the major in amazement. “Oh, papa, I couldn’t help it, dear, indeed I couldn’t! Neither could he,” she wept. “Help what? Compose yourself, and explain, if you can, girl. Why do you weep? why are you wearing this dress?” said the major, sinking into the nearest chair, and drawing Elfie down upon his lap. “Papa, I was carried off by guerrillas and obliged to do it. And—indeed, I am not sorry I did it now. And he was mortally wounded, papa, and dying in the hospital, and after all we did love each other so much, and that was how it was. Oh, papa dear, don’t be angry with me, or you will kill me!” said Elfie, bursting into a fresh flood of tears. “I am not angry, but I believe I am half crazed. Will you tell me, Elfie, why you grieve so bitterly, and why you, who never were a wife, should be wearing a widow’s dress?” said the patient veteran. “I told you how it was, papa. I told—old you how it was. O, don’t blame us, papa, or if you must blame anybody, let it be me. It was all my fault. Don’t blame him; he can’t defend himself any longer. You may rail at him, but he cannot reply. His lips are mute now, and the dust lies on them,” cried Elfie, breaking into hysterical sobs. In despair of gaining any clear information from his distracted daughter, Major Fielding arose and placed her gently in the chair, and then went and rang the bell. Bob answered it. “Is Miss Rosenthal in the house?” “Yes, sir.” “Will you ask her to come here, if she pleases?” Bob disappeared. In a moment after Erminie entered and greeted Major Fielding with grave and sweet courtesy. “Erminie, my dear, tell me the meaning of this. I can’t get a coherent word out of this hysterical girl,” said Major Fielding. “But—didn’t you get my letter of Friday last?” inquired Miss Rosenthal. “No, my dear; for on Friday last I left for Washington.” “Then I have a serious story to tell you, Major Fielding; but I will tell it as briefly as possible. Sit down,” said Miss Rosenthal. Major Fielding took a chair. Miss Rosenthal seated herself; and while Elfie sobbed softly behind her pocket handkerchief, and the major listened attentively, Erminie told the story of Elfie’s abduction by the guerrillas, her forced marriage to Albert Goldsborough, the surprise of the guerrilla camp by the Federals, the defeat and death of the Free Sword, and the capture of Goldsborough, the deliverance of Elfie, and her subsequent meeting with her husband in the hospital, and all that followed thereupon. “Oh, papa! papa! do not reproach me, dear! do not, or my heart will break!” sobbed Elfie, as she once again threw herself into his arms.