“I shall remain here until five o’clock. If he does not come before that hour, I shall know that he will not come at all, and that the only chance we shall have of taking leave of him, will be at the wharf,” replied Erminie. “My darling, if he is not here within a very few moments, he will not be here at all; for you know he must leave himself time enough after visiting you to get back to camp to march his company.” “That is true. Still, it is not worth while for us to leave the house before five o’clock, as they will not be at the boats before half-past five,” said Erminie. “You are right,” agreed Britomarte. “And oh! I still hope that he may come here. It will be dreadful to have to bid him good-bye at the wharf, in the multitude of men. But if I do have to go to the wharf, you will go with me, Britomarte?” pleaded Erminie. “Certainly,” replied Miss Conyers. “And oh! Britty, Britty, if you would only give him a little hope—a little hope to cheer him on his way.” “Don’t speak of it, Erminie. I would die for your brother rather than sacrifice my principles so far.” Erminie sighed and forbore to reply. “Where is Elfie?” inquired Miss Conyers, to change the conversation. “She is packing her father’s portmanteau. He, too, leaves us to join his regiment to-morrow; and Ethel goes the day after. We shall have a lonely house here, Britomarte.” “You will fill it with refugees from the South, never fear,” said Miss Conyers, cheerfully. Even while she spoke, the door bell rang sharply. “That is Justin!” she exclaimed, springing to her feet and running out to meet him. Britomarte remained pale and breathless where Erminie had left her. There was a sound of meeting, and of sobbing, and of cheering words, and then the brother and sister entered the library. Britomarte arose and gave her hand to Justin. He pressed it in silence. They could not trust themselves to speak just then. “How long—can you stay with us, my brother?” said Erminie, striving hard to control her emotion and to speak with composure. “I may remain with you until five o’clock, dear. My first lieutenant will march my company to the boat, and I have leave to join it there.” “Thank Heaven for so much grace!” replied Erminie, as she turned and left the room. She went out from a two-fold motive—to order a dainty dinner prepared, so that they all might partake of one more meal together, and also to give her brother the opportunity of making one more last appeal to his obdurate love. When they were left alone together, Justin and Britomarte remained for a few moments silent and motionless. Both were too full of suppressed emotion to trust themselves to move or speak. Justin was the first to master himself. When he had done so, he approached Britomarte, stood before her a moment, and then taking her hand, said, in a tone thrilled with passion: “I promised you never again to speak of the subject nearest my heart.”