On the morning of July fourth, a courier, on a foam-flecked steed, dashed into Fort George and announced to the officer of the day the startling intelligence of the invasion by the enemy in force and the surrender of Fort Erie. Soon all was activity, knapsacks were packed, extra rations cooked and served out, ammunition waggons loaded, cartridge-boxes filled, and the whole garrison, except a small guard, were under orders to march to meet the enemy at dawn the following morning. That evening--the eve of the fatal fight at Chippewa--Captain Villiers snatched an hour to pay a farewell visit to The Holms, as had become his habit when ordered on active service. He seemed strangely distraught in manner, at times relapsing for several minutes into absolute silence. Before taking his leave, he asked Kate to walk with him on the river bank in the late summer sunset. The lengthening shadows of the chestnuts stretched over the greensward slopes, and were flung far out on the river which swept by in its silent majesty, far-gleaming in the last rays of the sinking sun. The Captain spoke much and tenderly of his mother and sisters in their far-off Berkshire home. "I sometimes think," he said, as they stood looking at the shining reaches of the river, "that I shall never see them again; and to- night, I know not why, I seem to feel that presentiment more strongly than ever." "We are all in the care, Captain Villiers," said Kate, "of a loving Heavenly Father. Not even one of these twittering sparrows falls to the ground without His notice; and we, who are redeemed by the death of His Son, are of more value than they." "I wish I had your faith. Miss Drayton," said the Captain with a sigh. "I am sure I wish you had, Captain Villiers," replied Kate earnestly. "I would not be without it, weak as it often is, for worlds. But you _may_ have it. You have the strongest grounds for having it. But alas! I lived without it myself till very recently." "I have not been unobservant, Miss Drayton," continued the Captain, "of the--what shall I say?--the moral transfiguration of your character. It has been an argument as to the spiritual reality of religion that I could not gainsay. I have always observed its outward forms. I was duly baptized and confirmed, and have regularly taken the sacrament. But I feel the need of something more--something which I am sure my mother had, for if there ever was a saint on earth she is one." "I can only send you," said Kate, "to the Great Teacher, who says 'Come unto Me and I will give you rest.' I am trying to sit at His feet and learn of Him. _He_ will guide you into all truth."