“You can give us your answer later,” said the General. “You have it now.” “You will be kept in close confinement until you come to our terms,” continued the older officer. “You make me a prisoner for life, then.” “You will see it in another light before many days, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Miss Varney had something to do with a change in your views.” “You are mistaken, General Randolph,” quickly interposed Edith. “I think he is perfectly right.” “Oh, very well,” said the General, smiling a little. “We will see what a little prison life will do. Sergeant?” “Yes, sir.” “I have turned the prisoner over to Major Whitfield. He requests you to take the prisoner to his office, where he’ll take charge of him.” “Very good, sir,” answered the Sergeant. “What is it?” whispered Thorne to Edith. “Love and good-bye?” “No,” answered the girl; “only the first.” She stopped and looked up at him, her face flushed, her heart throbbing, her eyes shining gloriously. “And that every day, every hour, every minute, until we meet again.” “Thank God,” whispered Thorne. “Until we meet again.” “Attention!” cried the Sergeant. “Carry arms! Left face! Fall in the prisoner! Forward—March!” AFTERWORD And so the great adventure is over, the story is told, and the play is played. It is hard to tell who lost and who won. It made little difference in the end that Marston’s Division had not been withdrawn, and that the attack on Cemetery Hill had failed. It made little difference in the end that Arrelsford had been thwarted in his attempts to wreak his vengeance upon Thorne. It made little difference in the end that Thorne refused to enter the service of the Confederacy, preferring imprisonment for life. For the days of that Confederacy were numbered. It was even then tottering on the verge of its grave, in spite of the brave front it kept up. Three days after the events of that night, and Richmond had fallen, and presently the last of the Confederate defenders halted at Appomattox. The Stars and Bars were hauled down for the last time. The Army was disbanded. The prisoners were released. There was a quiet wedding in the old house. Howard, happily recovering from his wounds, was present. General Varney himself gave away the bride—reluctantly, to be sure, yet he did it. Wilfred took the place of the brother of Captain Thorne—to continue to call him by the name he had assumed—and acted as the best man. To whom should be given the coveted privilege of attending the bride but to Miss Caroline Mitford! And Miss Kittridge and the few other guests, including General Randolph, saw in the younger couple indications that when a few more years had made it suitable, the two who played the second part on this interesting occasion would be principals themselves.