the beginning that neither the French, nor any other surgeons could repair the work of that shot. He admitted that the boy had borne the final decision with great manliness and courage “for such a little chap,” the elder brother said fondly. When pressed hard by Olivia about returning home, Pembroke though had no resource but epigrams. “At all events,” she said presently, with a pretty air of heroism, “Papa and I are going home just as soon as papa can do without his crutch. Papa is a patriot, although he does talk so remarkably sometimes.” “Then, after you have got back, you can let me know how you like Virginia as it is, and perhaps I will follow,” he answered, laughing in a very exasperating way, Olivia thought. But when the Berkeleys got home they found that the Pembrokes had arrived some weeks before them--and soon afterward Madame Koller and her mother turned up quite unexpectedly at their deserted old place, only to be followed shortly after by Ahlberg, who, from his abode at the village tavern rode over every day on a sorry nag, to see Madame Koller. Imagine all this in a provincial country neighborhood! Mr. Cole, the clergyman of Petsworth parish, was a bachelor, a small, neatly-featured person, suspected of High Church leanings. The Colonel had bluntly inquired of him if he intended to call on Madame Koller. “Hardly, I think, sir,” responded Mr. Cole, with much severity. “She has not once been to church since she returned to the county--and she only two miles off--and I hear that she and her friend Mr. Ahlberg play billiards all day long Sunday, when they are not playing cards.” “Only the more reason for you to convert the heathen, ha! ha!” answered the Colonel--“and let me tell you, Cole, if you hadn’t been a clergyman, you would have been a regular slayer among the women--and the heathen in this case is about as pretty a heathen as you can find in the State of Virginia, sir.” Evidently these remarks made a great impression on Mr. Cole, for on the sunny afternoon, when Colonel Berkeley and Olivia drove up to the door of The Beeches, they saw a clerical looking figure disappear ahead of them within the doorway. “The parson’s here, by Jove,” chuckled the Colonel. The house was modern and rather showy. Inside there were evidences that Madame Koller was not devoid of taste or money either. The Berkeleys were ushered into a big square drawing-room, where, seated in a high-backed chair, with his feet barely touching the floor, was the little clergyman.