"Judge," said the Captain, instantly, "I'm not the only one in this town who will have to decide whether my sympathies are wrong. My sympathies are with the South." "It's not a question of sympathy, Captain," answered the Judge, dryly. "Abraham Lincoln himself was born in Kentucky." They had not heard a step without. "Gentlemen, mark my words. If Abraham Lincoln is elected, the South leaves this Union." The Judge started, and looked up. The speaker was Colonel Carvel himself. "Then, sir," Mr. Whipple cried hotly, "then you will be chastised and brought back. For at last we have chosen a man who is strong enough, --who does not fear your fire-eaters,--whose electors depend on Northern votes alone." Stephen rose apprehensively, So did Captain Lige The Colonel had taken a step forward, and a fire was quick to kindle in his gray eyes. It was as quick to die. Judge Whipple, deathly pale, staggered and fell into Stephen' arms. But it was the Colonel who laid him on the horsehair sofa. "Silas!" he said, "Silas!" Nor could the two who listened sound the depth of the pathos the Colonel put into those two words. But the Judge had not fainted. And the brusqueness in his weakened voice was even more pathetic-- "Tut, tut," said he. "A little heat, and no breakfast." The Colonel already had a bottle of the famous Bourbon day his hand, and Captain Lige brought a glass of muddy iced water. Mr. Carvel made an injudicious mixture of the two, and held it to the lips of his friend. He was pushed away. "Come, Silas," he said. "No!" cried the Judge, and with this effort he slipped back again. Those who stood there thought that the stamp of death was already on Judge Whipple's face. But the lips were firmly closed, bidding defiance, as ever, to the world. The Colonel, stroking his goatee, regarded him curiously. "Silas," he said slowly, "if you won't drink it for me, perhaps you will drink it--for--Abraham--Lincoln." The two who watched that scene have never forgotten it. Outside, in the great cool store, the rattle of the trucks was heard, and Mr. Hopper giving commands. Within was silence. The straight figure of the Colonel towered above the sofa while he waited. A full minute passed. Once Judge Whipple's bony hand opened and shut, and once his features worked. Then, without warning, he sat up. "Colonel," said he, "I reckon I wouldn't be much use to Abe if I took that. But if you'll send Ephum after, cup of coffee--" Mr. Carvel set the glass down. In two strides he had reached the door and given the order. Then he came hack and seated himself on the sofa. Stephen found his mother at breakfast. He had forgotten the convention He told her what had happened at Mr. Carvel's store, and how the Colonel had tried to persuade Judge Whipple to take the Glencoe house while he was in Europe, and how the Judge had refused. Tears were in the widow's eyes when Stephen finished. "And he means to stay here in the heat and go through, the campaign?" she asked.