“You have made great haste indeed, Neddy. Go tell Henny to give you your supper,” said the lady. “Good boy,” said Kate, pressing his little sooty hand as he passed her and went out. Mrs. Clifton was reading a letter from Archer. It was written in a glad, buoyant spirit and contained the best possible news. Against all hope, Carolyn’s health since her arrival at Lisbon had steadily improved, and it was now so far re-established, that they were already looking forward to their voyage at the earliest opening of spring. Carolyn had gained flesh and color as well as health, and strength and cheerfulness, and was looking far better than she had looked since his first meeting her again at Richmond. Mrs. Clifton repeated all this to Catherine, adding— “It is true, Kate, that none of her family who have perished by her disease ever tried a change of climate, and although in most cases such a change hurries the patient to the grave, yet, in some instances, it seems to work wonders in the way of cure; and who knows, if Carolyn is so greatly benefited, that she may not get over this danger, and if not positively cured, yet live to a good old age, and die at last of something else, as I have heard of consumptives doing.” “I’m so glad!” Catherine sat with her face suffused with the flush, and her eyes filled with the tears of sympathizing joy and thanksgiving. After reading and re-reading the letter, and dwelling on it, and talking of it, Mrs. Clifton finally unfolded the paper, the Richmond Standard, and running her eyes over its columns, suddenly exclaimed— “Catherine, ‘When joys come they come not as single spies but in battalions’—here is excellent news of an old friend—listen—only two or three lines among the ‘items’ of a newspaper column, yet of what great moment to many—hear.” And the lady read:—“At the conclusion of the recent treaty of peace between this government and the Shoshonowa Nation, among the prisoners held to ransom was the gallant Captain Fairfax, supposed to have fallen under their tomahawks, at the massacre near Fort Protection. This brave but unfortunate officer is now understood to be on his way to the seat of government.” Catherine was positively speechless with joy; only her clasped hands and fervent countenance revealed what she felt. In the great, though calm surprise and rejoicings over the event, these friends forgot its singularity, until after a long while Catherine exclaimed— “Poor Zuleime! Oh, how _could_ such a fatal misrepresentation have been made of the case? It was reported that he was cloven down from his saddle, and then butchered!”