I saw, then, that mine was a rival who had the will and cunning to win his point. It was strange that I had failed to recognize that swagger of his when I had seen him walk to his carriage the night I passed the postmaster's house. “It's enough to make lightning laugh,” I said. “Your father told him what he was going to do, and Bony drove to Heartsdale on Tuesday night and made friends with the postmaster. He came late in the evening and did not intend to be observed, but I saw him.” “It is too bad,” she clicked. “I can bear it as long as you think well of me,” I said. “Suppose I go to Merrifield and have a talk with your father?” “Not now; there's time enough.” “No, there isn't! You seem to forget that I'm getting along in life.” “Poor boy!--you're almost eighteen!” “I'm older than most gentlemen of twenty.” “Why can't you wait?” “Because I have something to tell you,” I wrote. “To tell me?” “Yes, and it's too sacred for the wires. I must look into your eyes and hear your answer.” “I wonder what it can be,” the receiver clicked. “I shall let you come as soon as I can. I want to see you very, very much. Good-night. Father has come for me. We are going to Washington in a day or two.” At that moment I caught the first words of a thrilling message on the main line. It said: “Fort Sumter has been fired upon. It is the beginning of war.” I took the news to my mother, and declared my wish to go and fight for the North. “No,” she said; “your father gave his life in the war with Mexico. Now my health is gone and you are all that's left to us. You are enlisted in a war with Poverty, and I can't spare you.” She put her arms around me and cried, and I promised to stay at home, if possible, and it seemed a hard fate in spite of my happiness. I wrote a long letter to the Colonel and confessed my love for his daughter, and begged him not to think ill of me without full information as to my character, and referred him to a number of good people. This brief and suggestive letter came promptly: Dear Sir,--As to your character, I have had all the information I desire. I should think better of it if you were to cease communicating with my daughter against my wishes. It hurt like the blow of a hammer, and I could not think of the Colonel with any degree of charity for a week or more, but, after all, it helped to make a man of me. In the heat of such days a man shapes his character--as the smith his iron that is hot from the forge--and tempers it in cool reflection. Soon I got a letter from Sam that told of the departure of Jo and the Colonel for Washington. STAGE VII.--IN WHICH MR. HERON ARRIVES AT THE SHOP OF THE HAND-MADE GENTLEMAN [Illustration: 9208]