"Gentlemen, we agreed four days ago that the Countess St. Auban should leave Washington not later than that night. We are now agreed that, in case of her return, she shall if possible be placed under the charge, not of any responsible figure of _our_ party, but of a gentleman distinguished in the councils of an _opposing_ party, whose abolitionist beliefs coincide somewhat with her own. Let us hope they will both get them to Missouri, the debating ground, the center of the political battle-field to-day. But, Missouri or Hungary, Kentucky or France, let us hope that one or both of them shall pass from our horizon. "There remains but one question, as earlier suggested by Kentucky: if we agree upon New York as our agent, who shall be our emissary to New York, and how shall he accomplish our purpose with that gentleman? Shall we decide it by the usual procedure of parliamentary custom? Do you allow the--the Chair--" he smiled as he bowed before them--"to appoint this committee of one? I suppose you agree that the smaller the committee and the more secret the committee's action, the better for us all?" There was silence to this. A moment's hesitation, and the speaker announced his decision. "The gentleman from Kentucky is appointed to execute this task for the people of the United States. Let us hope he never will have need to serve." It cost the self-control of some to remain silent at this, and the courage of the remaining member also to preserve the silence which meant his acceptance of a task so difficult and distasteful. "Sir," hastily went on the original speaker, "our thanks are due to you. We shall limit you with no instructions. All the money required by you as agent, or required by your agent, shall of course be forthcoming, and you shall quietly have also the assistance of all the secret service, if so desired. None of us must know what has become of the Countess St. Auban, now or later. You have heard me. Gentlemen, we adjourn." He stepped now to the door, and admitted the ancient colored man, with his lights. The curtains were drawn, shutting out even the twilight gloom. And now the lights blazed up, illuminating an historic stage. The chief of the deliberations now became the host, and motioned his guests to the corner of the apartments where stood a long sideboard of dark mahogany, bearing different crystal decanters. Himself refraining, as did one or two others, he passed glasses, motioned to the ancient colored man, and, raising his own hand, proposed them a toast. "Gentlemen,--the Union!" They bowed to him ceremoniously, each in his way, with reverence, touching lips to his glass. As they parted, one for a moment stood alone, the dark man who had sat at the speaker's right. For a moment he paused, as though absorbed, as finally he set down his glass, gazing steadily forward as though striving to read what lay in the future. "The Union!" he whispered, almost to himself.