“You shall have it, father,” replied Archie, drawing himself up and looking a man, not a boy. But suddenly he became a boy again, and, throwing his arms around his father’s neck, kissed Colonel Tremaine’s furrowed cheek, saying: “I will do my best, father. I am not as clever as Richard, and can’t be an officer like him, but I can fight, aye, and die, too, as bravely as he.” Then he went up to Angela, and, again remembering that he was now a man and a soldier, took the initiative in a way he had never done before. “Good-by, Angela,” he said, kissing her, “and when you write to Neville give him my love. Tell him, although we are fighting on different sides, he is just as much my brother as Richard was. I haven’t said anything about him, but I think of Neville every day and love him just as much as I did my brother Richard, and I believe he is as brave and true a man as Richard was.” The boy, as he spoke, looked fearlessly into the eyes of his parents. He had never before dared to speak Neville’s name in their presence, but now, being a man, he spoke like a man. At his words Colonel and Mrs. Tremaine grew deeply agitated. They had reckoned their eldest-born a traitor and false to his honor; but this boy, the youngest of all their household, looking at things with clear young eyes, reckoned Neville a true man. And Angela replied steadily: “Dear Archie, I shall tell Neville so. He loves you and everybody at Harrowby, and he is where he thinks his duty calls him.” There was something strange and piteous in these two young creatures daring to touch this family tragedy. It staggered Colonel and Mrs. Tremaine, already trembling under the heavy hand of calamity. Their anxious eyes sought each other as if asking, “Have we done wrong in casting out our son from our hearts?” Then Aunt Tulip spoke: “Mist’iss,” she said solemnly, “’tain’t right fer you an’ ole Marse not to forgive dat chile. He allers wuz as good a boy as any on ’em, an’ ain’t never give you an’ ole Marse a minute’s trouble ’twell he went wid de No’th. Ef he mar an’ par done fergit him, mammy ain’. I got six pya’r o’ yarn socks fer him. Ev’y time I knit a pya’r o’ socks fer Marse Richard I knit a pya’r fer Marse Neville an’ lay ’em away in my chist, an’ I gwine sen’ ’em to him some day, an’ I ain’ feered to say so.” Neville’s hold was strong upon the children and the negroes, and when they, forgetting subordination, mentioned his forbidden name with love and recollections, the father and mother were overborne. Up to this time not one word had been spoken concerning Angela’s departure, but the mention of it could no longer be delayed. “Aunt Sophia,” said Angela, “I have had a message which takes me to Neville. Captain Isabey brought it, and he will have charge of me until I am within the Federal lines.” In the agitation and excitement of that terrible day, no one had thought to ask the reason of Isabey’s presence at Harrowby, which Angela thus explained.