“I would rather be an hour too soon than a second too late, lieutenant,” replied the young officer, saluting. “Quite right! Tell the coxswain to wait. He is to take this gentleman and myself ashore,” said Le. Then he went down into his cabin, followed by Mr. Force, to make a few final preparations. Soon they returned to the deck, went down into the boat, and headed for the shore. When they landed, and were walking across the yard, Le asked: “I may at last marry Odalite without let or hindrance?” “I have told you so, lad!” “Yes, bless you, uncle! But how soon? How soon?” “This very day, if Odalite and her mother agree.” “Let us walk faster, uncle! Please!” pleaded the impatient lover. “My dear Le! Consider—consider my rheumatism! Besides, look! There is no car near the gate, and we shall pass through before one comes up.” Le saw at once that fast walking would not bring him any sooner to the side of his sweetheart, and so he moderated his haste. They reached the gate just as a car came up, and they entered it while the horses were being unharnessed and turned around. “If one had but wings!” said Le. “You would find them inconvenient on most occasions,” replied Mr. Force. Several other passengers now entered the car, and it started on its uptown trip. Passengers from the sidewalks, however, continued to stop the car and crowd in until it was more than full, for every seat was occupied, and all the standing room between the rows, as well as both platforms before and behind. This was always the condition of the street cars in war times, when authorities were as careless of the lives of horses as they were of those of men. All private conversation was rendered impossible, and Mr. Force rode on in perfect silence, half suffocated by the close air and heavily pressed upon by a crowd of men standing up in the middle, hanging on by the straps and swaying to and fro against the forms of their fellow passengers. At last—“long last”—the ordeal was over. The toiling horses reached the corner of the street on which their hotel was situated, and Mr. Force pulled the strap to stop the car, and with his companion slowly pushed, elbowed and worked his way out of the “black hole” in the open air. “There is one comfort in this difficulty in getting out—though our clothes are often torn and our flesh scratched or bruised in the trial—yet it gives the wretched horses a minute’s rest,” said the squire, as, followed by Le, he made his way across the pavement to the ladies’ entrance of the house. Here a great shock met him. The earl, pale and grave, stood in the hall waiting for him. He bowed to Le, and then took the arm of his brother-in-law, and said: “Come with me, Force—lieutenant, you will find the young ladies in the parlor.” Le, surprised and vaguely uneasy, hesitated for a moment, and then ran upstairs. “What is the meaning of this, Enderby? What has happened?” anxiously inquired the squire. “Your wife is not well. She——”