“But, Le—this is awfully sudden!” exclaimed Mr. Force, as he wrung the young midshipman’s hand. “Yes! yes! awfully sudden! Odalite! Oh, Odalite!” he cried, turning to his eldest cousin and once betrothed last of all, as if he had reserved his very last embrace and kiss for his best beloved—“oh, my Odalite! May God love, and bless, and guard you. Good-by! Good-by! my dearest dear!” And Le pressed her to his heart, and turned and dashed out of the room. “But, Le! But, Le! Wait! Can we not go to the ship and see you off?” cried Wynnette, hurrying after him, and overtaking him at the street door. “No! no! Impossible, my dear! A boat is waiting to take me to the ship! I have barely time to reach her deck before she sails! There would be no time for last adieus there! God bless you! Take care of Odalite!” The street door banged behind Le, and he was gone. Wynnette had flown downstairs, but she crawled up again, dragging weary steps, “woe befreighted,” behind her. She entered the room, and sat down in silent sympathy beside Odalite, who lay back in her chair, too stunned by the shock of all that had happened to weep or to moan, or even to realize the situation. Mrs. Force went and sat on the other side of her stricken daughter, took her hand, and said: “My dear, nothing but prayer can help you now. You must pray, Odalite.” The girl pressed her mother’s hand, but made no reply. Mr. Force and Lord Enderby were in close conversation on the political conflict out of which the war had arisen. Elva and Rosemary were standing together in the oriel window overlooking the street, too much startled by the suddenness of events to feel like talking. “Let us hope that this trouble will soon be over,” said the earl. “What! be put down like one of your corn riots, by the simple reading of the ‘act’?” inquired Abel Force, grimly. “No, Enderby! I know my countrymen, North and South. And the civilized world will see a war that has never been paralleled in the history of nations.” And his words proved prophetic. After this day every mail from America was looked for in the keenest anxiety; and every mail brought the most startling and exciting news. Every schoolboy and schoolgirl is now familiar with the leading events of the war, and they need not be rehearsed here. Among news of more general interest came some of a private nature to the Forces. Among the rest, letters from Mrs. Anglesea, who wrote: “You had better pack right up and come right home. ‘The devil is to pay, and no pitch hot!’ The people have riz up ag’in’ one another like mad. Ned Grandiere has gone into the Confederate Army. Sam sticks at home. He says war is bad for the crops, and somebody must plow and sow. “William Elk has gone into the Union Army.