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 believe there will be a general collapse among all the Southern people here."

Pembroke could not help laughing.

"Your anxiety, Colonel, and Miss Berkeley's doesn't bespeak great confidence in me."

Olivia blushed and protested more earnestly.

"Not so, not so, sir," cried the Colonel. "We have every confidence in you, but my boy, you had better take a look at Cicero's orations against Catiline—and read over to-night Sheridan's speeches—and Hayne against Webster."

Pembroke threw himself back in his chair, and his laugh was so boyish and hearty, that Olivia was startled into joining in it.

"This is fearful," said Olivia, bringing her pretty brows together sternly. "This is unpardonable levity. At a time like this, it is dreadful for us to stand so in awe of your self-love. Really now, we know that you are eloquence and cleverness itself, but it isn't safe," she continued, with an air of infinite experience, "to trust anything to chance."

"Come down to the House to-morrow and encourage me," replied Pembroke good humoredly, "and keep up Miles' spirits when I begin to flounder."

The evening was very jolly, like those old ones in Paris and in Virginia. Pembroke at last rose to go, and in parting, the Colonel clapped him on the back, while Olivia held his hand and pressed it so warmly that Pembroke's dark face colored with pleasure, as she said: