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 afternoon. The world took on for him a glorious hue just then, as it does to every man who finds his place in life, and that place an honorable one. But one thing was wanting—a tender heart to sympathize with him at that moment. Instead of turning toward his lodgings, he walked away into the country—away where he could see the blue line of the Virginia hills. It gave him a kind of malicious satisfaction, and was yet pain to him, that Olivia would be expecting him, and that she should be disappointed. As the hero of the hour she would naturally want to greet him.

"Well," he thought, as he struck out more vigorously still, "let us see if my lady will not peak and pine a little at being forgotten." And yet her hurt gave him hurt, too. Love and perversity are natural allies.

It was quite dark when he returned to his lodgings. Miles was not there—gone to dinner with the Berkeleys.

About ten o'clock Miles turned up, the proudest younger brother in all America. He had all that he had heard to tell his brother. But presently he asked:

"Why didn't you come to the Berkeleys'? The Colonel kept the carriage waiting at the Capitol for you. Olivia listened at dinner for your step, and jumped up once, thinking you had come."

"I needed a walk in the country," answered Pembroke, sententiously.

Miles sighed. A look came into his poor face