strong emotion.

"Oh, Louise! finish your supper," expostulated Mrs. Whately. "You
must not let these scenes take so strong a hold"--but she was out of
hearing. "I fear it's all going to be too much for her," sighed the
lady in conclusion.

Mr. Baron and his wife exchanged grim glances from the head and foot
of the table, as much as to say, "She has shaken off our control and
we are not responsible," but Ackley remarked, "I agree with you, Dr.
Borden, that it's fine to see a girl show such a spirit, and I
congratulate you that your men are capable of appreciating it. By
the way, Mrs. Whately, I have put her, with you, in charge of young
Waldo and truly hope that among us we can bring him through."

"Mrs. Whately," said Captain Maynard, "I reckon more than one of us
begin to regret already that we were not so desperately wounded as
to need your attention and that of Miss Baron. We must remember,
however, that she is not accustomed to these scenes, and I think we
must try to make her forget them at the table. I suppose in the
kindness of her heart she is now crying in her room over that
Yankee." Whately shot a savage glance at the speaker which plainly
implied, "It's none of your business where she is." Suddenly rising,
he departed also, his mother's eyes following him anxiously.

Miss Lou was not crying in her room. As the level rays of the sun
shone into the wide old barn, making the straw in a mow doubly
golden, and transforming even the dusty cobwebs into fairy lacework,
she crossed the threshold and paused for the first time in her
impulsive haste to find and thank the dying man of whom she had been