“But, he promised me faithfully to use Evert’s name, did he ever fall into American hands”—­resumed Beulah, earnestly—­“and Evert has said, again and again, that my brother could never be his enemy.”

“Heaven help us all, dear child!” answered the captain, kissing his daughter—­“It is, indeed, a cruel war, when such aids are to be called in for our protection.  We will endeavour to be cheerful, notwithstanding; for we know of nothing yet, that ought to alarm us, out of reason; all may come right before the sun set.”

The captain looked at his family, and endeavoured to smile, but he met no answering gleam of happiness on either face; nor was his own effort very successful.  As for his wife, she was never known to be aught but miserable, while any she loved were in doubtful safety.  She lived entirely out of herself, and altogether for her husband, children, and friends; a woman less selfish, or one more devoted to the affections, never existing.  Then Beulah, with all her reliance on the magic of Evert’s name, and with the deep feelings that had been awakened within her, as a wife and a mother, still loved her brother as tenderly as ever.  As for Maud, the agony she endured was increased by her efforts to keep it from breaking out in some paroxysm that might betray her secret; and her features were getting an expression of stern resolution, which, blended with her beauty, gave them a grandeur her father had never before seen in her bright countenance.

“This child suffers on Bob’s account more than any of us”—­observed the captain, drawing his pet towards him, placing her kindly on his knee, and folding her to his bosom.  “She has no husband yet, to divide her heart; all her love centres in her brother.”

The look which Beulah cast upon her father was not reproachful, for that was an expression she would not have indulged with him; but it was one in which pain and mortification were so obvious, as to induce the mother to receive her into her own arms.

“Hugh, you are unjust to Beulah”—­said the anxious mother—­“Nothing can ever cause this dear girl, either, to forget to feel for any of us.”

The captain’s ready explanation, and affectionate kiss, brought a smile again to Beulah’s face, though it shone amid tears.  All was, however, immediately forgotten; for the parties understood each other, and Maud profited by the scene to escape from the room.  This flight broke up the conference; and the captain, after exhorting his wife and daughter to set an example of fortitude to the rest of the females, left the house, to look after his duties among the men.