Mrs. Fitzgerald looked at her with a strange mixture of feelings.

“Don’t you think she’s a pretty little creature?” asked Mrs. King.

“She might be pretty if the yellow could be washed off,” replied Mrs. Fitzgerald.

“Her cheeks are nearly the color of your hair,” rejoined Mrs. King; “and I always thought that beautiful.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald glanced at the mirror, and sighed as she said:  “Ah, yes.  My hair used to be thought very pretty when I was young; but I can see that it begins to fade.”

When Henriet returned and took the child, she looked at her very curiously.  She was thinking to herself, “What would my father say?” But she asked no questions, and made no remark.

She had joined a circle of ladies who were sewing and knitting for the soldiers; and after some talk about the difficulty she had found in learning to knit socks, and how fashionable it was for everybody to knit now, she rose to take leave.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

The months passed on, and brought ever-recurring demands for more soldiers.  Mr. King watched the progress of the struggle with the deepest anxiety.

One day, when he had seen a new regiment depart for the South, he returned home in a still more serious mood than was now habitual to him.  After supper, he opened the Evening Transcript, and read for a while.  Then turning to his wife, who sat near him knitting for the army, he said, “Dear Rosabella, during all the happy years that I have been your husband, you have never failed to encourage me in every good impulse, and I trust you will strengthen me now.”

With a trembling dread of what was coming, she asked, “What is it, dear Alfred.”

“Rosa, this Republic must be saved,” replied he, with solemn emphasis.  “It is the day-star of hope to the toiling masses of the world, and it must not go out in darkness.  It is not enough for me to help with money.  I ought to go and sustain our soldiers by cheering words and a brave example.  It fills me with shame and indignation when I think that all this peril has been brought upon us by that foul system which came so near making a wreck of you, my precious one, as it has wrecked thousands of pure and gentle souls.  I foresee that this war is destined, by mere force of circumstances, to rid the Republic of that deadly incubus.  Rosa, are you not willing to give me up for the safety of the country, and the freedom of your mother’s race?”

She tried to speak, but utterance failed her.  After a struggle with herself, she said:  “Do you realize how hard is a soldier’s life?  You will break down under it, dear Alfred; for you have been educated in ease and luxury.”

“My education is not finished,” replied he, smiling, as he looked round on the elegant and luxurious apartment.  “What are all these comforts and splendors compared with the rescue of my country, and the redemption of an oppressed race?  What is my life, compared with the life of this Republic?  Say, dearest, that you will give me willingly to this righteous cause.”