The news of the destruction of the Maine was quite as exciting to our friends at Ion as to those of Woodburn. All saw that war between the United States and Spain could not be long delayed, and when it was declared, both Harold and Herbert Travilla volunteered their services as physicians and surgeons to the troops to be sent to Cuba or Puerto Rico. Their mother gave consent, though her heart bled at thought of the toils and dangers they would be called upon to endure, but she felt that they were right in their desire to help the poor Cubans to such freedom as we enjoy. No one had felt a deeper sympathy for the despoiled and starving reconcentradoes than she. Her sons were not going as soldiers, to be sure, but as greatly needed help to those who were to do the fighting.

Captain Raymond was strongly inclined to offer his services to the government, but was deterred by the earnest, tearful entreaties of his wife and daughters. They urged him to refrain, for their sakes, as there seemed to be no lack of men who could be better spared—at least so it seemed to them.

"Oh, father," said Grace, "don't think of such a thing! There are plenty of other men who are not so much loved and needed in their own homes; so that the poor Cubans will be sure to get free without our risking the loss of the dearest father that anybody ever had."

It was shortly after breakfast on a beautiful May morning, and the whole family were together on the front veranda, the captain occupying an easy chair, while looking over the morning paper. Grace had come close to his side, and was standing there as she spoke.

"Is that your opinion of him?" he asked, smiling up into her eyes.

"Yes, sir; and always has been," she answered, accepting a silent invitation to a seat upon his knee, and putting an arm around his neck. "Oh, father, I don't know how I could live without you!" she exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears at the very thought.

"Nor I," said Lucilla. "No greater calamity than the loss of our father could possibly befall us. And there are plenty of other people to look after the Cubans."

"So I think," said Violet. "If our country was in peril it would be a different matter. And, my dear, as your eldest son is in the fight—such a dear fellow as he is too!—I am sure that ought to be considered your full share of giving and doing for the Cuban cause."

"I should think so indeed!" chimed in Lucilla and Grace in a breath.

"And, oh, I can't bear to think that my dear brother Max may get wounded!" exclaimed Elsie; and Ned added, "And if he does, I'd just like to shoot the fellow that shoots him."

"We must try not to feel revengeful, my little son," said his father.

"Well, papa, please promise not to offer to go into the fight," pleaded Grace, and the others all added their earnest solicitations to hers, till at length they won the desired pledge. They were too dear to the captain's heart to be denied what they pleaded for so earnestly and importunately.

Grace was feebler and oftener ailing that spring than she had been for several years before, and Dr. Arthur Conly, or one or the other of his partners,—Harold and Herbert Travilla,—was often there to give advice and see that it was followed. It had been Harold oftener, of late, than any one else, and he had grown very fond of the sweet girl who always listened with such deference to his advice, and called him "uncle" in her sweet voice. The thought of leaving her gave him a keener pang than anything else, as he contemplated leaving his home for the labors and dangers of the seat of war. He was glad indeed when he learned that the captain would remain at home to take care of her and the rest of his family.

Grace noticed with pleasure that as the time of his leaving drew near his manner toward her grew more affectionate, till it seemed almost as tender as that of her father, and she thought it very nice that Uncle Harold should be so fond of her. She looked up to him as one who was very wise and good, and wondered that he should care particularly for her, as she was not really related to him at all. He was fond of Lucilla also, but Grace seemed to him the lovelier of the two. He had always been fond of her, but did not know until about to leave her for that dangerous field of usefulness that his affection was of the sort to make him long for her as the partner of his life. But so it was. Yet could it be? Would the captain ever consent to such a mixture of relationships? He feared not; and at all events it was quite certain that he would not be allowed to try to win his coveted prize for years to come—she being so young, and far from strong and well. Then as he was about to risk his life on battlefields, it would be cruelty to her to try to win her love before he went.

He resolved to go without revealing his secret to any one. But he had never had an important secret from his mother; all his life he had been used to talking freely with her, telling of his hopes, aims, and wishes, his doubts and perplexities, and almost before he knew it he had said enough of his feelings for Grace to show to that mother's keen-sighted affection how the land lay.

"Grace is very lovely, and a dear child," she said low and gently; "but, as you know, she is not well or strong. Also she is so young that her father would not hear of her marrying for years to come."

"No, mother, nor would I advise it; unless," he added with a low, embarrassed laugh, "to a physician who would take special care of her health."

"You refer to one physician in particular, I perceive," returned his mother, with a low, musical laugh, and laying her hand in his, for they were sitting side by side on the veranda. "Well, my dear boy. I advise you to wait till your return home before you say anything to either her or her father. But have you thought what a mixture of relationships such a marriage would make? Your brother-in-law would be also your father-in-law, and Grace aunt to her half-brother and sister."

"Yes, mother, it would cause some awkward relationships; but as there is no tie of blood between us, perhaps that need not matter. But I shall say nothing till I come home, and not then without the captain's permission."

"That is right. But do you think Grace suspects?"

"Hardly, mother; I am only her 'uncle,' you know," Harold answered, with a laugh in which there was little or no mirth.

"Although I am certainly very fond of Grace," said his mother, "I cannot help regretting that your affections have not gone out to some one else rather than to her—because of her feeble health and the connection through your sister and her father."

"Yes, they are objections," he returned, with a sigh; "but mother dear, you will not consider them insuperable if I can persuade the captain not to do so?"

"Oh, no! not if you win, or have won, her heart. I should not think of raising the least objection, and surely the captain, who is a devoted father, would not, should he see that her affections are engaged."

"That is my hope," said Harold; "and, as I have said, I do not intend to offer myself without his knowledge and consent, though I had hard work to refrain to-day when Grace and I were left alone together for a few minutes, and she expressed, with tears in her sweet blue eyes, such anxiety at the thought of my being in danger of wounds or death in the coming struggle in Cuba. Mother dear, Herbert and I will not, of course, be in as great danger as will the fighting men of our army and navy, but there is a possibility that we may not return unharmed, and in case I should not I would not have Grace know of my love and intention to—ask her to become my wife."

"I think you are right, my son," his mother said, with emotion. "But, ah, I hope and shall pray constantly that my dear boys may come back to me unharmed."

"And it will be a great help and comfort to them to know that their dear mother's prayers are following them," rejoined Harold, tenderly pressing the hand she had laid in his.

The next moment Herbert joined them, and he too had a farewell talk with his mother, for the brothers were to leave for Tampa the next morning to join the troops about to sail for Cuba.