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I made no reply. He looked momentous, leaned to me sidewise with a hand horizontally across his mouth, and whispered a name. It was new to me. "Charlie Toliver?" I murmured, for we were at the tent door.

"I--I believe it yet! You are Charlotte Oliver!"

"Coralie! Coralie Rothvelt!"--my cry was an honest one--"you tempt me beyond human endurance."

"And was care for me your only motive in--"

Glad was I then to be on a true cavalryman's horse that answered the closing of my left leg and moved steadily around till I could see down the bridge. Oliver, after a step or two, stopped. "Turn!" I yelled, and swelled. "One, two,--"

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