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The aide-de-camp laughed like a rustic and vanished. "Smith," said the Major, "your eyes are--"

"Oh--I--just don't feel as if I could, that's all."

"And so here you are in this awful fix."

I laughed a gay disdain. "Who is Lucius; is he Charlotte's husband?"

"Gone to the Yankees at Fayette!" I moaned, and hurried back to my horse. To attempt to overtake one within those few miles would only make failure complete, and I scurried once more into the north with such a burden of alarm and anguish as I had never before known.

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