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I passed on, flattered but scandalized, wasting no guesses on how she knew me--if she really knew me at all--but taking my revenge by moralizing on her, to myself, as a sign of the times, until brigade headquarters were in full view, a few rods off the road; four or five good, white wall-tents in a green bit of old field backed by a thicket of young pines.

"Do you want to see him?" I gathered my horse.

"Clifton?"

"Read the address on your despatch," said Gholson, resuming his pen.

I found but one white figure under the dim veranda eaves. "Miss Camille?"

"You were so anxious to get the General's letter?" I asked.

"No; no, Richard, I wanted, and I still want, you to take care of me! But go, now, go! at once or not at all! Good-bye!" She laughed and fluttered away. I sprang upon my horse and sped into the forest.

"Good-morning," he responded, tardily and grimly. "Well, you air in a hurry."

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