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"Well, that might depend on who 'her' is." We had reached the cross-roads and he was turning south.

"Why, I can read my safety in your face. You can't read anything in mine; you're afraid to look."

I covered it fiercely and sunk my brow upon it. And thereupon the wave of folly drew back, and on the bared sands of recollection I saw, like drowned things, my mother's face, and Gholson's and the General's, and Major Harper's, and Ned Ferry's, and Camille's. Each in turn brought its separate and peculiar pang; and among those that came a second time and with a crueler pang than before was Camille's.

"This-yeh pla-ace?" The rustic dragged his words lazily, chewed tobacco with his whole face, and looked my uniform over from cap to spur. "They say this-yeh place belong to a man which his name Lu-ucius Ol-i-veh."

I waved a pleasant refusal and rode toward the house.

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

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