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A sweet color was I. "Yes, that's what I said; Cockerel. Isn't your last name Cockerel?"

We're going to get married, but don't tell pa--"

"Yes, General." "If I give you a good fresh horse can you go twenty-three miles more by midnight?"

"Good-bye,--Dick."

I turned upon her choking with anger, but her melting beauty rendered me helpless. Black woods were on our left. "Shall we turn in here?" I asked.

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

"Is she not! Isn't she the Mrs. Oliver--Charlotte Oliver--who is such friends--she and her husband, I mean, of course,--"

Five, ten, fifteen minutes dragged by. Counting them helped me to lie still. Then I caught another pregnant sound, a mumbling of male voices in the adjoining front room. I waited a bit, hearkening laboriously, and then ever so gradually I slid from the bed, put on everything except my boots, and moved by inches to the door between the two rooms. It was very thin; "a good sounding-board," thought I as I listened for life or death and hoped my ear was the only one against it.

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