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"No, madam."

My silence implied that I knew it, though I did not feel any brighter, happier or cleaner.

I stiffened proudly, turned and mounted my steed, but her eyes drew mine. I pressed close, bent over the saddle-bow, and said, "Good-bye, Camille."

"You recognize her?" the rider asked, delightedly. "She's not stolen, she's only served her country a little better than usual to-day; haven't you, Cousin Sallie?" (Cousin Sallie was short for Confederate States.)

"Yes,"--she put away gaiety--"your orders are plain; and they're as cruel as they are plain!"

"Oh, I don't doubt you have; though I didn't know but it might be Charlie Toliver or something."

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