ng."

"Oh, Mark, must you go so soon?" And she clung to him as if she would not
let him go. Gently disengaging her arms, he pressed kiss after kiss on her
brow and was gone. She sank into a chair weeping, and for a time forgot
her prisoner.

The next day Joyce had another visitor, in the person of Andrew Harmon. He
had heard that his horse was at Crawford's, and that the officer who took
him was there desperately wounded. He made his visit with pleasure, for of
all the girls in Columbiana County, she was the one he had selected to
become Mrs. Harmon. He had no idea he would be refused, for was he not
considered the greatest catch in the county?

Harmon had two things to recommend him--good looks and money. He was
accounted a handsome man, and was as far as physical beauty was concerned.
He had the body and muscle of an athlete, but there was nothing ennobling
or inspiring in the expression of his countenance. By nature he was
crafty, mean, cruel, and miserly, and was one of the biggest cowards that
ever walked.

Like many others, he was a great patriot as far as talk was concerned. He
had been so unfortunate as to be drafted at the first call, and had
promptly furnished a substitute. He was fond of boasting he was doing
double duty for his country, not only was he represented in the army, but
he was doing a great work at home. This work consisted in contracting for
the government, and cheating it at every turn. Many a soldier who received
shoddy clothing, paper-soled shoes, and rotten meat had Mr. Harmon to
thank for it. But he was piling up money, and was already known as one of
the richest men in the county. When he went out with the Home Guards, he
had no idea of getting near Morgan; he would look out for that. But his
party ran into Morgan's advance unexpectedly, and as has been related, he
was captured by Calhoun. It was a most wonderful story he had to tell.

He had been beset by at least six of Morgan's men. A desperate conflict
followed, and he had killed, or at least desperately wounded, three of his
assailants, and it was only after he had not a single shot left in his
revolver and was surrounded that he had surrendered.

"So enraged were they at my desperate defence," said he, "that the officer
in charge pulled me from my horse, brutally kicked and struck me,
threatened to kill me, and then appropriated my horse. He is a desperate
fellow, Miss Joyce; I would not keep him in the house a single moment."