turned the corner, and her
shadow fell a second time on the haggard face pressed against that
crevice in the wall, the opening large enough to thrust the long fingers
through, in the wild hope of detaining her as she passed.

"Adah!"

It was a gasping, bitter cry; but it reached her, and looking back, she
saw the pale hand beckoning, the fingers motioning feebly, as if begging
her to return. There was a moment's hesitation, and then conquering her
timidity, Adah went back, shuddering as she passed the still beckoning
hand, and caught a glimpse of the wild eyes peering at her through the
crevice.

"Adah!"

She heard it distinctly now, and with it came thoughts of Hugh. It must
be he; and her feet scarcely touched the ground in her eagerness to find
him. Over the threshold, across the floor, and behind the hay she
bounded; but stood aghast at the spectacle before her. He had struggled
to his knees; and with his sprained limb coiled under him, his ashen
lips apart, and his arms stretched out, he was waiting for her. But Adah
did not spring into those trembling arms, as once she would have done.
She would never willingly rest in their embrace again; and utter,
overwhelming surprise was the only emotion on her face as she recognized
him, not so much by his looks as by the name he gave her.

"George, oh, George, how came you here?" she asked, drawing backward
from the arm reached out to touch her.

He felt that he was repulsed, and, with a wail which smote painfully on
Adah's heart, he fell forward on his face, sobbing: "Oh, Adah, Lily,
pity me, pity me, if you can't forgive! I have slept for three nights in
the woods, without once tasting food! My ankle is sprained, my strength
is gone, and I wish that I were dead!"

She had drawn nearer to him, while he spoke, near enough to recognize
her country's uniform, all soiled and tattered though it was. He was a
soldier, then--Liberty's loyal son--and that fact awoke a throb of pity.

"George," she said, kneeling down beside him, and laying her hand upon
his ragged coat, "tell me how came you here, and where is your company?"

He would not deceive her, though tempted to do so, and he answered her
truthfully: "Lily, I am a deserter. I am trying to join the enemy!"

He did not see the indignant flash of her eyes, or the look of scorn
upon her face, but he felt the reproach her silence implied, and dared
not look up.

"George," she began at last, sternly, very sternly, "b