nd fine harmony of her features, her face would have been called
masculine. Her countenance was entirely responsive to her emotions, and
it was delightful to watch the eloquent play of her features. Captain
Falconer fell quickly under the spell of her conversation, for one of
its chiefest charms was the ease with which she brought out the best
thoughts of his mind--thoughts and views that were a part of his inner
self.

It was the same at dinner, where, without monopolising the talk, she led
it this way and that, but always in channels that were congenial and
pleasing to the Captain, and that enabled him to appear at his best. In
honour of his guest, Meriwether Clopton brought out some fine old claret
that had lain for many years undisturbed in the cellar.

"Thank you, Sarah," said Mr. Sanders, when the hostess pressed him to
have a glass, "I'll not trouble you for any to-day. I've made the
acquaintance of that claret. It ain't sour enough for vinegar, nor
strong enough for liquor; it's a kind of a cross betwixt a second
drawin' of tea an' the syrup of squills; an' no matter how hard you hit
it it'll never hit you back. It's lots too mild for a Son of Temp'rance
like me. No; gi' me a full jug an' a shuck-pen to crawl into, an' you
may have all the wine, red or yaller."

But the fine old claret was thoroughly enjoyed by those who could
appreciate the flower of its age and the flavour of its vintage; and
when dinner was over, and Captain Falconer was on his way to camp, he
felt that, outside of his own home, he had never had such a pleasant
experience.

In the course of a few days orders came from Atlanta for Captain
Falconer to turn over the command of the detachment to the officer next
in rank, and proceed to Malvern, where he would find further
instructions awaiting him. When the time came for Cephas to be off with
the Captain, you may well believe that his mother saw all sorts of
trouble ahead for him. She had dreamed some very queer dreams, she said,
and she was very sure that no good would follow. And at the last moment,
she would have taken Cephas from the barouche which had come for him, if
the driver, following the instructions of Mr. Sanders, had not whipped
up his horses, and left the lady standing in the street.

As for Cephas, he found that parting from his mother was not such a fine
thing after all. He watched her through a mist of tears, and waved his
handkerchief as long as he could see her; and then