n in the crowd, but so far he had failed,
and he woke out of a dream to hear a multitude of voices shouting his
name. "Why, what do they mean?" he asked.

"Get up there and face 'em," said Major Perdue.

Now, Nan was not so very far from the stand, so close, indeed, that she
had not been in Gabriel's field of vision while he was sitting down; but
when he rose to his feet she was the first person he saw, and he
observed that she was very pale. In fact, Nan had shrunk back when the
Major announced that Gabriel would speak for his fellow-martyrs, and for
a moment or two she fairly hated the man. She might not be very fond of
Gabriel, but she didn't want to see him made a fool of before so many
people.

Somehow or other, the young fellow divined her thought, and he smiled in
spite of himself. He had no notion what to say, but he had the gift of
saying something, very strongly developed in him; and he knew the moment
he saw Nan's scared face that he must acquit himself with credit. So he
looked at her and smiled, and she tried to smile in return, but it was a
very pitiful little smile. Gabriel walked to the small table and leaned
one hand on it, and his composure was so reassuring to everybody but
Nan, that the cheering was renewed and kept up while the youngster was
trying to put his poor thoughts together.

He began by thanking Major Perdue for his sympathetic remarks, and then
proceeded to take sharp issue with the whole spirit of the Major's
speech, using as the basis of his address an idea that had been put into
his head by Judge Vardeman. The day before he left Malvern, the Judge
had asked him this question: "Why should a parcel of politicians turn us
against a Government under which we are compelled to live?"

This was the basis of Gabriel's remarks. He elaborated it, and was
perhaps the first person in the country to ask if there was any
Confederate soldier who had feelings of hatred against the soldiers of
the Union. He had not gone far before he had the audience completely
under his control. Almost every statement he made was received with
shouts of approval, and in some instances the applause was such that he
had time to stand and gaze at Nan, whose colour had returned, and who
occasionally waved the little patch of lace-bordered muslin that she
called a handkerchief.

She was almost frightened at Gabriel's composure. The last time she had
seen him, he was an awkward young man, whose hands and feet were alwa