s, Gabriel found it very
charming.

To his surprise, he found himself quite at ease in her presence. The
change, if it could be called such, had given him an advantage. "You
used to be afraid of me, Gabriel," said Nan, "and now I am afraid of
you. No, not afraid; you know what I mean," she explained.

"If I thought you were afraid of me, Nan, I'd get out of the carriage
and walk home," and then, as the carriage rolled and rocked along the
firm clay road, Gabriel sat and watched her, studying her face whenever
he had an opportunity. Neither seemed to have any desire to talk.
Gabriel had forgotten all about his sufferings in the sweat-boxes of
Fort Pulaski; but those experiences had left an indelible mark on his
character, and on his features. They had strengthened him every
way--strengthened and subdued him. He was the same Gabriel, and yet
there was a difference, and this difference appealed to Nan in a way
that astonished her. She sat in the carriage perfectly happy, and yet
she felt that a good cry would help her wonderfully.

"I had something I wanted to say to you, Nan," he remarked after awhile.
"I've wanted to say it for a long time. But, honestly, I'm afraid----"

"Don't say you are afraid, Gabriel. You used to be afraid; but now I'm
the one to be afraid. I mean I should be afraid, but I'm not."

"I was feeling very bold when I was mouthing to those people; and every
time I looked into your eyes, I said to myself, 'You are mine; you are
mine! and you know it!' And I thought all the time that you could hear
me. It was a very queer impression. Please don't make fun of me to-day;
wait till to-morrow."

"I couldn't hear you," said Nan, "but I could feel what you said."

"That was why you were looking so uneasy," remarked Gabriel. "Perhaps
you were angry, too."

"No, I was very happy. I didn't hear your speech, but I knew from the
actions of the people around me that it was a good one. But, somehow, I
couldn't hear it. I was thinking of other things. Did you think I was
bold to send for you?"

"Why, I was coming to you anyway," said Gabriel.

"Well, if you hadn't I should have come to you," said Nan with a sigh.
"Since I received your letter, I haven't been myself any more."

"Did I send you a letter?" asked Gabriel.

"No; you wrote part of one," answered Nan. "But that was enough. I found
it among your papers. And then when I heard you had been arrested--well,
it is all a dream to me. I didn't know befo