early made to realize there
was a distinct limit to any familiarity. I could not define the feeling,
but it had taken possession of me, and I knew the slightest overstepping
of the boundaries would result in trouble. We were neither enemies nor
friends; merely acquaintances under a temporary flag of truce. No doubt,
trusting me as an honorable soldier, even though wearing an enemy's
uniform, she was almost glad to have my protection along this lonely
road, but, when the time came to part, she would be equally relieved to
have me go. I was nothing to her; if ever remembered again it would be
merely to laugh over my discomfiture in mistaking her for another. It
hurt my pride to think this, to thus realize her complete indifference.
She was a young woman, and I a young man, and nothing in my nature made
surrender easy. I desired, at least, to leave behind me some different
impression of my own personality. I was not a fool, nor a failure, and I
could not bear to have her conceive me as a mere blundering block-head,
a subject for subsequent laughter. The silence in which she drove
stirred me to revolt. Apparently she felt no overwhelming curiosity as
to whom I was, no special desire to exchange further speech. The
flapping of the loosened curtain was annoying, and I leaned over and
fastened it down securely into place. She merely glanced aside to
observe what I was doing, without even opening her lips.

"This is a miserably gloomy road," I ventured desperately. "I wonder you
dared to travel it alone at night."

"Its very loneliness makes it safe," was the response, rather
indifferently uttered. "Meeting others was the very thing I was most
anxious to avoid."

"Indeed! You are tantalizing; you cannot expect me to be devoid of
curiosity."

"Of course not," turning her face toward me, "neither can you expect me
to gratify it."

"You mean you could not trust me?"

"Rather that you would not believe me, if I did. The reason for this
trip is so simple and commonplace that if I were to confess its purpose
to you, you would suppose I were attempting deceit. Oh, yes, you would,
so I might just as well remain still. Besides it can make no difference
anyway. When we reach Jonesboro this morning you will go back to your
army, and I shall meet friends. There is scarcely one chance in a
thousand we shall ever see each other again. We are the merest
strangers--enemies, indeed, for I am a Rebel clear through. We don't
even know eac