tered to
himself. But at the sound of the Bishop's voice, for a moment there
flashed into his eyes almost the saneness of returned reason. His
anger vanished. A kindly smile spread over his face. He came toward
the Bishop pleadingly--holding out both hands and striving to speak.
Climbing into the buggy, he sat down by the old man's side, quite
happy and satisfied--and as a little child.

"Where are you from?" asked the Bishop again.

The man shook his head. He pointed to his head and looked meaningly
at the Bishop.

"Can't you tell me where you're gwine, then?"

He looked at the Bishop inquisitively, and for a moment, only, the
same look--almost of intelligence--shone in his eyes. Slowly and with
much difficulty--ay, even as if he were spelling it out, he said:

"A-l-i-c-e"--

The old man turned quickly. Then he paled tremblingly to his very
forehead. The word itself--the sound of that voice sent the blood
rushing to his heart.

"Alice?--and what does he mean? An' his voice an' his eyes--Alice--my
God--it's Cap'n Tom!"

Tenderly, calmly he pulled the cap from off the strange being's head
and felt amid the unkempt locks. But his hands trembled so he could
scarcely control them, and the sight of the poor, broken, half
demented thing before him--so satisfied and happy that he had found a
voice he knew--this creature, the brave, the chivalrous, the heroic
Captain Tom! He could scarcely see for the tears which ran down his
cheeks.

But as he felt, in the depth of his shock of hair, his finger slipped
into an ugly scar, sinking into a cup-shaped hollow fracture which
gleamed in his hair.

"Cap'n Tom, Cap'n Tom," he whispered--"don't you know me--the
Bishop?"

The man smiled reassuringly and slipped his hand, as a child might,
into that of the old man.

"A-l-i-c-e"--he slowly and stutteringly pronounced again, as he
pointed down the road toward Westmoreland.

"My God," said the Bishop as he wiped away the tears on the back of
his hand--"my God, but that blow has spiled God's noblest gentleman."
Then there rushed over him a wave of self-reproach as he raised his
head heavenward and said:

"_Almighty Father, forgive me! Only this morning I doubted You; and
now, now, You have sent me po' Cap'n Tom!_"

"You'll go home with me, Cap'n Tom!" he added cheerily.

The man smiled and nodded.

"A-l-i-c-e," again he repeated.

There was the sound of some one riding, and as the Bishop turned Ben
Butler around Alic