fa by Goddard, trembling in every limb.

"I have waited in my rooms all day long, hoping you would come."
Goddard reached over, and felt about for Nancy's hand, and she placed
her cold fingers reluctantly in his. "Are you having a chill?" he
asked, alarmed.

"Oh, no; my hands are always cold," with well-simulated lightness; then
she hastened to change the subject. "I am glad you are so much better."

"Thanks. Doctor Scott is very much encouraged by my improvement, and
insists on my going to Washington to-morrow. He says I must see Doctor
Boyd."

"And he is right."

"I know." Goddard hesitated. "I should have gone last week, but--but--I
could not bear to leave you."

Nancy flushed warmly. "Aunt Metoaca and I return to Washington on the
same train with you. So you see we will not be separated--yet."

"God! how I wish it could be never, my darling!" The words seemed wrung
from Goddard. His face laid bare his secret. Then pulling himself up
abruptly: "I--I--ask your pardon--Miss Nancy--pay no heed. For the
moment I forgot--my blindness. What I would ask in happier
circumstances cannot be spoken now."

Nancy's answer was drowned in the sudden rush of feet outside, and the
shout: "Corporal of the guard, this way!"

The door was dashed open, and Lloyd, followed by a file of soldiers,
strode into the room.

"Arrest----" He stopped short and gazed blankly at Nancy and Goddard.
One searching look around showed him they were the only occupants of
the room.

"What is the matter?" demanded Goddard, much startled.

"We are searching for a rebel spy who entered Winchester with a false
pass. The corporal thinks he saw him enter this room thirty minutes
ago."

"I beg pardon, Captain; it might have been Major Goddard that I saw. It
is dark in the hall, and I did not see clearly," interrupted the
bewildered corporal.

"How long have you been in this room, Bob?" asked Lloyd sternly.

Nancy's fingers closed convulsively over the edge of the sofa.
Goddard's sightless eyes were turned for an instant in her direction.

"Nearly three-quarters of an hour, Lloyd," was the tranquil answer.

CHAPTER XIV

WHEN TRAGEDY GRINS

"As usual, Tad, it is your stomach that is cutting up. Haven't you any
other organ in your body?"

Tad Lincoln pulled the bedclothes up about his shoulders, and smiled
sheepishly at Doctor Boyd. "It was the cream puffs," he murmured
apologetically.

"And two weeks ago--candy. You are incorrig