"Yes," said Margaret, handing it to him. Chad had started toward the
garden, but Margaret turned him toward the stile and they walked now
down through the pasture toward the creek that ran like a wind-shaken
ribbon of silver under the moon.

"Won't you tell me something about Major Buford? I've been wanting to
ask, but I simply hadn't the heart. Can't we go over there tonight? I
want to see the old place, and I must leave to-morrow."

"To-morrow!" said Margaret. "Why--I--I was going to take you over there
to-morrow, for I--but, of course, you must go to-night if it is to be
your only chance."

And so, as they walked along, Margaret told Chad of the old Major's
last days, after he was released from prison, and came home to die. She
went to see him every day, and she was at his bedside when he breathed
his last. He had mortgaged his farm to help the Confederate cause and
to pay indemnity for a guerilla raid, and Jerome Conners held his notes
for large amounts.

"The lawyer told me that he believed some of the notes were forged, but
he couldn't prove it. He says it is doubtful if more than the house and
a few acres will be left." A light broke in on Chad's brain.

"He told you?"

Margaret blushed. "He left all he had to me," she said, simply.

"I'm so glad," said Chad.

"Except a horse which belongs to you. The old mare is dead."

"Dear old Major!"

At the stone fence Margaret reached for the flag.

"We'll leave it here until we come back," she said, dropping it in a
shadow. Somehow the talk of Major Buford seemed to bring them nearer
together--so near that once Chad started to call her by her first name
and stopped when it had half passed his lips. Margaret smiled.

"The war is over," she said, and Chad spoke eagerly:

"And you'll call me?"

"Yes, Chad."

The very leaves over Chad's head danced suddenly, and yet the girl was
so simple and frank and kind that the springing hope in his breast was
as quickly chilled.

"Did he ever speak of me except about business matters?"

"Never at all at first," said Margaret, blushing again
incomprehensively, "but he forgave you before he died."

"Thank God for that!"

"And you will see what he did for you--the last thing of his life."

They were crossing the field now.

"I have seen Melissa," said Margaret, suddenly. Chad was so startled
that he stopped in the path.

"She came all the way from the mountains to ask if you were dead, and
to tell me about--a