."

--W. H. WOODS.

PREFACE

Among the fifty-eight regiments of Zouaves and the seven regiments
of Lancers enlisted in the service of the United States between
1861 and 1865 it will be useless for the reader to look for any
record of the 3d Zouaves or of the 8th Lancers. The red breeches
and red fezzes of the Zouaves clothed many a dead man on Southern
battle-fields; the scarlet swallow-tailed pennon of the Lancers
fluttered from many a lance-tip beyond the Potomac; the histories
of these sixty-five regiments are known. But no history of the
3d Zouaves or of the 8th Lancers has ever been written save in this
narrative; and historians and veterans would seek in vain for any
records of these two regiments--regiments which might have been,
but never were.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"'It is there, in you--all that I believed'"

"What an insolently reckless head it was!"

"'I won it fairly, and I'm going to stake it all on one last bet'"

"'Is Ormond your name?'"

"'_Must_ you go so soon? So soon?'"

"He dismounted and clutched the senseless carbineer"

"She dropped on her knees at his bedside and hid her face
on his hands"

"'Phillip--Phillip--my lover, my country, my God--worshipped
and adored of men!'"

AILSA PAIGE

CHAPTER I

The butler made an instinctive movement to detain him, but he flung
him aside and entered the drawing-room, the servant recovering his
equilibrium and following on a run. Light from great crystal
chandeliers dazzled him for a moment; the butler again confronted
him but hesitated under the wicked glare from his eyes. Then
through the brilliant vista, the young fellow caught a glimpse of a
dining-room, a table where silver and crystal glimmered, and a
great gray man just lowering a glass of wine from his lips to gaze
at him with quiet curiosity.

The next moment he traversed the carpeted interval between them and
halted at the table's damask edge, gazing intently across at the
solitary diner, who sat leaning back in an arm-chair, heavy right
hand still resting on the stem of a claret glass, a cigar suspended
between the fingers of his left hand.

"Are you Colonel Arran?"

"I am," replied the man at the table coolly. "Who the devil are
you?"

"By God," replied the other with an insolent laugh, "that's what I
came here to find out!"

The man at the table laid both hands on the edge of the cloth and
partly rose from his chair, then fell back