returned that he felt bitter regret at being unable to take
part in the great movement which, he had gathered, was going on, and it
was this feeling which united him and Harley for the time in a common
bond of sympathy; but the latter presently spoke of something else:

"That was a beautiful girl who replaced your bandage this morning,
Prescott. Upon my honour, she is one of the finest women I ever saw, and
she is going with us, I hear. Do you know anything about her?"

Prescott did not altogether like Harley's tone, but he knew it was
foolish to resent it and he replied:

"She is Miss Lucia Catherwood, a relative of Miss Charlotte Grayson, who
lives in Richmond, and whom I presume she is going there to join. I have
seen Miss Catherwood once or twice in Richmond."

Then he relapsed into silence, and Harley was unable to draw from him
any more information; but Prescott, watching Lucia, saw how strong and
helpful she was, doing all she could for those who were not her own. A
woman with all a woman's emotions and sympathies, controlled by a mind
and body stronger than those of most women, she was yet of the earth,
real and substantial, ready to take what it contained of joy or sorrow.
This was one of her qualities that most strongly attracted Prescott, who
did not like the shadowy or unreal. Whilst he was on the earth he wished
to be of it, and he preferred the sure and strong mind to the misty and
dreamy.

He wished that she would come again to the wagon in which he rode, but
now she seemed to avoid him--to be impelled, as it were, by a sense of
shyness or a fear that she might be thought unfeminine. Thus he found
scant opportunity during the day to talk to her or even to see her, as
she remained nearly all the time in the rear of the column with Helen
Harley.

Harley's vagrant fancy was caught. He was impressed by Lucia's tall
beauty, her silence, her self-possession, and the mystery of her
presence. He wished to discover more about her, who she was, whence she
came, and believing Prescott to be his proper source of information, he
asked him many questions, not noticing the impatient or taciturn
demeanour of his comrade until Robert at last exclaimed with a touch of
anger:

"Harley, if you wish to know so much about Miss Catherwood, you had
better ask her these questions, and if she wishes she will answer them."

"I knew that before," replied Harley coolly; "and I tell you again,
Prescott, she's a fine girl--non