ard his step in the soft earth close
behind her, when she started in surprise and alarm, exclaiming upon the
risk he took and cautioning against exertion.

"My head is hard," he said, "and it will stand more blows than the one I
received in the battle. Really I feel well enough to walk out here and I
want to speak to you."

She was silent, awaiting his words. A shaft of sunshine pierced an
opening in the foliage and fell directly upon her. Golden gleams
appeared here and there in her hair and the colour in her cheeks
deepened. Often Prescott had thought how strong she was; now he thought
how very womanly she was.

"You are going with the wounded to Richmond?" he said.

"Yes," she replied. "I am going back to Miss Grayson's, to the house and
the city from which you helped me with so much trouble and danger to
escape."

"I am easier in my conscience because I did so," he said. "But Miss
Catherwood, do you not fear for yourself? Are you not venturing into
danger again?"

She smiled once more and replied in a slightly humourous tone:

"No; there is no danger. I went as one unwelcome before; I go as a guest
now. You see, I am rising in the Confederacy. One of your powerful men,
Mr. Sefton, has been very kind to me."

"What has he done for you?" asked Prescott, with a sudden jealous
twinge.

"He has given me this pass, which will take me in or out of Richmond as
I wish."

She showed the pass, and as Prescott looked at it he felt the colour
rise in his face. Could the heart of the Secretary have followed the
course of his own?

"I am here now, I may say, almost by chance," she continued. "After I
left you I reached the main body of the Northern army in safety, and I
intended to go at once to Washington, where I have relatives, though
none so near and dear as Miss Grayson--you see I am really of the South,
in part at least--but there was a long delay about a pass, the way of
going and other such things, and while I was waiting General Grant began
his great forward movement. There was nothing left for me to do then but
to cling to the army--and--and I thought I might be of some use there.
Women may not be needed on a battlefield, but they are afterward."

"I, most of all men, ought to know that," said Prescott, earnestly.
"Don't I know that you, unaided, brought me to that house? Were it not
for you I should probably have died alone in the Wilderness."

"I owed you something, Captain Prescott, and I have tried t