t her, but the dark eyes,
welling with unshed tears, told of a troubled heart.

And then of a sudden the tears were dashed away and the girl sprang to
her feet. A blithe voice hailed her from within.

"Dey's comin', Miss Dora--two on 'em, at least--like enough to be twin
brudders."

The girl ran to the northward corner again and gazed out across the
rushing, swollen river. Not so much as a sign of a dust-cloud to tell of
marching cavalry, and she turned again, with rebuke ready on her tongue,
but again the voice from within:

"Comin' _t 'other_ way, chile. Must ha' took the lower fohd and rode
roun' back o' de stables," and, with the words, a laughing "mammy" came
bustling to the front door, a cool white pitcher in one hand, a tray
with glasses in the other.

"Ah know well 'nuff what brings de lieutenant round dis way. As for
dat--_trash_--wid him"--and here came a chuckle of delight at her own
wit--"he just cain't help hisself." But Dora was not listening. Light as
a bird she had flown to the other end of the little porch and was gazing
out through the honeysuckles with all her soul in her eyes.

Coming up the slope at easy canter rode a young officer, with
broad-brimmed hat and dusty field dress, alert, slender, sinewy, of only
medium height and not more than twenty-five years, with a handsome,
sun-tanned, smiling face, a picture of healthful, wholesome young
manhood. And behind him, at the regulation distance, came what Aunt
Chloe, in her "darky" dialect more than once had declared "the very spit
of him"--a young trooper in similar slouch hat and dusty field dress,
younger, probably, by three or four years, but to the full as alert and
active, as healthful and wholesome to look at, his face now all aglow
with a light that was sweet for girlish eyes to see.

The leader swung his hat and blithely shouted as he curbed his eager
horse. "Howdy, Miss Dora. Bless your heart, Aunt Chloe, I knew you'd
have the buttermilk ready! No, Rawdon, I shan't dismount"--this to the
young "orderly," who had sprung from saddle and, with his rein over his
arm, stood ready to take that of his officer. "Merciful saints! but
isn't that good after thirty miles of alkali!" He had swallowed a
brimming goblet of the cool, refreshing drink, and Chloe was delightedly
refilling. "Father home, Miss Dora?" he went on cheerily.

"Over at the stables, Mr. Lanier," was the smiling answer. The face of
the girl was sunshine and roses now, yet mere