"Well, then, good-by, and God keep you, Lieutenant. I shall hope to see you again."

"To see you again will be my dearest hope. Dear, dear little Lou! how brave you've been! You've won a soldier's whole heart forever. How can I say good-by? You can't dream how dear you have become to me. Please, one kiss before we separate."

Yielding to an impulse then not understood, she put her arm swiftly about his neck, kissed him, and turned so rapidly towards her home that Chunk could scarcely keep pace with her.

They reached the ladder unobserved, and from the roof of the extension the way to Miss Lou's room was easy. Chunk went to a point from which he could watch the girl enter her apartment. Putting the ladder back into the garden, he rejoined Scoville, and together they made their way in the direction of the retiring Union column. Scoville never wearied in questioning his attendant about every detail of Miss Lou's action, while conjectures as to her experiences often robbed him of sleep. Never was a man more completely won and held in love's sweet thraldom.

On regaining her room, Miss Lou hastily threw off her cousin's clothes and resumed her own apparel. Then she softly and cautiously opened her door. With the exception of sounds in the lower hall, all was still, and she slipped out in her stocking-feet, replaced the uniform on the chairs, stole back and bolted her door. For half an hour she sat panting on her chair, listening to every sound. Only the groans of the wounded smote her ears. "Oh, thank God! I do not hear his voice among them," she half sobbed, in pity for those who were suffering. "Well, I can best forget my anxiety about him by doing something for these poor Oh, how strange and true his words are! He touched my heart at first by just being helpless when he fell

men.

by the run, and every thing I do for him seems to make him dearer. It cannot be that I shall never see him again. Oh, when shall I forget the way he took me in his arms? It seemed as if he gave me his whole heart then and couldn't help himself."

There was a near mutter of thunder. In her deep preoccupation she had not noticed the coming of another shower. It proved a short but heavy one, and she exulted. "The rain will obliterate all our tracks."

Calmer thought led to the conclusion that the affair would be very serious for her if her part in it was discovered. She had acted almost without thought, without realizing the risks she had incurred, and now the possible consequences so appalled her that she resolved to be on her guard in every possible way. “He knew, he understood the risk I took better than I did then, better than I do now, perhaps," she breathed softly. "That's so fine in him that way he has of making me feel that one's worth being cared for." She was far too excited and anxious to sleep. Wrapping herself up, she watched at her window. Soon the stars began to twinkle beneath the clouds in the west, showing that this last shower was a clearing one, and that the radiance of the moon might soon be undimmed. The fires along the ridge which, as she believed, still defined the Union position, were burning low. Suddenly flashes and reports of firearms in that direction startled her.

CHAPTER XXIV.

A HOME A HOSPITAL.

HE sudden night alarm caused by firing on the ridge

THE

can be easily explained. Wearied as were the Confederate general and his men, and severe as had been the repulse of their first attack, both were undaunted and, after rest and refreshment, eager to bring the battle to a more decisive issue, and it was determined to learn long before morning whether the Federal force was on the ridge or not. During the last shower a reconnoitring party was sent out stealthily, a few of the rear-guard captured, from whom it was learned that the Union column had been on the march for hours.

Mrs. Whately was wakened and helped her disabled son to dress in haste. Little did Miss Lou know about the term alibi, but she had the shrewdness to show herself and to appear much alarmed. Opening her door, she gave a glimpse of herself in night attire with her long hair hanging over her shoulders, and cried, "Oh, oh, are we attacked?"

"If we are you may have sad reason to wish that you had obeyed me this morning,” replied her cousin sternly. “You no more understand your folly and danger than a child. Now I'm compelled to look after my prisoners first," and he rushed away.

"Whatever

"Come in my room, Louise," said her aunt. happens, it is best that we should be together." The girl was so agitated, fearing that in some way her adventures

might be discovered, that she had no occasion to feign alarm. Mrs. Whately sought only to soothe and quiet, also to extenuate her son's words. "I don't suppose we truly realize yet, as Madison does, what war means," she concluded.

Mr. Baron soon sent up word that there was no special occasion for further fears, and that the ladies might sleep if they could, until morning.

But there was no more sleep for Mad Whately. As soon as he reached the spot where the prisoners had been kept he asked sharply, "Where is that Yankee officer and

Perkins?"

The man then on duty answered, "The sergeant I relieved said that you took 'im away, sir, and that the man named Perkins followed you."

"There's been treachery here," cried Whately in a rage. "Bring that sergeant here."

The weary man was half dragged in his sleep to the officer and there thoroughly awakened by a volley of oaths. He stolidly told his story, concluding, "I cud a sworn it was you, and the overseer followed less'n three minutes after you left.”

"I left'

curse you don't say that again. You've been fooled or was asleep and neglected your duty."

"Well then, sir," was the dogged reply, "find that overseer who was a watchin' the Yank like a cat. Ast 'im; ast my men ef I wasn't awake en ef I didn't s'lute you soon ez you come. There's the overseer's lantern burnin' yet jis

whar he left it."

At this moment Perkins came staggering towards the fire, with both hands to his head as if trying to hold it together. His clothes were muddy, his face was ghastly and he stared at Whately as if the officer was also a part of a horrid dream.

Whately seized him roughly by the arm and said sternly, 66 Speak, man. What does all this mean? Where's the Yank?"

"For God's sake, quit," cried Perkins. "I'm nigh dead now. You've got me in anuff trouble for one night."

"Trouble - you! What's your trouble to mine? I'm responsible for these prisoners. Now where's that Yank? Quick, or you will have trouble.”

"I ain't seen 'im since yer took 'im away. -you. I ain't one of your understrappers. Ez I wuz follerin' yer some one knocked me down from behind and nigh onto killed me. jes gittin' my senses back."

I

Although so enraged, Whately knew that as a soldier he inust curb his passion, report the facts immediately and see what could be done.. His superior officer was called, all the parties questioned closely, the garden and Aun' Jinkey's cabin searched, but no new facts discovered. The old negress was savagely threatened, but she only replied, “I dunno, I dunno not'n. W'at got inter you ter tink an ole tottery, skeered ooman lak me gwine out in de dark en knock Marse Perkins on de haid?"

"Where's your grandson, Chunk?" Whately demanded fiercely.

"He des light out wid de Yankees dis eb'nin'.”

The conclusion guessed at was that Scoville had been rescued by his own men, who were known to be daring scouts. In the darkness and confusion after the battle, it was thought they had mingled with the Confederates, learned the situation of their leader and the general appearance of Whately with his disabled arm. Arrayed in the Southern uniform, of which scouts always had a supply, and favored by the sleepy condition of the guard, one of the scouts had played the trick which Whately rued so bitterly. Others, on the watch, had struck down Perkins and carried Scoville