Vividly his memory reproduced the same hour, now years since, when he had ridden up that lawn at the head of his troopers, his sabre flashing in the last rays of the sun. It seemed ages ago, so much had happened; but through all the changes and perils the low sob of the Southern girl when she opened the way for his escape had been vibrating in stronger and tenderer chords in the depths of his soul. It had awakened dreams and imaginings which, if dissipated, would leave but a busy, practical life as devoid of romance as the law-tomes to which he would give his thoughts. It was natural, therefore, that his heart should beat fast as he approached the solution of a question bearing so vitally on all his future. He concealed himself and his horse behind some low, shrubby trees that had been too insignificant for the camp fires, long since burned out, and scanned the battered dwelling. No sign of life was visible. He was about to proceed and end his suspense at once, when a lady, clad in mourning, came out and sat down on the veranda. He instantly recognized Suwanee. For a few moments Lane could scarcely summon courage to approach. The surrounding desolation, her badges of bereavement and sorrow, gave the young girl the dignity and sacredness of immeasurable misfortune. She who had once so abounded in joyous, spirited life now seemed emblematical of her own war-wasted and unhappy land,--one to whom the past and the dead were more than the future and the living. Would she receive him? Would she forgive him, one of the authors of her people's bleeding wounds? He determined to end his suspense, and rode slowly towards her, that she might not be startled. At first she did not recognize the stranger in civilian dress, who was still more disguised by a heavy beard; but she rose and approached the veranda steps to meet him. He was about to speak, when she gave a great start, and a quick flush passed over her face. Then, as if by the sternest effort, she resumed her quiet, dignified bearing, as she said, coldly, "You will scarcely wonder, Captain Lane, that I did not recognize you before." He had dismounted and stood uncovered before her, and she added, "I regret that I have no one to take your horse, and no place to stable him, but for yourself I can still offer such hospitality as my home affords." Lane was chilled and embarrassed. He could not speak to her in like distant and formal manner, and he resolved that he would not. However it might end, he would be true to his own heart and impulses. He threw the reins on the horse's neck, caring not what became of him, and stepping to her side, he said, impetuously, "I never doubted that I should receive hospitality at your home,--that is refused to no one,--but I did hope for a different greeting." Again there was a quick, auroral flush, and then, with increased pallor and coldness, she asked, "Have I failed in courtesy?" "No." "What reason had you to expect more?"