“Who knows? Does Judith know?” “Yes. She and my mother.” The other covered his eyes with his hand, then spoke, much moved. “Richard, if ever this war gives us time we might reopen matters. We surely have influence enough—” “I know, Fauquier. But there is no time now to be given nor stress to be laid on private matters. Somehow they have sunk away.... Perhaps a day will come, and perhaps it will not come.... In the mean time dismissal from the army has not worked. I am back in the army.” “And are not unhappy? You do not sound unhappy.” “No. I am not unhappy. Only now and then.... Be careful, will you? If I were known I should be unhappy soon enough!” “You may trust me.” He leaned from the saddle and put his hand on the other’s shoulder. “Richard, you’re a true man. I’ve always honoured you, and I honour you more than ever! Truth will out! You be sure of that.” “I am at times reasonably sure of it, Fauquier. And if it does not appear, I am reasonably sure that I can endure the darkness. I told you that I was not unhappy.” He laid an affectionate touch on the other’s hand. “I was sorry enough to hear about the arm, Fauquier.” “Oh,” said Cary, “I have learned to use the left. I had rather it was the arm than the leg, like dear old Ewell!... Richard, meeting you like this moves me more than I can well let show. I’ve got so much of my mother in me that I’d like to kiss you, my dear—” He bent as he spoke and touched with his lips the other’s broad, uplifted brow, which done, with a great handclasp they parted. Cary, turning, called to the orderly who came up. The two rode on toward Brandy Station, and Deaderick resumed his watch. Another time passed. The moon rode high, the forest rustled, the road lay a silver streak. Deaderick, still and straight beneath the sycamore, presently turned his head and regarded the line of woods upon his left. He had caught a sound—but it was some distance away. It had been faint, but it was like a horse being pushed cautiously through undergrowth. Now there was no more of it. He stood listening, with narrowed eyes. The bushes a hundred feet away parted and a man and horse emerged. They stopped a moment and the man rose in his stirrups and looked about him. Then, with a satisfied nod, he settled to the saddle again and the two came through the thin growth down to the road. “Halt!” said Deaderick, cocking his rifle. The horseman came on. “Halt! or I fire.” The horse was stopped. “Don’t waste your bullets on me!” said the rider coolly. “Save them for the Yankees.” “Dismount before you advance.” “I have the countersign. I am Lieutenant Francis, bearing an enquiry from General Lee.” “Dismount before you advance.”