Tracy could have no doubt of Dorothea’s sincerity, so earnestly did she speak. “I wish I’d known that a bit sooner,” he remarked soberly. “Would it have made any difference?” Dorothea questioned. “It may make a difference to Hendon,” Tracy replied. “To tell you the truth,” he went on, “for another reason we suspected Hendon hadn’t brought the news to the Yanks. We didn’t see how he could have gotten through to them.” “What do you mean by that?” Dorothea asked. “When I left here after that little play we had in the woods yonder,” Tracy explained, “I went out to alarm the country. It was too serious a matter, you understand, to let the whims of a girl thwart us. I couldn’t fight with April over taking the man then and there; but—well, at any rate, in an hour there was a party looking for Hendon and I went on to give the warning as wide a range as I could. I guessed Hendon knew from you. April overheard you talking to Miss Imogene. I was sure what he was after and I cut off his road to the Yankees.” “Then he was captured?” Dorothea demanded. “Not that I’ve heard of,” Val acknowledged. “I’ve even been thinking he might have gotten through, seeing that the Yanks were warned; but now—” He whistled softly to himself. “They may get him yet—and if they do—” “What will they do?” Dorothea’s tone was anxious. Tracy shrugged his shoulders. “The man is a Southerner turned Yankee. You can guess the rest,” he answered shortly. “But they can’t do anything more than take him prisoner!” Dorothea exclaimed. She had no special interest in Lee Hendon save for April’s sake, but Tracy’s tone was suggestive of something serious. “I wish I could be sure of that,” Tracy replied gravely. “You see, they are an irregular band of militia and will have small regard for the law in such cases. They will consider him not only a spy but a traitor.” He shook his head dubiously. “We mustn’t speak of this to April.” “But we must do something,” Dorothea insisted. “Yes, but I don’t know what has become of him,” Tracy explained. “He may be all right, after all, you know. At any rate I shall make it my business to find out. But, under any circumstances, April must not know.” Secrecy, they agreed, was necessary, and that same evening Tracy went off again to try to find some trace of Hendon. The next day the news reached little Washington that President Lincoln had been assassinated. There were few details and for some little time no one knew positively who the murderer was, and there were many fantastic rumors flying about. Upon Dorothea the sad event made a deep impression, deeper than even she realized at the time. Once more she brought back to her mind the scene in which the great and kindly man had shown her his heart for a moment, and his death seemed a personal loss to her.