Wondering what enterprise called them together, and fearful lest duty should prevent his obtaining the furlough which he intended to ask, in order that he might save Kate, or at least die in the attempt, he walked moodily to the tent of Marion. Here he found the leading captains of the brigade already assembled, late as was the hour; and beside them, Col. Lee, who had just joined Marion with his legion, subsequently so celebrated in that partisan war. “I believe Capt. Preston is the last one expected—I am glad to see him safely returned,” said Marion, when our hero, having bowed to his brother officers, had assumed a seat, “and, as the affair on which we have met is urgent, we will proceed at once to business. Capt. Horry, will you state the purpose of this assembly; after that we will listen to you all, beginning with Capt. Preston, who is the youngest.” Every eye, as he spoke, had been turned on Marion; and as hitherto we have given no description of this celebrated personage, we will employ the interval in drawing his picture. Marion, at that time, was about forty-eight years old; small of stature, swarthy in visage, and having a face crossed by many lines of thought. Without being positively stern in aspect, there was a hard expression in his countenance, which at first might seem to augur a bosom equally hard; but Marion was, in reality, a man of a singularly mild temperament; and the usually passionless expression of his face arose rather from the firmness of his character, and the responsibilities of his station, than from any lack of human sympathy. His eyes were dark, small, and piercing; but at times they kindled with enthusiasm. This, indeed, was the only evidence that a physiognomist could have found of genius in Marion; but when those eyes flashed indignantly at wrong, blind, indeed, must he have been, who did not see the master-spirit within. In attire, this great partisan leader was simple and modest. His words generally were few; and, after the exertion he made in welcoming Preston, he sank back into a silence which he maintained until the conference was breaking up, only, as each officer delivered his opinion, Marion would cast on him a momentary glance, as if to read his soul, and then sink his head on his breast, thoughtful and abstracted.