"We all better be at it," he said quickly. "By the way, with that cavalry uniform you ought to have a horse. We're leading one with Yankee accoutrements you can use. Come on, Slade. Miss Hardy, I hope to see you at your own home in a few days." He bowed, hat in hand, the girl rising to her feet, as the sergeant left the room. She did not smile, her eyes flashing from his face to mine. "I may remain here until the armies leave this section," she replied quietly. "There is too much risk in travelling alone." "You might ride with us," he suggested gallantly. She shook her head, her lips smiling. "I think I better not." "Does that mean you are still angry?" "I didn't know I had been, Captain. Perhaps I spoke rather hastily, but you must forgive that." Her hand was extended, and he came a step back from the door to grasp it, and lift the fingers to his lips. With a fierce throbbing of the heart I turned my back to them, staring out the window. There was a low murmur of voices, and then the door clicked. I never moved, watching Le Gaire go down the steps, his men swing into their saddles, at a sharp order, and ride away in column of fours. When they had all disappeared a single horse remained, tied to the railing of the veranda. I turned about, and picked up my hat from the floor. Miss Hardy was seated again at the table, her head resting upon one hand. I could see the round, white arm where the sleeve fell away, and her cheeks were flushed. She did not lift her eyes at my movement, and, half angry at her studied indifference, I advanced straight toward the door. But there I hesitated, unable to part without at least another word. She was looking at me now. "May I hope ever to meet you again?" I asked. "I can promise nothing as to the future," she returned soberly. "But I wish to speak to you now, before you go. Sit down here, just a moment." I hesitated, keen as to the value of time, yet curious as to what she would say, and swayed strongly by her influence. "You surely must understand how anxious I am to get away--" I began, but she broke in impulsively. "Of course I do, but you must listen to me first." She had risen, and was leaning forward, speaking earnestly. "It is true we shall probably never meet again, yet I am not willing you should think me altogether a despicable character. I wish you to know whom I am, and why deceit was necessary." "My dear girl," I exclaimed, hastily crossing the room, "there is nothing to explain. I understand the circumstances."