It would be hard to imagine a morning more lovely, a more perfect type of peace and good-will, than the one which dawned over The Oaks plantation the following day. With the light came fragrant zephyrs of delicious coolness; the stillness of the night gave place to a slight stir and rustle of foliage; chanticleers crowed lustily, with no forebodings of their doom; the horses began to whinny for their breakfasts, and the negroes to emerge from their quarters to greet the light of this first fair day of freedom. Uncle Lusthah declared "De millenyum yere sho!" Smoke rose from Aun' Jinkey's chimney, and after the pone was baking on the hearth she came out on the doorstep with her pipe to do a little "projeckin'." Even she was impressed with the beauty and peacefulness of the morning. "En ter tink," she ejaculated, "my honey's sleepin' lak a lil chile 'stead ob cryin' en wringin' her han's nobody know whar! Wen dey gits ter mar'in' my honey en she a bleatin' en a tremlin' like a lamb 'long a wolf dat lickin' he chops ober her, den I say hit's time fer a smash up. Marse Scoville look lak he 'tect her gin de hull worl'." So thought Miss Lou herself. In her weariness and sense of security she had slept soundly till the light grew distinct, when the birds wakened her. With consciousness memory quickly reproduced what had occurred. She sprang to the window and peeped through the blinds in time to see Scoville rise from his bivouac and throw aside his blanket. With a soldier's promptness he aroused his men and began giving orders, the tenor of one being that a scouting party should prepare to go out immediately. "Oh!" she sighed, "if I had such a brother what a happy girl I might be! I don't believe I'd ever care to marry." She was far from being a soft-natured, susceptible girl, and while Scoville kindled her imagination and had won her trust, she did not think of him as a lover. Indeed, the very word had become hateful to her, associating it as she did with her cousin and the idea of selfish appropriation. More strongly than any slave on the plantation, she longed for freedom, and the belief that the Union officer understood her, respecting her rights and feelings, won him all the favor she was then capable of bestowing upon any one. If he had employed his brief opportunity in gallantry and love-making she would have been disgusted. "I never met any one like him," she soliloquized as she hastily dressed. "It's so strange to find one willing I should be a little bit happy in my own way, who is not 'seeking my best welfare,' as uncle says. Welfare, indeed! As if I couldn't see some wish or scheme of their own back of all they say or do! His dark eyes declare, 'I wish you well whether you are useful to me or not.' Well, I am glad I've known him, whether I ever see him again or not. He has made my course much clearer."