The lady rocked to and fro, pushed back her dark hair with the snowy hand, and looking at her companion, began to laugh. “You are not hungry?” she said. “No,” was his reply. “And to think that a romantic young creature like myself _should_ be!” “It was natural. I hoped that you would have given up this fancy of accompanying me. You can not stand the fatigue.” “I can stand it easily,” she said. “When we have a cherished object, weariness does not count.” “A cherished object! What is yours?” “Sit down, and I will tell you. I am tired. You can rejoin the column in ten minutes.” “So be it,” said Darke, gloomily. And he sat down near her. “You wish to be informed of my object in going with you everywhere,” she said. And her voice which had at first been gay and careless, assumed a mocking accent, making the nerves tingle. “I can explain in a very few words my romantic desire. I wish to see _him_ fall.” “Humph!” ejaculated Darke, coldly; “you mean--” “That man--yes. You promised to kill him, when you next met. Did you not promise me that?” Darke looked at the speaker with grim admiration. “You are a singular woman,” he said; “you never forget a wrong. And yet the wrong, people might say, was committed by _you_--not _him_.” “Do _you_ say that?” exclaimed the woman with sudden venom in her voice. “I say nothing, madam,” was the gloomy reply. “I only declare that you hate much more strongly than I do. I hate him--and hate him honestly. But I would not take him at disadvantage. You would strike him, wherever you met him--in the dark--in the back--I think you would dance the war-dance around him, when he was dying!” And Darke uttered a short jarring laugh. “You are right,” said the woman, coolly. “I wish to see that man die--I expected you to kill him on that night in Pennsylvania. You promised to do it;--redeem your promise!” “I will try to do so, madam,” said Darke, coolly. “And I wish to be present on the occasion.” Darke laughed as before. “That doubtless has prevented you from having our good friend Mohun--well--assassinated!” The woman was silent for a moment. Then she said:--- “No, I have tried that.” “Ah!--recently?” “Yes.” “By what means--who was your agent?” “Swartz.” Darke waited, listening. “He has three times waylaid _him_ behind the rebel lines, and fired on him as he was riding at night through the woods,” added the woman. “Bah!” said Darke; “Swartz told you that?” “He has done so.” “Hatred blinds you; I do not believe that story. But I design nothing of that description against Colonel Mohun. I will fight him wherever I meet him in battle--kill him, if I can--but no assassination.” A mocking smile came to the woman’s lips. “You seem to dislike the idea of--assassination,” she said. Darke uttered a sound resembling the growl of a wild animal, and a moment after, seizing the decanter, he dashed some of its contents into a glass, and raised it to his lips.