“Is that Lieutenant Caton?” I asked doubtfully. “Most assuredly it is,” quickly. “And who are you?” “Captain Wayne, of the Confederate Army.” “Oh, Wayne? Glad you spoke, but extremely sorry to have you here. Badly hurt?” “Not seriously, I think. No limbs missing, anyhow, but exceedingly weak. Where did they get you?” “In the side, a musket ball, but extracted. I would be all right if that lazy Irish scamp would only give me half enough to eat. By the way, Wayne, of course I never got the straight of it, for there are half-a-dozen stories about the affair flying around, and those most interested will not talk, but one of your special friends, and to my notion a most charming young woman, will be in here to see me sometime this afternoon. She will be delighted to meet you again, I'm sure.” “One of my friends?” I questioned incredulously, yet instantly thinking of Edith Brennan. “A young woman?” “Sure; at least she has confessed enough to me regarding that night's work to make me strongly suspicion that Captain Wayne, of the Confederate Army, and Colonel Curran, late of Major-General Halleck's staff, are one and the same person. A mighty neat trick, by Jove, and it would have done you good to see Sheridan's face when they told him. But about the young lady--she claims great friendship with the gallant Colonel of light artillery, and her description of his appearance at the ball is assuredly a masterpiece of romantic fiction. Come, Captain, surely you are not the kind of man to forget a pretty face like that? I can assure you, you made a deep impression. There are times when I am almost jealous of you.” “But,” I protested, my heart beating rapidly, “I met several that evening, and you have mentioned no name.” “Well, to me it chances there is but one worthy of mention,” he said earnestly, “and that one is Celia Minor.” “Miss Minor!” I felt a strange sense of disappointment. “Does she come alone?” “Most certainly; do you suppose she would expose me in my present weak state to the fascinations of any one else?” “Oh, so the wind lies in that quarter, does it, old fellow? I congratulate you, I'm sure.” My recollection of Miss Minor was certainly a most pleasant one, and I recalled to memory the attractive picture of her glossy black hair and flashing brown eyes, yet I felt exceedingly small interest in again meeting her. Indeed I was asleep when she finally entered, and it was the sound of Caton's voice that aroused me and made me conscious of the presence of others. “I shall share these grapes with my cot-mate over yonder,” he said laughingly. “By the way, Celia, his voice sounded strangely familiar to me a short time ago. Just glance over there and see if he is any one you know.” I heard the soft rustle of skirts, and, without a smile, looked up into her dark eyes. There was a sudden start of pleased surprise.