What possible excuse, then, had I for going there? In my own heart I knew I had none, or one so poor and selfish I scarcely durst whisper it even to myself; yet I rode steadily on. Impelled by my own weakness, or drawn irresistibly by fate,--whichever the real cause I know not,--I would at least look upon those walls that had once sheltered her, would learn if possible if she was yet there. Then--well, in the bondage of my passion I hoped for what might happen, as every lover does. It must have been two o'clock; we had baited our horses, I remember, an hour previous; and the Sergeant had enjoyed his noonday siesta beneath the shade of a great bush bearing purple blossoms. The road we had been travelling since early morning wound in and out among great trees, and crossed and recrossed the little stream called the Cowskin until I almost thought we had lost our way. We met with no one in all the long day's riding, not even a stray negro, and indeed it was some hours since we had passed a house of any kind. Leaving the brook behind us we toiled slowly up a long hill, and at the top Bungay, riding beside me, pointed to the westward. “Cap,” he said, “thar is ther Minor place.” The very sight of it in the distance was a thrill--a great white house placed well back from the road and almost hidden from sight by fine, large trees; an old-fashioned, big-roomed house it looked to be, built after the colonial type, a wide veranda upon three sides, with fluted columns to support the overhanging roof. “Hain't no signs es fer es I kin see of any trouble havin' 'curred thar,” Jed said slowly, his shrewd gray eyes roaming over the peaceful scene. “Somebody ter hum tew, fer ther chimley is a smokin'.” Of course, now I was there, the only sensible thing for me to do would have been to ride openly to the front door, and thus learn all I desired. But what man who loves, who is continually swayed by hopes and fears, by strength and weakness, ever does the sensible thing? I had certainly intended doing so at the start, but now my nerve failed me. She was the wife of another. I could not confess I had ventured to come to her in love, nor could I look into those clear, honest, questioning eyes and lie. “Halt!” I ordered. “Sergeant!” “I am here, Captain.” “Take your men down into that hollow yonder, and remain there until I return. Better post a sentry on the hill here.” “It vill be done, Captain.” “I shall not, probably, be absent more than an hour, so don't permit the men to stray.” “Dot is it, Captain. I vill be mit dem all over.” I rode down alone into the thick woods at the foot of the hill, and dismounting, tied my horse to a sapling. Then on foot I struck across the fields, my intention being to come in by way of the negro quarters at the rear, in hope of meeting some one from whom I might inquire relative to the great house and its inmates.