“Oh, it was not that that made it so hard,” and her eyes were upon me now unflinchingly. “It was the constant sight of so much misery one was unable to relieve. Besides, that was nearly a year ago; I was very young, just from school, and every form of suffering was new and terrible to me.” “I greatly wonder you were permitted to go there at all.” “The Major did object. He insisted it was no fit place for me, and that I ran the risk of contracting disease. But I generally have my own way, even with him, and in this case I felt it a duty to my country, and that I was right in my decision.” I remained silent, striving vainly to frame some innocent question which should solve for me the problem of who and what she was. Suddenly she spoke softly: “Captain Wayne, I feel I owe you an apology for my unwarranted and unladylike conduct last night. I am very sure now that you are a gentleman, and will appreciate how bitterly I was tried, how deeply I have ever since regretted it.” It hurt her pride to say even this much, as I could tell by her downcast eyes and heaving bosom, and I hastened to relieve her embarrassment. “You have nothing whatever to ask forgiveness for,” I said earnestly. “Rather such a request should come from me. I only trust, Miss Brennan, that you will excuse my part in this extremely unfortunate affair.” She sat looking down upon her plate, her fingers nervously crumbling a bit of corn bread. “You do not even know who I am,” she said slowly. “I am not Miss, but Mrs. Brennan.” I felt as if a dash of cold water had been suddenly thrown in my face. “Indeed?” I stammered, scarcely knowing what I said. “You appear so young a girl that I never once thought of you as being a married woman.” “I was married very early; indeed, before I was seventeen. My husband--” What she was about to add I could but conjecture, for a quick change in the expression of her face startled me. “What is it?” I questioned, half rising to my feet, and glancing over my shoulder toward the wall where her eyes were riveted. “Something resembling a hand pushed aside the coat hanging yonder,” she explained in low trembling tone, “and I thought I saw a face.” With one stride I was across the narrow room, and tore the garment from its wooden hook. The log wall where it hung was blank. I struck it here and there with the steel hilt of my sabre, but it returned a perfectly solid sound, and I glanced about bewildered. The woman was watching me with affrighted eyes. “This entire house is uncanny,” she exclaimed. “The very being in it makes my flesh creep. It may have been a den of murderers. Captain, let us get outside into the sunshine.”