For a moment, as I responded to the hearty cordiality of his welcome, I was enabled to take my first glance at the ballroom, and found it to my unaccustomed soldier eyes an inspiring spectacle. The room was magnificently large,--a surprising apartment, indeed, even in so superb a Southern home as this had evidently been, and its proportions were magnified by numerous mirrors extending from floor to ceiling, causing the more distant dancers to appear circling in space. Brilliantly illumined by means of hanging chandeliers that oscillated slightly to the merry feet; decorated lavishly everywhere with festooned flags and tastefully arranged munitions of war; gay with the dress uniforms of the men and the handsome gowns of the women, it composed a scene so different from any I had looked upon in years as to hold me fascinated. The constant clatter of tongues, the merry laughter, the flashing of bright eyes, and the gleam of snowy shoulders, the good-humored repartees caught as the various couples circled swiftly past, the quick, musical gliding of flying feet over the waxen floor, the continuous whirl of the intoxicating waltz, and over all the inspiring strains of Strauss, caused my heart to bound, and brought with it an insane desire to participate. Yet gazing, entranced, upon the animated scene, and feeling deeply the intoxication of the moment, my eyes were eagerly searching that happy throng for sight of one fair woman's face. Strange as it must seem to others, in spite of the fact that to meet her might mean betrayal and death--ay! might even result in the destruction of an army--in my weakness I secretly longed for just such a happening; felt, indeed, that I must again see her, have speech with her, before I went forth alone into the manifold dangers of the night. It was foolhardiness,--insanity in very truth,--yet such was the secret yearning of my heart. If I could only once know, know from her own truthful lips, that she already belonged to another, I could, I believed, tear her image from my memory; but while I yet doubted (and in spite of all I had heard I doubted still), no desperate case should ever prevent my seeking her with all the mad ardor of love, no faintness of heart should intervene between us. That she was present I knew from those chance words overheard in the chimney, and my one deep hope ever since I donned that Federal uniform and ventured down the stairs (a hope most oddly mingled with dread) was that we might in some manner be brought together. I was yet vainly seeking a glimpse of her among the many who circled past, when I was suddenly recalled to the extreme delicacy of my situation by the deep voice of the Major asking me a direct question: “Do you ever dance, Colonel?” Exactly what I may have replied I know not, but it was evidently translated as an affirmative, for in another moment I was being piloted down the side of the long room, while he gossiped in my rather inattentive ear.