The three men looked at each other with a puzzled look. There was but one window in the apartment, and that was covered with a mass of clinging vines so dense and thick that they formed a complete mat. They pushed their bayonets through the tangled mass, but no one was there. Helen gazed at them as if half stupefied. The sergeant courteously raised his cap, and said: “Miss, we are in search of a man whom we think is a spy--he certainly was seen in these grounds.” “We do not harbor spies, sir.” “I do not think you do--but he may have used your premises for a hiding-place. I beg your pardon for intruding. Right about face!” to his men, A still more prolonged search of the grounds revealed nothing, and after placing a guard, the remainder left. But where was Marie? As soon as the soldiers had left the room she went back to Helen, who sat with bowed head, and {282}touching her gently on the arm, she whispered--“Sister.” A tender light shone in Helen's face, but she answered--“Marie, if you only knew how I have injured you--I have not been a sister to you.” “Not a sister to me, dear Helen? Why, you are the dearest of sisters. What do you mean?” “Marie, could you dream that your sister, who loves you so dearly, would willingly have wronged you so that you never can forgive me?” “I cannot believe you, Helen. Explain, will you?” “I poisoned our father's mind against you. I wrote him that you were receiving Walter Ryder's attentions, and that I had prevented an elopement by my watchfulness.” “Helen! How could you? And that is the reason that he would not see me when they brought him home wounded. How cruel! Father, you cannot hear me, but you must know the truth now.” “I dare not ask your forgiveness, nor dare I tell you why I did it.” The girl stood before her sister, and in low and pleading tones she urged--“Tell me all, Helen. I _will_ call you sister,” as the other put up her hand with a gesture of pain. “You know how fond you were of Walter once.” A frown contracted the brow of the girl who listened, and she buried her face in Marie's lap, as she continued-- “I am ashamed to tell you, my unselfish sister, that I have done such a grievous wrong. I, too, loved Walter Ryder. Do not start. I was infatuated, and when he asked our dear father's permission to address you, I hated him, and from that hour I lost no chance of ruining him in his estimation. He went into the Northern army, and that helped my cause. Father swore that no daughter of his should marry a man who would take up arms against the South. I played a double part. I told Walter of our father's objections, and also persuaded him that you were half promised to a colonel in our army. He went away, {283}and was killed at Chattanooga.” And the stately Helen broke into a passion of weeping. “Sister, who told you that he was killed?” “I have letters from cousin Will, telling me so, and lamenting his death, for he was much attached to him.”