“Did you not hear the soldier to-day charge Walter with being a spy?” “I did not hear the name of the man they were looking for--it surely was not Walter?” The rosy flush that rose to her cheeks made Marie turn faint. Could it be that her sister cared for him yet? “Do not look at me as if you doubted me. That foolish passion has burned itself out. My only hope is that he lives, so that I may repair, in a measure, the wrong I have done you both. When I have seen you pining, my heart has ached for you.” “Oh, Helen dear, how good you are!” The twilight deepened, as they sat there, and a shot was heard, which brought them both to their feet. Another rang out, and with a wild cry of alarm the girls fled from the house, toward the spot from whence they came. Marie saw a form fleeing into the darkening woods, and heard the command “Halt!” It never paused, and as the soldiers raised their rifles to fire, she sprang almost in front of their weapons, and cried--“Do not fire again. You have killed him.” “We have not fired at all. It was not our shot that struck him, but we were about to fire on the man who wounded him, and whom you saw running away,” Sergeant Hughes said, respectfully. At a short distance they found Walter Ryder, who was wounded in the side, and as they carried him back to camp, he said-- “Take me to the Lieutenant. I can prove my innocence.” Marie and Helen threw themselves into each other's arms. Old Lois wrung her hands in despair. “I tole you no good wud cum outen dat man's comin' round here,” she said to old Dan. “I {284}doant know why not,” he said. “Wat you got agin him?” “He ain't our sort,” she said, contemptuously. “Nordern men am diffunt from Soudern--doan yo' sense it?” “Dat's not for me to explaticate. But who was it gib'd us our freedom but dem same Nordern men; and isn't it worf sumfing to own yo'self? Dat's wat de Nordern 'trash,' as you call 'em, has done for you and me.” “I neber could talk wif you, old man, for youse always on de contrary side,” and she left the partner of her joys and sorrows with what was intended for a very lofty step. “De old gal doant like my plain speaking,” Dan chuckled. “But Ise on de right side always.” Next morning dawned brightly. As the birds sang their welcome to early day, a young girl left the house and walked rapidly toward the camp, a quarter of a mile distant. No one would have recognized the elegant Helen in her disguise. She wore a calico dress, much faded and too large for her, pinned in folds about her form. A sunbonnet hid her lovely face, and an old black cape completed the outfit. She carried a basket of fruit, and to all appearances was a country lassie seeking a market for her goods. No challenge was given her. The customary “Halt!” was replaced by a gracious smile from the guard, and permission was given her to enter.