Camille declared she did not and would not believe there had been any fault with any one, anywhere, and especially with Mr. Gholson, and I liked Lieutenant Helm less than ever, noticing anew the unaccountable freedom with which Camille seemed to think herself entitled to rebuke him. "Oh, I'm in your power," he cried to her, "and I'll call him a spotless giraffe if you want me to! that's what he is; I've always thought so!" The spring-wagon was taking the left fork and he cantered ahead to begin his good-byes there and save her for the last. When he made his adieu to her he said, "Won't you let Mr. Smith halt here with me a few moments? I want to speak of one or two matters that--" She resigned me almost with scorn; which privately amused me, and, I felt sure, hoodwinked the aide-de-camp. "Say, Dick!" he began, as she moved away, "look here, I'm going to tell you something; Ned Ferry's in love with Charlotte Oliver!" "You don't mean it!" "Yes, I do, mean it! Smith, Ned's a grand fellow. I'm glad I came here yesterday." "Yes, you've secured a furlough." "Oh, this thing, yes; don't you wish you had it! No, I'm glad I came, for what I've learned. I'm glad for what Ned Ferry has taught me a man can do, and keep from doing, when he's got the upper hold of himself. And I'm glad for what she--you know who--by George! any man would know who ever saw her, for she draws every man who comes within her range, as naturally as a rose draws a bee. I'm glad for what she has taught me a woman can _be_, and can keep from being, so long as she knows there's one real man to live up to! just _up to_, mind you, I don't even say to live _for_." I stared with surprise. Was this the trivial Harry talking? Fact is, the pair we were talking about had by some psychical magic rarified the atmosphere for all of us until half our notes were above our normal pitch. "Do you mean she loves him; what sign of such a thing did she show yesterday or last evening?" "Not a sign of a sign! And yet I'll swear it! Do you know where she's gone?" "To-day? I think I do." "Where?" "Well, Lieutenant, if I were she, _I_ should go straight into the Yankee lines behind Port Hudson. She's got Jewett's messages and his sword, and the Yank's won't know her as a Confederate any better than they ever did; for it's only these men whom we've captured who have found out she's Charlotte Oliver, or that she had any knowing part in General Austin's ruse." "If Oliver doesn't tell," said Harry, lifting his bad hand in pain. "He will not dare! If she can only get her word in first and tell them, herself, that he's Charlotte Oliver's husband and has just led the finest company of Federal scouts in the two States to destruction--" "Hi! that ought to cook his dough!--with her face--and her voice!" "Yes," I responded, "--and his breath." "And why do you think she wants to do this?" asked Harry.