Frank, on his part, was equally communicative, and, in spite of the haughty reserve of Captain Clifton, informed his host that he had come up in that neighborhood for the purpose of acting as groomsman at the approaching marriage of his friend, Captain Clifton, of the —— Regiment of Cavalry, to his cousin, Miss Carolyn Gower Clifton, of Clifton Place. That their journey, so far, had been rather disastrous; that they had set out from Washington City on horseback, but had become so fatigued by the excessive heat, that they had been obliged, on arriving at Winchester, to take places for themselves in the stage for Staunton, and to hire a man to bring their horses after them—riding one and leading the other, and so alternately. That before reaching Staunton, they had been thrown from the stage—without serious injury to themselves, however, and had been obliged to walk some ten miles to a village on their route, and wait the arrival of their horses, which, fortunately, were not many hours behind them. That they had ridden all day in a thick fog, lost their way, came near going over a fearful precipice, and finally got caught in the tempest that drove them for shelter to the cabin. During all this time, Captain Clifton had seemed lost in thought, and only once spoke to inquire of the young mountaineer whether it were possible for them to pursue their journey that night. To this the young man replied that it would be impossible, even if it were then daylight, inasmuch as the torrents were swollen so greatly. And at the thought of pursuing their journey, a pang of remorse for his forgetfulness of his horses shot through the breast of Frank, and— “What the devil can have become of Saladin?” he exclaimed, starting up. “Oh, he is safe,” answered Clifton. “I saw them both in the shed as I looked from the little window up stairs.’ “Who put them there?” “I tended them,” answered the girl, quietly. They all now arose from the table. The girl cleared the board, and carried all the things out to wash up. Carl begged his guests to excuse him, and went out to give the horses a rub down and another feed. Captain Clifton threw himself into the arm-chair, crossed his legs, took out his tablets, and began to make memorandums. Frank impertinently peeped over his shoulder and read—“Mem. Ask my mother if she can take a little girl as a companion.” Clifton closed the book instantly, in silent rebuke of Frank’s impudence. And Frank himself walked about fidgety and unhappy for not knowing what to do with himself, until, at a restless movement of the old man, he went and poured out a mug of water, and carefully keeping behind the eye of the patient, lifted up his head and gave him drink, and after setting down the empty mug, fanned him till he went sound asleep again.