“Poor old man!” Galt, now in his own grounds, leaned against the wall of a rustic summer-house. A thought had struck him like a blow from the dark. What would Sylvester say when he was told the truth? Galt saw the look of sheer, helpless incredulity on the high-bred, war-scarred face as the revelation was made, and watched it glow and flame into that of anger, contempt, and bitter disappointment. The mere confession of wrong-doing he might accept as frankly as it was offered, but that the young man should allow such a mishap to drag his own proud name into the mire and wreck the greatest enterprise that had ever blessed a down-trodden community--well, he couldn't have believed such a thing possible. Heavily laden now with the fires of a purer passion burning low under the shadow of his impending ruin, Kenneth Galt dragged himself slowly along the walk toward his house. He was turning the corner to enter at the front when he saw a carriage and pair at the gate. The moon had gone under a thin cloud and the view was vague, but surely they were his own horses, and the man on the driver's seat certainly looked like John Dilk. Wonderingly, Galt went down to the gate. The negro was fast asleep; his massive head had fallen forward, and the hands which held the reins were inert. The gate rattled as Galt touched the iron latch, and the man woke and looked about him. “Oh, is dat you, Marse Kenneth?” he asked, sleepily. “Yes,” Galt answered, rather sharply. “What are you doing with the horses out at this time of night?” “Oh! oh! Le' me see, suh!” The negro's wits were evidently scattered. “I sw'ar I dunno, Marse Kenneth. Bless my soul, you jump on me so sudden dat I can't, ter save my life, tell you--Oh yes, now I know, suh! Why, ain't you seed de Gineral since you got home, Marse Kenneth?” “Why, no. Does he want me?” “Yasser, yasser, he sho' do,” the negro answered, now thoroughly himself. “He been searchin' fer you high and low, Marse Kenneth. He went all thoo yo' house. He got some'n 'portant ter tell you. He ordered me ter hurry an' get out de team, an' have it raidy fer you'n him. He just run in his house er minute ago. Dar he is comin' now. He's dat excited an' worried about not findin' you he can't hardly hold in.” General Sylvester, as he stepped from the veranda, recognized Galt, and hurried toward him, pulling out his watch and looking at it in the doubtful light.