"Dear Ben (it read), I have been in trouble, and as I do not wish to disturb you at this time, I am going away for a few days to think it over. I shall be at Riverview, the old place on James River where mamma and I used to stay--but go ahead with the South Midland, and don't worry about me, it is all right. "SALLY." "I have been in trouble," I repeated slowly. "What trouble, and why should she keep it from me? Oh, because of the presidency of the South Midland! Damn the South Midland!" I said suddenly aloud. A time-table was on my desk, and looking into it, I found that a train left for Riverview in half an hour. I rang the bell and old Esdras appeared to announce luncheon. "I want nothing to eat. Bring me a cup of coffee. I must catch a train in a few minutes." "Fur de Lawd's sake, Marse Ben," exclaimed the old negro, "you ain' never gwineter res' at home agin." Still grumbling he brought the coffee, and I was standing by the desk with the cup raised to my lips, when the front door opened and shut sharply, and the General came into the room, leaning upon two gold-headed walking-sticks. He looked old and tired, and more than ever, in his fur-lined overcoat, like a wounded eagle. "Ben," he said, "what's this Hatty tells me about George taking Sally out motoring with him yesterday, and not bringing her back? Has there been an accident?" My arteries drummed in my ears, and for a minute the noise shut out all other sounds. Then I heard a carriage roll by in the street, and the faint regular ticking of the small clock on the mantel. "Sally is at Riverview," I answered, "I am going down to her on the next train." "Then where in the devil is George? He went off with her." "George may be there, too. I hope he is. She needs somebody with her." A purple flush rose to the General's face, and the expression in his small, watery grey eyes held me speechless. "Confound you, Ben!" he exclaimed, in a burst of temper, "do you mean to tell me you don't know that George's blamed foolishness is the talk of the town? Why, he hasn't let Sally out of his sight for the last two years." "No, I didn't know it," I replied. "Great Scott! Where are your wits?" "In the stock market," I answered bitterly. Then something in me, out of the chaos and the darkness, rose suddenly, as if with wings, into the light. "Of course Sally is an angel, General, we both know that--but how she could have helped seeing that George is the better man of us, I don't for a minute pretend to understand." "Well, I never had much opinion of George," responded the General. "It always seemed to me that he ought to have made a great deal more of himself than he has done." "What he has made of himself," I answered, and my voice sounded harsh in my ears, "is the man that Sally ought to have married."