"We fought a terrific battle here yesterday with the combined forces of the enemy, which lasted with continuous fury from daylight until dark, by which time the enemy was driven from the field which we now occupy. The enemy is still in our front, but badly used up. We lost not less than eight thousand men killed and wounded, but from the appearance of the field the enemy lost two to one. The news has just reached me from the front that the enemy is retreating toward the mountains." Betty looked up surprised: "Isn't that good news?" "Nothing to brag about. It's the last sentence that worries me----" "But that seems the best!" "It might be but for the fact that Jackson is leading that retreat toward the mountains! I've an idea that he will turn up to-day on Pope's rear with Lee's whole army on his heels. Jackson is in the habit of appearing where he's least expected----" He paused, paced the floor a moment in silence and threw his long arms suddenly upward in a hopeless gesture: "If God would only give me such a man to lead our armies!" "Is General McClellan at Alexandria to-day?" Betty suddenly asked. "I'm wondering myself. He should be on that field with every soldier under his command." "I've come to ask you for a pass to Alexandria----" "Then my worst fears are confirmed!" he broke in excitedly. "Your sweetheart's on McClellan's staff--his men will never reach the field in time!" He dropped into a chair, hurriedly wrote the pass and handed it to Betty. "God bless you, child. See me when you get back and tell me all you learn of McClellan and his men to-day. The very worst is suspected----" "You mean?" "That this delay and deliberate trifling with the most urgent and positive orders is little short of treason. Unless his men reach Pope to-day and fight, the Capital may be threatened to-morrow." "Surely!" Betty protested. "It's just as I tell you, child, but I'll hope for the best. Be eyes and ears for me to-day and you may help me." The agony of his face and the deep note of tragedy in his voice had taken the joy out of her heart. She threw the feeling off with an effort. "What has it all to do with my love!" she cried with a toss of her pretty head as she sprang into the saddle for the gallop to Alexandria. The cool, bracing air of this first day of September, 1862, was like wine. The dew was yet heavy on the tall grass by the roadside and a song was singing in her heart that made all other music dumb. John had dismounted and was standing beside the road, the horse's bridle hanging on his arm in the very position he had stood and looked into her soul that day. She leaped to the ground without waiting for his help and sprang into his arms. "I like you better with that bronzed look--you're handsomer than ever," she sighed at last. His answer was another kiss, to which he added: "No amount of sunburn could make you any prettier, dear--you've been perfect from the first." "Your General is here?" Betty asked. "Yes."