Thinking still of the placid storm centre, Leonora Gwynn's face was continually in his mind; the tones of her voice echoed in his revery. And then suddenly he heard his step ringing on the frosty ground with a new spirit; he felt his finger tips tingle; his face glowed with rancor. The man was dead, and this indeed was well! But--profane thought! was it her hair? her beautiful hair? "The coward! the despicable villain!" he called aloud between his set teeth. CHAPTER II The next day naught of interest would Baynell detail of his venture into the storm centre. His invitation to the house of Judge Roscoe, somewhat noted for the vigor of his rebellious sentiments, resentful, implacable, even heady in the assumptions of his age, had roused the curiosity of Baynell's two most intimate friends concerning the traits of that secluded inner exclusive circle which only the accident of ancient association had enabled him to penetrate. In the tedium of camp routine even slight matters were of interest, and it was the habit of the three to compare notes and relate for mutual entertainment their varied experiences since last they had met. The battery of six pieces which Baynell commanded enjoyed a certain renown as a crack corps, and spectators were gathering to witness the gun-drill,--a number of soldiers from the adjoining cavalry and infantry camps, a few of the railroad hands from the repair work on a neighboring track, and a contingent of freedmen, jubilantly idle. Standing a little apart from these was a group, chiefly mounted, consisting of several officers of the different arms of the service, military experts, critically observant, among whom was Colonel Vertnor Ashley, who commanded a volunteer regiment of horse, and a younger man, Lieutenant Seymour of the infantry. It was a fine fresh morning, with white clouds scudding across a densely blue sky chased by the wind, the grass springing into richer verdure, the buds bourgeoning, with almost the effect of leaflets already, in the great oak and tulip trees of the grove. Daffodils were blooming here and there, scattered throughout the sward,--even beneath the carriages of the guns a score perhaps, untrampled still, reared aloft the golden "candlesticks" with an illuminating effect. The warm sun was flashing with an embellishing glitter on the rows of the white tents of the army on the hills around the little city as far as the eye could reach. The deep, broad river, here and there dazzling with lustrous stretches of ripples, was full of craft,--coal-barges, skiffs, gunboats, the ordinary steam-packets, flatboats, and rafts; the peculiar dull roar of a railway train heavily laden, transporting troops, came to the ear as the engine, shrieking like a monster, rushed upon the bridge with its great consignment of crowded humanity in the long line of box cars, an additional locomotive assisting the speed of the transit.