When supper was over the family sat, according to the Southern custom, on the long porch which faced the river. Angela found herself sitting next Isabey and listening to his smooth, musical voice as he and Colonel Tremaine and Lyddon talked together. His speaking voice had as much charm as his singing voice and to Angela’s sensitive ear it had a note of sadness in it. She had been accustomed to the conversation of men of sense, and realized with a secret and shamefaced pride that Isabey’s conversation did not fall short of the talk of any man she had ever heard, not excepting Lyddon’s. The night had fallen and only a few stars shone dimly in a troubled and moonless sky. The river ran black and phosphorescent; a faint wind stirred the great clumps of crape-myrtle on the lawn. About nine o’clock Archie, after listening for a minute, rose silently and, opening the glass doors leading into the dining room, had a clear view through the hall to the open front door. Colonel Tremaine was saying, “I opine that the first campaign of Hannibal----” “The Yankees are coming,” said Archie, coolly and quietly. “I see hundreds of them galloping down the lane.” Isabey sprang to his feet. He knew the topography of Harrowby well, and his horse, already saddled, was fastened to the block close to the back porch; but it was vain to think of escape that way. “Run,” he said quietly to Archie, “and take the saddle and bridle off my horse, and throw them under the porch, and turn the horse loose. I shall make for the marsh back of the garden.” “Archie’s boat with oars is tied on the river shore behind the garden,” whispered Angela, all her wits coming to her at once. “I can show you, and we can’t be seen from the front if we fly now.” Isabey’s cap was in his hand and Angela’s red mantle lay over the back of her chair. She threw it around her, hiding her white dress, and together they ran swiftly down the steps and across the lawn. Isabey suffered agonies in his still unhealed leg, but nevertheless made great speed. Not a word was spoken as they rushed through the darkness around the corner of the old brick wall of the garden and to the marshy river edge. Tied to a stake lay a small boat with two oars in it. Angela stepped into the boat, assisted by Isabey with cool politeness, who lost not a second in following her. “I can pull with my left hand,” he said, taking up an oar. “And I,” replied Angela, “can pull the other oar. I know how to manage a boat. We must make for the big willow tree which dips down into the water across the marsh.” By that time they could hear the trampling of many hoofs, the sound of voices, and the whinny of a horse. “That’s my horse,” remarked Isabey, as the boat shot across the still, black water. “I hope Archie succeeded in hiding the saddle and bridle.”