“It must be very clever for _your_ eyes not to have seen through it,” he said. “I have been looking up at your window and watching you every day. I saw, too, that you made merry at my expense. It was a great temptation to speak to you many times, but I didn’t want to make advances nor to ask permission to call until I knew something about how the land lay over here.” “You don’t know how anxious we have been about you, or how glad and thankful we are to see you,” we assured him. “We have been very uneasy at not hearing from you. Where is Mr. Holliway?” “God knows!” he answered gravely. “He was afraid to follow my fortunes, I think. He left me at Frederick. He ought to be here by now, but if he is he is keeping very close.” “He is not here,” we answered. “We have been to see his mother and sister, and they know nothing of him.” “Then something is wrong. He had an idea that we might be tracked to Frederick very easily from Berlin, and from Frederick to this place if we came by the direct route; so he branched off into West Virginia, intending to reach Baltimore by a more round-about route than mine. Poor Holliway! he was not well, and he was nervous and unstrung over this trip from the first. He felt that I was reckless and that I was throwing away my own chance and his.” Some one in the room came near us and we returned to generalities. Very soon after Captain Locke made his adieux, promising to call again when we could arrange it. Captain Hosmer had sought opportunities for showing special courtesies to me, but I had rather repelled him. He was good enough, however, to ignore my bad manners and to persist in turning my music for me. We had dances very often in the evenings, I playing the same tunes for folks to dance by that I played for the Prussians and that I play for my children. One night, I had the audacity to rattle off the Virginia reel, and they danced it with spirit, every Yankee of them. My fingers were just itching to play Dixie, and I don’t know what foolhardiness I might have been guilty of if Captain Hosmer, who was turning my music, had not bent over me and said: “I would like to have a little private talk with you, Miss Duncan. I know who you are. You are from the South and you have run the blockade. Your position is not free from danger. You are suspected. Pray be careful. When you have finished this, go upstairs and I will follow you.” His manner was so serious that it took all the saucy daring out of me. Perhaps it saved me from playing Dixie. As soon as I could do so without attracting observation, I got Milicent to take my place, and went up-stairs to the private parlor. I had hardly taken my seat when he came in. “I was sorry to attack you so suddenly,” he said, “but you were so shy of me that it was my only chance.” I had learned to like and to trust him; he was honest and kind, and I told him my situation frankly. Of course I didn’t explain Captain Locke.