his regiment.

A few minutes later there came the clank of a sword and a hurried
step, and then the door burst open and in marched Master Dick in all
the glory of his full regimentals. And so brave was the show that he
made in his cocked hat, scarlet coat, with its facings of buff, and
the long clanking sword, that I longed to spring up and don my own
then and there. But my mother's finger on her lip caused him to stop
the cheery greeting, and he came forward on his tiptoes, holding his
sword carefully to keep it from clanking, for by this time I was
growing weak again. Master Dick shook my hand gently and murmured,
"Cheer up, old fellow, you will soon be with us again," but I could
only give him a slight smile, for I was again on the borderland of
dreams. Dick stood for awhile looking down on me; then he, too, had to
depart. Gradually the steady tramp of marching feet died away, and
everything became quiet and still again.

The days passed by, week followed week, and though at first I gained
strength but slowly, the process seeming a long and dreary one, the
vigour of a youthful frame soon asserted itself, and I could feel the
returning tide of health and strength. But as yet I lay there upon the
great four-post bed, with my mother sitting near by, her dear face
bending over the embroidery frame, as her deft fingers weaved
beautiful designs with the silk. As I lay there, I would wander back
again to that day before the duel, to the swift challenging glance of
a pair of blue eyes as a blood-red rose was pinned to my coat. But
that was so long ago, years it seemed to me, away back in the past, a
memory as it were of a fairy tale heard from the lips of a grandmother
before the big open fire in the great hall on a winter night; a fairy
tale, aye, and she the Princess, with her blue eyes and hair of waving
brown, with her step as light as the dew-drop, and her voice as low
and soft as the breath of the Southern breeze in the spring; and then
I would be her Prince Charming, with my coal-black horse. But, pshaw!
I am becoming a child again; whereas I am a man, who has fought his
duel as becomes a man, with a right to the sword by his side. And yet
those blue eyes, what fate was in store for them? And would their
challenging glance ever meet mine again? But here my mother stopped
the trend of my thoughts for a moment.

"James," she said, "John Cotton tells me that an old darky comes to
inquire for you every night. Strange,