"

He lifted his cap, remounted his horse, and rode away, as the young
girl, with a proud, indifferent step, moved down the road with the
sergeant. A mounted officer passed him and saluted,--it was one of his
own staff. From some strange instinct, he knew that he had witnessed the
scene, and from some equally strange intuition he was annoyed by it. But
he continued his way, visiting one or two outposts, and returned by a
long detour to his quarters. As he stepped upon the veranda he saw Miss
Faulkner at the bottom of the garden talking with some one across the
hedge. By the aid of his glass he could recognize the shapely figure
of the mulatto woman which he had seen before. But by its aid he also
discovered that she was carrying a flower exactly like the one which
Miss Faulkner still held in her hand. Had she been with Miss Faulkner in
the lane, and if so, why had she disappeared when he came up? Impelled
by something stronger than mere curiosity, he walked quickly down
the garden, but she evidently had noticed him, for she as quickly
disappeared. Not caring to meet Miss Faulkner again, he retraced his
steps, resolving that he would, on the first opportunity, personally
examine and interrogate this new visitor. For if she were to take Miss
Faulkner's place in a subordinate capacity, this precaution was clearly
within his rights.

He re-entered his room and seated himself at his desk before the
dispatches, orders, and reports awaiting him. He found himself, however,
working half mechanically, and recurring to his late interview with Miss
Faulkner in the lane. If she had any inclination to act the spy, or
to use her position here as a means of communicating with the enemy's
lines, he thought he had thoroughly frightened her. Nevertheless, now,
for the first time, he was inclined to accept his chief's opinion of
her. She was not only too clumsy and inexperienced, but she totally
lacked the self-restraint of a spy. Her nervous agitation in the lane
was due to something more disturbing than his mere possible intrusion
upon her confidences with the mulatto. The significance of her question,
"Then it IS war?" was at best a threat, and that implied hesitation. He
recalled her strange allusion to his wife; was it merely the outcome
of his own foolish confession on their first interview, or was it a
concealed ironical taunt? Being satisfied, however, that she was not
likely to imperil his public duty in any way, he was angry wit