sparkle of the fire
and the ripple of the fountain. Unsuspecting, he betrayed every minute
the queer thing that had happened to him--how he had never grown up and
his blood had never grown cold. So that the story, as it fell in easy
sequence, had a charm which was his and is hard to trap, yet it is too
good a story to leave unwritten. A picture goes with it, what I looked
at as I listened: a massive head on tremendous shoulders; bright white
hair and a black bar of eyebrows, striking and dramatic; underneath,
eyes dark and alive, a face deep red-and-brown with out of doors. His
voice had a rough command in it, because, I suppose, he had given many
orders to men. I tell the tale with this memory for a setting; the
firelight, the soldierly presence, the gayety of youth echoing through
it.

The fire had been forgotten as we talked, and I turned to see it dull
and lifeless. "It hasn't gone out, however," I said, and coughed as I
swallowed smoke. "There's no smoke without some fire," I poked the logs
together. "That's an old saw; but it's true all the same."

"Old saws always are true," said the General. "If there isn't something
in them that people know is so they don't get old--they die young. I
believe in the ridden-to-death proverbs--little pitchers with big
ears--cats with nine lives--still waters running deep--love at first
sight, and the rest. They're true, too." His straight look challenged me
to dispute him.

The pine knots caught and blazed up, and I went back comfortably into my
chair and laughed at him.

"O General! Come! You don't believe in love at first sight."

I liked to make him talk sentiment. He was no more afraid of it than of
anything else, and the warmest sort came out of his handling natural and
unashamed.

"I don't? Yes, I do, too," he fired at me. "I know it happens,
sometimes."

With that the lines of his face broke into the sunshiniest smile. He
threw back his head with sudden boyishness, and chuckled, "I ought to
know; I've had experience," he said. His look settled again
thoughtfully. "Did I ever tell you that story--the story about the day I
rode seventy-five miles? Well, I did that several times--I rode it once
to see my wife. But this was the first time, and a good deal happened.
It was a history-making day for me all right. That was when I was
aide-de-camp to General Stoneman. Have I told you that?"

"No," I said; and "oh, do tell me." I knew already that a fire and a
deep chair a