m,
knee deep in young mint, only a shy cardinal bird to interrupt them
with its exquisite litany.

Their talk had been of Paige and Marye, of Paigecourt and the
advisability of selling all stock, dismissing the negroes, and
closing the place with the exception of the overseer's house. And
Celia had made arrangements to attend to it.

"I certainly do despise travelling," she said, "but while I'm so
near, I reckon I'd better use my pass and papers and try to go
through to Paigecourt. It's just as well to prepare for the
impossible, I suppose."

Colonel Craig polished his eye-glasses, adjusted them, and examined
the official papers that permitted his wife to go to her estate,
pack up certain family papers, discharge the servants, close the
house, and return through the Union lines carrying only personal
baggage.

He said without enthusiasm: "It's inside their lines. To go there
isn't so difficult, but how about coming back? I don't want you to
go, Celia."

She explained in detail that there would be no difficulty--a little
proudly, too, when she spoke of her personal safety among her own
people.

"I understand all that," he said patiently, "but nobody except the
commander-in-chief knows where this army is going. I don't want
you to be caught in the zone of operations."

She flushed up with a defiant little laugh. "The war isn't going
to Paigecourt, anyway," she said.

He smiled with an effort. "I am not sure, dearest. All I am sure
of is that we march in the morning, and go aboard ship at
Alexandria. I _don't_ know where we are expected to land, or where
we are going to march after we do land." . . . He smiled again,
mischievously. "Even if you believe that a Yankee army is not
likely to get very far into Virginia, Paigecourt is too near
Richmond for me to feel entirely sure that you may not have another
visit from Stephen and me before you start North."

"Listen to the Yankee!" she cried, laughing gaily to hide the
sudden dimness in her blue eyes. "My darling Yankee husband is
ve'y absurd, and he doesn't suspect it! Why! don't you perfec'ly
ridiculous Zouaves know that you'll both be back in New York befo'
I am--and all tired out keeping up with the pace yo' general sets
you?"

But when it was time to say good-bye once more, her limbs grew weak
and she leaned heavily on husband and son, her nerveless feet
dragging across the spring turf.

"Oh, Curt, Curt," she faltered, her soft cheeks press