up to the topic which was so near to his
heart.

"You and I must see the doctor and have a triangular council over this
thing, Hayne. Three heads are better than none; and if, as he suspects,
old Clancy really knows anything when he's drunk that he cannot tell
when he's sober, I shall depart from Mrs. Waldron's principles and join
the doctor in his pet scheme of getting him drunk again. '_In vino
veritas_,' you know. And we ought to be about it, too, for it won't be
long before his discharge comes, and, once away, we should be in the
lurch."

"There seems so little hope there, major. Even the colonel has called
him up and questioned him."

"Ay, very true, but always when the old sergeant was sober. It is when
drunk that Clancy's conscience pricks him to tell what he either knows
or suspects."

A light, quick footstep was heard on the piazza, the hall door opened,
and without knock or ring, bursting impetuously in upon them, there
suddenly appeared Miss Travers, her eyes dilated with excitement. At
sight of the group she stopped short, and colored to the very roots of
her shining hair.

"How glad I am to see you, Nellie!" exclaimed Mrs. Waldron, as all rose
to greet her. An embarrassed, half-distraught reply was her only answer.
She had extended both hands to the elder lady; but now, startled, almost
stunned, at finding herself in the presence of the very man she most
wanted to see, she stood with downcast eyes, irresolute. He, too, had
not stepped forward,--had not offered his hand. She raised her blue eyes
for one quick glance, and saw his pale, pain-thinned face, read anew the
story of his patience, his suffering, his heroism, and realized how she
too had wronged him and that her very awkwardness and silence might tell
him that shameful fact. It was more than she could stand.

"I came--purposely. I hoped to find you, Mr. Hayne. You--you remember
that I had something to tell you. It was about Clancy. You ought to see
him. I'm sure you ought, for he _must_ know--he or Mrs.
Clancy--something about your--your trouble; and I've just this minute
heard that they--that he's going away to-morrow; and you must find him
to-night, Mr. Hayne: indeed you must."

Who can paint her as she stood there, blushing, pleading, eager,
frightened, yet determined? Who can picture the wild emotion in his
heart, reflected in his face? He stepped quickly to her side with the
light leaping to his eyes, his hands extended as though to gra