of cavalrymen, in gay uniforms, their golden yellow
shining in the sun, were dashing across a meadow at the foot of the
hill. The long lines of infantry stretched from the hills through the
streets of Alexandria down to the water's edge. Everywhere the
regimental bands were playing martial music.

Somewhere among those marching, cheering, laughing, shouting thousands
was the man she loved, leaving without a word.

An awkward private soldier passed with his arm around his sweetheart.
Her eyes were red and she leaned close. They were not talking any more.
But a few minutes were left and he must go--perhaps to die. Words had
ceased to mean anything.

Her heart rose in fierce rebellion against the wall of silence her pride
had reared. A group of magnificently equipped young officers passed on
horseback. Perhaps of General McClellan's staff! She looked in vain
among them for his familiar face. If he passed she would disgrace
herself--she felt it with increasing certainty. Why had she come here,
anyway? As well tell the truth--in the vague hope of a meeting.

The quick beat of a horse's hoof echoed along the road. She looked and
recognized John Vaughan! He was coming straight toward her.
Instinctively and resistlessly she moved to meet him.

She waved her hand in an awkward little gesture as if she had tried to
stop after beginning the movement. His eye had been quick to see and
with a graceful pull on his horse's bridle he had touched the pommel of
the saddle, leaped to his feet, cap in hand, and stood trembling before
her.

"It's too good to be true!" he exclaimed breathlessly.

She extended her bare hand and he held it without protest. It was
trembling violently.

"You were going to leave without an effort to see me?" she asked in low
tones.

"I was just debating that problem when I saw you standing by the road,"
he answered soberly. "I don't think I could have done it. It's several
hours before we embark. I was just figuring on how I could reach you in
time."

"Really?" she murmured.

"Honestly."

"Well, if you had gone without a word, I couldn't have blamed you"--she
paused and bit her lips--"I was very foolish that day."

"It was my fault," he broke in, "all my fault. I was a brute. I realized
it too late. I'd have eaten my pride and gone back to see you the day I
reached Washington if I had thought it any use. I have never seen such a
look in the eyes of a woman as you gave me that day, Miss Betty. If