med full of a busy satisfaction. Mr. March, he said, had
ridden out across the river, but would be back very shortly. "Johanna, I
may have to go North to-night. I wonder if it's too early in the day for
me to call on Miss Garnet?"

"No-o, seh," drawled the conscientious maid, longing to say it was.
"H-it's early, but I don't reckon it's too early," and was presently
waiting for Mr. March, alone.

Hours passed. He did not come. She got starving hungry, yet waited on.
Men would open the door, look in, see or not see her sitting in the
nearest corner, and close it again. About two o'clock she slipped out to
the Hotel Swanee, thinking she might find him at dinner. They said he
had just dined and gone to his office. She hurried back, found it empty,
and sat down again to wait. Another hour passed, and suddenly the door
swung in and to again, and John March halted before his desk. He did not
see her. His attitude was as if he might wheel and retrace his steps.

Mrs. March had broken off her engagement promptly. But when Garnet, by
mail, still flattered and begged, the poetess, with no notion of
relenting, but in her love of dramatic values and the gentle joy of
perpetuating a harrowing suspense, had parleyed; and only just now had
her tyrannical son forced a conclusion unfavorable to the unfortunate
suitor. So here in his office March smote his brow and exclaimed,

"O my dear mother! that what is best for you should be so bad for me!
Ahem! Why--why, howdy, Johanna? Hmm!"

With silent prayers and tremors the girl watched him read the letter. At
the first line he sank into his chair, amazed and pale. "My Lord!" he
murmured, and read on. "O my Lord! it can't be! Why, how?--why--O it
shan't be!--O--hem! Johanna, you can go'long home, there's no answer;
I'll be there before you."

At the post-office March reined in his horse while Deacon Usher brought
out a drop letter from Henry Fair. But he galloped as he read it, and
did not again slacken speed till he turned into the campus--except once.
At the far edge of the battle-field, on that ridge where in childhood he
had first met Garnet, he overtook and passed him now. As he went by he
slowed to a trot, but would not have spoken had Garnet not glared on him
like a captured hawk. The young man's blood boiled. He stood up in his
stirrups.

"Don't look at me that way, sir; I've just learned your whole miserable
little secret and expect to keep it for you." He galloped on. When,