premises if she wished
it.

"I do not think it will be necessary," answered the lady.

"Nor do I; indeed, I feel sure that there will be no further trouble,
for we have placed the whole district under military rule since the last
disturbance. But I thought possibly you might feel timid."

"I am not timid, Captain Newell."

The grave captain stroked his mustache to conceal a smile, and then, as
he rose to go, he said: "Miss Duke, I wish to say to you one thing. You
know nothing of us, of course, but I trust you will accept my word when
I say that Mr. Saxton is of good family, that he is well educated, and
that he is heir to a fair fortune. What he is personally you have seen
for yourself--a frank, kind-hearted, manly young fellow."

"Did you come here to plead his cause?" said the girl scornfully.

"No; I came here to offer you a guard, Miss Duke, for the protection of
your property. But at the same time I thought it only my duty to make
you aware of the real value of the gift laid at your feet."

"How did you know--" began Gardis.

"Roger tells me everything," replied the officer. "If it were not so,
I--" Here he paused; and then, as though he had concluded to say no
more, he bowed and took leave.

That night Gardiston House was left to itself in the forest stillness.
"I am glad that bugle is silenced for ever," said Gardis.

"And yet it was a silvern sound," said Cousin Copeland.

The rains began, and there was no more walking abroad; the excitement of
the summer and the camp gone, in its place came the old cares which had
been half forgotten. (Care always waits for a cold or a rainy day.)
Could the little household manage to live--live with their meager
comforts--until the next payment of rent came in? That was the question.

Bitterly, bitterly poor was the whole Southern country in those dreary
days after the war. The second year was worse than the first; for the
hopes that had buoyed up the broken fortunes soon disappeared, and
nothing was left. There was no one to help Gardis Duke, or the hundreds
of other women in like desolate positions. Some of the furniture and
ornaments of the old house might have been sold, could they have been
properly brought forward in New York City, where there were people with
purses to buy such things; but in the South no one wanted Chinese
images, and there was nothing of intrinsic value. So the little
household lived along, in a spare, pinched way, until, suddenly, final