?" and she looked quite relieved at finding a companion in
iniquity; "but you did shake hands?"

"Yes."

"Are you sorry?"

"No; are you?"

"N--no."

And when Delaven went to look for Evilena to tell her they were to
have lunch on the lawn (Mrs. McVeigh had installed him as master of
ceremonies for the day), he found her in the coziest, shadiest nook on
the veranda, entertaining a sample copy of the enemy, and assuring him
that the grey uniforms would be so much more becoming than the blue.

CHAPTER XXIV.

Noon. Colonel McVeigh had been at the Terrace already a half day, and
no sign had come from Pierson--no message of any sort. Judithe called
Pluto and asked if the mail did not leave soon for down the river, and
suggested that when he took it to the office he would ask the man in
charge to look carefully lest any letters should have been forgotten
from the night before.

"Yes'm, mail go 'bout two hours now," and he looked up at the clock.
"I go right down ask 'bout any letters done been fo'got. But I don'
reckon any mail to go today; folks all too busy to write lettahs."

"No; I--I--I will have a letter to go," and she turned toward the
desk. "How soon will you start?"

"Hour from now," said Pluto, "that will catch mail all right;" and
with that she must be content. At any other time she would have sent
him at once without the excuse of a letter to be mailed. Those
easy-going folk who handled the mail might easily have overlooked some
message--a delay of twenty-four hours would mean nothing in their
sleepy lives. But today she was unmistakably nervous--all the more
reason for exceeding care.

She had begun the letter when Colonel McVeigh came for her to go to
lunch; she endeavored to make an excuse--she was not at all hungry,
really, it appeared but an hour since the breakfast; but perceiving
that if she remained he would remain also, she arose, saying she would
join their little festival on the lawn long enough for a cup of tea,
she had a letter to get ready for the mail within an hour.

She managed to seat herself where she could view the road to the
south, but not a horseman or footman turned in at the Terrace gate.
She felt the eyes of Monroe on her; also the eyes of Gertrude Loring.
How much did they know or suspect? She was feverishly gay, though
penetrated by the feeling that the suspended sword hung above her.
Pierson's non-appearance might mean many things appalling--and
Louise!

All