his own responsibility and
according to his judgment. He made no personal charges, mentioned no
names, asked for no exemplary prosecution or trial of the offenders, but
only demanded a safeguard against a repetition of the offense. His next
letter, although less formal and official, was more difficult. It was
addressed to the commandant of the nearest Federal barracks, who was an
old friend and former companion-in-arms. He alluded to some conversation
they had previously exchanged in regard to the presence of a small
detachment of troops at Redlands during the elections, which Courtland
at the time, however, had diplomatically opposed. He suggested it now
as a matter of public expediency and prevention. When he had sealed
the letters, not caring to expose them to the espionage of the local
postmaster or his ordinary servants, he intrusted them to one of Miss
Sally's own henchmen, to be posted at the next office, at Bitter Creek
Station, ten miles distant.

Unfortunately, this duty accomplished, the reaction consequent on
his still weak physical condition threw him back upon himself and his
memory. He had resolutely refused to think of Miss Sally; he had
been able to withstand the suggestions of her in the presence of her
handmaid--supposed to be potent in nursing and herb-lore--whom she
had detached to wait upon him, and he had returned politely formal
acknowledgments to her inquiries. He had determined to continue this
personal avoidance as far as possible until he was relieved, on
the ground of that BUSINESS expediency which these events had made
necessary. She would see that he was only accepting the arguments with
which she had met his previous advances. Briefly, he had recourse to
that hopeless logic by which a man proves to himself that he has no
reason for loving a certain woman, and is as incontestably convinced
by the same process that he has. And in the midst of it he weakly fell
asleep, and dreamed that he and Miss Sally were walking in the cemetery;
that a hideous snake concealed among some lilies, over which the young
girl was bending, had uplifted its triangular head to strike. That he
seized it by the neck, struggled with it until he was nearly exhausted,
when it suddenly collapsed and shrunk, leaving in his palm the limp,
crushed, and delicately perfumed little thread glove which he remembered
to have once slipped from her hand.

When he awoke, that perfume seemed to be still in the air, distinct
from