you,” replied he; though he could see no good reason why Miss Maud Hasbrouk should be particularly delighted to see him.

He was a Union man and a loyal soldier, while she was a rebel, with strength of mind enough to regret that her sex compelled her to be a non-combatant. She was a magnificent creature, even to Somers, whose knowledge of the higher order of beauties that float about in the mists of fashionable society was very limited. She was fascinating, and he could not resist the charm of her society; albeit in the present instance he was too much exhausted by ill health and over-exertion to be very brilliant himself.

“This is very unexpected, considering the distance from the place at which I met you last evening,” said he.

“O, it isn’t a very great distance to Frederick. The major drove me over in three hours,” replied she.

“Three and a half, Maud,” interposed the major, apparently because he felt the necessity of saying something to avoid being regarded as a mere cipher.

“How do you feel to-day, after the little brush we had yesterday, major?” added Somers, turning to the gentleman.

“What brush do you refer to?” asked Major Riggleston, rather coldly.

“The little rub we had with the guerillas.”

“Really, you have—”

“Now, gentlemen, will you excuse me for a few moments?” said Miss Hasbrouk, very impolitely breaking in upon the major’s remark.

“Certainly,” replied Somers, with his politest bow. “You are a fighting man, Major Riggleston; and the affair of yesterday was pretty sharp work for a few minutes.”

“Of course I’m a fighting man; but—”

“Major, you promised me something, you will remember,” said the lady, who still lingered in the room; “and now is the best time in the world to redeem your promise.”

“What do you mean, Maud?” demanded the major.

“Why, don’t you remember?”

“Upon my life I don’t.”

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