The first hush of the deserted camp-ground was lost in the songs of returning birds. Captain Jewett, his majestic length blanket-bound from brow to heel as trimly as a bale, had been laid under ground, and the Harpers stood in prayer at the grave\'s head and foot with hats on for their journey. The burial squad, turned guard of honor to the dead captain of the Louisianians, were riding away on either side of a light wagon that bore his mortal part. I, after all, was to be the Harpers\' guardian on their way.

Day widened into its first perfection as we moved down the highroad toward a near fork whose right was to lead Harry and his solemn cortége southward, while the left should be our eastward course. Camille and I rode horseback, side by side, with no one near enough to smile at my sentimental laudations of the morning\'s splendors, or at her for repaying my eloquence with looks so full of tender worship, personal acceptance and self-bestowal, that to tell of them here would make as poor a show as to lift a sea-flower out of the sea; they call for piccolo notes and I am no musician.

The familiar little leather-curtained wagon was just ahead of us, bearing the other three Harpers, the old negro driver and--to complete its overloading--his daughter, Charlotte\'s dark maid. Beside the wheels ambled and babbled Harry Helm. At the bridge he fell back to us and found us talking of Charlotte. Camille was telling me how well Charlotte knew the region south of us, and how her plan was to dine at mid-day with such a friend and to pass the night with such another; but the moment Harry came up she began to upbraid him in her mellowest flute-notes for not telling us that he had got his wound in saving--

"Now, you ladies--" cried the teased aide-de-camp, "I--I didn\'t save Gholson\'s life! I didn\'t try to save it! I only tried to split a Yankee\'s head and didn\'t even do that! Dick Smith, if you tell anybody else that I saved--Well, who did, then? Good Lordy! if I\'d known that to save a man\'s life would make all this fuss I wouldn\'t \'a\' done it! Why, Quinn and I had to sit and listen to Ned Ferry a solid half-hour last night, telling us the decent things he\'d known Gholson to do, and the allowances we\'d ought to make for a man with Gholson\'s sort of a conscience! And then, to cap--to clap--to clap the ki\'--to cap--the climax--consound that word, I never did know what it meant--to clap the climax, Ned sends for Gholson and gets Quinn to speak to him civilly--aw, haw, haw!--Quinn showing all the time how he hated the job, like a cat when you make him jump over a stick! And then he led us on, with just a word here and there, until we all agreed as smooth as glass, that all Quinn had said was my fault, and all I had done was Gholson\'s fault, and all Gholson had said or done or left undone was our fault, and the rest was partly Ned\'s fault, but mostly accident."

Camille declared she did not and would not believe there had been any fault with any one, anywhere, and especially with Mr. Gholson, and I liked Lieutenant Helm less than ever, noticing anew the unaccountable freedom with which Camille seemed to think herself entitled to rebuke him. "Oh, I\'m in your power," he cried to her, "and I\'ll call him a spotless giraffe if you want me to! that\'s what he is; I\'ve always thought so!" The spring-wagon was taking the left fork and he cantered ahead to begin his good-byes there and save her for the last. When he made his adieu to her he said, "Won\'t you let Mr. Smith halt here with me a few moments? I want to speak of one or two matters that--"

She resigned me almost with scorn; which privately amused me, and, I felt sure, hoodwinked the aide-de-camp.

"Say, Dick!" he began, as she moved away, "look here, I\'m going to tell you something; Ned Ferry\'s in love with Charlotte Oliver!"

"You don\'t mean it!"

"Yes, I do, mean it! Smith, Ned\'s a grand fellow. I\'m glad I came here yesterday."

"Yes, you\'ve secured a furlough."

"Oh, this thing, yes; don\'t you wish you had it! No, I\'m glad I came, for what I\'ve learned. I\'m glad for what Ned Ferry has taught me a man can do, and keep from doing, when he\'s got the upper hold of himself. And I\'m glad for what she--you know who--by George! any man would know who ever saw her, for she draws every man who comes within her range, as naturally as a rose draws a bee. I\'m glad for what she has taught me a woman can be, and can keep from being, so long as she knows there\'s one real man to live up to! just up to, mind you, I don\'t even say to live for."

I stared with surprise. Was this the trivial Harry talking? Fact is, the pair we were talking about had by some psychical magic rarified the atmosphere for all of us until half our notes were above our normal pitch.

"Do you mean she loves him; what sign of such a thing did she show yesterday or last evening?"

"Not a sign of a sign! And yet I\'ll swear it! Do you know where she\'s gone?"

............