A company—­or possibly two—­of cavalry was drawn up on the road directly fronting the house, their centre opposite the open gate, but I was compelled to lean out in order to discover just what was occurring on the driveway.  A squad of a dozen horsemen, powdered with dust, yet excellently mounted, were riding slowly toward the veranda.  The man slightly in advance was slender, with dark moustache and goatee, sitting straight in his saddle, and on the collar of his gray coat were the stars of a general officer.  Even the hasty glance gained told me his identity—­Beauregard.  As this cavalcade turned at the corner of the house, I drew back, shadowed by the curtain, able thus both to see and hear.  At the bottom of the steps the Confederate chieftain halted, and bowed, hat in hand.

“Judge Moran, I presume.  While we have never previously met, yet your name has long been familiar.  Probably I need not introduce myself.”

The judge, his face beaming hospitality, grasped the outstretched hand, but Beauregard’s dark, appreciative eyes were upon the girl standing at Moran’s side.

“Your daughter, sir?” he asked quickly.

“Not so fortunate, General.  This is Miss Willifred Hardy, of the ‘Gables.’”

“Ah, yes!” the stern face instantly brightened by a rare smile.  “The same fair heroine who brought the despatches from Johnston.  I hoped I might reach here in time, my dear, to tell you in person how greatly I appreciate your service.  May I ask if you are Major Hardy’s daughter?”

Her cheeks burning, she murmured “Yes,” curtsying to his rather stately bow.

“I knew your mother rather well in the old days,—­a sweet girl, a Du Verne, of Baton Rouge.  You have her eyes and hair.”  He turned toward Moran.  “A courier but just arrived has brought me orders to halt my men, as Johnston is marching westward, and it is imperative that we protect the bridge yonder with sufficient force.  Would it inconvenience you, Judge, if I made your house my headquarters for the night?”

“Everything I possess is freely at your service.”

“Thank you.  From all I have heard I could never question the loyalty of Judge Moran.”  He spoke a few short orders, swung down from the saddle, and, followed by a half-dozen others, began climbing the steps, talking with Miss Willifred.  I heard the party enter the hall, and pause for a moment, the sound of voices mingling but indistinguishable.  Then a door opened, and the men trooped into the front parlor.  There was a rattle as accoutrements were laid aside; then a table was drawn forth, and Beauregard’s voice spoke: