“I drained every drop,” he said, “I’d have drunk a hogshead.  When I finished I raised my head and looked down at her without a word said—­but I didn’t let go of the glass with her hand holding it inside mine—­and she lifted her eyes very slowly, and for the first time looked at me.  Well—­” he shut his lips a moment—­“these things don’t tell well, but something happened.  I held her eyes into mine, us if I gripped them with my muscles, and there came over her face an extraordinary expression—­first as if she was surprised that it was me, then as if she was glad, and then—­well, you may believe it or not, but I knew that second that the girl—­loved me.  She hated me all right five minutes before—­I was her people’s enemy—­the chances were she’d never see me again—­all that’s true, but it simply didn’t count.  She cared for me, and I for her, and we both knew it—­that’s all there was about it.  People live faster in war-time, I think—­anyhow, that’s the way it was.

“The men and horses came pouring around the house, and I let her hand loose—­it was hard to do it, too—­and then she was gone, and we rode on to the ford.  We stopped when we got to the stream to let the horses have their turn at drinking, and as I sat loafing in the saddle, with my mind pretty full of what had just passed, my eyes were all over.  Every cavalry officer, and especially an aide-de-camp, gets to be a sort of hawk in active service—­nothing can move within range that he doesn’t see.  So as I looked about me I took in among other things the house we’d just left, and suddenly I spied a handkerchief waving from behind one of the big white pillars.  Of course you’ve got to be wary in an enemy’s country, and these people were rabid Confederates, as I’d occasion to know.  All the same it would have been bad judgment to neglect such a signal, and what’s more, I’d have staked my life on that girl’s honesty.  If the handkerchief had been a cannon I’d have gone back.  So back I went, taking a couple of men with me.  As I jumped off my horse I saw her standing inside the front door, back in the shadow, and I ran up the steps to her.

“‘Well?’ said I.

“She looked up at me and laughed, showing a row of white teeth.  That was the first time I ever saw her laugh.  ‘I knew you’d come back,’ said she, as mischievous as a child, and her eyes danced.

“I didn’t mean to be made a fool of, for I had my duty to think about, so I spoke rather shortly.  ‘Well, and now I’m here—­what?’

“With that she drew an excited little gasp.  ’I couldn’t let you be killed,’ she brought out in a sort of breathless whisper, so low I had to bend over close to hear her.  ’You mustn’t go on—­in that direction—­you’ll be taken.  The Union army’s been defeated—­at Chancellorsville.  They’re driven north of the Rappahannock—­to Falmouth.  Our troops are in their old camps.  There’s an outpost across the ford—­just over the hill.’

“It was the first I’d heard of the defeat at Chancellorsville, and it stunned me for a second.  ‘Are you telling me the truth?’ I asked her pretty sharply.