Waterbury evening Democrat., 1895-01-19
CHAPTER X.
APRoMIsE SOON BROKEN.

without warning Laura understood pl rfectly the embarrassing position in " hich he would be placed at surprising g Confederate spy under tine same roof with herself and protected by her. She had no mind to place him in any such position. When Miss Baggs went up stairs, Laura posted sentry ill the per son of Uncle Daniel to keep sharp lookout and give notice of the colonel's approach in order that Miss Baggs might be got out of the way before his arrival Daniel sat down on bench on the ve- randa and lit his pipe. He was an old man and prone to dose. It was not long before Lookout mountain across the river began to sway among the clouds, the nearer trees began to rock, the old negro's head fell upon his breast, and he slept
 It was nearly 10 o'clock when Laura, having given up the coming of her hus- band that night and for once in her life rejoicing thereat, was about to dismiss Daniel from his responsible position when she heard step on the veranda. Thinking it was Daniel walking back and forth to k2cp himself awake, she paid no attention to it. There was turning of the knob to the front door, and ill another moment Colonel May nard stood on the threshold of the sit ting room looking in upon Mrs. Fain, Laura, Souri and Miss Bags. He was about to enter when, observing strange person, he hpsitated. Laura advanced, and taking him by the hand led him to another room. He had only once before seen Miss Baggs and then ill disguise and did not recognize her.
 Why, sweetheart, " he said to his wife, 'yOu re trembling.
 You came in so hurriedly.'
 ''I am hurried. We cross the river tomorrow morning.
 Tomorrow morning! Oh, Mark, why couldn they wait few days"
 If wives and sweethearts had the giving of orders, Uncle Sam would have his armies always in winter quar- ters. 7"
 Why couldn't this happiness have lasted just litt!o longer?'
 And then still little longer. Come, l have but short time to stay. Let me say goodby to the baby -
 Laura led the way up stairs and drew lu6 CuItGtlilS HUH lIlS CEdNllG, OADOSlUR the sleeping infant.
 There was something ill the inno- cence, the absence of force in the little slumberer, so different from the scenes in which he was wont to minglc, to set in motion train of feelings in Mark Maynard to which he had thus far been 6 stranger. On the one side was the 1 wife he loved and tho sleeping child; ] on the other, what now appeared toil- some marches, nights spent on wet ! ground, sickness, mangling by shell and | bullets and saber cuts. A year before be | had loved these hardships, these dan : gers. Now a new element had entered into his life and at least while ho gag | cd on tho littlo stranger (the only life that had como to him among the many | gone since tho war began) ho felt a strange repugnance to entering upon the coming campaign.
 My boy, my boy, " he said huskily. the thought suddenly coming to him 1 that he might never see wife or child again, 'hOw can I now risk leaving you to struggle on to manhood unprotect- ed?' Then, recognizing his weakness, he said, with quick born smile, But you have yOpr mother. and must win ! the star of a brigadier for you to play with
 But wars quick and imperative de- mands gave him little time for the in dulgence of such feelings. He tried to turn away. Again and again he drew the curtains of the cradle, only to draw them back for one more look Laura, " he said suddenly, "all is changed. Before you and he came did my duty as a soldier because it was not hard to do and because it pleased nc. Now it will be hard, and I shall do it that you and he may not be disgraced in me. How can ever leave a blot on my name and have that child grow up to know it?''
 Laura, seeing how hard it was for him to draw himself from tho cradle, took his hand and lod him away.
 Going down s1aiI5, they found the house silent. All tho family were in bed. Maynard knew that it was time he had departed. It was very late, and he must ride eight miles to camp and be on the march with his brigade before daylight. But he could hardly tear him. self away from the house. The sleeping child up stairs seemed to have brought from the unknown whence he came a maze of gentler emotions, which were drifting like smoke wreaths about his father. obscuring the way from their peaceful influence.
 There was one more embrace, then another last one, then another final one, then stirrup kiss, and Colonel Mark Maynard rode back through the night to camp.
 Not long after his arrival bugles sounded the reveille. It was ? o'clock in the morning. and the men were aroused to begin their advance to the front. Sending for Jakey Slack, the colo, mel gave him q note to take back tc Laura at the plantation. He had repeat. ed his adieus so often ill person that one would hardly think it necessary to send any moro on cold paper, but Maynard heart strings were pulling him as strong. ly away from war as his duty was fore. ing him toward it. Besides he knew that Laura would treasure every word from him.
 Jakey mounted Tom and rode i'll the gray of the morning to deliver the note. When he reached tho plantation, he was obliged to do good deal of pound ing and ringing before he could get into the house. Finally Mrs. Maynard's maid, Alice, let him in, and considering +i'a fac. that Mrs. Maynard was in bed