Middletown transcript., 1912-01-06
CHAPTER XVII.
An Embarrassing Situation.


1t was well into the third day when
we came down into the fertile valley
of the Cowskin. 1t had proven an un.
eventful ride thus far, for we had met
with no adventures and had observed
little worthy of consideration from a
military standpoint.
While constantly observant of those
points regarding which had been dis
patched, my one oYermastering
thought during all those hours was the
possibility of again meeting with Edith
Brennan and proving of some assist
ance to her. Her greeting of me in
the Federal hospital had been so
sweetly gracious, so marked with ten
der sympathy, while the memory Of
her words, and even more of the look
which accompanied them, had so re-
mained with me In encouragement
that longed to encounter her again.
God knows what 1 hoped for, for 1
knew well 1t must all inevitably end
in despair, yet like the moth I must
continue to SINCE my wings until the
fame devoured me. Now, however, as
we actually drew near to where l sup
posed she might be, felt my earlier
courage fast deserting me. Nor was
I furnished with even the slightest
excuse for pressing on; my orders did
not positively compel me to proceed,
and nothing appeared along the way
to lead me to suppose that harm Of
any kind threatened that peaceful val
ley. Everything meeting my eyes eYi-
denced that here, at least, was with
its attendant horrors had not come.
Totally without the beaten track OF
those great armies which had battled
50 hercely for the Shenandoah, It had
been treversed only by few scouting
and foraging parties, and so short had
been their stay that even the rail
fences remained undisturbed to guard
:he fields, and nowhere did note out
ward signs Of devastation. It was Vir.
ginia as recalled 1t in those old days
Of peace and plenty, before civil strife
had sown the land with dead.
What possible excuse, then, had ]
for going there? In my own heart
knew 1 had none, or one SO poor and
selfish scarcely burst whisper it even
to myself; yet I rode steadily on. I'M
PEELED by my own weakness, or drawn
irresistibly by fate-whicheve the
real cause know not-I would at
least look upon those walls that had
once sheltered her, would learn if pos
sible if she was yet there. Then
well, in the bondage of my passion 1
hoped for what might happen, as
every lover does.
It must have been two O'Clock: We
had baited our horses, l remember. an
hour previous; and the Sergeant had
enjoyed his MONDAY siesta beneath
the shade of great bush bearing pur-
pie blossoms. The road we had been
travelling since early morning wound
in and out among great trees. and
and recrossed the little stream
called the Cowskin until I almost
thought We had lost our way. We met
with no one in all the long days rid
Ing, not even stray negro, and in
deed it was some hours since we had
passed house of any kind. Leaving
the brook behind us we toiled slowly
up long hill, and at the top Bungay,
riding beside me, pointed to the west
ward.
Cap" he said, thar is ther Minor
place."
The very sight Of it in the distance
vas thrill-a great white house
placed well back from the road and
almost hidden from sight by hne.
arge trees an old-fashioned, big
'oomed house it looked to be, euilt