MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
shape in the gloom. She was gazing directly ahead, apparently utterly unconscious of my near presence, every thought concentrated elsewhere. When was the end to come? Why was it I could not muster sufficient courage to speak, could not even determine what it was I desired to say? Surely I was not afraid of this helpless, slender girl. If I had done wrong it was for the cause of my country, and I had nothing now to fear except her anger. Why should I greatly care for that? Why should I shrink from revealment as a slave from the lash? Suddenly she brought the end upon herself, reining up her mare so sharply that, when I also came to a halt, we were facing each other, my horse rearing from the heavy pressure on his bit.
"What is it? Did you see something?"
"Nothing but that dead pine yonder," pointing toward the left. "We have ridden beyond the cut-off."
"Beyond—"
"Yes, a quarter of a mile beyond. What can be the matter with you to-night? Have you forgotten the way to your own home?"
There was a vague touch of suspicion in the voice, and she was leaning forward evidently striving in vain to distinguish my features in the darkness. An instant I hesitated, no satisfactory excuse coming to my lips. She touched her mare lightly with the whip, forcing her forward.
"Why does it take you so long to answer? You are not usually so dumb."
"I was surprised at having ridden beyond the turn;
[ 56 ]
