I exchanged a pressure of the hand with Colonel Mohun, or, speaking more correctly, I grasped his. It did not return the pressure. I then thanked him for his timely appearance, and he bowed coldly.

"It was lucky that my scout led me in this direction," he said, "that party is whipped back over the river, and will give us no more trouble to-night--the woods are full of their dead and wounded."

As he spoke he took a cigar case from his pocket, and presented it.

"Will you smoke, sir?" he said.

I bowed and selected a cigar. Colonel Mohun imitated me, and was about to commence smoking, when two or three cavalry men were seen approaching through the gloom, apparently escorting some one.

As they drew nearer the figures became plainer in the firelight. The cavalry men had in charge a female prisoner.

She was a woman of pet.i.te figure, clad in a handsome gray riding-habit, and mounted upon a superb horse, with rich equipments, apparently belonging to a Federal officer of high rank. From the horse, I glanced at the prisoner's face. It was a strange countenance. She was about twenty-five--her complexion was dead white, except the lips which were as red as carnations; her eyes were large and brilliant, her hair dark and worn plain under a small riding-hat. In one delicately gauntleted hand she held the rein of her horse--with the other, which was ungloved, she raised a lace handkerchief to her lips. On the finger sparkled a diamond.

There was something strange in the expression of this woman. She looked "dangerous" in spite of her calmness.

She sat gazing at some one behind me, with the handkerchief still raised to her lips. Then she took it away, and I could see a smile upon them.

What was the origin of that smile, and at whom was she looking? I turned, and found myself face to face with Colonel Mohun. His appearance almost frightened me. His countenance wore the hue of a corpse, his whole frame shook with quick shudders, and his eyes were distended until the black pupils shone in the centres of two white circles.

Suddenly his teeth clinched audibly; he pa.s.sed his hand over his forehead streaming with cold sweat; and said in a low voice:

"Then you are not dead, madam?"

"No, sir," the prisoner replied tranquilly.

Mohun gazed at her with a long, fixed look. As he did so his features gradually resumed the cold and cynical expression which I had first observed in them.

"This meeting is singular," he said.

A satirical smile pa.s.sed over the lips of the prisoner.

"Our last interview was very different, was it not, sir?" she said.

"The Nottoway was higher than the Rappahannock is to-night, and you did not expect to meet me again--so soon!"

Mohun continued to gaze at her with the same fixed look.

"No, madam," he said.

"You recall that agreeable evening, do you not, sir?"

Mohun coolly inclined his head.

"And you have not seen me since?"

"Never, madam."

"You are mistaken!"

"Is it possible that I could have forgotten so pleasing a circ.u.mstance, madam?"

"Yes!"

"Where and when have I seen you since that time?"

"Everywhere, and at all times!--awake and asleep, day and night!"

Mohun shuddered.

"True," he said, with a bitter smile.

"You remember, then! I am not wrong!" exclaimed the prisoner, gazing intently at him.

Mohun raised his head, and I could see the old cynical expression upon his lips.

"Certainly I remember, madam," he said. "Do you think it possible for any one to forget your charming ladyship? And could any thing be more delightful than this interview between two old friends? But let us reserve these sweet confidences, these gushing emotions! One thing only is wanting, to perfect the happiness of this moment; the presence this evening of _your dear brother_!--but he is doubtless detained elsewhere!"

Mohun's expression was singular as he uttered these words. The prisoner looked at him as he was speaking with an indescribable smile. I can only compare it to that of the swordsman about to deliver a mortal lunge.

"My brother," she said, in accents as soft as a flute; "detained elsewhere, do you say, sir? You are mistaken in supposing so. He commanded the cavalry with which you were fighting to-night!"

At these words, uttered in a strange, mocking voice, I saw Mohun start as if a rattlesnake had bitten his heel. With all his self-possession he could not restrain this exhibition of emotion.

"Impossible! You are deceiving me--"

The prisoner interrupted him with a gay laugh.

"So you do not believe me," she said; "you think, my dear sir, that everybody is dead but yourself! Dismiss that idea from your mind! _I_ am not dead, since we have the pleasure of again meeting in the flesh.

_He_ is not dead! No! it was Colonel Mortimer Darke whom you fought to-night. This is his horse which I borrowed to take a short ride. I have been captured, but _he_ is neither dead nor captured, and you will doubtless receive some friendly message from him soon."

Under the mocking accents and the satirical glance, it was easy to read profound hatred. The speaker could not hide that. At that moment she resembled a tigress about to spring.

Mohun had listened with absorbing attention as his companion spoke; but, as on the first occasion, he speedily suppressed his agitation.

His face was now as cold and unmoved as though moulded of bronze.

"So be it, madam," he said; "I will respond as I best can to such message as he may send me. For yourself, you know me well, and, I am glad to see, indulge no apprehensions. The past is dead; let it sleep.

You think this interview is painful to me. You deceive yourself, madam; I would not exchange it for all the wealth of two hemispheres."

And calling an officer, he said:--

"You will conduct this lady to General Stuart, reporting the circ.u.mstances attending her capture."

Mohun made a ceremonious bow to the prisoner as he spoke, saluted me in the same manner, and mounting his horse, rode back at the head of his column.

The prisoner, escorted by the young officer, and still riding her fine horse, had already disappeared in the darkness.

V.