parallel lines and curves, like the street-lamps of a city. Somewhere,
far off, a band was playing, at intervals it seemed; and now and then,
nearer to, a silvery strain from a bugle shot sharply up through the
night, and seemed to lose itself like a rocket among the stars,--the
patient, untroubled stars. Suddenly a hand was laid upon my arm.

"I'd like to say a word to you," said Bladburn.

With a little start of surprise, I made room for him on the fallen tree
where I was seated.

"I mayn't get another chance," he said. "You and the boys have been very
kind to me, kinder than I deserve; but sometimes I've fancied that my
not saying anything about myself had given you the idea that all was
not right in my past. I want to say that I came down to Virginia with a
clean record."

"We never really doubted it, Bladburn."

"If I didn't write home," he continued, "it was because I hadn't any
home, neither kith nor kin. When I said the old folks were dead, I said
it. Am I boring you? If I thought I was--"

"No, Bladburn. I have often wanted you to talk to me about yourself, not
from idle curiosity, I trust, but because I liked you that rainy night
when you came to camp, and have gone on liking you ever since. This
isn't too much to say, when Heaven only knows how soon I may be past
saying it or you listening to it."

"That's it," said Bladburn, hurriedly, "that's why I want to talk with