jest--a mere fencing bout for amusement. We would not hurt each other
for worlds!"

And Mohun's mustache curled with laughter. There was something restless
and sinister in it.

Suddenly his face grew paler, and his eyes were half closed.

"Well, Mohun," said Stuart, who was not looking at him; "I am going to
send you across the river on a reconnaissance to-night."

"All right, general."

And the officer made the military salute. As he did so, he staggered,
and Stuart raised his eyes.

"You are wounded!" he exclaimed.

"A trifle," laughed Mohun.

But as he spoke, his frame tottered; his face assumed the hue of a
corpse; and he would have fallen, had not Miss Georgia Conway started
up unconsciously from the wounded man whom she was attending to, and
supported the officer in her arms.

Mohun opened his eyes, and a grim smile came to his pale face.

"A pretty tableau!" I heard him murmur; "it would do to put in a
romance. A cup of tea--or a pistol--that would finish--"