"I'm wondering myself. He should be on that field with every soldier
under his command."
"I've come to ask you for a pass to Alexandria----"
"Then my worst fears are confirmed!" he broke in excitedly. "Your
sweetheart's on McClellan's staff--his men will never reach the field in
time!"
He dropped into a chair, hurriedly wrote the pass and handed it to
Betty.
"God bless you, child. See me when you get back and tell me all you
learn of McClellan and his men to-day. The very worst is suspected----"
"You mean?"
"That this delay and deliberate trifling with the most urgent and
positive orders is little short of treason. Unless his men reach Pope
to-day and fight, the Capital may be threatened to-morrow."
"Surely!" Betty protested.
"It's just as I tell you, child, but I'll hope for the best. Be eyes and
ears for me to-day and you may help me."
The agony of his face and the deep note of tragedy in his voice had
taken the joy out of her heart. She threw the feeling off with an
effort.
"What has it all to do with my love!" she cried with a toss of her
pretty head as she sprang into the saddle for the gallop to Alexandria.
The cool, bracing air of this first day of September, 1862, was like
wine. The dew was yet heavy on the tall grass by the roadside and a song
was singing in her heart that made all other music dumb.
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