She knew nothing about music beyond what M.Roussillon, a jack of all trades, had been able to teach her,--a few simple chords to accompany her songs, picked up at hap-hazard.

But her voice, like her face and form, irradiated witchery.

It was sweet, firm, deep, with something haunting in it--the tone of a hermit thrush, marvelously pure and clear, carried through a gay strain like the mocking-bird's.

Of course Beverley thought it divine; and when a message came from Colonel Clark bidding him report for duty at once, he felt an impulse toward mutiny of the rankest sort.

He did not dream that a military expedition could be on hand; but upon reaching headquarters, the first thing he heard was: "Report to Captain Helm.