“Major Stevens,” she faintly said after a struggle, “the people of this poor little village can never feel too grateful to you, for your brave and unselfish defence of their homes!”

“I am a soldier, Miss Lane, and I trust I did my duty.”

Then they stood silent.  Fernando would have given worlds to speak the promptings of his heart:  but stubborn pride forbade him.

“Whither do you go?” she asked.

“To the South; what point I do not know, save that we join our regiment at Nashville.”

“Will you ever come back, major?”

“If duty calls me—­”

“But have you no friends,” she asked slowly, “no friends here, whom you would like to see after the war is over?”

“Many, Miss Lane.  These brave men and noble women, who have shared my toils and dangers, are very dear to my heart, and when the Britons have been driven from our country, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to renew my acquaintance with them.”

“You are always welcome, major,” she said, deeply moved.  “Will you make me a promise?”

“What is the promise?”

“That you will come as soon as the war is over.”

“It is only a polite way of inviting me to her wedding,” he thought; then he asked: 

“Will you be here?”

“If heaven spares me, I shall.”

“Then I will return, Miss Lane, if I live.”

Their discourse had been friendly, but cold and formal.  Fernando had once overstepped the bounds when he declared his love; but he was careful not to do so again.  Notwithstanding she had leaped to the redoubt amid screaming shells and whistling balls, to persuade him back to the trenches, he could see nothing more tender than love of humanity in her act.  He was so thoroughly convinced that she would wed Lieutenant Matson, that he was once on the point of asking her when the marriage would take place, but the subject was too painful to mention.

She followed him quite to the door, and here he said in a voice that was husky despite his efforts to prevent it: 

“Miss Lane,—­Morgianna, I had him paroled for your sake.  He can remain in the village.”

He was gone before she could make any response.  His men were mustered at peep of day and marched away to Baltimore.

General Andrew Jackson, to whom Fernando Stevens was marching, was the hero of the war of 1812 in the South.  Having utterly crushed the Creek power and wrung from them a treaty which extinguished them politically as a nation, he set about securing that portion of the country against further molestation.  The belief that the war in the South was ended proved a deception when the British suddenly appeared in a large force in the Gulf of Mexico.  By permission of the Spanish governor of Florida, the British took possession of one of the forts at Pensacola, where they fitted out an expedition for the capture of Fort Bowyer, [Footnote:  Now Fort Morgan.] on the eastern