"Of course we are anxious to hear all you dare tell us about the
success of your mission over there," said his mother, an hour later,
when the riders had done justice to a delightful breakfast. "Are all
the arrangements made by our people entirely satisfactory?"
"Entirely, mother. This is the twenty-second of September, isn't it?
Well, it is an open secret now. The vessel secured goes into
commission today, and will be called the Alabama."
"Hurrah for the Alabama!" cried Evilena, who was leaning on the back
of her brother's chair. He put his arm around her and turned to
Judithe.
"Have you become acquainted with the patriotic ardor of my little
sister?" he asked. "I assure you we have to fight these days if we
want to keep the affections of our Southern girls."
Gertrude smiled across the table at him.
"I can't fancy you having to fight very hard battles along that line,
Monsieur," replied Judithe, in the cool, half mocking tone she had
adopted for all questions of sentiment with him; and Gertrude, who saw
the look exchanged between them, arose from the table.
"Uncle Matthew asked to see you when you have time, Kenneth."
"Thanks, yes; I'll go directly. Mother, why not ask the boys of the
guard to stop over for your party? They are of Phil Masterson's
company--all Carolina men."
"Of course, I shall invite them personally," and she left the room to
speak to the men who were just finishing breakfast under an arbor, and
congratulating themselves on the good luck of being travelling
companions of Colonel McVeigh.
Evilena waltzed around the table in her delight at the entire
arrangement; boys in uniform; the longed-for additions to the
festivities, and they would have to be a formidable lot if she could
not find one of their number worth dancing with; she would show Dr.
Delaven that other men did not think her only a baby to be teased!
"Now, Madame Caron, we can show you a regular plantation jubilee, for
the darkies shall have a dance at the quarters. You'll like that,
won't you?"
"Anything that expresses the feminine homage to returning heroes,"
replied Judithe, with a little bow of affected humility, at which
Colonel McVeigh laughed as he returned it. She passed out of the door
with his sister and he stood looking after her, puzzled, yet with hope
in his eyes. His impetuousness in plunging into the very heart of the
question at once had, at any rate, not angered her, which was a great
point gained. He muttered an oath when he realized that but for the
Countess Biron's gossip they might never have been separated, for she
did love him then--he knew it. Even today, when she would have run
away from him again, she did not deny _that_! Forty-eight hours in
which to win her--and his smile as he watched her disappear had a
certain grim determination in it. He meant to do it. She had grown
white when he quoted to her her own never forgotten words. Well, she
should say them to him again! The hope of it sent the blood leaping to
his heart, and he turned away with a quick sigh.
Gertrude, who had only stepped out on the veranda when she left the
table, and stood still by the open glass door, saw the lingering,
intense gaze with which he followed the woman she instinctively
disliked--the woman who was now mistress of Loringwood, and had made
the purchase as carelessly as though it were a new ring to wear on her
white hand--a new toy to amuse herself with in a new country; the
woman who threw money away on whims, had the manner of a princess, and
who had aroused in Gertrude Loring the first envy or jealousy she had
ever been conscious of in her pleasant, well-ordered life. From the
announcement that Loringwood had passed into the stranger's possession
her heart had felt like lead in her bosom. She could not have
explained why--it was more a presentiment of evil than aught else, and
she thought she knew the reason of it when she saw that look in
Kenneth McVeigh's eyes--a look she had never seen there before.
And the woman who had caused it all was walking the floor of her own
apartment in a fever of impatience. If the man she expected would only
come--then she would have work to do--definite plans to follow; now
all was so vague, and those soldiers staying over, was it only a
chance invitation, or was there a hidden purpose in that retained
guard? Her messenger should have arrived within an hour of Colonel
McVeigh, and the hour was gone.
As she passed the mirror she caught sight of her anxious face in it,
and halted, staring at the reflection critically.
"You are turning coward!" she said, between her closed teeth. "You
are afraid to be left to yourself an hour longer--afraid because of
this man's voice and the touch of his hand. Aren't you proud of
yourself--you! He is the beast whose name you hated for years--the man
for whom that poor runaway was taught the graces and accomplishments
of white women--in this house you heard Matthew Loring mention the
price of her and the portion to be forfeited to Kenneth McVeigh
because the girl was not to be found. Do you forget that? Do you think
I shall let you forget it? I shan't. You are to do the work you came
here to do. You are to have no other interest in the people of this
house."
She continued her nervous walk back and forth across the room. She put
aside the grey habit and donned a soft, pretty house-gown of the same
color. Her hands were trembling. She clasped and unclasped them with a
despairing gesture.
"It is not love," she whispered, as though in wild argument against
the fear of it. "Not love--some curse in the blood--that is what it
is. And to think that after three years--three years!--it all comes
back like this. Oh, you fool, you fool! Love," she continued, in more
clear, reasoning tones, speaking aloud slowly as though to impress it
on her mind, as a child will repeat a lesson to be learned; "love must
be based on respect--what respect can you have for this buyer of young
girls?--this ardent-eyed animal who has the good fortune, to be
classed as a gentleman. Love in a woman's heart should be her
religion; what religion could be centered on so vile a creature? To
look up to such a man, how low a woman would have to sink."
Evilena knocked at the door to show some little gift brought by her
brother from across the ocean, and Judithe turned to her feverishly,
glad of some companionship to drive away her dread and suspense until
the expected messenger arrived--the minutes were as long as hours,
now!
Colonel McVeigh had scarcely more than greeted Loring when Pluto
announced Captain Masterson and some other gentleman. Evilena saw them
coming from the window and reported there were two soldiers besides
Captain Masterson, and a man in blue clothes, who aroused her
curiosity mightily. They were out of range before Judithe reached the
window, but her heart almost stopped beating for an instant; the man
she expected wore a blue yachting suit, and this sudden gathering of
soldiery at the Terrace?
Colonel McVeigh greeted Masterson cordially and turned to the others.
Two were men in Confederate uniform, just outside the door, and the
third was a tall man in the uniform of a Federal Captain. His left
wrist was bandaged. He was smiling slightly as McVeigh's glance became
one of doubt for an instant, and then brightened into unmistakable
recognition.
"By Jove, this is a surprise!" and he shook hands cordially with the
stranger. "Captain Monroe, I am delighted to see you in our home."
"Thank you; I'm glad to get here," replied Monroe, with a peculiar
look towards Masterson, who regarded the cordial greeting with evident
astonishment, "I had not expected to call on you this morning,
but--Captain Masterson insisted."
He smiled as he spoke--a smile of amusement, coolly careless of the
amazement of Masterson, and the inquiry in the glance of McVeigh.
"Colonel McVeigh, he is a prisoner," said Masterson, in reply to that
glance, and then, as the prisoner himself maintained an indifferent
silence, he explained further, "We caught sight of him galloping ahead
of us through the pines, a few miles back. Realizing that we were near
enough to the coast for the Federals to send in men for special
service, we challenged him, got no explanation except that he rode for
his own pleasure; so I put him under arrest."
"Well, well! Since luck has sent you into our lines I'm glad it has
done us a good turn and sent you to our home," said McVeigh, though he
still looked mystified at the situation. "I've no doubt satisfactory
explanations can be made, and a parole arranged."
"That's good of you, Colonel," said the prisoner, appreciatively; "you
are a good sort of friend to meet when in trouble--brother Fred used
to think so up at the Point; but in this case it really isn't
necessary--as I have one parole."
He drew a paper from an inner pocket and passed it to McVeigh, who
looked relieved.
"Yes, certainly, this is all right," and he looked inquiringly at
Masterson, "I don't understand--"
Neither did that officer, who turned in some chagrin to the prisoner,
who glanced from one to the other in evident indifference.
"May I ask," said Masterson, with cold courtesy, "why you did not
state when taken prisoner that you were paroled?"
"Certainly," and the easy nonchalance of the other was almost
insolent; evidently Masterson had not picked up an affinity. "I was
coming your way; had been riding alone for several hours, and feared I
should be deprived of the pleasure of your society if I allowed you to
know how harmless I was."
He paused for a moment--smiled in a quizzical way at McVeigh, and
continued: "Then I heard your orderly mention Colonel McVeigh, whose
place you were bound for, and I did not object in the least to being
brought to him for judgment. But since you see I am paroled, as well
as crippled," and he motioned to the arm which he moved carefully,
"incapable in any way of doing harm to your cause, I trust that a flag
of truce will be recognized by you," and he extended his hand in
smiling unconcern.
But to Captain Masterson there was something irritating in the smile,
and he only bowed coldly, ignoring the flag of truce, upon which
Captain Monroe seemed quietly amused as he turned to McVeigh and
explained that he was wounded and taken prisoner a month before over
in Tennessee by Morgan's cavalry, who had gathered in Johnson's
brigade so effectively that General Johnson, his staff, and somewhere
between two and three hundred others had been taken prisoners. He,
Monroe, had found a Carolina relative badly wounded among Morgan's
boys, had secured a parole, and brought the young fellow home to die,
and when his own wound was in a fair way to take care of itself he had
left the place--a plantation south of Allendale, and headed for the
coast to connect with the blockading fleet instead of making the
journey north through Richmond.
It was a very clear statement, but Masterson listened to it
suspiciously, without appearing to listen at all. McVeigh, who had
known both Monroe and his family in the North, and was also acquainted
with the Carolina family mentioned, accepted the Federal's story
without question, and invited him to remain at the Terrace so long as
it suited him to be their guest.
"I have only two days at home until I leave for my regiment," he
explained; "but my mother has enough pleasant people here to make your
visit interesting, I hope. She will be delighted to welcome you, and
some Beaufort acquaintances of yours are here--the Lorings."
Captain Monroe showed interest in this information, and declared it
would give him pleasure to stop over until McVeigh left for the
front.
"Good! and you, Captain Masterson?"
Masterson glanced coldly towards Monroe, evidently desirous of a
private interview with McVeigh. But seeing little chance of it without
a pointed request, he took two packets from a case carefully fastened
in his pocket, and presented them.
"I am detailed to convey to you some important papers, and I
congratulate you on your promotion to Brigadier-General," he said,
with a bow.
"Brigadier? Well, well; they are giving me a pleasant reception," and
his face showed his pleasure as he looked at the papers. "Thank you,
Captain Masterson. By the way, how much time have you?"
"Until tomorrow night; I meant to ride over to the plantation after
delivering this."
"The ladies won't hear to that when they get sight of you. They are
giving a party tonight and need all the uniforms we can muster; a
squad of your men on their way to the forts below have stopped over
for breakfast, and they've even captured them, and you'll be welcome
as the flowers of May."
Masterson glanced at Monroe and hesitated. "Those men are needed at
one of the fortifications," he said guardedly; "they had better take
some other time for a party. With your permission I'll send them on,
and remain in their place with one orderly, if convenient."
"Certainly; glad to have you; give your own orders about the men. I do
not know that they have accepted the invitation to linger, I only know
that the ladies wanted them to."
He rang for Pluto, who was given orders concerning rooms for Captain
Monroe, and for Captain Masterson, who left to speak with the men
waiting orders without. He made a gesture towards the packet in
McVeigh's hand and remarked: "I have reason apart from the commission
to think the contents are important. Our regiment is to be merged in
your brigade, and all pressed to the front. Towards what point I could
not learn at Columbia, but your information will doubtless cover all
that, General."
"Colonel will answer until I find my brigade," said McVeigh, with a
smile. "You stay over until I learn, since we are to go together, and
I will look them over soon as possible."
He himself showed Monroe the room he was to occupy, to the chagrin of
Pluto, who was hanging about in a fever of curiosity and dread at
sight of a Northern soldier--the first he had ever seen, and the rumor
that he was brought there a prisoner suggested calamities to the army
through which, alone, his own race dared hope for freedom; and to
hear the two men chat and laugh over West Point memories was an
aggravation to him, listening, as he was, for the news of today, and
the serious questions involved. Only once had there been allusion to
the horrors of war--when McVeigh inquired concerning his former
classmate, Monroe's brother, Fred, and was told he had been numbered
with the dead at Shiloh. The door was open and Pluto could hear all
that was said--could see the bronzed face of the Northerner, a face he
liked instinctively though it was not exactly handsome--an older face
than McVeigh's. He was leaving West Point as the young Southerner
entered--a man of thirty years, possibly--five of them, the hard years
of the frontier range. A smile lit up his face, changing it
wonderfully. His manner was neither diffident nor overconfident--there
was a certain admirable poise to it. His cool, irritating attitude
towards the zealous Masterson had been drawn out by the innate
antagonism of the two natures, but with McVeigh only the cordial side
was appealed to, and he responded with frank good will.
Pluto watched them leave the room and enter the apartments of Mr.
Loring, where Mrs. McVeigh, Miss Gertrude and Delaven were at that
time, and the latter was entertained by seeing one of the Northern
wolves welcomed most cordially by the Southern household. Fred Monroe
had been Kenneth's alter-ego during the West Point days. Mrs. McVeigh
had photographs of them together, which she brought out for
inspection, and Kenneth had pleasant memories of the Monroe home where
he had been a guest for a brief season after graduation; altogether it
was an interesting incident of the war to Delaven, who was the one
outsider. He was sorry the Marquise was not there to observe.
The Marquise was, however, making observations on her own account,
but not particularly to her satisfaction. She walked from one window
to another watching the road, and the only comforting view she
obtained was the departure of the squad of soldiers who had
breakfasted in the arbor. They turned south along the river, and when
they passed through the Terrace gates she drew a breath of relief at
the sight. They would not meet Pierson, who was to come over the road
to the east, and they would leave on the place only the orderlies of
Colonel McVeigh and Captain Masterson, and the colored men whose
quarters were almost a half mile in the rear of the Terrace. She was
glad they were at that distance, though she scarcely knew why.
Pierson's delay made her fear all sorts of bungling and extreme
measures--men were such fools!
Evilena had flitted away again to look up a dress for the party, and
did not return, so she was left alone. She heard considerable walking
about and talking in the rooms below and on the veranda. No one came
along her corridor, however, so she could ask no questions as to the
latest arrivals. For reasons of her own she had dispensed with a
personal attendant after the departure of Louise; there was no maid to
make inquiries of.
An hour passed in this feverish suspense, when she went to the mirror
with an air of decision, arranged her hair becomingly, added a coral
brooch to the lace at her throat, slipped some glimmering rings on her
white fingers, and added those little exquisite touches to the toilet
which certain women would naturally linger over though it be the last
hour on earth.
Then she opened the door and descended the stairs, a picture of beauty
and serenity--a trifle of extra color in the cheeks, perhaps, but it
would be a captious critic who would object to the added lustre.
Captain Monroe certainly did not, as he halted in the library at sight
of her, and waited to see if she passed out on the veranda, or--
She looked out on the veranda; no one was there; with an impatient
sigh she turned, pushed the partly opened door of the library back,
and was inside the room before she perceived him. Involuntarily she
shut the door back of her.
"Oh--h!" and she held out her hand with a quick, pretty gesture of
surprise and pleasure--"well met, Captain Jack!"
He took the hand she offered and looked at her with a certain
questioning directness.
"I hope so, Madame Caron," and the gaze was so steady, his grasp so
firm, that she drew her hand away with a little laugh that was a
trifle nervous.
"Your voice and face reassure me! I dare breathe again!" she said,
with a mock sigh of relief; "my first glimpse of your uniform made me
fear a descent of the enemy."
"Have you need to fear any special enemy here?" he asked, bluntly. She
put her hand out with a little gesture of protest as she sank back
into the chair he offered.
"Why should you be so curious on a first meeting?" she asked, with a
quizzical smile. "But I will tell you, Monsieur, for all that; I am,
of course, very much afraid of the Northern armies. I left Orleans
rather than live under the Federal government, if you please! I have
bought a very handsome estate a few miles from here which, of course,
binds my interests more closely to the South," and she flashed a
meaning, mocking glance up at him. "Do not look so serious, my friend,
it is all very beautifully arranged; I had my will made as soon as the
deed was signed, of course; no matter what accidents should happen to
me, all my Southern properties will be held intact to carry on the
plans for which they were purchased. I am already building my
monuments," and she unfurled a silken fan the color of her corals and
smiled across it at him.
Their backs were towards the window. She was seated in the deep chair,
while he stood near her, leaning on the back of another one and
looking down in her face. Pluto, who was still hovering around with
the hope of getting speech with a "sure enough Lincum man," had come
noiselessly to the open window and only halted an instant when he saw
the stranger so pleasantly occupied, and heard the musical voice of
Madame Caron say "My friend." It was to him the sweetest voice in the
world now, and he would gladly have lingered while she spoke, but the
rest of the words were very soft and low, and Miss Loring was moving
towards him coming slowly up the steps, looking at him as though the
veranda was no place for a nigger to lounge when unemployed--a fact he
was well enough aware of to walk briskly away around the corner of the
house, when he found her eye on him.
She had reached the top of the steps and was thinking the colored
folks at the Terrace were allowed a great many privileges, when she
heard the low tones of a man's voice. Supposing it was Kenneth and
possibly his mother, she stepped softly towards the window. Before she
reached it she perceived her mistake--the man wore a blue uniform, and
though she could not see Madame Caron, she could see the soft folds of
her dress, and the white hand moving the coral fan.
Disappointed, and not being desirous of joining the woman whose charm
evidently enthralled every one but herself, she stepped quietly back
out of range, and passed on along the veranda to the sitting room,
where Evilena was deeply engaged over the problem of a dress to be
draped and trimmed for the party. And the two talked on within the
closed doors of the library, the man's voice troubled, earnest; the
woman's, careless and amused.
"I shall tell you what I wish, Captain Jack," she said, tapping the
fan slowly on the palm of her hand and looking up at him, "I am most
pleased to see you, but for all that I wish you had not come to this
particular house, and I wish you would go away."
"Which means," he said, after a pause, "that you are in some danger?"
"Oh, no! if it were that," and her glance was almost coquettish, "I
should ask you to remain as my champion."
"Pardon, Madame," and he shook his head, doubtfully, "but I remember
days in New Orleans, and I know you better than that."
She only raised her brows and smiled. He watched her for a moment and
then said: "Colonel McVeigh is a friend; I should not like to think
that your presence means danger to him."
"What an idea!" and she laughed heartily; "am I grown such a thing of
terror that I dare not enter a door lest danger follow? Who could be
oppressed with political schemes in this delightful life of the
plantation? It is really Eden-like; that is why I have purchased one
of the places for my own; it is worth seeing. If you remain I shall
invite you over; shall you?"
"For some reason you wish I would not; if I only knew what the reason
is!"
"A few months ago you did not question my motives," she said,
reprovingly; then in a lower tone, "Your commander has never
questioned, why should you? Your President has sent me messages of
commendation for my independent work. One, received before I left
Mobile, I should like you to see," and she rose from the chair. He
put out his hand to stop her.
"Not if it has connection with any plot or plan of work against the
people on this side of the line; remember, I am on parole."
"Oh, I shall respect your scruples," she said, lightly. "But you need
have no dread of that sort. I would not keep by me anything dangerous;
it is not compromising to the Marquise de Caron in any way." She
halted at the door and added, "Will you wait?"
"Yes, I will wait," he said; "but I can't approve, and I don't need
the evidence of any one else in order to appreciate your value," he
added, grimly; "but be careful, remember where you are."
"I could not forget it if I tried, Captain Jack," she declared, with a
peculiar smile, of which the meaning escaped him until long after.
That ride from Loringwood in the morning, and the nervous expectancy
after, had evidently tended to undermine her own self-confidence and
usual power of resource, for when she returned to the room a few
minutes later, and found Gertrude and her uncle there, she halted in
absolute confusion--could not collect her thoughts quickly enough for
the emergency, and glanced inquiringly towards Monroe, as one looks at
a stranger, while he, after one look as she entered, continued some
remark to Mr. Loring.
For an instant Gertrude's eyes grew narrow as she glanced from one to
the other; then she recovered her usual sweet manner, as she turned to
Judithe:
"Pardon me, I fancied you two had met. Madame Caron, permit me to
present Captain Monroe, one of our recent acquisitions."
Both bowed; neither spoke. Colonel McVeigh entered at that moment. He
had changed the grey travelling suit in which he arrived, for the grey
uniform of his regiment, and Judithe, however critical she tried to
be, could not but acknowledge that he was magnificent; mentally she
added, "Magnificent animal; but what of the soul, the soul?"
There was no lack of soul in his eyes as he looked at her and crossed
the room, as though drawn by an invisible chain, and noted, as a lover
ever notes, that the dress she wore had in its soft, silvery folds, a
suggestion of sentiment for the cause he championed.
But when he murmured something of his appreciation, she dropped her
eyes to the fan she held, and when she glanced slowly up it was in a
manner outlawing the tete-a-tete.
"I realize now, Colonel McVeigh, that you are really a part of the
army," she remarked in the tone of one who makes the conversation
general. "You were a very civilian-looking person this morning. I
have, like your Southern ladies, acquired a taste for warlike
trappings; the uniform is very handsome."
"Thanks; I hope you will find my next one more becoming, since it is
to be that of Brigadier-General."
Although Matthew Loring's sight was impaired, his locomotion slow, and
his left hand and arm yet helpless, his sense of hearing was acute
enough to hear the words even across Monroe's conversation, for his
sunken eyes lit up as he twisted his head towards the speaker:
"What's that, Kenneth? You to command a brigade?"
"So they tell me," assented McVeigh. "The commission just reached
me."
"Good enough! Do you hear that, Gertrude? A Brigadier-General at
twenty-five. Well, I don't see what more a man could want."
"I do," he said, softly, to Judithe, so softly that she felt rather
than heard the words, to which his eyes bore witness. Then he turned
to reply to Mr. Loring's questions of military movements.
"No, I can't give you much special information today," and he smiled
across at Monroe, when Loring found fault with the government
officials who veiled their plans and prospects from the taxpayers--the
capitalists of the South who made the war possible. "But the
instructions received lead me to believe a general movement of much
importance is about to be made in our department, and my opportunities
will be all a soldier could wish."
"So you have become a Brigadier-General instead of the Lieutenant we
knew only three years ago," and Judithe's eyes rested on him
graciously for an instant, as Monroe and Gertrude helped Loring out to
the wheeled chair on the lawn. "You travel fast--you Americans! I
congratulate you."
She had arisen and crossed the room to the little writing desk in the
corner. He followed with his eyes her graceful walk and the pretty
fluttering movements of her hands as she drew out note paper and
busied herself rather ostentatiously. He smiled as he noticed it; she
was afraid of a tete-a-tete; she was trying to run away, if only to
the farther side of the room.
"I shall consider myself a more fit subject for congratulation if you
prove more kind to the General than you were to the Lieutenant."
"People usually are," she returned lightly. "I do not fancy you will
have much of unkindness to combat, except from the enemy."
Evilena entered the room humming an air, and her brother remarked
carelessly that the first of the enemy to invade their domain was not
very formidable at present, though Captain Jack Monroe had made a
fighting record for himself in the western campaign. Judithe did not
appear particularly interested in the record of the Northern campaign,
but Evilena, who had been too much absorbed in the question of
wardrobe to keep informed of the late arrivals, fairly gasped at the
name.
"Really and truly, is that Yankee here?" she demanded, "right here in
the house? Caroline said it wasn't a Yankee--just some friend of
yours."
"So he is."
"And--a--_Yankee_?"
He nodded his head and smiled at her. Judithe had picked up a pen and
was writing. Evilena glanced towards her for assistance in this
astonishing state of affairs, but no one appeared to be shocked but
herself.
"Well!" she said, at last, resignedly, "since we are to have any
Yankee here, I'm glad it's the one Gertrude met at Beaufort. I've been
conjuring up romances about them ever since, and I am curious to see
if he looks like the Jack Monroe in the song."
"Not likely," said her brother, discouragingly, "he is the least
romantic hero for a song you can imagine; but if you put on your
prettiest dress and promise not to fight all the battles of the war
over with him, I'll manage that you sit beside him at dinner and make
romances about him at closer range, if you can find the material."
"To think of _me_ dressing my prettiest for a Yankee! and oh, Ken, I
can't dress so astonishingly pretty, either. I'm really," and she
sighed dejectedly, "down to my last party dress."
"Well, that's better than none."
"None!" she endeavored to freeze him with a look, but his smile
forbade it, and she left the room, singing
"Just as she stepped on ship board,
'Your name I'd like to know?'
And with a smile she answered,
'My name is Jack Monroe.'"
"Thanks; glad to find so charming a namesake," said a deep voice, and
she looked up to see a tall man gazing down at her with a smile so
kindly she should never have guessed he was a Yankee but for the blue
uniform.
"Oh!" she blushed deliciously, and then laughed. There really was no
use trying to be dignified with a stranger after such a meeting as
that.
"I never did mean to steal your name, Captain Monroe," she explained,
"for you are Captain Monroe?"
"Yes, except when I am Jack," and then they both smiled.
"Oh, I've known Jack was your name, too, for this long time," she
said, with a little air of impressing him with her knowledge; "but I
couldn't call you that, except in the song."
"May I express the hope that you sing the song often?" he asked, with
an attempt at gravity not entirely successful.
"But you don't know who I am, do you?" and when he shook his head
sadly she added, "but of course you've heard of me; I'm Evilena."
"Evilena?"
"Evilena McVeigh," she said, with a trifle of emphasis.
"Oh, Kenneth's sister?" and he held out his hand. "I'm delighted to
know you."
"Thank you." She let her hand rest in his an instant, and then drew it
away, with a little gasp.
"There! I've done it after all."
"Anything serious?" he inquired.
She nodded her head; "I've broken a promise."
"Not past repair, I hope."
"Oh, it's only a joke to you, but it really is serious to me. When the
boys I know all started North with the army I promised I'd never shake
hands with a Yankee."
"Promised them all?" he asked, and without waiting for a reply, he
continued: "Now, that's a really extraordinary coincidence; I
entertained the same idea about Johnnie Rebs."
"Really?" and she looked quite relieved at finding a companion in
iniquity; "but you did shake hands?"
"Yes."
"Are you sorry?"
"No; are you?"
"N--no."
And when Delaven went to look for Evilena to tell her they were to
have lunch on the lawn (Mrs. McVeigh had installed him as master of
ceremonies for the day), he found her in the coziest, shadiest nook on
the veranda, entertaining a sample copy of the enemy, and assuring him
that the grey uniforms would be so much more becoming than the blue.