“Of whom, then?”
Dick did not answer, but he met her gaze steadily, and her face fell. Then he turned, walked out of the room without a word, and again closed the door behind him. When he went out on the piazza he saw excitement among his comrades. The moment for great action was coming even sooner than Colonel Winchester had expected.
“Johnston is communicating with Pemberton,” said Warner, “and he has ordered Pemberton to unite with him. Then they will attack us. He sent the same order by three messengers, but one of them was in reality a spy of ours, and he came straight to General Grant with it. We’re forewarned, and the trap can’t shut down on us, because General Grant means to go at once for Pemberton.”
Dick understood the situation, which was both critical and thrilling. Grant was still in the heart of the Confederacy, and its forces were converging fast upon him. But the grim and silent man, instead of merely trying to escape, intended to strike a blow that would make escape unnecessary. All the young officers saw the plan and their hearts leaped.
Dick, in the excitement of the day, forgot about the Woodville house and its inmates. Troops were already marching out of Jackson to meet the enemy, but the Winchester regiment would not leave until early the next morning. They were to spend a second night, or at least a part of it, in Colonel Woodville’s house.
It was the same group that ate supper there and the same army cook served them. They did not go to the bedrooms afterward, but strolled about, belted, expecting to receive the marching call at any moment.
Dick went into the library, where a single candle burned, and while he was there Miss Woodville appeared at the door and beckoned to him. She had abated her severity of manner so much that he was astonished, but he followed without a word.
She saw that the hall was clear and then she led quickly into her father’s room. Colonel Woodville was propped up against the pillows, and there was color in his face.
“Young man,” he said, “come here. You can afford to obey me, although I’m a prisoner, because I’m so much older than you are. You have a heart and breeding, young sir, and I wish to shake your hand.”
He thrust a large hand from the cover, and Dick shook it warmly.
“I wouldn’t have shaken it if you had been born north of the Ohio River,” said Colonel Woodville.
Dick laughed.
“My chief purpose in having you brought here,” said Colonel Woodville, “was to relate to you an incident, of which I heard once. Did I read about it, or was it told to me, Margaret?”
“I think, sir, that some one told you of it.”
“Ah, well, it doesn’t matter. A few words will tell it. In an old, forgotten war a young soldier quartered in the house of his defeated enemy-but defeated only for the time, remember-saw something which made him believe that a wounded nephew of the house was hid in an upper room. But he was generous and he did not search further. The second night, while the young officer and his comrades were at supper, the nephew, who was not hurt badly, was slipped out of the house and escaped from the city in the darkness. It’s not apropos of anything, and I don’t know why I’m relating it to you, but I suppose this terrible war we are fighting is responsible for an old man’s whim.”
“I’ve found it very interesting, sir,” said Dick, “and I think it’s relevant, because it shows that even in war men may remain Christian human beings.”
“Perhaps you’re right, and I trust, young sir, that you will not be killed in this defeat to which you are surely marching.”
Dick bowed to both, and left them to their fears and hopes. The glow was still about his heart when he rode forth with the Winchester regiment after midnight. But, owing to the need of horses for the regular cavalry, it had become an infantry regiment once more. Only the officers rode.