Scoville soon learned that his opponent, so far from being killed or even wounded, had escaped. He was not much worried by this fact, believing that before the Confederate officer could reach his friends and bring back an attacking force, the Federal column would be on the ground. Indeed, he was glad that the family upon which he had quartered himself could not associate him with so terrible a calamity. The young girl might not wish to marry her cousin, yet be sorry if he were fatally or even seriously wounded, while the rest of the household would be plunged in the deepest distress. Although a resolute soldier, Scoville was a kind-hearted fellow, and disposed to take the most genial views of life that circumstances permitted. There was a humor about his present situation which he relished exceedingly. He was buoyant over the interrupted wedding, and bent upon disappointing Mr. Baron in all his grewsome expectations in regard to the Yankees. There should be discipline, order, quiet, and an utter absence of all high-tragedy. He cautioned his men against the slightest tendency to excess, even forbidding the chaffing of the negroes and noisiness. A steer, a pig, and some fowls were killed for supper, and the wood for cooking it was taken from an ample pile in the rear of the house. Happily, none were seriously wounded, and being veterans were able to do much for one another, while an elderly man in the troop who had some rude surgical experience, supplemented their efforts. Miss Lou speedily joined her aunts in rummaging for old linen for bandages, and the performance of human duty by the elderly ladies dulled the edge of the terrible truth that they were in the hands of the Yankees. True, they had to admit to themselves that the young soldier did not appear like a "ruthless monster" and that his conduct thus far had been almost ceremoniously polite; yet all this might be but a blind on the part of a cunning and unscrupulous foe.

When they came down to the veranda with the materials required, the unscrupulous foe met them, cap in hand, thanked them courteously, and gave his entire attention to the wounded, treating the men of both sides alike. Mrs. Whately, in glad reaction from overwhelming fear concerning her son's safety, offered her services in behalf of the few wounded Confederates and they were readily accepted. Before she was aware of it she found herself conferring with the young officer and the surgical trooper in regard to the best treatment of the injuries. Having long been mistress of a plantation and accustomed to act promptly when any of her slaves were hurt, she now proved a valuable auxiliary. When the soldiers with whom she sympathized were attended to, her kindness of heart led her on to the Federals, who thanked her as gratefully as if they were not depraved Yankees.

Mr. and Mrs. Baron had retired to the parlor, where they sat in state, awaiting in gloomy fortitude the darker developments of what they deemed the supreme tragedy of their lives. Miss Lou was flitting in and out, getting lint and other articles required by Mrs. Whately. She found it no easy matter to maintain the solemnity of aspect which her guardians thought appropriate to the occasion, but was assisted in this effort by her genuine pity for the wounded. In her joyous relief at escape from a hated union her heart was light indeed. She had, moreover, no slight sense of humor, and was just bubbling over with mirth at the fact that although the Yankee monsters, from whom it was said she must be rescued at every cost, were masters of the situation, they were engaged in nothing more ruthless than feeding their horses, preparing supper, and caring for the wounded. The most delicious thing of all was that one of the chief prophets of evil, her Aunt Whately, was aiding in the last-named task. Her exultation was increased when she brought the last article required and Scoville said with his genial smile, so well remembered, "I think I can assure you now, Miss Baron, that all will do very well. We are deeply indebted to this lady (bowing to Mrs. Whately) whose services have been as skilful as humane."

Now one of the things on which Mrs. Whately most prided herself was the generally accepted belief that she was as good as a country physician in an emergency, and she could not refrain from a slight and gracious acknowledgment of Scoville's words. As they drew near to the door she said hesitatingly, "Perhaps, sir, I should make an acknowledgment of deep indebtedness to you. I saw your sabre raised and pointed at my son's throat. Could you not have killed him had you so wished?"

"Ah! this is Mrs. Whately. Believe me, madam, we are not so bloodthirsty as to wish to kill, or even to injure, except so far as the necessities of war require. If you witnessed the brief conflict you must have observed that my effort was to capture rather than to destroy your son's force."

"We all could not help seeing that," cried Miss Lou eagerly.

"I could not help seeing also, Miss Baron, that you exposed yourself to danger like a veteran, and I was anxious indeed lest a stray bullet might harm you. It was well you were not armed or we might have fared worse," and there was so much mirth in his dark eyes that she turned away to hide her conscious blushes.

"Well, sir," resumed Mrs. Whately with emotion, "it is not easy to bless our enemies in this cruel war of aggression, but I must express my gratitude to one who stayed his hand when my son's life was within his power."

"I trust, madam, he may live to care for you in your declining years, and to become a good loyal citizen."

"He is loyal, sir," replied Mrs. Whately with gentle dignity, "to the only authority he recognizes," and with a bow she retired.

Miss Lou lingered a moment and said earnestly, "I thank you. You are very considerate."

His face so lighted up that it was almost boyish in its expression of pleasure as he answered with the pride and confidence of one sure of sympathy, "This is a jolly day for me. I was made an officer this morning, and now, best of all, I am paying a little of my debt to you."

She put her finger on her lips and shook her head, but the smile she gave him over her shoulder was reassuring. He promptly started on a round among his men again to see that the prisoners were properly guarded, and that all was going as he wished.

"Louise," said Mrs. Baron, as the girl appeared in the parlor door, "it would be far more decorous if you would remain here with your uncle and myself."

Miss Lou took a seat in the darkest corner that she might be less open to observation while she calmed the tumult of her feelings. So much had happened that she must catch her breath and think what it all meant. Mr. Baron began gloomily, "Well, the dreaded hour which I hoped and prayed never to see has come. We are helpless and in the hands of our enemies. Only God knows what an hour will bring forth—"

"He has brought deliverance," cried Mrs. Whately, entering. "I questioned Aun' Suke, thinking that she might have seen Madison if he left the house. She did see him safe and sound. She also saw him get a horse and ride away."

"Ah, poor boy! how different was his departure from what he had every reason to hope and expect!" replied Mr. Baron. "I should think your heart would be remorseful, indeed, Louise, when you picture your cousin flying from his kindred and home, alone and sad, tortured meanwhile by thoughts of the fate which has overtaken us."

"I'm sure, uncle, we are all sitting quietly in the parlor. That does not seem very dreadful."

"You little know, young woman, you little realize the cunning depravity—"

"There now, brother," interposed Mrs. Whately, "we must not think evil until we see more evidence of it, even in Yankees. I admit that I am most wonderfully and agreeably disappointed. The young officer in whose hands we are might have killed my son, but did not. I must at least be just to such a man."

"And you know he has been polite to us all, and told us to dismiss our fears," added Miss Lou demurely.

"It would almost seem, Louise, that you welcomed these invaders. I am too old and well informed not to know that this suave manner he affects is designed to lull us into a sense of false security."

At this moment a firm step was heard on the veranda, followed by a rap from the brass knocker. They knew it was Scoville, and Mr. Baron rose and advanced to the parlor entrance. He assumed the solemn aspect of one who now must face the exactions and wrongs which he had predicted, and his wife tremblingly followed, to perish at his side if need be. But the invader barely stepped within the hall and stood uncovered as he said politely, "Mr. Baron, I have now practically made my dispositions for the night. There is no reason why your domestic routine should not be resumed as usual. As I said before, I pledge you my word you shall not be disturbed unless we are attacked. Good-evening, sir. Good-evening, ladies," and he bowed and withdrew, leaving the old gentleman speechless in the utter reversal of all that he had declared would take place. No plundering, no insults, no violence. On the contrary, even his beloved routine might be resumed. He turned around to his wife and sister almost gasping, "Is this some deep-laid plot?"

"It certainly must be," echoed his wife.

Miss Lou turned away quickly and stuffed her handkerchief in her mouth to prevent laughing outright.

Her uncle caught her in the act and was instantly in a rage.

"Shame upon you!" he cried. "Enemies without and traitors within."

This charge touched the girl to the quick, and she replied with almost equal anger, "I'm no traitor. Where has your loyalty to me been to-day? Look at me, uncle, and fix the fact in your mind, once for all, that I am neither a child nor an idiot. God has given me a mind and a conscience as truly as to you, and I shall use them. This Northern officer says we are safe. I believe it and you will know it in the morning. Now I simply insist that you and aunt treat me with the respect due to my years and station. I've endured too much to-day to be patient under anything more. I meant no disrespect to you in laughing, but I cannot help being glad that instead of all sorts of horrible things happening we are treated with simple and even delicate politeness."

"Yes, brother," added Mrs. Whately, "as far as this man is concerned, you must revise your opinions. There is no deep-laid plot—nothing but what is apparent. I must also urge upon you and sister a change in your treatment of Louise. She will be far more ready to fulfil our hopes when led by affection."

"Well, well, that I should live to see this day!" groaned Mr. Baron. "My ward virtually says that she will do as she pleases. The slaves have been told that they are free and so can do as they please. Henceforth I suppose I am to speak to my niece with bated breath, and be at the beck and call of every Sambo on the place."

"You are not 'weltering in your own blood,' uncle, and the 'roof is not blazing over our heads,'" replied Miss Lou quietly. "You have merely been told that you could have supper when it pleased you and then sleep in peace and safety. Aunt, I will thank you for the key of my trunk. I wish to put my things back in their places."

Mrs. Baron took it from her pocket without a word, and Miss Lou went to her room.

True to her nature, Mrs. Whately began to pour oil on the lacerated feelings of her brother and sister-in-law. "Louise is right," she said. "Things are so much better than we expected—than they might have been—that we should raise our hearts in thankfulness. Just think! If this Northern officer is what you fear, why would he have spared my son, whom he might have killed in fair battle? In his conduct toward the wounded he showed a good, kindly spirit. I can't deny it; and he has been as polite to us as one of our own officers could have been. Think how different it all might have been—my brave son desperately wounded or dead, and unscrupulous men sacking the house! I need not refer to darker fears. I must say that I feel like meeting courtesy with courtesy. Since this Yankee behaves like a generous foe I would like to prove that Southern rebels and slave-drivers, as we are called, can equal him in all the amenities of life which the situation permits."

"Oh, sister!" cried Mrs. Baron, "even a cup of tea would choke me if I drank it in his presence."

But Mr. Baron had lighted his pipe, and reason and Southern pride were asserting themselves under its soothing influence. At last he said, "Well, let us have supper anyway. It is already after the hour."

"Supper has been ready this long time, as you know," replied his wife, "only I never dreamed of such a guest as has been suggested."

"Of course, sister, I only said what I did as a suggestion," Mrs. Whately answered with dignity. "You are in your own home. I merely felt reluctant that this Yankee should have a chance to say that we were so rude and uncivilized that we couldn't appreciate good treatment when we received it. There's no harm in gaining his goodwill, either, for he said that his general, with the main force, would be here to-morrow."

"Mrs. Baron," said her husband in strong irritation, "don't you see there is nothing left for us to do? No matter how things turn out, the presence of these Yankees involves what is intensely disagreeable. If sister is right in regard to this man—and I suppose I must admit she is till I know him better—he has made it necessary for our own self-respect to treat him with courtesy. Our pride will not permit us to accept this from him and make no return. It may be Yankee cunning which led him to foresee this, for I suppose it is pleasing to many of the tribe to gain their ends by finesse. Probably if this doesn't secure them, he will try harsher methods. Anyway, as long as he plays at the game of courtesy, we, as sister says, should teach him that we know what the word means. The mischief is that you never can know just what a Yankee is scheming for or aiming at."

"Well, brother, supposing your words are true, as I do not think they are in this instance, it is due to our dignity that we act like sincere people who are above even suspecting unworthy motives. We do not compromise ourselves in the matter. We only meet courtesy with courtesy, like well-bred people."

"Well, so be it then. In fact, I would like to ask this man what he and those he represents can hope to gain by invasion equalled only by that of the Goths and Vandals."