Miss Lou was too well acquainted with, her cousin not to recognize evidences of almost ungovernable rage during the brief moment he had paused at the veranda. She looked significantly at his mother, whose face was pale and full of an apprehension now uncalled for, since the prospect of an immediate battle had passed away. "She is afraid of him herself, her own son, and yet she would marry me to him," the girl thought bitterly.

Miss Lou was mistaken. Her aunt had fears only FOR her son, knowing how prone he was to rash, headlong action when almost insane from passion. The girl, however, was elated and careless. She justly exulted in the act by which she had baffled the vengeance of Perkins, and she had ceased to have the anxieties of a bitter Southern partisan. Such she would have been but for her alienation from those identified with the cause. She was capable of the most devoted loyalty, but to whom should she give it? If a loving father or brother had been among the Confederates, there would have been no question. Now she was sorely perplexed in her feelings, for the South was represented by those bent upon doing her a wrong at which her very soul revolted, and the North by one who had satisfied her sense of right and justice, who, more than all, had warmed her heart by kindness. The very friendliness of the negroes inclined her to take their part almost involuntarily, so deep was the craving of her chilled nature for sympathy. If she had been brought up in loving dependence she would not have been so well equipped for the chaotic emergency. Having no hope of good counsel from natural advisers, she did not waste a moment in seeking it, or weakly hesitate for its lack. What her bright, active mind suggested as right and best, that she was ready to do instantly. Now that she had gained freedom she would keep it at all hazards.

When the Confederate officers approached the house, she was glad to observe that her cousin was not chief in command.

Mr. Baron went down upon the lawn to meet the officers, and, after a brief parley, Major Brockton, the senior in command, began to dispose of his men for a little rest and refreshment, promising to join the family soon in the dining-room. Miss Lou, unasked, now aided in the preparations for the morning meal. Fearing Aun' Suke would get herself in trouble, she ran to the kitchen and told the old cook to comply with all demands as best she could. She had scarcely spoken when Mrs. Baron entered. Casting a severe look on her niece, she asked Aun' Suke, "Will you obey me now? Will you tell me you are a free woman now?"

"My haid in a whirl aready, misus. Ef you wants me ter I kin cook, but
I kyant keep track ob de goin's on."

"I can," replied the indomitable old lady, "and I can keep a good memory of the behavior of all on the plantation!"

"You can't govern much longer by fear, aunt," said Miss Lou. "Had you not better try a little kindness?"

"What has been the result of all the years of kindness bestowed upon you?" was the indignant answer.

"I only meant that it might be well to bestow a little of what other people regard as kindness. I had asked Aun' Suke to do her best and am sure she will."

"It will be strange if she does, when you are setting the example of doing your worst. But I am mistress once more, and wish no interference."

"Doan you worry, honey, 'bout we uns," said Aun' Suke quietly. "We yeard de soun' fum far away, en we year it agin soon."

Meanwhile Mad Whately was closeted with his uncle and mother, listening with a black frown to all that had occurred.

"I tell you," exclaimed the young man, "it's as clear as the sun in the sky that she should be sent away at once—in fact, that you all should go."

"I won't go," said Mr. Baron, "neither will my wife. If the country has come to such a pass that we must die on our hearths we will die right here."

"Then with my whole authority, mother, I demand that you and my cousin go at once while opportunity still remains. The forces on both sides are concentrating here, and this house may soon be in the midst of a battle. Lou will be exposed to every chance of war. By Heaven! the girl to be my wife shall not trifle with me longer. Oh, mother! how could you let her walk and talk alone with that Yankee officer?"

"I tell you both you are taking the wrong course with Louise," began
Mrs. Whately.

"You never spoke a truer word, auntie," said Miss Lou, entering.

Stung to the quick, Whately sprang up and said sternly, "In this emergency I am the head of my family. I command you to be ready within an hour to go away with my mother. Perkins and a small guard will go with you to my cousin's house."

"Go away with that cowardly wretch, Perkins? Never!"

"You are to go away with your aunt and my mother, and you cannot help yourself. Your readiness to receive attentions from a miserable Yankee cub shows how little you are to be trusted. I tell you for the honor of our house you SHALL go away. I'd shoot you rather than have it occur again."

"You silly, spoiled, passionate boy!" exclaimed Miss Lou, rendered self-possessed by the very extravagance of her cousin's anger. "Do you suppose I will take either command or counsel from one who is beside himself? Come, Cousin Mad, cool off, or you'll have some more repenting at leisure to do."

She walked quietly out of the room to the veranda just as Major
Brockton was about to announce himself.

"Miss Baron, I presume," he said, doffing his hat.

"Yes, sir. Please sit down. I think we shall soon be summoned to breakfast. If the worst comes to the worst," she resolved, "I can appeal to this officer for protection."

"Mother," said Whately in a choking voice, "be ready to go the moment you have your breakfast."

His passion was so terrible that she made a feint of obeying, while he rushed out of the rear door. Perkins readily entered into the plan, and gave Whately further distorted information about Miss Lou's recent interview with Scoville. Mrs. Whately's horses were quickly harnessed to her carriage, and Perkins drove it near to the back entrance to the mansion.

As Whately entered, his mother put her hand on his arm, and warned,
"Madison, I fear you are all wrong—"

"Mother, I will be obeyed at once. The carriage is ready. My own men, who have been paroled, will act as escort. Lou shall go if taken by force."

"Madison, what can you hope from a wife won by such violence?"

"She will fear and obey me the rest of her life. I'd rather die ten thousand deaths than be balked after what she has said. Come, let's go through the form of breakfast and then I shall act."

They found Miss Lou with her uncle, aunt, and Major Brockton already at the table. The major at once resumed his condolences. "I am very sorry indeed," he said, "that you ladies are compelled to leave your home."

"Do you think it wisest and best that we should?" asked Mrs. Whately quickly, hoping that her niece would feel the force of the older officer's decision.

"Yes, madam, I do. I think that the sooner you all are south of our advance the better. It is possible that a battle may take place on this very ground, although I hope not. As soon as my men have had something to eat I shall follow the Yankees, a course I trust that will bring on the action elsewhere; but this region will probably become one of strife and turmoil for a time. It won't last long, however, and if the house is spared I think you can soon return."

Mrs. Baron poured the coffee and then excused herself. A few moments later Miss Lou, who was very observant, noted a significant glance from Zany. As the dusky waitress started ostensibly for the kitchen, the young girl immediately followed. Whately hesitated a moment or two, then left the breakfast room also. But Zany had had time to whisper:

"Oh, Miss Lou, Miss Whately's keridge's at de do', en Perkins en sogers wid it. Ole miss in yo' room en—"

"Quit that," said Whately in a low, stern voice, and Zany scuttled away.

"Now, then," resumed Whately to his cousin, "if you have any dignity or sense left, get ready at once. I can tell you that I'm far past being trifled with now."

"I'll finish my breakfast first, if you please," was the quiet response, so quiet that he was misled, and imagined her will breaking before his purpose.

They were scarcely seated at the table again before she startled them all by saying, "Major Brockton, I appeal to you, as a Southern gentleman and a Southern officer, for protection."

"Why, Miss Baron!" exclaimed the major, "you fairly take away my breath."

"Little wonder, sir. I have had mine taken away."

"Louise, you are insane!" cried Mr. Baron, starting up.

"Major, you can see for yourself that I am not insane, that I have perfect self-control. As you are a true man I plead with you not to let my cousin send me away. He can only do so by force, but I plead with you not to permit it. If I must I will tell you all, but I'd rather not. I am an orphan and so have sacred claims on every true man, and I appeal to you. I do not fear any battle that may be fought here, but I do fear being sent away, and with good reason."

"Oh, Louise!" cried Mrs. Whately, with scarlet face, "you place us in a horrible position."

"Not in so horrible a one as I have been placed, and which I will not risk again, God is my witness."

Major Brockton looked very grave, for he was acquainted with Whately's recklessness. The young man himself was simply speechless from rage, but Mr. Baron sprang up and said sternly, "You shall hear the whole truth, sir. It can be quickly told, and then you can judge whether I, as guardian, am capable of countenancing anything unwarranted by the highest sense of honor. This girl, my niece, has been virtually betrothed to her cousin since childhood. I and her aunts deemed it wisest and safest, in view of dangers threatening the direst evils, that she should be married at once and escorted by my sister and her son to the house of a relative residing further south. First and last, we were considering her interests, and above all, her safety. That's all."

"No, it is not all," cried Miss Lou, with a passionate pathos in her voice which touched the major's heart. "Would you, sir, force a girl, scarcely more than a child, to marry a man when you knew that she would rather die first? Safety! What would I care for safety after the worst had happened? I will not be married like a slave girl. I will not go away to Lieutenant Whately's relations unless I am taken by force."

"Great God, sir, that I should hear a Southern girl make such an appeal," said Major Brockton, his face dark with indignation. "We are justly proud of the respect we show to our women, and who more entitled to respect than this orphan girl, scarcely more than a child, as she says herself? Good Heaven! Whately, could you not have protected your cousin as you would your sister? You say, sir" (to Mr. Baron) "that she was betrothed from childhood. She didn't betroth herself in childhood, did she? Believe me, Miss Baron, no one has the power to force you into marriage, although your kindred should use all means, while you are so young, to prevent an unworthy alliance."

"I had no thought of marriage, sir, until terrified by my cousin's purpose and my family's urgency but a day since. I am willing to pay them all respect and deference if they will treat me as if I had some rights and feelings of my own. My only wish is a little of the freedom which I feel a girl should enjoy when as old as I am. I detest and fear the man whom my cousin has selected to take me away. I do not fear a battle. They all can tell you that I stood on the piazza when bullets were flying. I only ask and plead that I may stay in such a home as I have. My old mammy is here and—"

"Well," ejaculated the major, "have you no stronger tie than that of a slave mammy in your home?"

"I do not wish to be unjust, sir. I try to think my aunt and uncle mean well by me, but they can't seem to realize that I have any rights whatever. As for my cousin, he has always had what he wanted, and now he wants me."

"That is natural enough; but let him win you, if he can, like a Southern gentleman. Lieutenant Whately, I order you to your duty. Mr. Baron, if you wish to send your ladies away and go with them, I will furnish an escort. Any Southern home beyond the field of hostilities will be open to you. Acquaint me with your decision," and he bowed and strode away.

Even the most prejudiced and blind are compelled at times by an unhesitating and impartial opinion to see things somewhat in their true light. Long-cherished purposes and habits of thought in regard to Miss Lou, then panic, and strong emotions mixed with good and evil, had brought the girl's relatives into their present false relations to her. After the scene at the attempted wedding, Mrs. Whately would have returned to safe and proper ground, hoping still to win by kindness and coaxing. She had learned that Miss Lou was not that kind of girl, who more or less reluctantly could be urged into marriage and then make the best of it as a matter of course. This fact only made her the more eager for the union, because by means of it she hoped to secure a balance-wheel for her son. But the blind, obstinate persistence on the part of the Barons in their habitual attitude toward their niece, and now her son's action, had placed them all in a most humiliating light. Even Mr. Baron, who had always been so infallible in his autocratic ways and beliefs, knew not how to answer the elderly major. Whately himself, in a revulsion of feeling common to his nature, felt that his cousin had been right, and that a miserable space for repentance was before him, not so much for the wrong he had purposed, as for the woful unwisdom of his tactics and their ignominious failure. His training as a soldier led him to obey without a word.

Miss Lou was magnanimous in her victory. "Cousin Madison," she said earnestly, "why don't you end this wicked nonsense and act like a cousin? As such I have no ill-will toward you, but I think you and uncle must now see I'll stop at nothing that will keep me from becoming your wife. There's no use of trying to make me think I'm wrong in my feelings, for I now believe every true man would side with me. Be my cousin and friend and I will give you my hand here and now in goodwill."

But his anger was too strong to permit any such sensible action, and he rushed away without a word.

"Madison!" called his mother. "Oh, I'm just overwhelmed," and she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

"Well," said Mr. Baron in a sort of dreary apathy, "do you and Louise wish to go away under an escort furnished by the major?"

"No," cried Mrs. Whately, "I would accept my fate rather than favor at his hands. If I could only explain to him more fully—yet how can I? My son, with all his faults, is all I have to live for. I shall stay near him while I can, for he will be reckless to-day. My heart is just breaking with forebodings. Oh, why couldn't you, with your gray hairs, have shown a little wisdom in helping me restrain him?"

"I reckon the restraining should have been practiced long ago," replied her brother irritably.

"You have practiced nothing but restraint in the case of Louise, and what is the result?"

The girl looked at them wonderingly in their abject helplessness, and then said, "If you are taking it for granted that I am spoiled beyond remedy, I can't help it. I would have made no trouble if you had not set about making me trouble without end. As soon as I can I'll go away and take care of myself."

"Of course, Louise," said Mrs. Whately, "we're all wrong, you as well as the rest of us. We must try to get this snarl untangled and begin right. The idea of your going away!"

"I supposed that was the only idea," said Mrs. Baron, entering. "I, at least, have tried to remedy our niece's perverseness by getting her things ready."

Mrs. Whately wrung her hands in something like despair, while Miss Lou burst into a peal of half-nervous laughter at the expression on her uncle's face. "Well," she said, "there'll be no more trouble as far as I am concerned unless it's of your own making. If I am protected in my home, I shall stay; if not, I shall leave it. One learns fast in such ordeals as I have passed through. Aunt Sarah, your son threatened to shoot me for doing what you permitted. Suppose I had told Major Brockton that? I made allowances for Madison's passion, but unless he learns to control himself he will have to vent his passion on some one else."

"She has just lost her senses," gasped Mrs. Baron.

"No, we have acted as if we had lost ours," said Mrs. Whately rising with dignity. "I can't reason with either of you any more, for you have made up your minds that a spade is not a spade. I shall tell my niece that hereafter I shall treat her kindly and rationally, and then go home," and she left husband and wife confronting each other.

"What are you going to do?" asked the wife.

"Do!" exploded the husband in desperation, "why, hump myself and restore everything in a twinkling as it was five years ago. What else can I do?"

Even Mrs. Baron was speechless at this admission that events had now passed far beyond his control.