"It is not—no—it is not Jack?" she asks.
"Jack it is, Rebecca. That reminds me, Jack sent a message to you!"
"A message to me?"
"Yes—you know he's married—he married last year when he was in the north."
"Married?" cries Rebecca, throwing up her hands and like to faint from surprise. "Married in the north? Why—who—who married him, Ramsay?"
"A woman, of course!"
"But—" Rebecca was blushing furiously, "but—I mean—was there a chaplain? Had you a preacher? And—and was not Mistress Hortense the only woman——?"
"No—child—there were thousands of women—native women——"
"Squaws!" exclaims the prim little Puritan maid, with a red spot burning on each cheek. "Do you mean that Jack Battle has married a squaw?" and she rose indignantly.
"No—I mean a woman! Now, Rebecca, will you sit down till I tell you all about it?"