CHAPTER V.
VIRGINIA’S SUITOR.
In the best room of Treveling’s house sat the old General and a young man, known as Clement Murdock. He was a relative of Treveling, and was much esteemed by the old General.
General Treveling was a man of fifty. Years had whitened the hair of the old soldier and bent the once stalwart form.
Murdock was some thirty years old—a dark, sallow-faced man, with a piercing black eye and a haughty bearing.
The young man had just entered, and returning the General’s cordial greeting, had taken a seat by his side.
“What’s the news?” asked Treveling.
“Nothing particular, General,” replied the other.
“Nothing fresh from the red-skins? It’s about time for them to be on the war-path against us again.”
“They have not forgotten the thrashing they got last year, I suppose,” said the young man. “But I want to speak with you on a subject which I have thought a great deal of lately.”