The young officer rose, put on his cap, and departed. In a few moments he returned.
“Was she tall, sir, of a good figure, and very straight?”
“Yes.”
“She is a servant of our neighbors, the Manlys, who occasionally visits the servants here. A mulatto, I think.”
Brant reflected. Many of the mulattoes and negresses were of good figure, and the habit of carrying burdens on their heads gave them a singularly erect carriage.
The lieutenant looked at his chief.
“Have you any orders to give concerning her, General?”
“No,” said Brant, after a moment's pause, and turned away.
The officer smiled. It seemed a good story to tell at mess of this human weakness of his handsome, reserved, and ascetic-looking leader.
A few mornings afterwards Brant was interrupted over his reports by the almost abrupt entrance of the officer of the day. His face was flushed, and it was evident that only the presence of his superior restrained his excitement. He held a paper in his hand.