Mrs. Shackelford turned as white as death, tottered, and would have fallen if Fred had not caught her.
"Is—is—Charles killed?" she gasped.
"Calm yourself, Aunt Jennie; both Uncle Charles and George are well."
"Why—why did you come then? What has happened?"
"They are prisoners."
"Prisoners!" wailed Mrs. Shackelford, and tears came to the relief of her pent-up feelings. "Oh! they will die in some Northern prison, and I shall never see them again."
"Cheer up, Aunt Jennie. In all probability they will be exchanged in a few weeks or released on parole. Here is a letter from Uncle Charles. It will do you good to read it," and he handed her the letter her husband had written.
When she had read it, she became calmer, and said, "He wishes me to stay here."
"By all means, Aunt Jennie," replied Fred. "Stop these preparations for flight; be discreet, and you will be as safe in Nashville with the Northern soldiers here as if they were a thousand miles away."
Just then Kate came in, her vivacity all gone, and her eyes red with weeping.