She touched a call-bell, and, as old Janus appeared, "Take this tray upstairs to Captain Baynell," she said, as she transferred it, "be careful—don't tilt it so!" Then, as the old servant left the room, she resumed, addressing Judge Roscoe: "You can sentimentalize about your precious Captain Baynell, if you like, on the score of old friendship. I can appreciate the claims of old friendship, especially as he has been so ill, and possibly was better off here than at the hospital. But to go in generally for entertaining Yankee officers,—and all our near and dear out yonder in those cold wet trenches, half starved, and ragged, and wounded, and dying,—indeed, no! For my own part, I couldn't be induced to spread a board for another one, except at the point of the bayonet."
"Colonel Ashley don't wear no bayonet," interposed Adelaide, glibly.
"He's got him a sword," acceded Geraldine.
"A long sword, clickety-clank," suggested the first "lady."
"Clickety, clickety-clank," echoed the other, with brightening eyes.
"Don't eat with your fingers—nor the spoon; take the fork." Mrs. Gwynn's admonitory aside was hardly an interruption.
"That is a very narrow view, Leonora," the judge contended. "There can be no parity between the fervor of convictions on the issues of a great national question and merely human predilections as between individuals. Patriotism is not license for rancor. I have shown my devotion to the Southern cause. I have risked the lives of my dear, dear sons. I have expended much in its interests; I have endangered and lost my fortune. The future of all I hold dear is in jeopardy in many aspects. But I do not feel bound for that reason to hate individually every fellow-creature who has opposite convictions, to which he has a right, and takes up arms to sustain them."
"Well—I do! Being a woman, and having no reasoning capacities, there is no necessity for me to be logical on the subject. I feel what I feel, without qualification. And I know what I know without either legal proof or ocular demonstration. You are welcome to your intellect, Uncle Gerald! Much good may it do you! Intuition is enough for me. Meantime the Sèvres is safe on the shelves."
Beaten from the field as Judge Roscoe must needs be when his vaunted ratiocination was no available weapon, he held stanchly nevertheless to his own opinion, helpless though he was in the domestic administration. He adopted such measures as were practicable to comport with his own view. Flattered by Ashley's interest in Baynell and recognizant of the frequency of his visits, never dreaming that a glimpse of Mrs. Gwynn was their ultimate object, he took occasion to offer him such slight courtesies as opportunity presented.
One day when they were descending the stairs Judge Roscoe chanced to comment on the fine bouquet of a certain choice old wine. He still hoarded a few costly bottles of an ancient importation, and with a sudden thought he insisted on pausing in the library to take a glass and finish a discussion happily begun by the invalid's bedside. The room was vacant, as the colonel's keen glance swiftly assured him, and the judge's order for wine was inaugurated through the bell-cord, which jangling summons old Ephraim answered somewhat procrastinatingly. The expression of surprise in the old darkey's eyes, even admonitory dissuasion, as he hearkened to the demand, very definitely nettled the judge and secretly amused Ashley, who divined the old servitor's doubts as to gaining the permission of "de widder 'oman." The host was more relieved than he cared to acknowledge to himself when the factotum presently reappeared, bearing a tray, with the old-fashioned red-and-white Bohemian wine-glasses and decanter which contained the rare vintage, and he felt with a sigh that he was still supreme in his own house, despite the sway of Mrs. Gwynn. He recognized the more gratefully, however, her influence in the perfection of the service and the solemnly careful, preternaturally watchful step of old Ephraim, as he bore about the delicate glass with all the effect of treading on eggs,—finally depositing it on the table and withdrawing at his habitual plunging gait.