‘There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium’s capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry.’
I do not think this incident is generally known, however.”
“No, I don’t think it is,” replied John; “for as Major Dade and his command were coming up from Key West and Tampa Bay, on the west side of the State, and had just reached the Withlacoochee River when they met their fate, they must have traveled several hundred miles that night, besides swimming the St. Johns twice, to attend the ball and return in time for the battle. However,” he added, seeing the discomfiture of the governess, “I have no doubt they would have been very glad to have attended it had it been possible, and we will let it go as one of those things that ‘might have been,’ as I said the other day to a young lady who, having been quite romantic over the ‘Bravo’s Lane,’ was disgusted to find that it had nothing at all to do with handsome operatic scoundrels in slouch hats and feathers, but was so called after a worthy family here named Bravo.”
The Professor now began to rehearse the Dade story; indeed, he gave us an abstract of the whole Florida war. Aunt Diana professed herself much interested, and leaned on the Captain’s arm all the time. Miss Sharp took notes.
“Come,” whispered Sara, “let us go back and sit on the sea-wall.”
“Why?” I said, for I rather liked watching the Captain’s impalement.
“Martha Miles,” demanded Sara, “do you think—do you really think that I am going either to stand or stand through another massacre?”
The next morning I was summoned to Aunt Di by a hasty three-cornered note, and found her in a darkened room, with a handkerchief bound around her head.
“A headache, Aunt Di?”
“Yes, Niece Martha, and worse—a heartache also,” replied a muffled voice.