“Neither,” said the girl, “is it the question who he is. If it were, I’d answer it—I’d tell you that he is a soldier who has fought and been wounded in service, while you——”
Arrelsford made a violent effort to control himself under this bitter jibing and goading, and to his credit, succeeded in part.
“We are not so sure of that, Miss Varney,” he said more coolly.
“But I am sure,” answered the girl. “Why, he brought us letters from Stonewall Jackson himself.”
“Has it occurred to you that General Jackson was dead before his letters were presented?” asked Arrelsford quickly.
“What does that signify if he wrote them before he was killed?”
“Nothing certainly,” assented the other, “if he wrote them.”
“The signatures and the letters were verified.”
“They may have been written for some one else and this Thorne may have possessed himself of them by fraud, or——”
“Mr. Arrelsford,” cried the girl, more and more angry, “if you mean——”