"Enemy! Far from it. A friend. Have you not protected my life and liberty? Miss Baron, I give you my sacred word, I swear to you by my mother's memory to be as loyal to you as if you were my own sister. Young as I am, perhaps I can advise you and help you, for it is indeed clear that you need a friend."
"I cannot tell you what relief your words bring, for, inexperienced as
I am, something assures me that I can trust you."
"Indeed you can. I should spoil my own life more truly than yours if I were not true to my oath. Please remember this and have confidence. That is what you need most—confidence. Believe in yourself as well as in me. Have you not been brave and true to yourself in the most painful of ordeals? Try to keep your self-control and you will make no serious mistakes, and never so misjudge me as to imagine I shall not recognize your good intentions."
"Ah!" she sighed, with a rush of tears, "that's the trouble. I'm so hasty; I lose my temper."
He smiled very genially as he said, "If you were as amiable as some girls you would have been married before this. Don't you see in what good stead your high spirit has stood you? I do not censure righteous anger when you are wronged. You are one who could not help such anger, and, if controlled, it will only help you. All I ask is that you so control it as to take no false steps and keep well within your certain rights. You are in a peculiarly painful position. Your kindred truly mean well by you—see how fair I am—but if they could carry out their intentions and marry you to that spoiled boy, you would be one of the most unhappy of women. If he is capable of trying to force you to marry him he would always be imperious and unreasonable. You would be a hard one to manage, Miss Baron, by the words, You must, and You shall; but I think Please would go a good way if your reason and conscience were satisfied."
"Indeed, sir, you are right. If I loved my cousin I would marry him even though he were so badly wounded as to be helpless all his life. But my whole soul protests against the thought of marriage to any one. Why, sir, you can't know how like a child I've always been treated. I feel that I have a right to remain as I am, to see more of the world, to know more and enjoy more of life. I can scarcely remember when I was truly happy, so strictly have I been brought up. You would not believe it, but poor old Aun' Jinkey, my mammy, is almost the only one who has not always tried to make me do something whether I wish to or not. My aunt, Mrs. Whately, has meant to be kind, but even in my childish squabbles with my cousin, and in his exactions, she always took his part. I just want to be free—that's all."
"Well, Miss Baron, you are free now, and if you will simply assert your rights with quiet dignity you can remain free. Your kindred are mistaken in their attitude toward you, and you can make them see this in time. They are well-bred people and are not capable of using force or violence. They did, I suppose, believe terrible things of me and those I represent, and their action, perhaps, has been due partially to panic. That crisis is past; you have only to trust your own best instincts in order to meet future emergencies. Whatever comes, remember that your Northern friend said he had confidence that you would do what is brave and right. Perhaps we shall never meet again, for we are in the midst of a fierce, active campaign. There is much advice I would like to give you, but we shall not be left alone long, and the best thing now, after this long, hard day, is for you to get your mind quiet and hopeful. How quiet and peaceful everything is! not a harsh sound to be heard."
"Yes, and think what they tried to make me believe! They all should be treating you with kindness instead of—" but here she was interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. Whately.
In order to understand that lady's action and that of her relatives, we must go back to the moment when Miss Lou and Scoville left the supper-room. Mrs. Whately was the first to recover her self-possession and some true appreciation of their situation. Mr. Baron in his rage would have gone out and broken up the conference on the piazza, but his sister said almost sternly, "Sit down."
"Well," ejaculated Mrs. Baron, bitterly, "I hope you are both satisfied now with the results of courtesy to Yankees. I knew I was right in believing that we could have nothing whatever to do with them. I think it is monstrous that Louise is alone with one on the piazza, and her uncle should interfere at once."