“I don’t believe it,” said she stubbornly.
Herbert came to meet her and to take the horse. He glanced back over his shoulder into the woods. All day poor Herbert had been looking over his shoulder.
“Well, Elizabeth?” he asked nervously. “What did you find out?”
“We will talk after we have had supper,” said Elizabeth cheerfully. “You remember mother used to say that ‘empty stomachs make cowards.’”
“All right,” agreed Herbert.
Sometimes through the meal he looked at Elizabeth uneasily, but most of the time he seemed to be occupied with a trouble of his own. He had had that day a peculiar kind of anonymous communication meant for him and he was meditating upon it.
When the supper dishes were put away, the two sat down on the doorstep. The lovely weather continued, the rising moon shone once more over the beautiful plain, the whip-poor-wills called mysteriously.
“This is the home of my soul, the earthly home at least,” said Elizabeth to herself. Then she laid her hand on Herbert’s knee. “My dear, things are a little worse than I imagined. I visited the old gentleman and he tells me that our grandfather was supposed to have helped the Confederates when they came into this county; he advised them, and is said also to have guided them. This was common report about here for many years. He disappeared with them and never returned. I suppose this must have been pretty well forgotten in all this time, especially as all the family had gone away, but a little while ago a book was published, ‘The Recollections and Letters of General Adams.’ This Confederate general said that John Baring had given them information about roads. That is why they hate us!”
“It isn’t our fault!”
“No.”