Josephine turned to him a swift glance. "There is a lady in this house."
"Yes," broke out Carlisle, "and all of you remember it. Don't I know! Madam, what are you doing here?"
"Kind words from my former jailer? So!" She rewarded him none too much for his quick sympathy. Then, relenting; "But at least you were better than this new jailer. Are you, too, a prisoner? I can't understand all this."
"But you're hurt. Madam," began Carlisle. "How is that? Have you also been attacked by these ruffians? I did not dream Dunwody was actually so much a ruffian."
"Madam," said Dunwody slowly turning to her, "I can't exchange words now. There has been an encounter, as I said. There have been men killed, and some of us have been hurt. The northern abolitionists have made their first attack on southern soil. This gentleman is an army officer. I'm a United States marshal, and as a prisoner he's safe in talking. He has come here on his own moral initiative, in the interest of what you call freedom. You two should be friends once more. But would you mind helping me make these people comfortable as we can?"
"You are hurt, yourself, then!" she said, turning toward him, seeing him wince as he started up the step.
"No;" he said curtly, "it's nothing."
"That girl yonder—ah! she has been whipped! My God in Heaven. What is to be next, in this wilderness! Is there indeed here no law, no justice?"
The deep voice of the German, Kammerer, broke in. "Thank God in
Heaven, at least you are a woman!" he said, turning to her.
"A woman! Why thank God for that? Here, at least, a woman's sole privilege is insult and abuse."