“Faith, I promise with all my heart,” he answered. “I hadn’t any intention of even telling you.”
“How long will you be here?” she asked a moment later.
“Till I get orders to move,” he replied. “A day or so at most. In the meantime I shall be out, looking for horses and getting together any men that I can find.”
Dorothea noticed that April’s eyes were sparkling as they had not sparkled for a long time when she came into the room after her stroll upon the lawn with Val Tracy. And this brought another thought to plague the girl. Could it be that April was fond of Val? That, in spite of all she had heard, it was this young Irishman her cousin really cared for and not Lee Hendon?
“I can easily understand how she might,” she said to herself.
Nor was Dorothea the only one in the room to notice the difference in April’s spirits and to find a possible cause for it. Miss Imogene, her bright eyes taking in all that went on about her, watched the girl for a moment and then shook her head.
“It would be too bad,” she thought enigmatically.
It was Dorothea April had in mind when she warned Tracy that there might be one in the family who would betray his secret. Her conviction of the rightfulness of the Confederate cause made it impossible, at times, for her not to be swayed by her prejudices. Almost from the day of Dorothea’s arrival she had harbored a suspicion of her cousin’s purpose in visiting them. From the moment she earned that a band of Northern sympathizers were actually at work in the South she could not forget that Dorothea wore a red band of velvet around her wrist. She was never without it, and once having seized upon the idea, April was constantly on the lookout for some other evidence that would connect her cousin directly with the “Red Strings.”
There was nothing in the girl’s actions to confirm these suspicions save the wearing of that red band about her wrist. The fact that a prisoner escaped from Andersonville had passed their way was no matter for surprise. Such escapes were frequent, and no particular importance could be attached to that event. In addition she had a genuine liking for Dorothea. In the year that had passed since her cousin had come to visit them there were times when she had entirely forgotten the doubt that haunted her. It was so vague and so improbable that she was rather ashamed of her lack of trust and had been careful to tell no one of it. She appreciated that Dorothea had not the same intense love for the Confederate cause that she had, but she was also too sensible a person to expect it. Indeed she wanted to be fair, but her suspicion persisted and the most careless act which held a shadow of suggestion that could strengthen this belief her mind fastened on tenaciously. And, as the fortunes of the Confederacy became more and more desperate, April, with nerves at tension, was ready to distort any innocent action into some evidence of treachery.
Early in the year something had happened to again fasten her suspicions upon Dorothea. She did not remember long what this had been, but every day she had watched for confirmation of her growing conviction. She was no longer able to conceal what she felt and so took the precaution to avoid being alone with her cousin lest she betray her feelings. So certain had she become that she was right that she determined to have absolute proof before she made any accusations either to the girl herself or to her mother. And so, day by day, she kept her own council; but there was scarcely a time in her waking hours that she was not entirely aware of where Dorothea was and what she did.