Val Tracy with his raillery kept Dorothea’s mind off the man upstairs for the time being, but when the music stopped her thoughts flew back to him with a sudden thump at her heart.
“He must have gone to Hal’s room by this time,” she said to herself, not knowing whether to be glad or more anxious on that account. A moment later she was claimed by another partner and for a while was so busy trying to remember the names of all the new people to whom she was introduced that she had little time for anything else.
April, more radiant and beautiful than ever, had an eye upon her cousin and saw to it that she did not lack partners.
“I hope you are having a good time, Dorothea,” she said, upon one occasion, with one of her most beaming smiles.
Dorothea thanked her and smiled back, with an open admiration that she could not have concealed if she had been so minded. April needed no imported finery to set off her charms and no one at the party had any doubt about who was the belle of it. But as she watched her dancing with the Confederate officers and heard her leading all the most patriotic songs of the South; when she saw her cousin’s eyes kindle with enthusiasm at the mention of the Cause for which a rebel army was fighting, it was impossible to believe April a member of this band of Red Strings of which she had become so intimately aware. The thought that it was Lee Hendon who was the mainspring of her actions grew to a conviction.
Time for such reflections came to Dorothea only now and then. She was never left to herself, but Val Tracy came for another dance which she was ready enough to give. She liked the young Irishman as did every one, apparently, and it occurred to her that he might help her solve some of the puzzling questions that had begun to throw a shadow of doubt upon her loyalty to the Southern cause.
“Tell me, Mr. Tracy,” she asked quietly, “do they always set bloodhounds on escaping prisoners down here?”
He looked at her a moment quizzically.
“You didn’t like it, eh?” he said finally. “Well, to tell you the truth, Miss Drummond, I’m not what you’d call keen about it meself. Faith, this catchin’ man with dogs—!” He shook his head vigorously.
“It’s very cruel,” Dorothea murmured, half to herself.