“Britty, stop that! If people go to musing now, they go mad! It is a time to act, not think!” said Elfie, sharply.
“I know it—I know it—and I shall act!” exclaimed the beautiful amazon.
“Britty, there is one piece of forbearance for which I thank you,” said Elfie, by way of changing the subject.
“What is that?” inquired Miss Conyers.
“Well, although three years ago you warned Erminie and myself that if we should have anything to do with the ‘natural enemy’ we should inevitably come to grief, and although you see that through disregarding your warning we have come to grief, you magnanimously forbear to say—‘I told you so!’”
“I do not think that you have. I call the treason that divided your betrothed lovers from your side a very providential thing, so far as you are concerned. I can mourn over their sins, but not over your escape,” said the man-hater, firmly.
“Yet it hurt some, at the time,” said Elfie, raising her eyebrows; “though I wouldn’t admit that to anybody else but yourself, Britty, it did hurt, didn’t it, Minie?”
Erminie covered her face with her hands, and wept softly.
“It hurts still, you see,” whispered Elfie. “Oh, I hope—I do hope—the next shell that flies into Charleston will cut that fellow in two! As for my traitor, being a guerrilla, I trust that neither shell nor shot will cheat the gallows of its dues.” And Elfie indignantly dashed away the tears that dared to sparkle in her own eyes.
“I am a very weak woman. I must get up and go to the hospital. I should have gone an hour ago. Britomarte, will you come with me?” said Erminie, rising, and wiping her eyes.