“Oh, Alberta! Poor, poor Alberta!” sighed Elfie.
“What about her, my dear?” inquired Miss Rosenthal.
“Oh, Erminie, as I said before, I have so much to tell you! You have no idea where Britomarte is?”
“None in the world, unless she is living in obscurity somewhere in Baltimore and perhaps acting on the stage under an assumed name. Her letters give me no information of her manner of life, and they bear no address except the broad one—Baltimore.”
“She is not in Baltimore. She is, however, acting under an assumed name an important part, in the greatest drama and on the broadest stage the world has ever seen.”
“In the name of Heaven, Elfie, what do you mean?” demanded Erminie.
“I have no right to explain. I had no right even to say as much as I have said. But this I will impart—That it is to Britomarte’s tact, courage and heroism that I owe my deliverance from a fate far worse than death, and Colonel Rosenthal owes the most signal victory of his military career!—a victory that has rid the Valley of the Shenandoah from one of its greatest scourges, and that will certainly make the victor a brigadier-general,” said Elfie, in sympathetic pride.
“You astonish me more and more. You amaze me, Elfie! Was Britomarte a spy?” inquired Erminie, her large brown eyes dilating to double their size.
“I am not in Britomarte’s confidence. And if I were so, or even if I had discovered her secrets by chance, I, who owe my earthly salvation to her—I should be an ingrate and a traitor to betray her. So you see I cannot clearly explain my words. But I will relate my adventures among the guerrillas; and when you have heard them you may judge for yourself and guess what you like; so that you hold your tongue as discreetly, or rather, let us hope, more discreetly than I have held mine,” said Elfie, as she poured out for herself another cup of tea.
“Do so, then, my dear. I am very anxious to hear all you have to tell me,” urged Erminie.