The old woman reluctantly obeyed the order and opened the door, and Vincent saw in the passage a young girl of some sixteen years old. He took off his hat.
"I am very sorry to disturb you," he said; "but I am an entire stranger here, and am most desirous of crossing the river, but can find no boat with which to do so."
"Why did you not cross by the bridge?" the girl asked. "How did you miss the straight road?"
"Frankly, because there were Northern troops there," Vincent said, "and
I wish to avoid them if possible."
"You are a Confederate?" the girl asked, when the old negress interrupted her:
"Hush! Miss Lucy, don't you talk about dem tings; der plenty of mischief done already. What hab you to do wid one side or do oder?"
The girl paid no attention to her words, but stood awaiting Vincent's answer. He did not hesitate. There was something in her face that told him that, friend or foe, she was not likely to betray a fugitive, and he answered:
"I am a Confederate officer, madam. I have made my escape from Elmira prison, and am trying to find my way back into our lines."
"Come in, sir," the girl said, holding out her hand. "We are Secessionists, heart and soul. My father and my brother are with our troops—that is, if they are both alive. I have little to offer you, for the Yankee bands have been here several times, have driven off our cattle, emptied our barns, and even robbed our hen-nests, and taken everything in the house they thought worth carrying away. But whatever there is, sir, you are heartily welcome to. I had a paper yesterday—it is not often I get one—and I saw there that three of our officers had escaped from Elmira. Are you one of them?"
"Yes, madam. I am Lieutenant Wingfield."