She went home to her supper, and then, saying she would take a walk, started for the Widow Bromfeld's, about a mile away. When near the place she met an old colored uncle, and asked where she might find Master Reginald Bromfeld.
"Nowhar," answered the old man. "He done gone with young Mars' Sutcliff, Mars' Byrd, Mars' Spottswood, Mars' Norris, and Mars' Culpeper for Bosting town, an' only de good Lawd know whedder any ob em ebber come walkin' back alibe."
"When did they go?" panted Sally.
"Two hour ago, missy. For some reason 'bout gettin' guns, dey mus' stop on de way. But dey all gets to de big turnpike to-morr' noon. Den dey cuts fo' Bosting."
Sally turned back, and, walking briskly, was soon at home and in her room. While it was still early she went to bed.
But sleep was as far from the maiden's eyes as though such a thing had never been known. Her Fairy Prince had been trapped, gently it was true, yet trapped, and led off where he would be watched, and not be able to meet his friends until too late to join in the great battle they felt was near at hand.
"And he is at the farm of Darius Hinds, six hours from Pamunkey turnpike," she said, as if repeating a well-learned lesson.
When she laid herself down that night, Sally had felt almost sure that there was no help for her poor Prince. The times were dangerous. To tell what she knew might make strife right in their midst. She was afraid for others, but never for herself.
As the clock on the stairs struck eleven, she heaved a great sigh. "If I could only help him!" she cried, softly, to herself.
"I will help him!" she cried again, "I will."