"No, he won't. He hasn't the pluck to shoot a squirrel; but you never could make him believe that it was an accident, and when he got ashore he would do all he could to inflame the secessionists against you. He seems to have something against you. I can't imagine what it is—"
"I can," replied Marcy, coloring to the roots of his hair. "He wants to marry our plantation."
"Whew!" whispered Gifford. "That is a piece of news, I confess, but it's safe, old boy. He'll not make it, of course. Then you have a most implacable foe in Lon Beardsley. He is one of your secret enemies, and that overseer of yours—what's his name, Hanson?—is another. They are sworn friends, I have heard, and if your mother has any money stowed away—Mind, I don't ask whether she has or not, because it is none of my business. But I understand that before you came home she made several trips about the country that could not have been made for nothing. If she has any money, take all the precautions you can think of to keep it from Hanson's knowledge. He's far more dangerous than Beardsley, because he's right there on the place. I'll ride up and see you to-morrow or next day, and then I will tell you more."
Just then the conversation was interrupted by the approach of a party of young fellows who wanted to shake hands with the soldier who had faced the Yankees in battle, and tell Marcy Gray that they were glad to hear he had joined the privateer, and that they had been mistaken in him, having supposed that he was for the Union and dead against secession. Having discharged this duty, and promised the young pilot that they would surely ride out and make him a visit before he sailed, they turned to Gifford and demanded a complete history of the battle in Charleston harbor.
"If it was a battle I hope I may never be in a worse one," replied the soldier, who was not as proud of that affair as were some of those who had no hand in it. "The South Carolina boys had everything their own way. There were few outsiders in it, except some who, like myself, were doing business in the city. Five thousand against fifty-one! Shucks!"
"But you heard the bullets whistle, and that's a thing to be proud of," said one.
"I didn't hear a single bullet, but I heard a shell or two, and saw the old flag come down. That was something I was sorry for."
Gifford could talk in this strain as much as he pleased because he had "been there"; but If Marcy Gray had ventured upon it, being under suspicion as he was, beyond a doubt he or his mother would have suffered for it. During the time he spent in waiting for the mail, he was never alone for a single minute. All his old friends seemed desirous of "making themselves square" with him, and not one left his side without first telling him that somehow the mistaken idea had got abroad that he was strong for the Union.
"And so I am," said Marcy to himself, as he mounted his horse and set out for home, glad to get away from the people who so misunderstood him. "I utterly despise this double life, but don't see any release from it just now. I should like to show myself true to my colors, but what can I do among a lot of ruffians who would burn the roof over my mother's head if I gave them the slightest excuse for it?"
When Marcy rode into his own yard he was surprised to see two strange carriages under the shed (a sight that had been common enough once upon a time, but which he had not seen before since his return from Barrington), and when he entered the room where his mother was sitting, he found that those carriages had brought to the house a party of ladies who had kept aloof from Mrs. Gray ever since she failed to celebrate South Carolina's secession by displaying a "nullification" badge. These ladies were as friendly and sociable as they had ever been, and a stranger would not for a moment have suspected that they had thought it advisable to drop Marcy's mother from their list of acquaintances. They fairly "gushed" over the boy when they told him how delighted they were to learn that he had enlisted under the banner of the Confederacy.