Alibamo gazed at Hayward a moment, but it was met with a look of indifference.
"Yes, you are in danger. You belong to the so-called Southern confederacy, and you, with it, are in danger of destruction. Why not come back to the Union—the glorious old confederacy. Why not come back and fight for the cause your fathers died to win. Why not fight under the glorious stars and stripes. See I wear them as an apron, even here in this rebel camp. And I tore up a confederate flag to make this. The glorious stars and stripes—oh! how I love them. Our fathers gave them to us pure and spotless, their stars glittering brightly, and their stripes waving free. If they must be stained, it will be by the blood of our fathers' sons who are fighting to replace them on every spot where they have waved, but by traitorous hands been stricken down. And they will be placed there. They will yet wave over your home and mine!"
"Lady, you will pardon me, but I cannot longer listen to you. If I do not act as I think is right, it will be something new for Harry Hinton."
Alibamo started. She trembled violently, but recovering her self-possession, she said:
"Mr. Harry Hinton, I could not accuse you of dishonor. Forgive me if I have wounded your feelings by being rude. And to show you my esteem for you—that is so far as I can feel esteem for my country's enemy—you may kiss my cheek at parting!"
The gallant captain stepped forward, and taking the lady by the hand, the kiss echoed throughout the tent. But a very close observer would have noticed that Hayward kissed the lady on, or very near, the ear!
"Adieu! I trust to see you again!" said Alibamo, as Hayward left the tent.
"You are fortunate," remarked the orderly, as he proceeded toward the tent of Price.
"In what particular?" asked Hayward.
"In winning that lady's heart."