Nan had a great longing to be with Mrs. Lumsden the moment she heard that Gabriel had been spirited away by the strong arm of the Government. She felt that she would be more comfortable there than at home.
"My dear, what put it into that wise little head of yours to come and comfort an old woman?" Mrs. Lumsden asked, when Meriwether Clopton and Miss Fanny Tomlin had taken their departure. She was still sitting close to Nan, caressing her hand.
"I thought you would be lonely with Gabriel gone, and I just made up my mind to come. I was afraid until I reached the door, and then I wasn't afraid any more. If you don't want me, I'll soon find it out."
"I can't tell you how glad I am, Nan, to have you here; and I can guess your feelings. No doubt you were shocked to hear that Francis Bethune had been taken with the rest." The dear old lady had the knack of clinging to her ideas.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Grandmother Lumsden. I care no more for Mr. Bethune than I do for the others—perhaps not so much."
"I don't know why it is," said Mrs. Lumsden, "but I have always looked forward to the day when you and Francis would be married."
"I've heard you talk that way before, and I've often wondered why you did it."
"Oh, well! perhaps it is one of my foolish dreams," said Mrs. Lumsden with a sigh.
"Your father's plantation and that of Francis's grandfather are side by side, and I have thought it would be romantic for the heirs to join hands and make the two places one."
"I can't see anything romantic in that, Grandmother Lumsden. It's like a sum in arithmetic."