After a short interval, the proprietress of the mansion entered the parlor. She was a lady of a kind and gentle aspect, apparently advanced beyond the middle period of life; and her features, somewhat emaciated, gave a sign of feeble health. She was attired in dishabille, hastily thrown on; and there was some expression of alarm in the unreserved and familiar manner with which she approached Mildred, and inquired into the nature of this early journey.
"I hope no unhappy accident, my dear, has driven you at this unusual hour to my poor house? You are heartily welcome. I fear to ask what has brought you."
"My brother and myself, madam," said Mildred, "have had a most adventurous night. This letter will explain. General Marion was so kind as to commit us to your hospitality."
The lady took the letter and read it.
"Miss Lindsay, my child, I am truly happy to serve you. You have had an awful night, but these times make us acquainted with strange afflictions. This young gentleman, your brother, is he your only attendant?"
Mildred began to communicate the details of her journey, when she was interrupted by her hostess.
"I will not trouble you with questions, now, my dear. You must have sleep; I dread lest your health may suffer by this harsh exposure. After you have had rest, we will talk more, and become better acquainted. Judith," continued the matron, addressing a servant maid, who had just entered the room, "attend this lady to a chamber. Mr. Henry Lindsay, I believe—so General Marion calls you—my son Alfred shall take you in charge."
With these words the good lady left the room, and in an instant after returned with the youth who had first appeared at the door. Upon being introduced by his mother to the guests, he lost no time in obeying her orders in regard to Henry, whom he had conducted out of the room at the same moment that Mildred followed the servant towards a chamber.
The entire day was spent by our party in recruiting their strength, towards which needful care the hospitable hostess contributed by the tenderest attentions. On the following morning Mildred, although refreshed by the slumbers of the long interval, still exhibited the traces of her recent fatigue; and upon the earnest recommendation of Mrs. Markham, seconded by the almost oracular authority of Horse Shoe,—for the sergeant had greatly won upon the respect of his companions by his prudence and discretion—she determined to remain another day in her present resting-place.
Mrs. Markham was the widow of a Carolina gentleman, who had borne the rank of a colonel in the Whig militia, and had been actively employed, in the earlier stages of the war, in the southern provinces. He had fallen in an unfortunate skirmish with some of Prevost's light troops, on the Savannah river, some sixteen months before; and his widow, with three daughters and no other male protector than an only son, was now, in this season of extreme peril, residing upon a large estate, which the evil fortune of the times had made the theatre of an eventful and active desultory war. She had been exposed to the most cruel exactions from the Tories, to whom her possessions were generally yielded up with a passive and helpless submission; and the firmness with which, in all her difficulties, she had adhered to the cause for which her husband fell, had gained for her the generous sympathy of the whig leaders, and more than once stimulated them to enterprises, in her behalf, that were followed by severe chastisement upon her enemies. These circumstances had given extensive notoriety to her name, and drawn largely upon her the observation of both friend and foe. To Marion, who hovered upon this border more like a goblin than a champion whose footsteps might be tracked, her protection had become a subject of peculiar interest; and the indefatigable soldier frequently started up in her neighborhood when danger was at hand, with a mysterious form of opposition that equally defied the calculations of Whigs and Tories.