We return to Mildred Lindsay, who, comfortably sheltered under the roof of Mrs. Markham, had found herself, after the repose of forty-eight hours, almost entirely reinstated in her former strength; her thoughts were now consequently directed to the resumption of her journey. The gentle and assiduous attentions of the family whose hospitality she enjoyed, were, however, not confined to the mere restoration of her health. The peculiarity of her condition, thus thrown as she was amongst strangers, in the prosecution of an enterprise, which, though its purpose was not disclosed to her entertainer, was one manifestly of great peril, and such only as could have been induced by some urgent and imperious necessity, awakened in Mrs. Markham a lively interest towards Mildred's future progress. This interest was increased by the deportment of our heroine herself, whose mild and graceful courtesy, feminine delicacy, and gentleness of nurture, were so signally contrasted with the romantic hardihood of her present expedition. General Marion's letter, also, in the estimation of the hostess, put her under a special obligation to look after the welfare of her guest. Accordingly, now when the third morning of our travellers' sojourn had arrived, and Mildred thought of taking leave of the friendly family, the first announcement of this purpose was met by an almost positive prohibition.
"You are young, my dear," said the matron, "in your experience of the horrors of this civil war, and make a sad mistake if you think that your sex, or any sufficient reason you may have to justify you in going on, will protect you against insult, in case you should be so unfortunate as to meet parties of the enemy."
"My object, madam," replied Mildred, "is to go into the very heart of the enemy's ranks. My business is to see Lord Cornwallis himself. I shall, therefore, proceed directly to his head-quarters. That being my purpose, I shall not regret the opportunity to throw myself upon the protection of the first band of loyal troops I may meet."
"Into Lord Cornwallis's presence!" said Mrs. Markham, with an expression of wonder. "You have some very near friend who has suffered in the late battle—a prisoner, perhaps?" As this question escaped the lips of the lady, who had hitherto purposely forborne to inquire into the private history of Mildred's journey, she shook her head distrustfully, and, after some deliberation, added, "You will pardon me, my child, for what may seem to be an idle curiosity—I seek to know nothing that you may desire to keep secret—but your journey is so full of hazard to one so young and helpless as yourself, that I fear you have not wisely considered the evil chances to which you may be exposed."
"I have spent no thought upon the hazard, madam," replied Mildred. "There is no degree of danger that should outweigh my resolution. You guess truly—I have a friend who is a prisoner, and in sad jeopardy—and more than that, dear madam, I have persuaded myself that I have power to save him." A tear started in her eye as she added, "That is all I have thought of."
"Then may a kind and merciful Heaven shield you! They little know the heart-rending trials of war, who have not felt them as I have. These rude soldiers, Miss Lindsay—I shudder at the thought of your trusting your safety to them."
"My name, madam," replied Mildred, "I am ashamed to tell you, has all its associations on their side—I must trust to its power to bear me through."
"Not all, sister," interrupted Henry. "From the beginning up to this day, I can answer for myself, I have never had a thought that didn't take sides against the red-coats."
A faint smile played upon Mrs. Markham's features, as she turned to Henry and said, "You are a young rebel, and a warm one, I perceive. Such troubles as ours require grave advisers."