"My dear, do you think you can guard a man who has led a thousand soldiers to the field of battle?" said the old colonel, with another quiet laugh.
"He don't look dangerous, papa, and I can find him sufficient occupation; busy people, you know, are not apt to get into mischief."
"Do you comprehend, colonel?" said Colonel Mortimer. "She means to make you a galley slave as well as a prisoner."
"Even such servitude, under such a mistress, would be a pleasure," answered Abner.
The old Confederate, being part French, was polite, being part Spanish, was chivalrous, and, when he had taken it into his head to treat his prisoner well, seemed unable to do enough for him. So Abner remained in the colonel's mansion, hardly realizing that he was a prisoner, treated rather as a guest. Since he had been brought to the house of the commander at Bay's End, Abner had greatly improved in his personal appearance. By chance he had retained a suit of undress colonel's uniform, which had not been soiled by the dampness of prison. He had been close shaved, excepting his light-colored mustache, and he had his hair trimmed by Colonel Mortimer's own barber. Still when in the presence of the Confederate's beautiful daughter, he always lost his self possession; his conversational powers, and, in fact, his common sense, seemed suddenly to desert him. He could only listen in silence, or make disjointed, incoherent replies.
Olivia sympathized with the poor prisoner, who was so far from home and friends. She did every thing in her power to cheer him, she misunderstanding his feelings and attributing his silence and sadness to the hardships he had suffered during his imprisonment and his long absence from home. She sang and played for him, she read to him, she walked and talked with him, revealing all her past history, telling him of the years she had passed in one of the New England seminaries, of her mother's death in her early girlhood, and of many incidents in her bright pleasant life, to which the war as yet had brought no bitterness.
It was several weeks, after Colonel Mortimer had brought Abner to his home, that the shattered remnant of a Confederate regiment, passing through the village, paused to rest. There were not over three hundred men in the regiment fit for duty, and some of these were battle-scarred. Colonel Mortimer invited the commander of this brave little band to his house. He informed his prisoner and his daughter that a very brave and distinguished officer would dine with them that day—a young man, a brigadier-general—he could not recall the name, but they would meet him at dinner. Abner and his fair jailer were in the garden when the guest arrived, for, although it was in the month of February, the weather on this particular day was fine, and the garden was yet a pleasant resort.
They went together towards the house, and, passing the low, open window, saw the rebel general engaged in conversation with Colonel Mortimer—a young man, with fierce, black eyes, black hair and black moustache.
It was his brother. Abner turned suddenly pale. He detained Olivia for a moment, told her that he had been taken suddenly ill, begged her to make his excuses to her father, and left her at the door of the dining-room. The distinguished general dined, and, later on, left with the gallant remnant of his regiment. Olivia was too much rejoiced at the prisoner's rapid recovery to inquire into its cause.