Every passenger had left the coach, and baby and I were alone. I was waiting and watching breathlessly for my claimant, when my hungry eyes caught sight of three gentlemen coming straight toward me. It was with but a languid interest that I regarded them, for I had preconceived convictions as to the appearance of the one who should assert proprietary rights over me, and none of these newcomers seemed at first glance adapted to respond to those convictions. The face of one seemed rather familiar, but I was not sure, so I drew my little baby closer to me and looked the other way. I felt them coming, and felt them stop by my side.
"What will you have of me?" I asked.
There were tears in the eyes of the gentleman whose face had seemed familiar, and the next minute baby and I were in his great strong arms, and his tender voice was reproachfully asking:
"Don't you know your husband, little one?"
I was looking for my Soldier as I had been used to seeing him—dressed in the dear old Confederate uniform, and with his hair long and curling. The beautiful hair had been trimmed, and while he was not subject to the limitations of Samson in the matter of personal strength, a critical observer might have detected variations in personal beauty. An English civilian suit of rough brown cloth had replaced the old Confederate gray.
The two gentlemen with him were Mr. Corse, a banker, a brother of one of my Soldier's brigadiers, and Mr. Symington, of Baltimore, a refugee. I noticed that these gentlemen called my Soldier "Mr. Edwards" and me "Mrs. Edwards," which made me feel somewhat strange and unnatural. I may have reflected that I was in a foreign country, and very far north of our old home, and perhaps even people's names were affected by political and climatic conditions.
I had expected my Soldier to take us to a quiet little room in some unpretentious boarding-house, but was too tired to express my surprise when we were driven in a handsome carriage to a palatial home, with beautiful grounds, fountain and flowers. A big English butler with side-whiskers opened the large carved doors, and a pretty girl in a cap took baby from my arms.
After that I remember only being tired—so tired—so very tired. When I had rested enough to think again, I was on a sofa dressed in a pretty, soft, silken robe, and I heard a kind voice saying:
"The lady is better; she will be all right. Let her sleep."