George Boyd's right hand had been maimed in a peculiar manner during the war, and this bloody mark upon the woman's night-dress was its exact imprint.
Already Mr. Travilla had procured his arrest, and had him imprisoned for trial, in the county jail.
Yet this was but a small part of the day's work: lumber had been ordered, and men engaged for the rebuilding of the school-house; merchandise also to replace the furniture and clothing destroyed; and arms for every man at the quarter capable of using them.
All this Elsie knew and approved, as did her father and brother. For Mrs. Carrington's sake they deeply regretted that Boyd was implicated in the outrage; but all agreed that justice must have its course.
The question had been mooted in both families whether any or all of them should leave the South until the restoration of law and order should render it a safe abiding place for honest, peaceable folk, but unanimously decided in the negative.
The gentlemen scorned to fly from the desperadoes and resign to their despotic rule their poor dependents and the land of their love; nay they would stay and defend both to the utmost of their power; and the wives upheld their husbands in their determination and refused to leave them to meet the peril alone.
Returning from the burial of Uncle Mose, Mr. Dinsmore and Horace spent an hour at Ion before riding back to the Oaks.
The three gentlemen were in the library earnestly discussing the state of affairs, when Elsie, coming down from seeing her little ones settled for the night, heard the sound of wheels in the avenue, and stepping to the door saw the Ashlands carriage just drawing up in front of it.
The vehicle had scarcely come to a standstill ere its door was thrown hastily open and the elder Mrs. Carrington alighted.
Elsie sprang to meet her with outstretched arms, and the exclamation, "My dear old friend!" though her heart beat quickly, her cheek crimsoned, and tears filled her eyes.