“I have the pleasure of knowing your husband, madam,” he said, with old-fashioned grace, to Angela. “I was once his instructor at the Military Academy. His command is, I judge, about forty miles from here and I can readily communicate with him by military telegraph. If Captain Isabey will allow me to take charge of you, I can have you conveyed, under proper escort, to Captain Tremaine—or is it Major Tremaine? Promotion is rapid in these days.”
“He is still Captain Tremaine,” replied Angela, a slight blush coming into her face. There had been no promotion for Neville, and Angela well knew why.
Nothing remained for Isabey to do. He had been directed to place Mrs. Neville Tremaine in safe hands and he felt that he had done so when he put her in charge of the chivalrous old general. Then came the formal farewell, which each wished to make brief—their real farewell had been said the dawn before under the whispering pines.
Angela put her hand in Isabey’s and, with a smile both of the lips and eyes, said: “I thank you more than I can say, and I also thank you in Nev—in Captain Tremaine’s name. He will express his gratitude to you himself and far better than I can.”
“It is nothing,” responded Isabey, calmly and gracefully. “I shall always be happy to do a service to any of the Tremaine family, and particularly to Captain Tremaine, whom I consider only a little farther off as a friend than Richard Tremaine. When I recall all your kindness to me at the time that I was wounded, I feel that I can never do enough to show my appreciation of it. Pray remember me to Neville Tremaine. Adieu—or good-by, as you say.”
“Good-by,” replied Angela, gently pressing his hand. And in another moment he was gone.
Then the general, with antique courtesy, himself showed Angela into a compartment of the headquarters tent which he desired her to consider her own until she should depart to join her husband. It held a small iron bed and some boxes which did duty for a toilet table and washstand. The general apologized to Angela for the plainness of her surroundings, but reminded her that she was a soldier’s wife and must not mind trifles.
Then, the general leaving her, an orderly brought in Angela’s portmanteau and she exchanged her riding habit for a conventional costume, and combed and plaited her long, fair hair. In half an hour the orderly, who was deputed to be Angela’s lady’s maid, informed her that the general sent his compliments and begged the honor and pleasure of her company at breakfast with him alone. Angela went into the outer tent, where she found a small table laid for two and the gallant old general waiting to receive her.
“Everything is arranged, my dear madam,” he said, as they seated themselves. “I have secured a conveyance for you, not very stylish, perhaps, but it will do—a small carriage and a pair of army mules, with a soldier-driver. Your escort will be Lieutenant Farley, a nephew of mine. I think it fair to tell you what, of course, I could not mention before Captain Isabey, that your husband’s command is on the march, and there is fighting going on. But, nevertheless, there is a point at which you can intercept Captain Tremaine about thirty miles from here and can, at least, have a brief interview.”
“Thank you,” replied Angela. “As you say, I am a soldier’s wife and so must learn to bear a little hardship in order to see my husband, even for a short time. Then he will decide what I shall do.”