“Have you reflected,” asked Colonel Tremaine after a moment, “that it is by tacit consent on both sides the Southern officers resign from the United States Army? They can be of no use there, but are reckoned an element of danger.”
“I know it well. I shall be a suspect among the very people for whom I have sacrificed everything on earth. In this coming war I shall never be trusted with anything or by anybody, I, a soldier bred. I would have escaped this fate if I could; I fought against it, but always there came back to me the conviction that my honor required I should stay in the United States Army.”
“Did you say,” asked Colonel Tremaine quietly, “that you had but two hours to remain in this house?”
“Just two hours,” answered Neville as quietly.
“Then,” replied Colonel Tremaine with a pale face set like steel, “after what you have just told us, two hours is much too long.” He turned and walked up the stairs slowly. He tottered a little, and Archie ran forward and taking his father’s arm helped him. When they reached the landing where stood an old settee, Colonel Tremaine’s strength failed him. He sank upon the settee, leaning heavily upon Archie, to whom he said: “Stay with me, boy.”
Mrs. Tremaine burst into a passion of weeping, and Richard took his mother in his arms to comfort her. He made no plea for Neville, knowing that neither father nor mother would listen to it, but his eyes with keen sympathy sought Neville’s and the two brothers understood each other. Neville would always have a friend in Richard.
Angela had looked on with a fast-beating heart at this family tragedy. Neville standing a little way off did not approach her, but involuntarily held out his arms. Love, pity, grief, and a burning sense of injustice smote Angela’s heart. She ran forward and taking Neville’s hand boldly, said to him: “I will stand by you, Neville; I don’t know why you should do this, but I know you feel it is right.”
“That is all I ask of anyone to believe,” answered Neville curtly. And then leading her through the open door of the corridor into the old study, he said to her: “If you truly love me, there is but one thing to do. We must be married immediately.”
If Neville had been the Neville of an hour ago, the darling son of his mother, the pride of his father, Angela would have shrunk from the idea of marriage, but now from every generous impulse of her nature, she was up in arms and doing battle for Neville. She would refuse him nothing. Then she said quietly:
“I suppose it would be best.”