“I don’t like him,” I said viciously.
“Disguise that fact a little better if you can. I don’t think any of the gentlemen whom you meet here are malicious, or that they will go out of their way to harm you, but it is good policy to temper your cold civility toward them with a little more warmth.”
“You are very good,” I said humbly, “and I really mean to act according to your advice.”
He smiled. “You are not good at playing the hypocrite, are you?”
“I must improve. But I really must tell you—I don’t need to be a hypocrite with you, you know—I believe Major Brooks is malicious.”
He laughed outright. “Be careful not to offend him, then. Ah, I am afraid my first lesson in diplomacy will only have skin-deep results.”
The next morning I did not forget Dan’s picture. I brought it down with me, and slipped it into Captain Hosmer’s hand as I passed behind him to my seat at the breakfast table. I was very much pleased later when he told me what a fine fellow he thought Dan must be, and that he thought the picture very handsome. Then I talked about Dan again until he was bored—when I shut up. After this I saw a great deal of Captain Hosmer. He was always so thoroughly well-bred that his attentions were very agreeable to me in spite of his uniform, and I formed a warm personal friendship and attachment for him. We were also seeing a good deal of Captain Locke.
I thought him very reckless in visiting us as he did, and I told him so frankly. He had doffed his disguise, wig and all, and appeared now every day, and sometimes oftener, at Mrs. Harris’s in his own proper person, dressed in citizen’s clothes. He came openly to the parlor in the daytime immediately after breakfast or lunch; and he was always there after dinner when the parlors were thronged. Several times he had joined the dance, selecting, by the way, Mrs. Bonds for a partner more than once. In fact, he singled this lady out for a number of pleasant courtesies. I could not keep him out of the way of the Yankee officers, and Major Brooks was always starting up at us somewhere like a Banquo’s ghost. His eyes got sharper and sharper until I thought they would cut me in two. In halls and by-ways I was always coming upon him and always getting out of his way, and I was always surprising a cynical little grin on his face. One day I encountered him on the first landing of the stairway, squarely face to face. He addressed me, wishing me good morning gruffly, and standing in such a position that I could not pass him without rudeness unless he moved to one side. He did not move, and I was at bay.
“I know who you are, Miss Duncan,” he said mischievously. “You are a good rebel now, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am a good rebel, as you call it. I’m a Virginian—and a rebel like Washington was, and like Lee is.”