“A most excellent symptom, and I imagine your quest will not be wholly vain. To my eye that greatly resembles a slab of bacon hanging beside the chimney.”
“It indeed is,” she exclaimed, “and I feel as a shipwrecked seaman must on first beholding land.”
However my naturally energetic spirit revolted at inactivity, for the time being my faintness precluded any thought of doing other than obeying her orders, and I lay there silent, propped up against the logs, my eager eyes following her rapid, graceful movements with a constantly increasing interest. As she worked, the reflection of the red flames became mingled with the gray dawn, until the bare and cheerless interior grew more and more visible. Her search was far from unsuccessful, while her resourcefulness astonished me, old campaigner as I was; for it was scarcely more than full daylight before she had me at the table, and I was doing full justice to such coarse food as the larder furnished. A Confederate soldier in those days could not well afford to affect delicacy in matters of the cuisine, and indeed our long fast had left us both where any kind of food was most welcome.
The eating helped me greatly; but for some time so busy were we that neither of us spoke. On my own part I experienced a strange hesitancy in addressing her upon terms of equality. Ordinarily not easily embarrassed in feminine society, I felt in this instance a definite barrier between us, which prevented my feeling at ease. Now and then as we sat opposite each other, eating amid a silence most unpleasant, I would catch her eyes glancing across at me, but they were lowered instantly whenever I ventured to meet them. Finally I broke the stillness with a commonplace remark:
“I presume your people will be greatly worried by this time over your mysterious disappearance.”
A flush swept her throat and cheeks, but she did not lift her eyes from the plate. “Yes,” she answered slowly, “Frank is doubtless searching for me long before this.”
“Frank?” I asked, feeling glad of this opportunity to learn more of her relationships. “You forget, possibly, that your friends are strange to me. You refer to the gentleman who expected to meet you on the road?”
“To Major Brennan, yes.”
There was nothing about the tone of her reply that invited me to press the inquiry further. One thing, however, was reasonably certain,—the man she called “Frank” could not be her father. I longed to ask if he was a brother, but the restraint of her whole manner repelled the suggestion.
“Did I understand that you have nursed in the Federal hospitals at Baltimore?” I questioned, more to continue the conversation than from any deep interest.