"Are you lonesome?"
"I do not know if I am.... I do not know why I tremble so.... The world is so dark and vast.... I am so small a thing to be alone in it.... It is the war, perhaps, that awes me. It seems so near now. Alas for the battles to be fought!—the battles in the North.... Where you shall be, John Drogue."
"You said that once before."
"Yes. I saw you there against a cannon's rising cloud.... And a white shape near you."
"You said it was Death," I reminded her.
"Death or a bride.... I did not wish to see that vision. I never desire to see such things."
"Pooh! Do you really believe in dreams, Penelope?"
"There were strange uniforms there," she murmured, "—not red-coats."
"Oh; green-coats!"
"No. I never saw the like. I never saw such soldiery in England or in France or in America."