Idyl's dreams of propitiating her were all of abstractions—self-sacrifice, patience, gratitude.
And she was as unconscious as was her material benefactress that she was an idealist, and why the combination resulted in inharmony.
This evening, as she stood alone upon the levee, listening to the cannon, a sudden sense of utter desolation and loneliness came to her. She only of all the plantation was unloved—forgotten—in this hour of danger.
A desperate longing seized her as she turned and looked back upon the nest of cabins. If she could only save the plantation! For love, no sacrifice could be too great.
With the thought came an inspiration. There was reason in the women's fears. Should the Riffraffs fire upon the fleet, surely guns would answer, else what was war?
She glanced at her full pail, and then at the row of cannon beside her.
If she could pour water into them! It was too light yet, but to-night—
How great and daring a deed to come to tempt the mind of a timid, delicate child who had never dared anything—even Mrs. Magwire's displeasure!
All during the evening, while Mother Magwire rocked the babies, moaning and weeping, Idyl, wiping her dishes in the little kitchen, would step to the door and peer out at the levee where the guns were. Every distant cannon's roar seemed to challenge her to the deed.
When finally her work was done, she slipped noiselessly out and started towards the levee, pail in hand; but as she approached it she saw moving shadows.