"Blunt man,—and soldier, if you please," interrupted Barron, with intense gravity, seeing his chance to heal the rupture between himself and Mary.
"I may add, 'and soldier,' when I see some evidence to justify it," retorted my sister with a little energy. But Barron only laughed and we finally adjourned to the verandah in a more civil mood than when we sat down to breakfast.
The air is delightful on the river at this time of year of which I speak, and, as you probably well know, has a soothing effect on the nerves, for it is not at all cool, nor is it hot enough to excite the circulation.
We sat there in the delicious, fragrant breeze for some minutes before we were aware of the approach of Berkley Harrison, Phripps and Miss Rose Carter, a cousin of Harrison's.
Miss Carter had come over with her maid to nurse her cousin the moment she had heard that he was hurt, and as Harrison lived alone, except when some one like Phripps was with him, a woman would have been a good person to have had at hand, had he been injured badly, or had my mother and sister not spent most of their time attending to his wants.
I suppose I might as well say, before going further, that although I am only a poor Virginia gentleman who has nothing but his—well, estate and inheritance—I had some hope of raising myself to a position from which I might allow my gentler passions to have some sway.
You will understand what I mean when I tell you that for beauty of face and figure, coupled with a grace beyond description, Miss Carter was—well, I will not tire you with details that are so well known. And then, again, a woman's beauty depends entirely upon her attractiveness to a man, and some men will see beauty in one way and some in another; never all alike. Why, I have seen the niggers in the slave quarters let Harrison's house servant, Angeline,—a yellow girl of remarkable beauty,—pass by unnoticed and then, ten minutes later, be peeping and spying at the blackest moke wench that ever left the Guinea coast.
Harrison's greeting, this morning, was a trifle cool to Barron and myself, and his appearance was not improved by the sinister look of his shining black eyes. These were somewhat sunken in his pale cheeks and had dark crescents beneath them. His head was bandaged, but a skull cap covered all signs of his wound. To Will Byrd and my sister he was most gracious, and he even bent his wounded head to kiss the tips of my mother's thin fingers.
"You see," he said, after Miss Carter and Phripps had made their greeting, "I took the opportunity to come over to tell you that Lord Dunmore has sent word that he fears great trouble in the tide-water districts, and that all the gentlemen of the province were making ready to embark on his vessels and leave with their families until the insurrection is more in hand."
"And when will that be?" asked my mother in some alarm.