"But what does it mean?" said one and another, and still another.
"I don't know," said she, "but I am going to see. The officer is a true gentleman, I am satisfied, and no harm will befall me in his hands. Besides, he will not only give me a safe conduct, but will regard the feelings of a lady, and make it sub rosa. And now let me say, dear ones, that whatever developments may occur, you shall be duly informed, and I don't feel that we need fear serious harm."
Then she retired to make her toilet, and a few minutes before train time she was on the platform in a modest but bewitching attire. The officer gave one glance, that was all—a stranger would have given two or three—and, turning away, felt a soft sensation in his left side. He tried to appear like a stranger, with no interest in the lady, who now stood looking up the road for the train. She had divined and appreciated the public reserve of her military escort displayed at that delicate moment.
Soon the whistle blew, and the train was in sight. Just then the officer passed her and said, "Select a seat in the rear car, and I will come to you." The train moved up, bringing that car at her side. She entered by the front platform, he by the rear. They met at the center, and found one seat fully vacant only. He motioned her in, and she did not object to the stranger's occupying the seat with her. Train is off, and the noise of rumbling wheels soon drowns conversation to all but the mutual talkers themselves. What, with the hope that nothing serious is to befall her at headquarters—as her conscience tells of no crime against military or civil order—and the new found pleasure of company so congenial, she almost forgets the relation of officer and prisoner. The trip of fifty miles seems less than an hour, as the train enters the city of destination.
The officer and his fair prisoner are seated in an omnibus, and driven to—not headquarters, nor the common jail, nor guard-house, but to the —— House, the best in the city, and there Mrs. E. is imprisoned in a nicely furnished room for the night. The officer retires after ordering all her wants supplied, even to a special waiting-maid, saying as he goes: "Mrs. E., I will call in the morning with further orders. I hope you will rest well, and not have unpleasant dreams."
That night no bayonet paced the hall by her room to prevent the prisoner's escape. No, her honor, better felt than told, stood sentinel at her door! The next morning a gentle rap announced the officer's presence, and on opening the door he gave her a pleasant smile, with a cordial "good-morning." She looked a little pale, as if she might not have rested well the entire night, which induced him to ask: "Are you quite well this morning, Mrs. E.? You are looking a little pale." On assuring him that she was, he notified her that he was now ready, if she were agreed, to escort her to the presence of his dignity, General M., at his private quarters.
"Certainly, Sir, I am ready and anxious, as well as curious, to know the meaning of this strange proceeding. Is it far, Sir?"
"No, it is not very far, Madam, but no matter about the distance, as there is a carriage at the door waiting to convey us thither."
"O, there is; but this treatment seems too kind and generous toward your prisoner. I could have walked as well, Sir," said Mrs. E., while a tear came into her eye, which, turning her head aside, she tried to hide from his view, but which he saw, and treasured in the heart of his recollection.