Grace controlled herself with an effort. But the one scream had rung through the house, and lights and footsteps came hurrying along the corridors. "Oh, Cato, I'm so frightened!" she said. "You don't know what I have seen."
"You's been walkin' in yo' sleep, missy," said the old negro. "Come, here's Aunt Polly; jes go 'long wid her."
"It's nuffin, it's nuffin at all," he shouted to the group that had assembled at the head of the stairway, Aunt Clarissa and the guest, the young officer, among them. The latter had wound, toga fashion, about him a patchwork quilt, and carried his drawn sword in his hand, "Jes Miss Grace been walkin' in her sleep, and got little skeered, I reckin," said the old servant, with a throaty laugh.
"No, Cato, I was not walking in my sleep. I saw—"
"Now come, Miss Grace," interrupted Aunt Polly, "jes don' t'ink ob dat no more. Come off to bed, an' let yo' ol' mammy tuck yo' in."
Aunt Clarissa followed her niece into her bedroom, but would not let the old negress follow.
The young officer had disappeared as soon as he had seen there was no use for his eager steel.
"Grace," said Aunt Clarissa, "what was it?"
"It was William," said the girl; "I saw him plainly. He said, 'Good-by.' Oh, auntie, what does it mean? You remember the scar across his hand?"