“He asked me about our waterworks and I told him they were in good condition. He was pleased at that, and said that he would be obliged to burn the public buildings, but not to-night, as it was too windy.”
“And there is no danger?”
“I don’t know—I don’t know. The soldiers all say—that is, some of them have told me that they would burn Columbia; that it has been the common talk around the camp fires for a long time. Somehow, one of them said, they had taken the idea that Columbia accidentally fired would be a particularly pleasant sight to General Sherman. The Fifteenth Corps is in the city; but you are safe. Your guard will protect you, and I am glad, for Bessie’s sake.
“And there is one other good thing about it, Miss Brooks,” he continued. “General Hampton very sensibly ordered that no cotton be fired on the streets and so far there is not a flame in the city except the railway station a mile away from town.”
So Helen went quietly back to Bessie’s bedside and told her what the Major had said, and the girl was glad that her first-born could be born in peace. The afternoon wore slowly on, and the night began to cover the city.
Helen was sitting in the doorway and the four guards were near. Knowing the critical condition of her friend, she ventured again to remark as to the safety of the city.
“I wish I was as sure of getting home safe as this house is to-night,” said one of the soldiers, whose face Helen could not like.
Then, as they looked toward the northeastern part of the city, a blue rocket shot high into the air. A moment, and then a white one, followed by a red. Helen turned and looked at one of the guards, a gentlemanly fellow, whom she had heard the others call “Old Secesh.”
“My God!” he exclaimed, “they are going to do it!”
The other three men rose and went up stairs, taking lighted candles.