The Colonel made no secret of his uneasiness. With his hat on his head, and his hands in his pockets, he paced up and down the room. He let his cigar go out,—a more serious sign still. Finally he stood with his face to the black window, against which the big drops were beating in a fury.
Virginia sat expressionless at the head of the table, still in that gown of white and crimson, which she had worn in honor of the defenders of the state. Expressionless, save for a glance of solicitation at her father's back. If resolve were feminine, Virginia might have sat for that portrait. There was a light in her dark blue eyes. Underneath there were traces of the day's fatigue. When she spoke, there was little life in her voice.
“Aren't you going to the Planters' House, Pa The Colonel turned, and tried to smile.
“I reckon not to-night, Jinny. Why?”
“To find out what they are going to do with Clarence,” she said indignantly.
“I reckon they don't know at the Planters' House,” he said.
“Then—” began Virginia, and stopped.
“Then what?” he asked, stroking her hair.
“Then why not go to the Barracks? Order the carriage, and I will go with you.”
His smile faded. He stood looking down at her fixedly, as was sometimes his habit. Grave tenderness was in his tone.