The voices below grow louder, but she does not hear. She is folding the gown hurriedly into a little package. It was her great-grandmother's; her chief heirloom after the pearls. Silk and satin from Paris are left behind. With one glance at the bed in which she had slept since childhood, and at the picture over it which had been her mother's, she hurries downstairs. And Dorothy Manners's gown is under her arm. On the landing she stops to brush her eyes with her handkerchief. If only her father were here!
Ah, here is Ned back again. Has Mr. Brinsmade come?
What did he say? Ned simply pointed out a young man standing on the steps behind the negroes. Crimson stains were on Virginia's cheeks, and the package she carried under her arm was like lead. The young man, although he showed no signs of excitement, reddened too as he came forward and took off his hat. But the sight of him had acurious effect upon Virginia, of which she was at first unconscious. A sense of security came upon her as she looked at his face and listened to his voice.
“Mr. Brinsmade has gone to the hospital, Miss Carvel,” he said. “Mrs. Brinsmade asked me to come here with your man in the hope that I might persuade you to stay where you are.”
“Then the Germans are not moving on the city?” she said.
In spite of himself, Stephen smiled. It was that smile that angered her, that made her rebel against the advice he had to offer; that made her forget the insult he had risked at her hands by coming there. For she believed him utterly, without reservation. The moment he had spoken she was convinced that the panic was a silly scare which would be food for merriment in future years. And yet—was not that smile in derision of herself—of her friends who were running away? Was it not an assumption of Northern superiority, to be resented?
“It is only a malicious rumor, Miss Carvel,” he answered. “You have been told so upon good authority, I suppose,” she said dryly. And at the change in her tone she saw his face fall.
“I have not,” he replied honestly, “but I will submit it to your own judgment. Yesterday General Harney superseded Captain Lyon in command in St. Louis. Some citizens of prominence begged the General to send the troops away, to avoid further ill-feeling and perhaps—bloodshed.” (They both winced at the word.) “Colonel Blair represented to the General that the troops could not be sent away, as they had been enlisted to serve only in St. Louis; whereupon the General in his proclamation states that he has no control over these Home Guards. That sentence has been twisted by some rascal into a confession that the Home Guards are not to be controlled. I can assure you, Miss Carvel,” added Stephen, speaking with a force which made her start and thrill, “I can assure you from a personal knowledge of the German troops that they are not a riotous lot, and that they are under perfect control. If they were not, there are enough regulars in the city to repress them.”
He paused. And she was silent, forgetful of the hub-bub around her. It was then that her aunt called out to her, with distressing shrillness, from the carriage:— “Jinny, Jinny, how can you stand there talking to young men when our lives are in danger?”
She glanced hurriedly at Stephen, who said gently; “I do not wish to delay you, Miss Carvel, if you are bent upon going.”