What could his sister say?  She had herself put off the wedding a month:  she wanted to get her ample store of butter, eggs and poultry to the trader at Jimtown, or, better still, to the brigade head-quarters at Bean’s Station.  With her own earnings she could then buy such simple muslins for her wedding-dress as became her and would not shame her lover.  She wished she had married him, as he had urged, in her old calico gown.  If he had asked her now, if he had pressed a little, she would have yielded; but he did not.  He seemed to accept the proprieties and woman’s will as unalterable.  In fact, he did follow Mrs. G——­’s motions with only too lively an admiration.  Perhaps he did not know himself what his feelings were—­what this new fever in his pulses meant.  Besides the calm, holy connubial love there is a wild animal passion that tears through moral creeds and laws.  Once, Lassie saw her brother give him a half-angry stare, that passed into a laugh of cool scorn.  “Take care of Mrs. G——­,” he said to King Cophetua.  “You will get bit there if you don’t look out.”

How the sister would have pressed that warning had she dared!  Innocent as her lover might be, she believed that Mrs. G——­ saw the growing passion and encouraged it.  But there was nothing to take hold of.  There was nothing bold, forward or inviting in her manner.  If a lady has long lashes, must she never droop them lest she be charged with coquetry?  May not a flush spring as naturally from shy reserve as from immodesty?

Lassie’s lover did take charge of this dangerous siren to escort her to the head-quarters at Louisville.  But just before starting he came to Lassie with a certain eagerness, as one who is going into battle might, and assured her, again and again, of his faith.  Did he do this to assure her or himself?  I think the last.

How weary the month was!  She occupied herself as well as she could with her sales and purchases, making a very good trade.  The brigade had been at Bean’s Station long enough to eat up all the delicacies to be found there, so that the little maid, who was a sharp marketer, got fabulous prices.  She made up her simple wedding furniture, gave her mother a new gown and underwear, and pleased her old father with a handsome jean suit, the labor of her own nimble fingers.  All that belonged to her would appear well on that day, as became them and her.

At any other time she would have followed up that thrifty market at Bean’s Station.  She would have huckstered around the neighborhood, and made a little income while it lasted; but now she had no heart for it.  Her lover’s leave was out, yet his regimental associates knew nothing about him.

A week after the day set for her marriage her brother came again with the flag of truce.  He too was vexed—­not so much at Cophetua’s absence as at not meeting the widow, whom he had been sent to escort to the Confederate lines.  But he treated his sister’s jealous suspicions with a dash of scorn:  “There was nothing of that kind, but if Cophetua would fool with a loaded gun, he must expect to be hurt.  If ever there was a hair-trigger, it was Mrs. G——.”