“Yes, thank you,” she answered brightly, as she stepped to the floor; then catching sight of her husband’s face, and seeing something unusual there, “What is it, Edward?” she asked, gliding swiftly to his side and laying her hand upon his arm, while the soft eyes met his with a loving, anxious look.

He could scarce refrain from touching the sweet lips with his own.

“My little friend, my brave, true wife,” he said, with a tender sadness in his tone, “I will conceal nothing from you; I have just learned through a detective, that the Ku Klux will make a raid upon Ion to-night, between twelve and two; and my errand to the Oaks is to consult with your father about the best means of defense—­unless your voice is for instant flight for ourselves, our children, and guests.”

Her cheek paled, but her eye did not quail, and her tones were calm and firm as she answered, “It is a question for you and papa to decide; I am ready for whatever you think best.”

“Bravo!” cried her cousin, who had listened in surprise to Mr. Travilla’s communication, “there’s no coward blood in my kinswoman’s veins.  She is worthy of her descent from the old Whigs of Scotland; eh, Travilla?”

“Worthy of anything and everything good and great,” returned her husband, with a proud, fond glance at the sweet face and graceful form by his side.

“Ah ha! um h’m! so I think.  And they are really about to attack you,—­those cowardly ruffians?  Well, sir, my voice is for war; I’d like to help you give them their deserts.”

“It would seem cowardly to run away and leave our wounded friend and helpless dependents at their mercy,” Elsie exclaimed, her eye kindling and her cheek flushing, while she drew up her slender figure to its full height; “our beautiful land, too, given up to anarchy and ruin; this dear sunny South that I love so well.”

Her voice trembled with the last words, and tears gathered in her eyes.

“Yes, that is it,” said her husband; “we must stay and battle for her liberties, and the rights guaranteed by her laws to all her citizens.”

Horses were ordered, Elsie returned to her apartments to don a riding habit, and in a few minutes the three were on their way to the Oaks.

The vote there also was unanimous in favor of the policy of resistance.  Mr. Dinsmore and Horace, Jr. at once offered their services, and Arthur Conly, who happened to be spending a few days at his uncle’s just at that time, did the same.

“I was brought up a secessionist and my sympathies are still with the Democratic party,” he said, “but these Ku Klux outrages I cannot tolerate; especially,” he added, looking at Elsie with an affectionate smile, “when they are directed against the home and husband if not the person of my sweet cousin.”

“You are to me ‘a kinsman born, a clansman true,’ Art,” she said, thanking him with one of her sweetest smiles.

“That’s right, old fellow!” cried Horace, clapping his cousin on the shoulder.  “We shall muster pretty strong;—­papa, Brother Edward, Mr. Lilburn, you and I—­six able-bodied men within the fortress, with plenty of the best small arms and ammunition; all of us fair shots, too, some excellent marksmen—­we ought to do considerable execution among our assailants.”