“From those who are wandering up and down the earth, seeking how they may devour me.”

“Where are you going to?”

“Destination unknown.  Depends somewhat on yourself.”

Without another word, Mrs. Marsden turned the lamp down low, and hurried towards the front hall door.

“Take a light with you, Julia,” called Aunt Betsy, from the bed-room adjoining.

“Not for the world, Auntie.”

Her acute ear had caught the tramp of horses’ hoofs coming through the avenue.  When she opened the door, a tall man dressed in the Federal uniform stood outside, his hair disheveled by wind, and face shining with dashes of rain.  She locked and bolted the door after him, and led the way to the dining-room, where Roberta sat playing “checkers” with a boyish-looking soldier, also dressed in Federal uniform.

“Give this gentleman some cake and wine, dear,” she said to Roberta, “and entertain him until I return; and you,” to the other soldier, “go outside for a little; Squire will show you where to go.”

Her surmises were correct.  Heavy spurred boot-heels crossed the porch floor; there was a thundering knock with the butt-end of a riding-whip on the outside of the door.

Inwardly quaking, and strengthening herself with silent prayer, she opened the door.  A squad of Federal soldiers stood before her.  One of them lifted his hat, and said courteously: 

“We have come with authority from headquarters to search your house, Madam; we understand you are harboring rebels.”

“You are at liberty to search my house,” she answered in a clear, penetrating voice.  “You will find some women and children, and one of your cloth, here.”

They searched sitting-room, bed-room, and passed into the dining-room; saw a brother Federal there partaking of light refreshments; were pleasantly accosted by him, and told he belonged to Company G, of Colonel M.’s Michigan volunteers; had been sick and was out on furlough at the house of a friend.  One of them, a social kind of fellow, lingered on the threshold, amused at the badinage passing between the soldier and the beautiful child.

“Oh, no, you are not a rebel,” the soldier was saying, “you can’t make me believe that; you’ve got too honest a face to be a rebel.  Now, just confess you are glad of the drubbing our boys gave ’em this morning.”

“No, I’m not glad;” said Roberta, her eyes were filling with tears and her lips quivering, “I’m just as sorry as I can be.”

“Well, then, I’ll tell you what I expect the trouble is.  You’ve got a sweetheart among them; and if I was you, I’d trade him off for a Union sweetheart right away.”

“I don’t want any sweetheart at all; but if I wanted one I wouldn’t have a Yankee.”  Her eyes flashed and her cheeks crimsoned.

“Why not?” continued her tormentor.  “They are lots nicer than the rebels; have more to eat, and wear better clothes.  Besides, didn’t the rebels steal your mamma’s best horses, the last time they passed this way, and leave her nothing but two starved, broken-down nags in their place?  Didn’t they, now?”