“Madam,” said the Union officer as he doffed his hat, “I couldn’t apologize for this, no matter how hard I tried; but, believe me, I regret it—­deeply.”

In answer she slowly raised her heavy lidded eyes and gave him her first thrust—­smoothly and deftly.

“No apology is demanded,” she murmured in soft tones.  “I was merely unfamiliar with the Union’s method of attack.”

“Attack!” he repeated, astounded, and stepped back.

“What else?” she asked, simply.  “My home is over-run; my servant assaulted—­by a drunken ruffian.”

“The man will be punished,” was the stern reply, “to the limit of my authority.”

“He should be.  We know him,” the Southern woman said bitterly.  “Before the war he was our overseer.  He was cruel to the negroes and my husband gave him a taste of his own discipline—­with a riding whip!”

“Ah, I see,” Morrison nodded.  “But it is not always in an officer’s power to control each individual in the service—­especially at such a time.  Yet I assure you on the part of the Union—­and mine—­that there was no intention of attack.”

Mrs. Cary had chosen this moment in which to draw her visitor off the veranda and when she had successfully brought him to the foot of the steps she looked up in smiling sarcasm with another thrust.

“Oh!  Then since your visit would seem a social one—­how may I serve you, sir?”

Morrison laughed lightly.  This pretty cat could scratch.

“I’m afraid, dear madam, you are wrong again.  My detachment is on foraging duty.  It is not a pleasant task—­but our army is in need of horses and supplies, and by the rules of war, I must take what I can find.”

“Even by force?” came the quiet inquiry.

“Yes, even force,” he answered, reddening.  “With its proper limitations.  I rob you, it is true, but by virtue of necessity.  In return I can only offer, as I would to every other woman of the South, all courtesy and protection at my command,” and Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison, for the second time, took off his hat.

The Southern woman swept him a curtsey filled with graceful mockery.

“I thank you.  There is consolation—­and even flattery—­in being plundered by a gentleman.”  She made a short gesture which took in house, plantation and all the Cary possessions.  “I regret sincerely that we have nothing left; yet I beg you—­help yourself.”

Colonel Morrison bit his lip, half in vexation and half in amusement.  “At least you make my undertaking a difficult one, although I must admit, I hardly blame you.”  And then, with a quick, searching look, “Are there any rebels hidden in your house?”

“No,” she answered.

“No wounded officers—­or refugees of any kind?”

“None.”

“You give me your word for this—­your oath?”

The Southern woman’s head went up and her eyes flashed.  “I do,” she said contemptuously and moved away.