“No, Thorn, not right away,—­to my shame be it spoken.  I’ll tell you how it came about.  Margaret was not old Bent’s daughter, but a Virginia girl on a visit, and a long one it proved, for she couldn’t go till things were quieter.  While she waited, she helped take care of me; for the good souls petted me like a baby when they found that a Rebel could be a gentleman.  I held my tongue, and behaved my best to prove my gratitude, you know.  Of course, I loved Margaret very soon.  How could I help it?  She was the sweetest woman I had ever seen, tender, frank, and spirited; all I had ever dreamed of and longed for.  I did not speak of this, nor hope for a return, because I knew she was a hearty Unionist, and thought she only tended me from pity.  But suddenly she decided to go home, and when I ventured to wish she would stay longer, she would not listen, and said, “I must not stay; I should have gone before.”

“The words were nothing, but as she uttered them the color came up beautifully over all her face, and her eyes filled as they looked away from mine.  Then I knew that she loved me, and my secret broke out half against my will.  Margaret was forced to listen, for I would not let her go, but she seemed to harden herself against me, growing colder, stiller, statelier, as I went on, and when I said in my desperate way,—­

“‘You should love me, for we are bid to love our enemies,’ she flashed an indignant look at me and said,—­

“’I will not love what I cannot respect!  Come to me a loyal man, and see what answer I shall give you.’

“Then she went away.  It was the wisest thing she could have done, for absence did more to change me than an ocean of tears, a year of exhortations.  Lying there, I missed her every hour of the day, recalled every gentle act, kind word, and fair example she had given me.  I contrasted my own belief with hers, and found a new significance in the words honesty and honor, and, remembering her fidelity to principle, was ashamed of my own treason to God and to herself.  Education, prejudice, and interest, are difficult things to overcome, and that was the hottest fight I ever passed through, for, as I tell you, I was a coward.  But love and loyalty won the day, and, asking no quarter, the Rebel surrendered.”

“Phil Beaufort, you’re a brick!” cried Dick, with a sounding slap on his comrade’s shoulder.

“A brand snatched from the burnin’.  Hallelujah!” chanted Flint, seesawing with excitement.

“Then you went to find your wife?  How?  Where?” asked Thorn, forgetting vigilance in interest.