It soon became evident, however, that General Marston and his staff felt in no need of Dutch courage, and were too plainly aware of their situation to confuse their minds with their host’s liquor even if they were so inclined.  The general was serious, somewhat preoccupied, but courteous, especially to Miss Lou, on whom his eyes often rested kindly.  At last he said: 

“I have a little girl at home about your age and with your blue eyes.  I’d give a good deal to see her to-day.”

“I think, sir, you are glad that she is not where I am to-day,” Miss Lou ventured to answer.

“Yes, that’s true.  I hope no harm will come to you, my child, nor will there if we can help it.  I know what claims you have upon us and would be proud indeed if my daughter would behave as you have in like circumstances.  I have travelled the world over, Mrs. Whately, and have never seen the equal of the unperverted American girl.”

“I certainly believe that true of Southern girls, general,” was the matron’s reply, although she flushed under a consciousness of all that Scoville might have reported.

“Pardon me, madam, but you are in danger of perverting the minds of Southern girls with prejudice, a noble kind of prejudice, I admit, because so closely allied with what they regard as patriotism, but narrow and narrowing nevertheless.  That old flag yonder means one people, one broad country, and all equally free under the law to think and act.”

“Do you intend to remain in this country and hold it in subjection?” Mrs. Whately asked in smiling keenness.

“We intend to give the Southern people every chance to become loyal, madam, and for one I rest confidently in their intelligence and sober second thoughts.  They have fought bravely for their ideas, but will be defeated.  The end is drawing near, I think.”

“Well, sir,” said Mr. Baron grimly, “I am sorry you are preparing for some more bloody arguments about our very ears.”

“I am also, on account of these ladies; in other respects, I am not.  By night there may be many wounded and dying men.  It will be well for them that they do not fall in a wild and desolate region like some that we have passed through.  As you say, sir, war is an argument, a heated one at times.  But a wounded man is an appeal to all kindly humanity.  You would nurse me a little, Miss Baron, if I were brought in wounded, would you not?”

“Yes, sir, I would, because I feel what you say about a wounded man is true.”

“Oh, I know that,” he replied with a very kindly smile.  “I hope to tell my little girl about you.”  Suddenly he became grave again and said, “Mr. Baron, you are somewhat isolated here, and may not be so well informed as I am.  However the prospective conflict may turn, I cannot remain in this region.  Many of our wounded may be left.  Do not delude yourself, sir, nor, if you can help it, permit your friends to be deluded by the belief, or even hope, that our forces will not soon control this and all other parts of the land.  While I trust that humanity will lead to every effort to assuage suffering and save life, I must also warn you that strict inquisition will soon be made.  There is nothing that we resent more bitterly than wrongs to or neglect of such of our wounded as must be left behind.”