It had been deemed best not to inform Miss Lou of her cousin’s immediate purpose until his plans were a little more certain and matured.  Circumstances might arise which would prevent his return at once.  Moreover, he had petitioned for the privilege of breaking the news himself.  He believed in a wooing in accordance with his nature, impetuous and regardless at the time of the shy reluctance of its object; and it was his theory that the girl taken by storm would make the most submissive, contented and happy of wives; that women secretly admired men who thus asserted their will and strength, if in such assertion every form was complied with, and the impression given that the man was resistless because he could not resist the charms which had captivated him.  “Why, uncle,” he had reasoned, “it is the strongest compliment that a man can pay a woman, and she will soon recognize it as such.  When once she is married, she will be glad that she did not have to hesitate and choose, and she will always believe in the man who was so carried away with her that he carried her away.  My course is best, therefore, on general principles, while in this particular instance we have every reason for prompt action.  Lou and I have been destined for each other from childhood, and I’m not willing to leave her to the chances of the hurly-burly which may soon begin.  As my wife I can protect her in many ways impossible now.”

CHAPTER VI

THE STORM BEGINS

Of late years Aun’ Jinkey’s principal work had been the fine washing and ironing of the family, in which task she had always been an adept.  For this reason she had been given the cabin near the run and an unusually fine spring.  Miss Lou felt a kindly solicitude and not a little curiosity in regard to the man who in a sense had been thrown at her feet for protection.  So gathering up some of her laces, she made them an excuse for another visit to Aun’ Jinkey.  Mrs. Baron readily acquiesced, for she felt that if there was to be a wedding, the whole house must be cleaned from top to bottom.  Moreover, by such occupation her mind could be diverted from the dire misgivings inspired by the proximity of Yankees.  Under the circumstances, it would be just as well if her niece were absent.

As the girl passed down through the shrubbery, she found Chunk apparently very busy.  Without looking up he said, “Doan be afeard, Miss Lou, I’se be on de watch.  Marse Linkum man right peart dis mawnin’.”

Aun’ Jinkey was at her washtub near the door, and the cabin presented the most innocent aspect imaginable.  “Good-morning,” said the girl, affably.  “How is your patient?”

“Recovering rapidly, thanks to your kindness and the good friends in whose care you placed me,” answered a hearty voice from the doorway.

Aun’ Jinkey made a sort of rush to the door, exclaiming in tones that were low, yet almost stern, “Marse Linkum man, ef you show yo’sef—­ef you doan stay by dat ar ladder so you git up sud’n, I des troo wid dis bus’ness!  Tain’ far ter dem w’at’s reskin’ dere bodies en a’most dere souls!”