“My brave cousin does not enlist any of my sympathies; but that, certainly, is a matter which we cannot talk about.”

“Pardon, but your reference to him made it natural—­”

“There is no need of speaking of him,” she interrupted, coldly.  “I merely meant that he and those with him in what you slightingly term an unpleasantness can never be friendly to you.  This war may be a small thing to you, but suppose your home and family were in danger, as ours are?”

“Can you think that this war is a holiday to me?” he asked, gravely.  “What stands between me now and death—­perhaps a shameful and horrible death—­except your kindly, womanly impulses?  I am hourly in danger of being caught and treated as a spy.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize it,” said the girl, simply and kindly.  “Everything looks so quiet and lovely.  Aun’ Jinkey, there, my old mammy, is at work just as I have seen her for years, and Chunk is busy yonder in the garden.  It is hard to think how suddenly all might change.”

“A soldier must think and be prepared.”

“Have you no fear?”

“Life is sweet to me.  I know only one thing—­I must do my duty and trust in God.  I have the consolation that no one is dependent on me; no one would grieve for me very much.  I’m quite alone in the world.  My crusty old guardian would inherit my property, and you may well guess that Aunt Jinkey’s tub yonder would hold all his tears if I should make a sudden exit,” and again he smiled in his pleasant way, as if with the purpose to relieve his words of all sombreness.

“Are you an orphan, too?” she asked sympathetically.

“Such a mature, fully developed orphan as I am is not an object of pity, Miss Baron,” he replied, laughing.  Then he added, a little proudly:  “I’m nearly twenty-two; I was twenty-one on my last birthday, and I celebrated it by a ride only less risky than the one which landed me at your feet.  But your little word ‘too’ suggests that you are somewhat alone, also.  I hope that your father was not killed in this war?”

“No, my father and mother died long before the war.”

“I am glad of that—­not glad that they died, but that you cannot associate me with the causes of their death.”

“But you and yours have caused death and suffering to so many Southern people!”

“Yes, I’m sorry it is so, but things are pretty even on that score.  Your men give as many blows as they take.”

“Why did you enter the army?”

“I suppose for about the same reasons that your cousin did.”

“Oh, you aren’t like my cousin at all.  I don’t wish you to keep referring to him.”