“Well, my dear,” said Mrs. Whately, striving to hide the fact that she was baffled, “we won’t talk any more about it to-night.  You are excited and worried, and incapable of wise judgment.  Rest and sleep are what you need now,” and she kissed the girl, who did not return the caress.

“Wise judgment!” she muttered, bitterly, “what fine words they use!  So you, too, are hopelessly against me.  You would give me to your son just as you used to give him everything he cried for when a child.  Well, then, I’ll appeal to the minister himself.  I don’t believe he can marry me against my will.  At any rate, I shall never give my consent, never; and perhaps somebody may come in time.  My people are teaching me to fear them even more than the Yankees.”

CHAPTER XI

AUN’ JINKEY’S WARNING

The night passed like a lull in the storm.  Perkins reported that the negroes were quiet, contenting themselves with whispering and watchfulness.  Aun’ Jinkey smoked and dozed in her chair, listening to every sound, but no “squinch-owl” renewed her fears.  The family at the mansion were too perturbed to sleep much, for all knew that the morrow must bring decisive events.  The three soldiers sent after the recreant trooper returned from a bootless chase and were allowed to rest, but Whately saw to it that there was a vigilant watch kept by relief of guards on the part of the others.  He was not very greatly encouraged by his mother’s report, but as the hours passed the habits of his life and the tendencies of his nature asserted themselves with increasing force.  He would marry his cousin on the morrow; he would not be balked in his dearest hope and wish.  The very resistance of the girl stimulated his purpose, for throughout all his life nothing so enhanced his desire for anything as difficulty and denial.  The subduing the girl’s high spirit into subservience to his own was in itself a peculiarly alluring prospect, and he proved how little he appreciated her character by whiling away part of the night over “Taming of the Shrew.”  A creature of fitful impulse, nurtured into an arrogant sense of superiority, he banished all compunctions, persuading himself easily into the belief that as soldier, officer, and lover he was taking the manly course in going straight forward.  “The idea of consulting a whimsical girl at such a time,” he muttered, “when a Yankee horde may descend on the plantation within forty-eight hours.”

Miss Lou was quite as sleepless as himself, and also did a great deal of thinking.  She had too much pride to hide and mope in her room.  Her high, restless spirit craved action, and she determined to brave whatever happened with the dignity of courage.  She would face them all and assert what she believed to be her rights before them all, even the clergyman himself.  She therefore appeared at the breakfast table with just enough color in her cheeks and fire in her eyes to enhance her beauty.