“Brother,” said Mrs. Whately, “you can see our niece through the window from where you sit.  She is talking quietly with the officer.”

“Yes, and what may he not say to her?  Already her contumacious rebellion passes all bounds.  She has heard too much incendiary talk from him already” and he again rose to end the interview.

“Hector Baron,” said his sister solemnly, “you must listen to me first, before you take any further steps.  We will say nothing more about the past.  It’s gone and can’t be helped.  Now, with all the influence I have over you, I urge you and your wife to remain here until you are calm—­till you have had a chance to think.  Is this a time for headlong anger?  Was there ever a period in your life when you should so carefully consider the consequences of your action?  Please tell me how you and sister are going to make Louise do and think exactly what you wish.  This is no time for blinking the truth that you have alienated her.  You could easily now drive her to do something rash and terrible.  I understand her better every moment and feel that we have taken the wrong course.  She would have gone away with Madison as his cousin, and wifehood would have come naturally later.  We have been too hasty, too arbitrary.  You both must recognize the truth that you cannot treat her as a child any longer or you will lose her altogether, for in this matter of marriage she has been made to know that she is not a child.  She can be led into it now, but not forced into it.  Her course is open now, but if you continue arbitrary her action may become clandestine and even reckless.  Then in regard to this Yankee officer.  Alas I what he says is too true.  In our strong feeling we shut our eyes to facts.  Are we not in his power?  He has spared my son’s life and your property and home, and yet he has been virtually ordered out of the house.  There is truth in what Louise said.  We are not in the deepest stress of trouble—­infinitely removed from the trouble we might be in.”

“He has not spared my property,” growled Mr. Baron, “he has told all my people they are free.  Where does that leave me?”

“Now, brother, your very words prove how essential it is that you regain your self-control and reason.  Is this young officer going through the country on his own responsibility?  He only echoes the proclamation of Abe Lincoln, whom he is bound to obey.  Since we entered on the discussion of our differences could we expect him to do otherwise than present his side as strongly as he could?  Now if you and sister can shake all this off by one mighty effort of your wills, do so; but if we do not wish to invite every evil we predicted, do let us be calm and rational.  For one, I feel Louise’s reproof keenly, and it will not do to outrage her sense of justice any longer.  This officer has proved that we were wrong in our predictions before he came.  If now we continue to treat him as outside the pale of courtesy, we lose her sympathy utterly and do our utmost to provoke him and his men.  Merciful heaven! if my son were a bleeding corpse or dying in agony, what would the world be to me?  I shall apologize to him and treat him with politeness as long as I am under his protection.”