“You didn’t ’spect ter find a friend, I reck’n,” was the surly yet confused reply.

“Very well, I know how to treat such bitter enemies as you have shown yourself to be.  Officer of the guard!” A trooper ran forward from the camp-fire and saluted.  “Put this man with the other prisoners, and see that he has no communication with any one.”

As Perkins was marched off they heard him mutter a curse.  “Pardon me, Miss Baron,” Scoville resumed.  “The lives of my men are in my care, and that fellow would murder us all if he had a chance.  I don’t know that he could do any harm, but it would only be from lack of opportunity.  I never take risks that I can help.”

“Having seen his expression I can’t blame you,” was her reply.

A new train of thought was awakened in Scoville.  He paused a moment and looked at her earnestly.

“Why do you look at me so?” she asked.

“Miss Baron, pardon me, but I do wish I were going to be here longer, or rather, I wish the war was over.  I fear there are deep perplexities, and perhaps dangers, before you.  My little force is in the van of a raiding column which will pass rapidly through the country.  It will be here to-morrow morning, but gone before night, in all probability.  The war will be over soon, I trust, but so much may happen before it is.  You inspire in me such deep solicitude.  I had to tell those poor negroes that they were free.  So they would be if within our lines.  But when we are gone that overseer may be brutal, and the slaves may come again to you for protection.  That cousin of yours may also come again—­oh, it puts me in a sort of rage to think of leaving you so unfriended.  You will have to be a woman in very truth, and a brave, circumspect one, too.”

“You are right, sir,” she replied with dignity, “and you must also remember that I will be a Southern woman.  I do feel most friendly to you personally, but not to your cause.  Forgive me if I have acted and spoken too much like a child to-night, and do not misunderstand me.  Circumstances have brought us together in a strange way, and while I live I shall remember you with respect and gratitude.  I can never lose the friendly interest you have inspired, and I can never think of the North as I hear others speak of it; but I belong to my own people, and I should be very unhappy and humiliated if I felt that I must continue to look to an enemy of my country for protection.  I cannot go over to your side any more than you can come over to ours.”

He merely sighed in answer.

“You do not think less”—­and then she paused in troubled silence.

“Louise,” called Mrs. Whately’s voice.

“Yes,” replied the girl, “we are coming.”

“I think you will always try to do what seems right to you, Miss Baron.  May God help and guide you, for you may have trouble of which you little dream.  What you say about your side and my side has no place in my thoughts.  I’ll help settle such questions with soldiers.  Neither do I wish to be officious, but there is something in my very manhood which protests against a fair young girl like you being so beset with troubles.”