“It is strange to you, I suppose,” he went on. “But you must remember that the Southern ladies pretend that they are as well off as ever. No matter what comes they mean to meet it with smiling faces. That needs courage; and remember, too, they are fighting for their freedom.” “But what of freedom for the slaves?” Dorothea demanded sharply. “Hush,” Tracy replied gravely. “For your own sake you must guard your words. An Abolitionist could not be tolerated here. And remember your aunt must be considered, for you are staying in her house and she is responsible for what you do and say.” “You’re right,” Dorothea answered; “and it isn’t that I don’t think the South is justified in fighting. I’ve always thought that. That is what every one believes in England, but since I have been here there are so many things I can’t understand. You won’t tell on me, will you?” she ended with a smile at him. “I’m not a dyed in the wool Rebel myself,” he answered with the same lightness of manner. “I’m an adopted son of the South.” “How did you come to be in it at all?” Dorothea questioned. She liked this young Irishman, and in his company was forgetting for the moment that there were matters that should be causing her plenty of anxiety. “Oh, I’m in it because I’m Irish, I suppose, and love a good fight,” he answered. “I was living in Charleston when the war broke out, and there one heard but this side of the quarrel. I’ve seen a thing or two since, but I’m not denying that I would do the same again. And I’ll do my duty, you may be sure of that.” His last words were uttered with a note of seriousness and Dorothea remembered with a pang that perhaps already he had prepared to send Stanchfield back to Andersonville. “I hope you will always make sure where your duty lies,” she said half to herself, but he caught the words and nodded his head. “I have made up my mind as to that,” he answered, and the next dance beginning, they were separated. A half hour later Dorothea and Miss Imogene were back in the girl’s room for the night. “What did Val Tracy say to you, child?” Miss Imogene demanded in an undertone, when they were at last alone. “Nothing whatever to do with Mr. Stanchfield,” Dorothea answered. “Are you sure?” Miss Imogene asked anxiously. “Quite sure, Cousin Imogene,” Dorothea answered. “Did he say anything to you? Does he know?” “I can’t tell, and that’s the truth,” Miss Imogene replied slowly. “We can only wait. Sometimes I think he knows and then I—I don’t know what I think; but I shall be up at daylight to see what has happened.” Dorothea blew out the candle a little later and crept into bed beside Miss Imogene. “I wish it was one of the others who was going to betray us,” she whispered. “Why do you wish that?” demanded Miss Imogene. “Because I like him,” Dorothea confessed frankly. “But of course he’s in love with April. He told me as much.”