The Doctor was not at home that day, having gone to the city to see the General in command there about the appointment of magistrates and other civil officers for the county, and, as Mrs. Cary had a sick headache, the blinds were closed, and Blair and old Mammy Krenda were keeping every sound hushed. It was a soft, balmy afternoon, when all nature seemed to doze. The sunlight lay on the fields and grass, and the trees and shrubbery rustled softly in the summer breeze. Flinging himself from his horse, the Provost banged on the door loudly and, without waiting for anyone to answer his summons, stalked noisily into the house with his men behind him. Both Blair and Mammy Krenda protested against his invading one particular apartment. Blair planted herself in front of the door. She was dressed in a simple white dress, and her face was almost as white as the dress. “What’s in there?” asked Leech. “Nothing. My mother is in there with a sick headache.” “Ah-h-h!” said Leech, derisively. He caught Blair by the arm roughly. Blair drew back, the color flaming in her cheeks, and the old negro woman stepped up in her place, bristling with anger. The flash in the young girl’s eyes as she drew herself up abashed the Provost. But he recovered himself and, pushing old Krenda roughly aside, opened the door. There he flung open the blinds and rummaged in the drawers, turning everything out on the floor, and carried off in triumph a pair of old, horseman’s pistols which had belonged to the Doctor’s grandfather in the Revolutionary War, and had been changed from flintlock to percussion at the outbreak of the recent hostilities. Leech had just come out of this room when Jacquelin Gray drove up. He stopped outside for a moment to ask what the presence of the soldiers meant, and then came hobbling on his crutches into the house. As he entered, Blair turned to him with a gesture, partly of relief and partly of apprehension. “Oh, Jacquelin!” The rest was only a sob. The blood flushed Jacquelin’s pale face, and he passed by her. “By what authority do you commit this outrage?” he asked Leech. “By authority enough for you. By what authority do you dare to interfere with an officer in the discharge of his duty, you limping, rebel dog? If you know what is good for you, you’ll take yourself off pretty quick.” Leech took in his squad with a wave of his hand, and encountering Jacquelin’s blazing eyes and a certain motion of his crutch, moved a little nearer to his men, laying his hand on his pistol as he did so. Blair made a gesture to stop Jacquelin; but he took no heed of it. He moved on his crutches nearer to the Provost. “I demand to know your authority, dog,” he said, ignoring both Leech’s threat and Blair’s imploring look. “I’ll show you. Seize him and search him,” said Leech, falling behind his squad and adding an epithet not necessary to be repeated. “I am not armed; if I were—” said Jacquelin. At Blair’s gesture he stopped.