"No, by adoption. I was born and raised in Richmond. I do not remember my mother. She died when I was very young. After my father's death I came north in charge of my black mammy, Aunt Polly, to live with Aunt Metoaca. My dear father," Nancy's eyes filled with unbidden tears, and she hastily tried to wink them away. "I wish you could have known each other, Major. Dad's courtly greeting and warm heart won him so many, many friends." "I second the wish," said Goddard gently. "Pardon the question, but has he been dead long?" "Three years now; but time has not lessened my sorrow. We were all in all to each other, notwithstanding I was his greatest disappointment." "How so?" "He wanted a son and heir; but I was his only child, the last of a long line of fighting men. Dad was my constant companion as well as my teacher," she sighed involuntarily. "I miss him more and more as the years go on." Goddard nodded sympathetically. "'Oh, for the touch of a vanished hand, and the sound of a voice that is still,'" he quoted softly. Nancy started, and, as her lips quivered, Goddard added more lightly, "I have a fellow feeling with you, for I am an orphan, too, Miss Nancy; but I cannot say I had so agreeable a guardian as you have." "Aunt Metoaca has been both mother and father to me. Bless her dear kind heart!" and Nancy glanced with deep affection at the nodding gray head on the opposite seat. "She and Doctor John Boyd are the only friends I have." "Oh, come, you know you have legions of..." "Of acquaintances--yes," interpolated Nancy swiftly. "It is my fault. I do not make friends easily, and lately..." "Yes, and lately?" asked Goddard, as she hesitated. "I have noticed a change in my acquaintances. Oh, nothing tangible; but there is a coolness in their greeting, and I hear innuendoes." "What do you care? Women will say anything when jealous, which I suspect is the cause of their behavior. Hasn't your mirror told you that?" and Goddard smiled, as he looked with admiration at her winsome face. "It is not always the women who throw the first stone, Major," again Nancy hesitated. "There is a man in Washington--he chose to consider himself in love with me, and because I did not encourage his suit he--he--insinuates----" "The beast! Why don't you tell him he is a liar and a coward?" "Because I am only a woman." "I wish you would give me the right to protect you," whispered Goddard, carried away by the wistful appeal in her large, eloquent eyes. "Major Goddard," Nancy drew back, frightened by the intensity of his manner. "This is very wrong. You--you--forget we have not known each other long." "I am getting on as fast as I can," retorted Goddard sturdily; his heart thumping as he saw her confusion. "Miss Newton--Nancy--I mean every word I have said. Tell me that scoundrel's name!"