"To conquer the Yankees?" she hazarded.

"No, to conquer some pride or whim of the girl who confessed once that she loved me."

"Take my advice, Monsieur," she said with a cool little smile. "No doubt you have been fortunate enough to hear those words many times--I should think it quite probable," and she let her eyes rest approvingly for a moment on his face; "but it is well to consider the girls who make those avowals before you place full credence on the statement--not that they _always_ mean to deceive," she amended, "but those three words have a most peculiar fascination for girlhood--they like to use them even when they do not comprehend the meaning."

He shook his head as he looked at her.

"It is no use, Madame la Marquise," he said, and the ardent eyes met her own and made her conscious of a sudden fear. "You reason it out very well--philosophy is one of your hobbies, isn't it? I always detested women with hobbies--the strong-minded woman who reasons instead of feeling; and now you are revenging the whole army of them by making me feel beyond reason. But you shan't evade me by such tactics. Do you remember what your last spoken words to me were, three years ago?"

Her face paled a little, she lifted the bridle to urge her horse onward, but he laid his hand on her wrist.

"No, pardon me, but I must speak to you--day and night I have thought of them, and now that you are here--oh, I know you sent me away--that is, you hid from me; and why, Judithe? I believe on my soul it was because you meant those words when you said: '_I love you now, and from the first moment you ever looked at me!_' I told myself at first, when I left France, that it was all falsehood, coquetry--but I could not keep that belief, for the words rang too true--you thought you were going over that bank to death, and all your heart was in your voice and your eyes. That moment has come back to me a thousand times since; has been with me in the thick of battle, singing through my ears as the bullets whistled past. '_I love you now, and from the first moment you ever looked at me._' It is no use to pretend you did not mean those words then. I know in my heart you did. You were bound in some way, no doubt, and fancied you had no right to say them. The announcement of your engagement suggested that. But you are free now, or you would not be here, and I must be heard."

"Be satisfied then," she replied, indifferently, though her hand trembled on the bridle, "you perceive you have, thanks to your stronger arm, an audience of one."

"You are angry at my presumption--angry at the advantage I have taken of the situation?" he asked. "I grant you are right; but remember, it is now or perhaps never with me; and it is the presumption of love--a woman should forgive that."

"They usually do, Monsieur," she replied, with a little shrug and glance of amus.e.m.e.nt. For one bewildered instant she had lost control of herself, and had only the desire to flee; but it was all over now, she remembered another point to be made in the game--something to postpone the finale until she had seen Pierson.

"It is not just to me," he said, meeting her mocking glance with one that was steadfast and determined. "However your sentiments have changed, I know you cared for me that day, as I have cared for you ever since, and now that you have come here--to my own country, to my mother's house, I surely may ask this one question: Why did you accept the love I offered, and then toss it away almost in the same breath?"

"I may reply by another question," she said, coolly. "What right had you to make any offers of love to me at any time? What right have you now?"

"What right?"

"Yes; does your betrothed approve? Is that another of the free inst.i.tutions in your land of liberties?"

"What do you mean?--my betrothed?"

"Your betrothed," she said, and nodded her head with that same cool little smile. "I heard her name that evening of the drive you remember so well; our friend, the Countess Helene, mentioned it to me--possibly for fear my very susceptible heart might be won by your protection of us," and she glanced at him again, mockingly. "You had forgotten to mention it to me, but it really does not matter, I have learned since then that gentlemen absolutely cannot go around reciting the lists of former conquests--it is too apt to prevent the acquisition of new ones. I did not realize it then--there were so many things I could not realize; and I felt piqued at your silence; but," with an expressive little gesture and a bright smile, "I am no longer so. I come to your home; I clasp hands with you; I meet your bride-elect, Miss Loring--she is remarkably pretty, Monsieur, and I am quite prepared to dance at your wedding; therefore--"

"Marquise, on my honor as a man," he did not see the scornful light in her eyes as he spoke of his honor; "there has never been a word of love between Gertrude Loring and myself; it is nothing but family gossip dating from the time we were children, and encouraged by her uncle for reasons entirely financial. We have both ignored it. We are all fond of her, and I believe my mother at one time did hope it would be so arranged, but I hope she wins a better fellow than myself; she cares no more for me than I for her."

They had turned into the Terrace grounds. Evilena was running out to meet them. She was so close now she could hear what he said if it were not for her own swiftness.

"Judithe! One word, a look; you believe me?"

She said nothing, but she did flash one meaning glance at him, and then his sister was at the stirrup and he swung out of the saddle to kiss her.

CHAPTER XXIII.

"Of course we are anxious to hear all you dare tell us about the success of your mission over there," said his mother, an hour later, when the riders had done justice to a delightful breakfast. "Are all the arrangements made by our people entirely satisfactory?"

"Entirely, mother. This is the twenty-second of September, isn't it?

Well, it is an open secret now. The vessel secured goes into commission today, and will be called the Alabama."

"Hurrah for the Alabama!" cried Evilena, who was leaning on the back of her brother's chair. He put his arm around her and turned to Judithe.

"Have you become acquainted with the patriotic ardor of my little sister?" he asked. "I a.s.sure you we have to fight these days if we want to keep the affections of our Southern girls."

Gertrude smiled across the table at him.

"I can't fancy you having to fight very hard battles along that line, Monsieur," replied Judithe, in the cool, half mocking tone she had adopted for all questions of sentiment with him; and Gertrude, who saw the look exchanged between them, arose from the table.

"Uncle Matthew asked to see you when you have time, Kenneth."

"Thanks, yes; I'll go directly. Mother, why not ask the boys of the guard to stop over for your party? They are of Phil Masterson's company--all Carolina men."

"Of course, I shall invite them personally," and she left the room to speak to the men who were just finishing breakfast under an arbor, and congratulating themselves on the good luck of being travelling companions of Colonel McVeigh.

Evilena waltzed around the table in her delight at the entire arrangement; boys in uniform; the longed-for additions to the festivities, and they would have to be a formidable lot if she could not find one of their number worth dancing with; she would show Dr.

Delaven that other men did not think her only a baby to be teased!

"Now, Madame Caron, we can show you a regular plantation jubilee, for the darkies shall have a dance at the quarters. You'll like that, won't you?"

"Anything that expresses the feminine homage to returning heroes,"

replied Judithe, with a little bow of affected humility, at which Colonel McVeigh laughed as he returned it. She pa.s.sed out of the door with his sister and he stood looking after her, puzzled, yet with hope in his eyes. His impetuousness in plunging into the very heart of the question at once had, at any rate, not angered her, which was a great point gained. He muttered an oath when he realized that but for the Countess Biron's gossip they might never have been separated, for she did love him then--he knew it. Even today, when she would have run away from him again, she did not deny _that_! Forty-eight hours in which to win her--and his smile as he watched her disappear had a certain grim determination in it. He meant to do it. She had grown white when he quoted to her her own never forgotten words. Well, she should say them to him again! The hope of it sent the blood leaping to his heart, and he turned away with a quick sigh.

Gertrude, who had only stepped out on the veranda when she left the table, and stood still by the open gla.s.s door, saw the lingering, intense gaze with which he followed the woman she instinctively disliked--the woman who was now mistress of Loringwood, and had made the purchase as carelessly as though it were a new ring to wear on her white hand--a new toy to amuse herself with in a new country; the woman who threw money away on whims, had the manner of a princess, and who had aroused in Gertrude Loring the first envy or jealousy she had ever been conscious of in her pleasant, well-ordered life. From the announcement that Loringwood had pa.s.sed into the stranger's possession her heart had felt like lead in her bosom. She could not have explained why--it was more a presentiment of evil than aught else, and she thought she knew the reason of it when she saw that look in Kenneth McVeigh's eyes--a look she had never seen there before.

And the woman who had caused it all was walking the floor of her own apartment in a fever of impatience. If the man she expected would only come--then she would have work to do--definite plans to follow; now all was so vague, and those soldiers staying over, was it only a chance invitation, or was there a hidden purpose in that retained guard? Her messenger should have arrived within an hour of Colonel McVeigh, and the hour was gone.

As she pa.s.sed the mirror she caught sight of her anxious face in it, and halted, staring at the reflection critically.

"You are turning coward!" she said, between her closed teeth. "You are afraid to be left to yourself an hour longer--afraid because of this man's voice and the touch of his hand. Aren't you proud of yourself--you! He is the beast whose name you hated for years--the man for whom that poor runaway was taught the graces and accomplishments of white women--in this house you heard Matthew Loring mention the price of her and the portion to be forfeited to Kenneth McVeigh because the girl was not to be found. Do you forget that? Do you think I shall let you forget it? I shan't. You are to do the work you came here to do. You are to have no other interest in the people of this house."

She continued her nervous walk back and forth across the room. She put aside the grey habit and donned a soft, pretty house-gown of the same color. Her hands were trembling. She clasped and unclasped them with a despairing gesture.

"It is not love," she whispered, as though in wild argument against the fear of it. "Not love--some curse in the blood--that is what it is. And to think that after three years--three years!--it all comes back like this. Oh, you fool, you fool! Love," she continued, in more clear, reasoning tones, speaking aloud slowly as though to impress it on her mind, as a child will repeat a lesson to be learned; "love must be based on respect--what respect can you have for this buyer of young girls?--this ardent-eyed animal who has the good fortune, to be cla.s.sed as a gentleman. Love in a woman's heart should be her religion; what religion could be centered on so vile a creature? To look up to such a man, how low a woman would have to sink."

Evilena knocked at the door to show some little gift brought by her brother from across the ocean, and Judithe turned to her feverishly, glad of some companionship to drive away her dread and suspense until the expected messenger arrived--the minutes were as long as hours, now!

Colonel McVeigh had scarcely more than greeted Loring when Pluto announced Captain Masterson and some other gentleman. Evilena saw them coming from the window and reported there were two soldiers besides Captain Masterson, and a man in blue clothes, who aroused her curiosity mightily. They were out of range before Judithe reached the window, but her heart almost stopped beating for an instant; the man she expected wore a blue yachting suit, and this sudden gathering of soldiery at the Terrace?

Colonel McVeigh greeted Masterson cordially and turned to the others.

Two were men in Confederate uniform, just outside the door, and the third was a tall man in the uniform of a Federal Captain. His left wrist was bandaged. He was smiling slightly as McVeigh's glance became one of doubt for an instant, and then brightened into unmistakable recognition.

"By Jove, this is a surprise!" and he shook hands cordially with the stranger. "Captain Monroe, I am delighted to see you in our home."

"Thank you; I'm glad to get here," replied Monroe, with a peculiar look towards Masterson, who regarded the cordial greeting with evident astonishment, "I had not expected to call on you this morning, but--Captain Masterson insisted."

He smiled as he spoke--a smile of amus.e.m.e.nt, coolly careless of the amazement of Masterson, and the inquiry in the glance of McVeigh.

"Colonel McVeigh, he is a prisoner," said Masterson, in reply to that glance, and then, as the prisoner himself maintained an indifferent silence, he explained further, "We caught sight of him galloping ahead of us through the pines, a few miles back. Realizing that we were near enough to the coast for the Federals to send in men for special service, we challenged him, got no explanation except that he rode for his own pleasure; so I put him under arrest."