"Yes."
"She is a servant of our neighbors, the Manlys, who occasionally visits
the servants here. A mulatto, I think."
Brant reflected. Many of the mulattoes and negresses were of good
figure, and the habit of carrying burdens on their heads gave them a
singularly erect carriage.
The lieutenant looked at his chief.
"Have you any orders to give concerning her, General?"
"No," said Brant, after a moment's pause, and turned away.
The officer smiled. It seemed a good story to tell at mess of this human
weakness of his handsome, reserved, and ascetic-looking leader.
A few mornings afterwards Brant was interrupted over his reports by the
almost abrupt entrance of the officer of the day. His face was flushed,
and it was evident that only the presence of his superior restrained his
excitement. He held a paper in his hand.
"A lady presents this order and pass from Washington, countersigned by
the division general."
"A lady?"
"Yes, sir, she is dressed as such. But she has not only declined the
most ordinary civilities and courtesies we have offered her, but she
has insulted Mr. Martin and myself grossly, and demands to be shown to
you--alone."
Brant took the paper. It was a special order from the President, passing
Miss Matilda Faulkner through the Federal lines to visit her uncle's
home, known as "Gray Oaks," now held and occupied as the headquarters of
Brant's Brigade, in order to arrange for the preservation and disposal
of certain family effects and private property that still remained
there, or to take and carry away such property; and invoking all
necessary aid and assistance from the United States forces in such
occupancy. It was countersigned by the division commander. It was
perfectly regular and of undoubted authenticity. He had heard of passes
of this kind,--the terror of the army,--issued in Washington under some
strange controlling influence and against military protest; but he did
not let his subordinate see the uneasiness with which it filled him.
"Show her in," he said quietly.
|