a moment after she hesitated. Then she said, in a lower voice, "Are you
ready to forgive?"
"In either case," he said, touched by her manner; "and God speed you!"
He extended his hand, and left a slight pressure on her cold fingers.
But they slipped quickly from his grasp, and she turned away with a
heightened color.
He stepped to the door. One or two aides-de-camp, withheld by his order
against intrusion, were waiting eagerly with reports. The horse of a
mounted field officer was pawing the garden turf. The officers stared at
the young girl.
"Take Miss Faulkner, with a flag, to some safe point of the enemy's
line. She is a non-combatant of their own, and will receive their
protection."
He had scarcely exchanged a dozen words with the aides-de-camp before
the field officer hurriedly entered. Taking Brant aside, he said
quickly,--
"Pardon me, General; but there is a strong feeling among the men that
this attack is the result of some information obtained by the enemy.
You must know that the woman you have just given a safeguard to is
suspected, and the men are indignant."
"The more reason why she should be conveyed beyond any consequences of
their folly, Major," said Brant frigidly, "and I look to you for her
safe convoy. There is nothing in this attack to show that the enemy has
received any information regarding us. But I would suggest that it would
be better to see that my orders are carried out regarding the slaves and
non-combatants who are passing our lines from divisional headquarters,
where valuable information may be obtained, than in the surveillance of
a testy and outspoken girl."
An angry flush crossed the major's cheek as he saluted and fell back,
and Brant turned to the aide-de-camp. The news was grave. The column
of the enemy was moving against the ridge--it was no longer possible
to hold it--and the brigade was cut off from its communication with the
divisional headquarters, although as yet no combined movement was made
against it. Brant's secret fears that it was an intended impact against
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