"
"Mrs. Whately," said Captain Maynard, "I reckon more than one of us
begin to regret already that we were not so desperately wounded as
to need your attention and that of Miss Baron. We must remember,
however, that she is not accustomed to these scenes, and I think we
must try to make her forget them at the table. I suppose in the
kindness of her heart she is now crying in her room over that
Yankee." Whately shot a savage glance at the speaker which plainly
implied, "It's none of your business where she is." Suddenly rising,
he departed also, his mother's eyes following him anxiously.
Miss Lou was not crying in her room. As the level rays of the sun
shone into the wide old barn, making the straw in a mow doubly
golden, and transforming even the dusty cobwebs into fairy lacework,
she crossed the threshold and paused for the first time in her
impulsive haste to find and thank the dying man of whom she had been
told. All eyes turned wonderingly toward her as she stood for a
moment in the sunshine, as unconscious of herself, of the marvellous
touch of beauty bestowed by the light and her expression, as if she
had flown from the skies.
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