She did not move, nor turn
her face toward me.
I began with my orders to report at General Grant's headquarters, so as
to thus make clear to her the reasons bringing me to the Hardy
plantation. I told about our night trip up the ravine, explained my
ignorance of who occupied the house to which I had been, despatched, and
how circumstances compelled me to remain concealed on the balcony, and
thus overhear her conversation with her father and Captain Le Gaire. I
even referred to our quadroon guide, and then it was she suddenly turned
her face toward me.
"A quadroon--and claiming to have once lived here? Who could that be?"
"A servant slave of Le Gaire's."
"Oh, yes! Charles. I remember now--he ran away."
Somehow she seemed more like the Billie of old now, and I went on with
greater confidence, barely touching on my sudden determination to
prevent her wedding, the capture of the house, and our subsequent
conversation together. As I approached the unpleasant interview in the
parlor she sat up, brushing back her hair, and with questioning eyes on
mine, exhibited the deepest interest. I told the rest, word by word, act
by act, determined to thus impress upon her the full truth of the
narrative. I could tell by her aroused interest that I was succeeding,
while her questions gave me some inkling as to what she had been
previously led to believe.
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