The young fellow's head was not easily turned, however, for when, at an
evening gathering, a group was lauding the great achievement he said
disdainfully, "What! thousands against seventy? Despise the Yankees as we
may, the odds were too great. The only thing we can plume ourselves upon
is that we would have fought just the same had the seventy been seven
thousand. I think the fellows did splendidly, if they were Yankees, yet
what else could we expect since their commander was a Southern man? Oh no!
we must wait till the conditions are more even before we can exult over
our victories. I reckon we'll have them all the same though."

Murmurs of approbation followed these remarks, but he saw only the
eloquent eyes of Mary Burgoyne, and, offering her his arm, led her away.

The spring night was as warm as a June evening at the North, and they
joined the groups that were strolling under the moonlight in the garden.

Sidney felt the young girl's hand tremble on his arm, and he drew it
closer to his side. She soon asked falteringly, "Mr. Wallingford, do you
think--will the conditions become more even, as you suggested? Can it be
that the North will be so carried away by this abolition fanaticism as to
send armies and ships in the vain effort to subjugate us?"

"Thank you, Miss Mary, for saying that it will be a 'vain effort.'"

"Of course it will be, with such men as my father and"--she suddenly
hesitated.

"And who else?" he gently asked, trying to look into her averted face.