view--"I think you already
know."

"I knowed it! I knowed it!" broke in the Honorable William Jones.
"I seen all along there was a woman in this house. I said--"

Josephine turned to him a swift glance. "There is a lady in this
house."

"Yes," broke out Carlisle, "and all of you remember it. Don't I
know! Madam, what are you doing here?"

"Kind words from my former jailer? So!" She rewarded him none too
much for his quick sympathy. Then, relenting; "But at least you
were better than this new jailer. Are you, too, a prisoner? I
can't understand all this."

"But you're hurt. Madam," began Carlisle. "How is that? Have you
also been attacked by these ruffians? I did not dream Dunwody was
actually so much a ruffian."

"Madam," said Dunwody slowly turning to her, "I can't exchange
words now. There has been an encounter, as I said. There have
been men killed, and some of us have been hurt. The northern
abolitionists have made their first attack on southern soil. This
gentleman is an army officer. I'm a United States marshal, and as
a prisoner he's safe in talking. He has come here on his own moral
initiative, in the interest of what you call freedom. You two
should be friends once more. But would you mind helping me make
these people comfortable as we can?"

"You are hurt, yourself, then!" she said, turning toward him,
seeing him wince as he started up the step.

"No;" he said curtly, "it's nothing."

"That girl yonder--ah! she has been whipped! My God in Heaven.
What is to be next, in this wilderness! Is there indeed here no
law, no justice?"

The deep voice of the German, Kammerer, broke in. "Thank God in
Heaven, at least you are a woman!" he said, turning to her.

"A woman! Why thank God for that? Here, at least, a woman's sole
privilege is insult and abuse."

The others heard but did not all understand her taunt. Tears
sprang to the eyes of young Carlisle. "Don't talk so!" was all he
could exclaim, feeling himself not wholly innocent of reproach.
Dunwody's face flushed a deep red. He made no answer except to
call aloud for the old house servant, Sally, who presently appeared.

"Madam," said Dunwody, in a low voice, limping forward toward
Josephine, "you and I must declare some sort of truce. The world
has all gone helter-skelter. What'll become of us I don't know;
but we need a woman here now."

She gazed at him steadily, but made no reply. Growling, he turned
away and