"I have not forgotten them, and never shall," I contended stoutly, "but I have met blue-eyed Rebels. Besides loyalty is not all upon one side; I even lay claim to that virtue."
"Nor would I deny it to either Federal or Confederate. I am not a fanatic, Tom Wyatt, even although my father chose the blue. But my true loyalty just now is to my—my husband." She laughed, moving backward as I impulsively extended my hands. "Do not take this statement too seriously, please. We must play out the play, and I accept my destiny. Shall we go now*? Really I am actually hungry."
We sat over the poor meal a long while talking largely about our childhood days, and bringing back to mind earlier acquaintances. She told me of her home life, the death of her mother, and her experiences while away at school, and, largely in answer to questions, I recounted some of my army hardships, and what little I knew of the battles in which I had borne part. But the one topic of importance, although it must have lingered constantly in both our minds, was carefully avoided. Again and again I endeavored to draw her thought that way, only to be adroitly diverted into safer channels. It became, at last, so evident she preferred that all this be ignored, that I finally desisted, and joined with her
