Celia, her lovely hair over her shoulders, a scarf covering her
night-dress, came in carrying a lighted candle; and instantly a
voice from outside the window bade her extinguish the light or draw
the curtain.
She looked at Berkley in a startled manner, blew out the flame, and
came around between his bed and the window, drawing the curtains
entirely aside.
"General Claymore's staff has filled eve'y room in the house except
yours and mine," she said in her gentle, bewildered way. "There's
a regiment--Curt's Zouaves--encamped befo' the west quarters, and a
battery across the drive, and all the garden is full of their
horses and caissons."
"Poor little Celia," he said, reaching out to touch her hand, and
drawing her to the bed's edge, where she sat down helplessly.
"The Yankee officers are all over the house," she repeated.
"They're up in the cupola with night-glasses now. They are ve'y
polite. Curt took off his riding boots and went to sleep on my
bed--and oh he is so dirty!--my darling Curt' my own husband!--too
dirty to touch! I could cry just to look at his uniform, all black
and stained and the gold entirely gone from one sleeve! And
Stephen!--oh, Phil, some mise'ble barber has shaved the heads of
all the Zouaves, and Steve is perfectly disfigured!--the poor, dear
boy"--she laughed hysterically--"he had a hot bath and I've been
mending the rags that he and Curt call unifo'ms--and I found clean
flannels fo' them both in the attic----"
"_What_ does all this mean--all this camping outside?" he
interrupted gently.
Pages:
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416