"I don"t like it," said Mrs. Vance after the matter had been explained.
"I am afraid that something will happen to you."
"But, mother, what could happen? Even if I were to fall into the hands of the Confederates what could they do to me? Men don"t make war on girls."
"I know that the Southern people are counted chivalrous," answered Mrs.
Vance, "but soldiers are usually rough fellows, and I would not like you to be brought into contact with them even though they were our own boys."
"d.i.c.k is a soldier, and he isn"t a bit rough. They are all somebody"s sons, mother. I thought that you liked soldiers."
"I do," a.s.sented Mrs. Vance wearily, "but I don"t like the thought of sending you where there is a chance of fighting. No one knows what might happen."
"d.i.c.k has to take a great many chances, and why should not I risk a little for my country? Wouldn"t you be willing to give your life for it, mother?"
"Yes; but----" began the mother.
"And I am your child," cried Jeanne, kissing her. "I can"t help it, mother. It"s in the blood, and blood will tell, you know. Haven"t I heard you and father many a time relate what great things our ancestors did in the Revolution? Well, you really can"t expect anything else from their descendants."
"I suppose not," and Mrs. Vance stifled a sigh. "If it really would help you, Richard."
"It really would, Dora. If Jeanne can carry these papers to New Orleans she is not only worth her weight in gold but she will do the government a great service. She is energetic, resourceful and self-reliant. I believe that she can get through without injury to herself or I should not consider the thing a moment. As she says, why should harm come to a girl? She would not be suspected where older people would be subjected to the most searching scrutiny. The more that I think of it, the more favorably does the idea strike me."
"Then I must consent," Mrs. Vance smiled faintly though her face was very white. "My country demands much of me, Richard."
"It does, Dora. But please G.o.d when this rebellion is put down we shall have such peace as the country has never enjoyed. Let us hope for the best, dear."
"When do I start, father?" broke in Jeanne.
"I think to-morrow night. The sooner the better. I will see about your transportation in the morning, and try to arrange to send you straight through. Now, little girl, you must say good-night because we must be up bright and early. There is a great deal to be done to-morrow."
"Good-night," said Jeanne obediently, and kissing each tenderly she retired to her room.
CHAPTER III
STARTING FOR DIXIE
The next day pa.s.sed all too quickly for the parents, but not for Jeanne.
She went about her preparations with an uplifted mien and a solemnity of manner that at another time would have been amusing, but which under the circ.u.mstances went to her mother"s heart.
"In this petticoat, dear, I have quilted the doc.u.ments," said Mrs. Vance as she dressed her for her departure. "It may be a little heavy, but you need not wear so many skirts as you otherwise would, and perhaps it will not be too warm. See how nicely it holds out your dress. It almost answers the purpose of a pair of hoops."
"Am I not to wear my hoops, mother?"
"No, child. They are sometimes in the way, and as you have not yet learned to manage them well, it would be best not. Your frock hangs out in quite the approved style as it is."
Jeanne glanced down at her attire complacently.
"It does look stylish," she admitted. "I wonder if the rebel girls wear hoops."
"I dare say they do," answered the mother rather absently. Then overcome by a rush of emotion she caught the girl to her. "Oh, Jeanne, I wonder if I am doing right to let you go! What if some harm should come to you?"
"Don"t worry, mother," and Jeanne soothed her gently. "I feel sure that I will get through safely."
"I shall not be easy until I hold you in my arms again," said Mrs. Vance mournfully. "But I must not make it hard for you to go, dear. You will be careful, Jeanne."
"Yes, mother."
"And, child, you are loyal, I know, but you are very young. You are going into the enemy"s country, where disloyalty to the Union will be the common utterance. Are you strong enough to bear all that you will hear and still retain that fidelity unimpaired?"
"Mother!" Jeanne spoke reproachfully.
"Yes; I know that your heart is devoted to your country, but older ones than you have been drawn from their allegiance. I only give this as a caution because you have always been where nothing but the Union has been talked. Now you are apt to hear just as much on the other side, and there may be trials that will test your strength severely. I cannot but fear that all will not go so smoothly as your father thinks. But, Jeanne, whatever comes, bear yourself as a true American. Swerve not from the allegiance due to your country. Let come what will, even death itself, suffer it rather than for one moment to be false to your country. They are my last words to you, my daughter. Be true to your country. Will you remember?"
"Yes," replied the girl solemnly. "Whatever comes I will be true to my country."
"I have made you this flag," continued Mrs. Vance, drawing a small United States flag from the folds of her dress. "I began it some time ago as a surprise for your birthday, but finished it last night for you to take with you. Keep it about your person, and each night look upon it and pray for the success of the Union."
"And it is really my own," exclaimed Jeanne, delightedly, pressing the silken folds to her lips. "It makes me so happy to have it, mother. I never had one before that was all mine. See," folding it and placing it in the bosom of her dress, "I will wear it over my heart that no disloyal thought may find entrance there. I will bring it back to you unsullied."
Her mother pressed her again to her breast.
"I believe it, dear. Now kiss me, Jeanne. I hear your father coming for you. Oh, "tis hard to let you go!" She clasped her convulsively to her, and caressed her repeatedly.
"Are you ready, Jeanne?" asked Mr. Vance entering. "We have not much time left."
"I am all ready, father," answered Jeanne quickly catching up her satchel.
"Aren"t you coming with us, mother?"
"No, dear;" Mrs. Vance struggled bravely with her emotion. "I am going to let your father have you for the last few moments alone. I have had you all day, you know."
Jeanne ran back to her for another embrace.
"My child! My child!" whispered the mother pa.s.sionately. "There! Go while I can bear it."
Unable to speak Jeanne followed her father to the carriage.
"I am afraid that I have acted hastily in letting you undertake this matter," said her father, drawing her to him. "In one way the fates are propitious. The papers to-day announce the fall of Vicksburg. That leaves the Mississippi entirely open and reduces the danger. Still it may be exposing you to some risk, and it now seems to me unwise to saddle so great a responsibility upon so young a girl. I wish there was some one else to send."
"Father, I am glad to be of service. I am so proud to think that you have so trusted me. Now I am really doing something for the country. And I will not betray your trust."
"I know that you will be as true as steel," answered Mr. Vance tenderly.
"I do not fear that you will betray my confidence, but let me caution you for yourself. Where have you concealed the papers?"
"Mother quilted them in my petticoat," answered Jeanne.
"Then try to forget where they are. I was once on the train where a girl was traveling alone. She had evidently been warned against pickpockets, for ever and anon she would start up and clap her hand to her pocket. Do you see the point, daughter?"