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"Sunnysides?" she cried out unguardedly. Smythe's eyes warned her, as he waited to give her time for self-control. He did not know how far Hillyer was in her confidence. "Is there news about Sunnysides?" she faltered, struggling desperately with herself. "Yes," he answered.
The enemy, however, had taken the initiative. Just as I landed I met Captain Hillyer of my staff, white with fear, not for his personal safety, but for the safety of the National troops. He said the enemy had come out of his lines in full force and attacked and scattered McClernand's division, which was in full retreat.
"But the summer is almost gone. It's near the end of August," persisted Hillyer. "There's another month of good weather. And September, Claire says, is the most beautiful of all." "That may be, unless Huntington's right. He told me only yesterday that it's going to be an early winter. There's come a chill in the air even since I've been here." "Nonsense!" she replied, recovering her composure.
"He would say to me Oh, I can hear him now! He would say: 'Follow your heart, daughter. Love's the only thing in the world that really counts." She smiled triumphantly, but wistfully. And Hillyer was still silent. "Daddy wasn't very good at quoting Scripture," she went on musingly, "but he used to say: 'Better a dinner of herbs where love is than a stalled ox and hatred therewith."
She did not even speak his name; but after her one long look, she turned away, and with every outward sign of calm, removed her gloves and hat and coat, and placed them on a chair in a corner of the room. Then she beckoned to Pete, who followed her, with Smythe and Hillyer, into the bare outer room. "Close the door, please!" she commanded quietly. Smythe closed it.
Smythe obeyed, and jumped into the tonneau, while Robert cranked up and threw in the clutch. "Fast!" cried Marion. Hillyer glanced at her. She was very white; her lips were pressed together, her eyes were fixed on the road ahead. The machine lurched under them. "Faster!" urged Marion, in another minute.
"Come, Robert! Quick!" she commanded. She climbed quickly into the machine, followed by Hillyer, who was puzzled and alarmed by what he had seen in Marion's face. "You too, Mr. Smythe. Hurry!" cried Marion. "But my horse?" objected Smythe. "He'll run home," answered Marion impatiently. "Come! We may need you."
She had another struggle then, and the tears started in spite of all that she could do. But she conquered them. "Much blood?" "No. Little, only at first." "Thank you, Pete." Then, turning to Hillyer: "I want you, Robert, please, to drive home, and tell Mrs. Huntington to make up a bundle of the things I shall need. Wait! A pencil and a bit of paper, please."
When appointed brigadier-general I at once thought it proper that one of my aides should come from the regiment I had been commanding, and so selected Lieutenant C. B. Lagow. While living in St. Louis, I had had a desk in the law office of McClellan, Moody and Hillyer.
Neither of them spoke more than a conventional word or two until Hillyer, after full speed down Haig's road to the junction, slowed up on the main highway along the Brightwater. It was the serenest of summer evenings, very still and fragrant, with a touch of autumn in the air. The eastern sky was filled with pale golds and pinks, and the foothills were warm with purples.
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