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Updated: June 10, 2025
"You are mistaken in that, for we have never met," she said slowly, and with emphasis. "Moreover, Beth Norvell is my stage name, but in part it is my true name also." Suddenly she paused and glanced aside at him. "I have spoken with unusual frankness to you this morning, Mr. Winston. Most people, I imagine, find me diffident and uncommunicative perhaps I appear according to my varying moods.
Colonel J.T. Copeland, of the Fifth Michigan, was promoted to brigadier general of volunteers and assigned to the command of the three regiments. The brigade was attached to the division of General Silas Casey, all under General S.P. Heintzelman, who was in charge of the Department of Washington, with headquarters in the city. Freeman Norvell succeeded Copeland as colonel of the Fifth.
A moment he remained standing there, breathing hard. Once she ventured to glance up inquiringly, only to catch his stern eyes, and as instantly lower her own. "All right, Miss Norvell," he said finally, the words seeming fairly to explode from between his lips. "I understand the situation now, and you are to remain here until I come back.
Miss Norvell, clasping her skirts tightly, picked her way forward across the littered floor, the necessity for immediate action rendering her supremely callous to all ordinary questions of propriety. "Can you inform me if Mr. Winston is in his room?" she questioned, leaning across the counter until she could see the clerk's surprised face.
Hastily he opened the pages of the crushed programme, his hand shaking so he was scarcely able to decipher the printed lines. Ah! there it was in black-faced type: "Renee la Roux Miss Beth Norvell." All through the remainder of the play he sat as one stunned, scarcely removing his eyes from the glittering stage, yet seeing nothing there excepting her.
An instant they stood there listening intently for any sound to reach them from out the surrounding night. Then Winston, assuming the duty, stepped reluctantly forward endeavoring to peer within. His heart throbbed from the pain of that sudden message of death he brought. "Beth," he called, perceiving no movement within, and compelling his voice to calmness. "Miss Norvell."
At the curb a drunken woman reeled against her, peering sneeringly into her face with ribald laugh, but Beth Norvell pushed silently past, and vanished into the protecting shadows beyond. The wide doors of the brilliantly illuminated Gayety were flung open, the bright light from within streaming far across the road.
"Sure not, Miss Norvell; it's a bit tough, all right, for anybody like you down there at this time o' night." She opened the door, the bright light from within shining about her slender figure, yet leaving her face still in shadow. "Did did you chance to notice if Mr. Farnham remained in the dance hall?" "Biff Farnham?" in sudden, choking surprise. "Great guns, do you know him, too?
What connection could he hold, either in honor or dishonor, with the previous life history of Beth Norvell? He did not in the least doubt her, for it was Winston's nature to be entirely loyal, to be unsuspicious of those he once trusted. Yet he could not continue completely blind. That there once existed some connection it was impossible to ignore entirely.
The vote upon the Resolution stood as follows: Yeas. Messrs. Allen, Bayard, Benton, Black, Buchanan, Brown, Calhoun, Clay, of Alabama, Clay, of Kentucky, Clayton, Crittenden, Cuthbert, Fulton, Grundy, Hubbard, King, Lumpkin, Lyon, Nicholas, Niles, Norvell, Pierce, Preston, Rives, Roane, Robinson, Sevier, Smith, of Connecticut, Strange, Tallmadge, Tipton, Walker, White, Williams, Wright, Young.
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