"Virgie!" he whispered hoarsely. "Virgie!"
She started at the sound and looked about her, wondering; then, as the name was called again, she slid from her chair and ran forward with a joyous cry:
She stopped, for the man had placed a finger on his lip and was pointing to the door.
"Take a look down the road," he ordered, in a guarded voice; and, when she had reached a point commanding the danger zone, he asked, "See anybody?--soldiers?" She shook her head. "Hear anything?"
She stood for a moment listening, then ran to him, and sprang into his waiting arms.
"It's all right, Daddy! It's all right now!"
He raised her, strained her to his breast, his cheek against her own.
"My little girl!" he murmured between his kisses. "My little rebel!" And as she snuggled in his arms, her berry-stained fingers clasped tightly about his neck, he asked her wistfully, "Did you miss me?--_awful_ much?"
"Yes," she nodded, looking into his eyes. "Yes--in the night time--when the wind was talkin'; but, after while, when--Why, Daddy!" He had staggered as he set her down, sinking into a chair and closing his eyes as he leaned on the table's edge. "You are hurt!" she cried. "I--I can see the blood!"
"No, dear, no," he strove to reassure her. "It isn't anything; only a little scratch--from a Yank--that tried to get me. But he didn't, though," the soldier added with a smile. "I'm just--tired."
The child regarded him in wondering awe, speaking in a half-breathed whisper:
Her father nodded, with his hand on her tumbled hair.
"Yes, honey, I'm afraid he did; but I'm so used to it now I don't mind it any more. Get me a drink of water, will you?" As Virgie obeyed in silence, returning with the dripping gourd, the man went on: "I tried to get here yesterday; but I couldn't. They chased me when I came before--and now they're watching." He paused to sip at his draught of water, glancing toward the carriage road. "Big fight down the river. Listen! Can you hear the guns?"
"Yes, plain," she answered, tilting her tiny head. "An' las' night, when I went to bed, I could hear 'em--oh! ever so loud: Boom! Boom! Boom-boom! So I knelt up an' asked the Lord not to let any of 'em hit you."
Two arms, in their tattered gray, slipped round the child. He kissed her, in that strange, fierce passion of a man who has lost his mate, and his grief-torn love is magnified in the mite who reflects her image and her memory.