Part 3 (1/2)
”That's because you are sentimental; but you'll get over that.”
”Lieutenant Somers,” said Senator Guilford, who had risen from his seat, and approached that occupied by the two officers, ”I shall leave the train at the next stopping-place, in order to procure proper medical attendance for my daughter. I desire again to express my thanks to you for the signal service you have rendered to my daughter.”
Our hero blushed again, and stammered out some deprecatory remark.
”When you are in Was.h.i.+ngton, you must call and see me. You must promise this for Emmie's sake, if not for mine,” added the Senator.
”I should be very happy to call,” replied the young officer.
”My friend Lieutenant Somers is as bashful as a maiden of sweet sixteen,”
interposed Captain de Banyan. ”I beg your pardon, Mr. Guilford; though your name and fame are familiar to me, I have not the honor of your personal acquaintance; but, under the circ.u.mstances, I shall make it part of my duty to see that my friend does not neglect your reasonable request.”
”Thank you, sir,” replied the Senator.
”Captain de Banyan, at your service,” added the modest officer who had served in Italy and the Crimea.
”Thank you, Captain de Banyan. I see you are in the same regiment with Lieutenant Somers.”
”Yes, sir, I have that honor; and I a.s.sure you there is not a n.o.bler and braver young officer in the Army of the Potomac. He reminds me very much of a splendid fellow I served with in the Crimea.”
”Ah! you were in the Crimea?”
”I was, sir; and he looks very much like Captain de Waite, whom I saw made a major on the field of Magenta, for the most daring bravery, by the Emperor of France.”
”You have seen service, captain,” added the Senator.
”A little, sir.”
”You must speak with my daughter, lieutenant, before we part,” continued Mr. Guilford. ”Her grat.i.tude has no limit.”
Lieutenant Somers was astounded by the effrontery of his military companion, who had claimed to be his friend, and forced himself upon the acquaintance of the powerful man on the strength of that intimacy; had even brought to his notice the fact--if it was a fact--that he had been at Magenta and in the Crimea. The simple-minded young man had seen no such diplomacy in Pinchbrook, or in the course of his travels in Maryland and Virginia; and he was fearful that the audacious fellow would dare to address the daughter as he had the father.
”Be seated,” said the Senator, as he pointed to the seat in front of Miss Emmie.
She was pale, and appeared to be suffering from the pain of her broken arm; but she bestowed a sweet smile upon him as he took the proffered seat.
”Lieutenant Somers, after what I have heard from Mr. Holman”--that was the gentleman who had spoken so handsomely of him--”I feel sure that I owe my life to you.”
”I think not, Miss Guilford,” replied the lieutenant, very much embarra.s.sed. ”I only pulled you out from the ruins; I couldn't have helped doing it if I had tried; and I hope you won't feel under any obligations to me.”
”But I do feel under very great obligations to you, and I a.s.sure you I am happy to owe my life to so brave and gallant a soldier.”
Somers felt just as though he was reading an exciting chapter in a sensational novel; though he could not help thinking of Lilian Ashford, and thus spoiling all the romance of the affair. He made no reply to Miss Emmie's pretty speech; it was utterly impossible for him to do so; and therein he differed from all the heroes of the novels.
”I want to hear from you some time, and even to see you again. You must promise to call and see me when we get to Was.h.i.+ngton.”
”I may not be able to leave my regiment at that time.”
”Oh! my father will get you a furlough any time you want one.”