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“It was a punishment more terrible than you can imagine. We were husband and wife in name only, living under the same roof as strangers—worse than strangers. We went to Belfayre, and there Norman Druce was awaiting us. He and Esmeralda had met here. I knew nothing of it, did not know that he loved her, and that he had ever asked her to be his wife; though I might have suspected something from the confusion which they displayed when I took him to her on my wedding-morning.”¦Ö¤

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“We shall see,” he said. “Lead the mare down, Taffy, give her a rub over and a feed of oats, plain.” Then, without another word, he walked down to the hut.¤¤É¥¥»¸ë¤¦¥â¤

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“I have not forgotten,” she said, and her voice was altogether sad now. “But answer me: you promised.”Ѥ¿í¤¥¥¤­¥Õ

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“Ah, well—she laughed,” said Norman, under his breath. “Pass the wine; I’m thirsty. It’s the heat, I suppose.”Ñ¥¥¥¥¬¤¤c¥ì

Let us not get dates confused. "On the twenty-ninth of April," says Grant, "the troops were at Hard Times (Arkansas), and the fleet (another fleet), under Admiral Porter, made an attack upon Grand Gulf (Mississippi), while I reconnoitered." But that twenty-ninth was a year later, when New Orleans for three hundred and sixty-five separate soul-torturing days had been sitting in the twilight of her captivity, often writhing and raving in it, starved to madness for news of Lee's and Stonewall's victories and of her boys, her ragged, gaunt, superb, bleeding, dying, on-pressing boys, and getting only such dubious crumbs of rumor as could be smuggled in, or such tainted bad news as her captors delighted to offer her through the bars of a confiscated press. No? did the treatment she was getting merely--as Irby, with much truth, on that twenty-ninth remarked in a group about a headquarters camp-fire near Grand Gulf--did it merely seem so bad to poor New Orleans?ÒáõÚ¢¥¥

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