Vincent had telegraphed from the first station at which he arrived within the limits of the Confederacy to his mother, announcing his safe arrival there, and asking her to send money to him at Antioch.
Her letter in reply reached him three days after his arrival.It contained notes for the amount he wrote for; and while expressing her own and his sisters' delight at hearing he had safely reached the limits of the Confederacy, she expressed not a little surprise at the out-of-the-way place to which he had requested the money to be sent.
"We have been examining the maps, my dear boy," she said, "and find that it is seventy or eighty miles out of your direct course, and we have puzzled ourselves in vain as to why you should have made your way there.The girls guess that you have gone there to deliver in person some message from one of your late fellow-prisoners to his family.I am not good at guessing, and am content to wait until you return home.We hope that you will leave as soon as you get the remittance.We shall count the hours until we see you.Of course we learned from a Yankee paper smuggled through the lines that you had escaped from prison, and have been terribly anxious about you ever since.We are longing to hear your adventures."A few hours after the receipt of this letter Vincent was on his way home.It was a long journey.The distance was considerable, and the train service greatly disordered and unpunctual.When within a few hours of Richmond he telegraphed, giving the approximate time at which he might be expected to arrive.The train, however, did not reach Richmond until some hours later.The carriage was waiting at the station, and the negro coachman shouted with pleasure at the sight of his young master.
"Missis and the young ladies come, sah; but de station-master he say do train no arrive for a long time, so dey wait for you at de town house, sah."Dan jumped up beside the coachman and Vincent leaped into the carriage, and a few minutes later he was locked in the arms of his mother and sisters.
"You grow bigger and bigger, Vincent," his mother said after the first greeting was over."I thought you must have done when you went away last, but you are two or three inches taller and ever so much wider.""I think I have nearly done now, mother-anyhow as to height.I am about six feet one.""You are a dreadful trouble to us, Vincent," Annie said."We have awful anxiety whenever we hear of a battle being fought, and it was almost a relief to us when we heard that you were in a Yankee prison.We thought at least you were out of danger for some time;but since the news came of your escape it has been worse than ever, and as week passed after week without our hearing any' thing of you we began to fear that something terrible had happened to you.""Nothing terrible has happened at all, Annie.The only mishap Ihad was getting a pistol bullet in my shoulder which laid me up for about six weeks.There was nothing very dreadful about it," he continued, as exclamations of alarm and pity broke from his mother and sister."I was well looked after and nursed.And now Iwill tell you my most important piece of news, and then I will give you a full account of my adventures from the time when Dan got me out of prison, for it is entirely to him that I owe my liberty.""Well, what is the piece of news?" Annie asked.
"Guess!" Vincent replied smiling.
"You have got promoted?" his mother said.He shook his head.
"Is it about a lady?" Annie asked.
Vincent smiled.
"Oh, Vincent, you are not engaged to be married! That would be too ridiculous!" Vincent laughed and nodded.
"Annie is right, mother; I am engaged to be married." Mrs.
Wingfield looked grave, Rosie laughed, and Annie threw her arms round his neck and kissed him.
"You dear, silly old boy:" she said."I am glad, though it seems so ridiculous.Who is she, and what is she like?""We needn't ask where she lives," Rosie said."Of course it is in Antioch, though bow in the world you managed it all in the two or three days you were there I can't make out."Mrs.Wingfield's brow cleared."At any rate, in that case, Vincent, she is a Southerner.I was afraid at first it was some Yankee woman who had perhaps sheltered you on your way.""Is she older than you, Vincent? Annie asked suddenly."I shouldn't like her to be older than you are.""She is between sixteen and seventeen," Vincent replied, "and she is a Southern girl, mother, and I am sure you will love her, for she saved my life at the risk of her own, besides nursing me all the time I was ill.""I have no doubt I shall love her, Vincent, for I think, my boy, that you would not make a rash choice.I think you are young, much too young, to be engaged; still, that is a secondary matter.Now tell us all about it.We expected your story to be exciting, but did not dream that love-making had any share in it."Vincent accordingly told them the whole story of his adventures from the time of his first meeting Dan in prison.When he related the episode of Lucy's refusal to say whether he would return, although threatened with instant death unless she did so, his narrative was broken by the exclamations of his hearers.
"You need not say another word in praise of her," his mother said.
"She is indeed a noble girl, and I shall be proud of such a daughter.""She must be a darling!" Annie exclaimed."Oh, Vincent, how brave she must be! I don't think I ever could have done that, with a pistol pointing straight at you, and all those dreadful men round, and no hope of a rescue; it's awful even to think of.""It was an awful moment, as you may imagine," Vincent replied.
