It did its work effectually, and made two
hearts thoroughly happy,--this letter which had so strangely bewitched
Surrey; which, in his heart, spite of the ridicule of his reason, he
was so sure was hers; and which, indeed, was hers, though he knew not
that till long afterward.
"So," he thought, as he went through the camp, "Given is here, and near.
I shall be glad to see a face from home, whatever kind of a face it may
be, and Given's is a good one; it will be a pleasant rememberance."
"Whither away?" called a voice behind him.
"To the 29th," he answered the questioner, one of his officers and
friends, who, coming up, took his arm,--"in pursuit of a man."
"What's his name?"
"Given,--christened James. What are you laughing at? do you know him?"
"No, I don't know him, but I've heard some funny stories about him; he's
a queer stick, I should think."
"Something in that way.--Helloa! Brooks, back again?" to a fine,
frank-looking young fellow,--"and were you successful?"
"Yes, to both your questions. In addition I'll say, for your rejoicing,
that I give in, cave, subside, have nothing more to say against your pet
theory,--from this moment swear myself a rank abolitionist, or anything
else you please, now and forever,--so help me all ye black gods and
goddesses!"
"Phew! what's all this?" cried Whittlesly, from the other side of his
Colonel; "what are you driving at? I'll defy anybody to make head or
tail of that answer.
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