ou are as sweet as you are.
But now let us go down to your uncle, after you take one little cup of
coffee. So! Now we are ready."

The two descended to the drawing-room arm in arm, and there Jeanne related
all the circumstances that led to her coming to New Orleans, concealing
nothing. Her deep love and attachment to her country glowed through the
narrative like a golden thread. The lady and gentleman listened in silence
until she related General Butler's doubt of herself, when her uncle
sprang to his feet with an exclamation.

"The scoundrel!" he cried. "To subject you to such treatment. And we are
helpless. Yes; we are helpless. Day after day some new act of injustice
comes to our ears and we must submit. But our time is coming, and I fancy
that Butler won't relish what his high handed proceedings will bring him."

"He is truly a beast without the instincts of a gentleman," cried Madame
Vance, excitedly. "That is our name for him, Jeanne. 'Beast' Butler, and
well he deserves it."

Jeanne moved uneasily.

"It wasn't pleasant," she said, "and it was a new thing to me to have my
loyalty questioned, but I think he must have to do that way. You are so
against him, you know, that if he were not careful you might rise up and
drive him out. And the Union must have New Orleans. Father says that the
rebellion can never be put down unless the Mississippi River is in our
possession."

"True for you, my little Yankee. And that is just where the Union will
fail. They did take New Orleans through the cowardice of its defenders,
but they'll never get Vicksburg. And so long as we can hold that the
Confederacy is safe. But you say that you ran past the Vicksburg
batteries. Tell that again."

Jeanne retold that portion of her story to please him.

"I am glad that you are here, child," remarked Mr. Vance when she had
finished. "But I am surprised at Brother Dick's sending you to face such
dangers. He always was an enthusiast in anything that he undertook, and
undervalued life if it stood in the way of accomplishing his object."

"Father did not know that it was so risky," said Jeanne unwilling to hear
aught against her father. "He would not have sent me if he had. Besides I
wanted to come, and I am glad that I did come, now that I have met you
and Cherie."

"Yes; I am glad for you to know her too," said Uncle Ben, his Yankee
tones sounding in flat contrast with his wife's sibilant ones. "I always
intended taking her North to