Satisfied that he was in
easy supporting distance of his division commander, he extended his line
along the ridge, ready to fall back in that direction, while retarding
their advance and masking the position of his own chief. He gave a few
orders necessary to the probable abandonment of the house, and then
returned to it. Shot and shell were already dropping in the field below.
A thin ridge of blue haze showed the line of skirmish fire. A small
conical, white cloud, like a bursting cotton-pod, revealed an open
battery in the willow-fringed meadow. Yet the pastoral peacefulness
of the house was unchanged. The afternoon sun lay softly on its deep
verandas; the pot pourri incense of fallen rose-leaves haunted it still.
He entered his room through the French window on the veranda, when the
door leading from the passage was suddenly flung open, and Miss Faulkner
swept quickly inside, closed the door behind her, and leaned back
against it, panting and breathless.
Clarence was startled, and for a moment ashamed. He had suddenly
realized that in the excitement he had entirely forgotten her and
the dangers to which she might be exposed. She had probably heard the
firing, her womanly fears had been awakened; she had come to him for
protection.
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