A Daughter of the Union. Lucy Foster Madison
letter. If at any time you are in doubt what to do go to the hospitals. There are always women there who will gladly give whatever aid you may need. And here is money.”
“Mother gave me some,” interrupted Jeanne who had listened with the closest attention.
“Yes; that is in your purse, which is in the satchel, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“Well, take this also. I had this bag made to hold it.” He put a roll of bills into an oilskin bag and drew the cord so that the opening closed tightly together. “Wear that about your neck, child, and keep it hidden under your dress,” he said. “Keep that always about you as a reserve fund. So long as you have money you can get along pretty well. Take out what you need from time to time, carrying only a small amount in your purse. Above all beware of talking too freely to strangers. Now for the final instructions: you are going to New Orleans to visit your Uncle Ben. When you reach there ask him to direct you to Mr. ––––,” here he whispered in her ear. “Speak that name to no person. When you have delivered the papers into his hands your duty is done. Stay with your uncle until you hear from me. I will write you how to come home. Now, Jeanne, I think that this is all I have to say. If anything should happen that these arrangements fail, don’t run any danger but return home. You see that I am leaving a great deal to your judgment. Can you remember everything that I have said?”
“Yes. And you may be sure that I will do just as you tell me. It seems to me that everything has been thought of and that there is no chance of failing.”
“Sometimes the best laid plans are thwarted,” said her father gravely. “It may not be a very wise thing to send my daughter on such an errand, but you are such a sensible little thing that I feel as if you would succeed.”
“I will,” said Jeanne determinedly. “I want to be worthy of my name, father. Did not another Jeanne not much older than I lead the Dauphin of France to a crown? Surely then I can do this thing which is small in comparison.”
“I am afraid we did wrong in giving you such a name,” remarked her father smilingly. “How full of the martial spirit you are, Jeanne. I believe that you would undertake the capture of Jeff Davis if I asked you to.”
“I would,” exclaimed the girl with a look that boded ill for the rebel president. “Perhaps we will try it yet.”
“We will get through this affair first, my dear. Here we are at the station. We’ll have to make a run for that train.”
They had taken a ferry during the conversation and by this time had reached Jersey City. Running through the gates they boarded the train just as the signal was given to pull out.
“My little girl, good-bye,” murmured Mr. Vance, clasping her to him for a brief second. “God bless and keep you, Jeanne. May He bring you safely back. Be brave,” he added, as he saw Jeanne’s lips quivering.
“I will,” sobbed Jeanne, breaking down completely as her father started away. “Oh, father, kiss me just once more.”
“Is it too much for you, my little girl?” Mr. Vance held her closely. “You need not go, Jeanne.”
“I want to. I am all right,” gasped Jeanne, controlling herself by an effort. “Now go, father, dear. See how brave I am.”
She smiled up at him through her tears. Mr. Vance regarded her anxiously.
“Go,” whispered Jeanne as the train began to move. Hastily her father left her. Jeanne leaned from the window and waved her hand as long as she could see him. But soon the train rounded a curve and he was lost to view. Then leaning back in her seat she gave herself up to her tears.
CHAPTER IV
A TIMELY RENEWAL OF ACQUAINTANCE
Jeanne sobbed unrestrainedly for some time. A sense of forlornness oppressed her, and the magnitude of the task she had undertaken weighed upon her spirits. As Mr. Vance had said she had never traveled alone before, and now that she had actually started upon the journey a thousand fears assailed her. The idea of being engaged upon a mission that involved something of risk had seemed a noble thing, and easy of accomplishment in her own home. Here, lacking the sustaining presence of her parents, and the relaxation after the excitement of the day, made the enterprise seem formidable indeed. So absorbed was she in her meditations that she had not noticed the other occupants of the coach, but presently there was borne in upon her senses the sound of singing.
“Oh, what is it?” she exclaimed with a nervous start.
“Some soldiers on their way to Washington,” answered a lady who sat behind her.
Jeanne’s interest was aroused at once, and she looked about her. In the rear of the car were a number of soldiers clad in blue. They seemed in high spirits and were singing lustily:
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