As Socola left his room at the Spotswood the following night, a stranger met him at the turn of the dimly lighted corridor.
"Signor Socola, I believe?"
"At your service."
"I know some mutual friends in Washington connected with the Sardinian Ministry—"
"I\'m just starting for a stroll through the city," Socola interrupted. "Will you join me?"
"With pleasure. As I am well acquainted with the streets of Richmond, allow me to be your guide."
Socola followed with a nod of approval. Their walk led to the highest of the city\'s seven hills. But few were stirring at this hour—half-past seven. The people were busy at supper.
The two men paused at the gate of a stately, old-fashioned mansion in the middle of a spacious lawn. The odor of sweet pinks filled the air. The rose trellis and elaborate scheme of flower beds and the boxwood hedges told the story of wealth and culture and high social position.
"I wish to introduce you to one of the most charming ladies of Richmond," the stranger said in quick, business-like tones, opening the gate as if he were used to the feel of the latch.
"Certainly," was the short reply.
In answer to the rap of the old-fashioned brass knocker, a quaint little woman of forty opened the door and showed them into the parlor.
The blinds were closed, and the room lighted by a single small kerosene lamp.
With quick precision the stranger presented his companion.
"Miss Van Lew, permit me to introduce to you Signor Henrico Socola of the Sardinian Ministry. He is the duly accredited but unofficial agent of his Majesty, Victor Emmanuel, and is cultivating friendly relations with the new Government of the South."
Miss Van Lew extended her hand and took the outstretched one with a warmth that surprised her visitor beyond measure.
"I recognized him at once," she said with emotion.
"Recognized me?"
"Your dear mother, sir, was my schoolmate in Philadelphia. I loved her. How alike you are!"
"Then we shall be friends—"
"We shall be more than friends—we shall be comrades—"
She paused and turned to the stranger:
"You can leave us now."
With a bow the man turned and left the room.
Socola studied the little woman who had deliberately chosen to lay her life, her fortune and her home on the altar of her Country. He saw with a glance at her delicate but commanding figure the brilliant, accomplished, resolute woman of personality and charm.
She took the young man\'s hand again in hers and led him to a high-backed mahogany settee. She stroked the hands with her thin, cold fingers.
"How perfect the image of your mother! I would have known you anywhere. You must know and trust me. I was sent North to school. I came back to Virginia a more determined Abolitionist than ever. Our people have always hated Slavery. I made good my faith by freeing mine. We\'re not so well-to-do now, my mother and I."
She paused and looked wistfully about the stately room.
"This house could tell the story of gay and beautiful scenes—of balls—receptions and garden parties in bowers of roses—of coaches drawn by six snow-white horses standing at our door for the start to the White Sulphur Springs—"
She stopped suddenly, mastered her emotions and went on dreamily:
"Of great men and distinguished families our guests from the North and the South—Bishop Mann, Chief Justice John Marshall, the Lees, the Robinsons, Wickhams, Adams, Cabells,—the Carringtons—Fredrika Bremer, the Swedish novelist, visited us and wrote of us in her \'Homes in the New World.\' Jennie Lind in the height of her glory sang in this room. Edgar Allan Poe read here aloud his immortal poem, \'The Raven.\' You must realize what it means to me to become an outcast in Richmond—"
She drew from her bosom a newspaper clipping and handed it to Socola.
"Read that paragraph from this morning\'s editorial columns—"
The young man scanned the marked clipping.
RAPPED ON THE KNUCKS
"One of the City papers contained on Monday a word of exhortation to certain females of Southern residence (and perhaps birth) but of decidedly Northern and Abolition proclivities. The creatures............