He knew, of course, that an
army officer was in the house, and Mrs. Porterfield had told us of his
coming, so the meeting was not unexpected.
Still, when we went down to
dinner that night I was almost shivering from nervousness, although
the air was excessively warm. I was so afraid of something unpleasant
coming up, for although Mrs. Porterfield and her daughter were women
of culture and refinement, they were also rebels to the very quick,
and never failed at any time to remind one that their uncle was
"President" Davis! And then, as we went in the large dining room, Faye
in his very bluest, shiniest uniform, looked as if he might be Uncle
Sam himself.
But there was nothing to fear - nothing whatever. A tall, thin old man
came forward with Mrs. Porterfield to meet us - a courtly gentleman of
the old Southern school - who, apparently, had never heard of the Civil
War, and who, if he noticed the blue uniform at all, did not take the
slightest interest in what it represented. His composure was really
disappointing! After greeting me with grave dignity, he turned to Faye
and grasped his hand firmly and cordially, the whole expression of his
face softening just a little. I have always thought that he was deeply
moved by once again seeing the Federal Blue under such friendly
circumstances, and that old memories came surging back, bringing with
them the almost forgotten love and respect for the Academy - a love
that every graduate takes to his grave, whether his life be one of
honor or of disgrace.
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