UNDER THE PLUM TREES
She laughed in that way that always made me shiver.
"You don't seem to be aware that we are enemies, and become more so every day—with every shot fired down there in Virginia. I tell you that every one of those bullets goes through my heart—here! I tell you that I hate you all—all who call yourselves Union. And you know that you all hate me,—that your little affection for me is what you would give to any mendicant who came to your door. Oh, you are good in that way! You don't turn beggars out. But you are not good enough to be rebels!—as you fools call us. You don't stop to think that your father's brother had the courage to be one! And you don't recall that some of you murdered him! At night, while he stood faithfully at his gun! And his blood is on you—his own kin—as well as the rest. Shall I tell you some more of the things in my heart? Oh, there won't be any talk of love between us after this—will there? Nor
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