Secret of Richmond Manor by Gilbert L. Morris

kitchen, haven’t you?”
    â€œYes, ma’am, I have.” He made no apology but just stood there.
    Leah saw that his hands were shaking. No, his whole body was shaking.
    â€œWhy,” she took a step closer, “you’ve got fever!” she exclaimed.
    His eyes were sunk back in his head, and he wore only a light shirt, ripped in several places and a pair of tattered trousers.
    â€œI got captured at Bull Run,” he murmured, his voice very thin and shaky. “I’ve been in Belle Isle for nigh onto a year now. Couldn’t stand it anymore, so I ran away.”
    Leah saw that he was swaying, about to fall. “Here!” she said. “Sit down.” She shoved a chair at him.
    He stared at her for a moment, then sat. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m not strong as a kitten. Never felt this bad before.”
    And Leah had never been so puzzled before. What to do with him? She thought of calling her uncle but instead asked, “You say you’ve been in prison for a whole year?”
    â€œYes, ma’am, a whole year, nearly. Lots of times I wished I’d been killed. It’d been a sight easier, I think, than living in that place.”
    He began to tremble violently and pulled his shirt up closer. His teeth were chattering.
    Leah said, “You need to be in bed. Where have you been sleeping?”
    â€œOut in the loft of the barn.” He tried to grin. “It’s better than what I had at Belle Isle.” He began shaking even more violently and said, “Well, you can go get your menfolks. I know what you got to do.”
    Leah stared at him, hugging her robe closely around her. “It won’t be too good for you to go back to that place, will it?”
    â€œDon’t matter.”
    Leah was appalled at the hopelessness in his voice. She said sharply, “Yes! It does matter! Are you hungry?”
    â€œNo, ma’am, not much. Just got a chill like—real cold.”
    She stared at the boy. He can’t be over sixteen or seventeen, she thought, and he’s so sick
.
    Leah was an impulsive girl. She had been rebuked by her parents more than once for makingsnap decisions. She also knew she made wrong decisions quite often. But now, staring at the poor miserable boy trembling in the chair, she thought, I
can’t let him go back to Belle Isle Prison. He’ll die
.
    â€œLook, I’m going to help you. You don’t need to go back to prison until you get well. Let me get some blankets and some clothes. You’ve got to get warm. You go on back to the barn. I’ll be out in a minute.”
    The boy stared at her in disbelief. “You mean, you’re not gonna turn me in?”
    â€œNot until you get better. Now go on.”
    Leah turned and left the kitchen. She went to her bedroom, where she picked up two blankets, and then stopped off at a chest on the porch. Some of her uncle’s old clothes were there. She found a coat and a pair of pants and some socks. Putting these under her arm, she took the candle and made her way around the house, careful to be very quiet.
    When she got to the barn, the boy was standing in front of it.
    â€œLet’s see where you’re sleeping,” she said.
    She followed him inside before remembering she’d put the gun down by the chest. If he had noticed, he made no remark. She trailed him up a rickety flight of stairs to the dim loft, and he motioned to a pile of straw. “Been sleeping on that.”
    Leah said, “There’s a cot in the attic of the house. Tomorrow I’ll get it down and bring it to you after dark. Early in the morning I’ll fix you something to eat and bring it to you.”
    â€œI’m not—not very hungry, but I sure am cold.”
    Leah handed him the clothes. “Put these on and wrap these blankets around you. I’ve got to go now.”
    Ezra Payne stared at her. He was still trembling like a blade of grass in the