Leaving that land, orphaned, penniless, her life crushed down at the very portal of womanhood, her friends scattered, her family broken and destroyed, her whole world overturned, she had left also all hope of a later happiness.

There remained to her only the memory of a past, the honour that she prized, the traditions which she must maintain.

She was "unreconstructed," as she admitted bitterly.

Moreover, so she said, even could it lie in her heart ever to prove unfaithful to her lover who had died upon the field of duty, never could it happen that she would care for one of those who had murdered him, who had murdered her happiness, who had ruined her home, destroyed her people, and banished her in this far wandering from the land that bore her.
"Providence did not bring me here to marry you," she said to Franklin keenly, "but to tell you that I would never marry you--never, not even though I loved you, as I do not.

I am still a Southerner, am still a 'rebel.' Moreover, I have learned my lesson.