the whiteness of her face. Perhaps, had I been able to read
her eyes, their expression might have served to curb my tongue, but
nothing else could have held me silent. "I am going away, going into the
lines of a hostile army; I may not reach there alive, and, if I do, I
may fall in the first battle. I must tell you the truth first--I must.
Don't call it foolish, for it is not. Dear, I may be a Yankee, but I am
also a man, and I--"

"Oh, stop! please stop!" her fingers clasping me, her form closer. "I
can not--I will not permit you to say this. I have no right. You have
made me disloyal to my country; you shall not make me disloyal to all
else. If I should listen I would have no self-respect left. For my sake
be still, and go."

"But I know you are not indifferent; you cannot conceal the truth."

"Then be content, be satisfied, be generous."

"If you will only say one thing."

"What?"

"That I may come to you--after the war."

She stood a moment motionless, and then withdrew her hand.

"That would be equivalent to a hope which I cannot give," she returned
soberly. "When the war ends I shall probably no longer be Willifred
Hardy." My heart beat like a trip-hammer; I could hear it in
the silence.

"The man yonder?"

She bent her head.

"You will not," my voice firm with swift conviction. "If that is all, I
am not afraid. If you loved him would you be standing here even to say a
word of farewell? Whatever pledge may be between you, on your part it is
not love. You cannot deny this--not to me! Yes, and you are already
beginning to know him. Remember, I have had to listen to some
conversation between you--I know his style. Ah, yes, I will go, because
I dare not keep you out here longer, but, if God lets me live, I am
going to find you again. Yes, I am; don't doubt that, little girl. I
could stand back for a real man, but not for Le Gaire; that's not in
human nature. See, I have your ribbon yet, and am going to wear it."

"Without my permission?"

I reached out my arm and drew her gently against the fence barrier, so
close I could look down into her eyes, gazing up into mine startled by
the sudden movement.

"Lip permission, yes--I prefer to read consent elsewhere."

"And do you?"

"I shall believe I do. See, here is the ribbon; will you take it?"

"Of course not. Why should I care if you have that? It has no value to
me. But I will not stay and talk longer. Let me go, Lieutenant! yes, you
must. What sh