t absently twisted the fringe of his buckskins
in her fingers.

"Ever since I have known what love is I have loved you, Jinny. It was so
when we climbed the cherry trees at Bellegarde. And you loved me then--I
know you did. You loved me when I went East to school at the Military
Institute. But it has not been the same of late," he faltered.
"Something has happened. I felt it first on that day you rode out to
Bellegarde when you said that my life was of no use. Jinny, I don't ask
much. I am content to prove myself. War is coming, and we shall have
to free ourselves from Yankee insolence. It is what we have both wished
for. When I am a general, will you marry me?"

For a wavering instant she might have thrown herself into his
outstretched arms. Why not, and have done with sickening doubts? Perhaps
her hesitation hung on the very boyishness of his proposal. Perhaps the
revelation that she did not then fathom was that he had not developed
since those childish days. But even while she held back, came the beat
of hoofs on the gravel below them, and one of the Bellegarde servants
rode into the light pouring through the open door. He called for his
master.

Clarence muttered his dismay as he followed his cousin to the steps.

"What is it?" asked Virginia, alarmed.

"Nothing; I forgot to sign the deed to the Elleardsville property,
and Worington wants it to-night." Cutting short Sambo's explanations,
Clarence vaulted on the horse. Virginia was at his stirrup. Leaning over
in the saddle, he whispered: "I'll be back in a quarter of an hour Will
you wait?"

"Yes," she said, so that he barely heard.

"Here?"

She nodded.

He was away at a gallop, leaving Virginia standing bareheaded to the
night, alone. A spring of pity, of affection for Clarence suddenly
welled up within her. There came again something of her old admiration
for a boy, impetuous and lovable, who had tormented and defended her
with the same hand.

Patriotism, stronger in Virginia than many of us now can conceive, was
on Clarence's side. Ambition was strong in her likewise. Now was she all
afire with the thought that she, a woman, might by a single word
give the South a leader. That word would steady him, for there was no
question of her influence. She trembled at the reckless lengths he might
go in his dejection, and a memory returned to her of a day at Glencoe,
before he had gone off to school, when she had refused to drive with
him. Colonel Carvel had