tant, locked in the embrace of one whose
affection he valued above all earthly possessions.

When that short interval had passed away, in which neither Mildred nor
Arthur could utter speech; during which the lady leant her head upon her
lover's bosom, in that fond familiarity which plighted faith is allowed
to justify in the most modest maiden, sobbing the while in the intensity
of her emotions, she then at last, as she slowly regained her
self-possession, said, in a soft and melancholy voice, in which there
was nevertheless a tone of playfulness:

"I am a foolish girl, Arthur. I can boast like a blustering coward, when
there is nothing to fear; and yet I weep, like a true woman, at the
first trial of my courage."

"Ah, my dear Mildred, you are a brave girl," replied Butler, as he held
both of her hands and looked fondly into her face, "and a true and a
tried girl. You have come kindly to me, and ever, like a blessed and
gentle spirit of good, are prompt to attend me through every mischance.
It is a long and weary time, love, since last we met."

"It is very, very long, Arthur."

"And we are still as far off, Mildred, from our wishes as at first we
were."

"Even so," said Mildred sorrowfully. "A year of pain drags heavily by,
and brings no hope. Oh, Arthur, what have I suffered in the thought that
your life is so beset with dangers! I muse upon them with a childish
fear, that was not so before our last meeting. They rise to disturb my
daily fancies, and night finds them inhabiting my pillow. I was so
thankful, that you escaped that dreary siege of Charleston!"

"Many a poor and gallant fellow soldier there bit his lip with a chafed
and peevish temper," said Butler; "but the day will come, Mildred, when
we may yet carry a prouder head to the field of our country's honor."

"And your share," interrupted Mildred, "will ever be to march in the
front rank. In spite of all your perils past, your hard service, which
has known no holiday, your fatigues, that I have sometimes feared would
break down your health, and in spite too, of the claims, Arthur, that
your poor Mildred has upon you, you are even now again bound upon some
bold adventure, that must separate us, ah, perhaps, for ever! Our fate
has malice in it. Ever beginning some fresh exploit!"

"You would not have your soldier bear himself otherwise than as a true
knight, who would win and wear his lady-love by good set blows when
there was need for them?"

"If