I were the genius that conjured up this war, I would give my own
true knight a breathing space. He should pipe and dance between whiles,"
replied Mildred sportively.

"He that puts his sickle into this field amongst the reapers," said
Butler, with a thoughtful earnestness, "should not look back from his
work."

"No, no, though my heart break while I say it--for, in truth, I am very
melancholy, notwithstanding I force a beggar's smile upon my cheek; no,
I would not have you stay or stand, Arthur, until you have seen this
wretched quarrel at an end. I praised your first resolve--loved you for
it--applauded and cheered you; I will not selfishly now, for the sake of
my weak, womanish apprehension, say one word to withhold your arm."

"And you are still," said Butler, "that same resolute enthusiast that I
found in the young and eloquent beauty who captivated my worthless
heart, when the war first drew the wild spirits of the country together
under our free banner?"

"The same foolish, conceited, heady, prattling truant, Arthur, that
first took a silly liking to your pompous strut, and made a hero to her
imagination out of a boasting ensign--the same in all my follies, and in
all my faults--only altered in one quality."

"And pray, what is that one quality?"

"I will not tell you," said Mildred carelessly. "'Twould make you vainer
than you are."

"It is not well to hide a kind thought from me, Mildred."

"Indeed it is not, Arthur. And so, I will muster courage to speak it,"
said the confiding girl with vivacity, after a short pause during which
she hung fondly upon her lover's arm; and then suddenly changing her
mood, she proceeded in a tone of deep and serious enthusiasm, "it is,
that since that short, eventful and most solemn meeting, I have loved
you, Arthur, with feelings that I did not know until then were mine. My
busy fancy has followed you in all your wanderings--painted with
stronger hues than nature gives to any real scene the difficulties and
disasters that might cross your path--noted the seasons with a nervous
acuteness of remark, from very faint-heartedness at the thought that
they might blight your health or bring you some discomfort. I have pored
over the accounts of battles, the march of armies, the tales of
prisoners relating the secrets of their prisons; studied the plans of
generals and statesmen, as the newspapers or common rumor brought them
to my knowledge, with an interest that has made those