"Oh--well," she stammered with a forced little laugh, "thousands of brave
fellows like you. You do not answer my question. Are we to have anything
like a general war? Surely, there ought to be enough good, wise men on
both sides to settle the matter."

"The matter might be settled easily enough," he replied lightly. "We know
our rights, and shall firmly assert them. If the Yankees yield, all well;
if not, we'll make 'em."

"But making them may mean a great war?"

"Oh, yes, some serious scrimmages I reckon. We're prepared however, and
will soon bring the North to its senses."

"If anything should happen to my father!" she sighed.

He had led her beneath the shadow of a palmetto, and now breathed into her
ear, "Mary, dear Mary, how much I'd give to hear you say in the same tone,
'If anything should happen to Sidney'!" She did not withdraw her hand from
his arm, and he again felt it tremble more than before. "Mary," he
continued earnestly, "I have asked your father if I might speak to you,
and he did not deny me the privilege. Oh, Mary, you must have seen my love
in my eyes and heard it in my tones long since. Mary," he concluded
impetuously, "let me but feel that I am defending you as well as my State,
and I can and will be a soldier in very truth."

She suddenly turned and sobbed on his shoulder, "That's what I fear,--I
can hide my secret from you no longer--that's what I fear. Those I love
will be exposed to sudden and terrible death. I am not brave at all."