“My lover!” she said indignantly, with a flash of her old savagery; “what do you mean? I have no lover!”
Brant glanced at her flushed face.
“I thought,” he said quietly, “that there was some one you cared for in yonder lines—some one you wrote to. It would have been an excuse”—
He stopped, as her face paled again, and her hands dropped heavily at her side.
“Good God!—you thought that, too! You thought that I would sacrifice you for another man!”
“Pardon me,” said Brant quickly. “I was foolish. But whether your lover is a man or a cause, you have shown a woman's devotion. And, in repairing your fault, you are showing more than a woman's courage now.”
To his surprise, the color had again mounted her pretty cheeks, and even a flash of mischief shone in her blue eyes.
“It would have been an excuse,” she murmured, “yes—to save a man, surely!” Then she said quickly, “I will go. At once! I am ready!”
“One moment,” he said gravely. “Although this pass and an escort insure your probable safe conduct, this is 'war' and danger! You are still a spy! Are you ready to go?”
“I am,” she said proudly, tossing back a braid of her fallen hair. Yet a moment after she hesitated. Then she said, in a lower voice, “Are you ready to forgive?”