“I mean that our love is hopeless. Father will never consent to our marriage. I feel it, know it. Without his consent I shall never marry. But save you from prison I will.”
“Joyce, you do not love me!” said Calhoun bitterly.
“As my life,” she cried.
“Yet you say you can never marry me!”
“Without my father’s consent I cannot.”
“Joyce, let us not borrow trouble. Even with [pg 278]your father’s consent we could not marry now. I am a prisoner. The war is going on, but it cannot last forever. When it is over, when peace is declared, I will come to you. Then, and not till then, will I ask your father for your hand. Let us hope the skies will be brighter by that time—that to be one of Morgan’s men will not be a badge of dishonor, even in the North.”
“Oh, Calhoun, if I could only hope! I will hope. Come to me after the war is over. Father’s consent may be won. But now the prison, the prison. I must save you. I have thought it all out.”
“How can you save me, a poor, weak mortal, who cannot take a step without help?” asked Calhoun.
“Put you in a carriage to-morrow night and take you where they cannot find you.”
“So soon? The Doctor said he would ask for two weeks. Two more weeks with you, Joyce—I could afford to go to prison for that.”