“But why?” asked Thorne curiously.
“No matter, tell me.”
“I can’t do that. I wish I could,” he answered with a slight sigh.
“You needn’t,” said the girl triumphantly; “I do know.”
The Captain started and, in spite of his control, a look of dismay and apprehension flitted across his face as the girl went on:
“They’re sending you on some mission where death is almost certain. They will sacrifice your life, because they know you are fearless and will do anything. There is a chance for you to stay here, and be just as much use, and I am going to ask you to take it. It isn’t your life alone—there are—others to think of and—that’s why I ask you. It may not sound well, perhaps I ought not—you won’t understand, but you——”
As she spoke she rose to her feet, confronting him, while she impulsively thrust out her hand toward him again. Once more he took that beloved hand in his own, holding it close against him. Burning avowals sprang to his lips, and the colour flamed into her face as she stood motionless and expectant, looking at him. She had gone as far as a modest woman might. Now the initiative was his. She could only wait.
“No,” said the man at last, by the exercise of the most iron self-control and repression, “you shall not have this against me, too.”
Edith drew closer to him, leaving her hand in his as she placed her other on his shoulder. She thought she knew what he would have said. And love gave her courage. The frankness of war was in the air. If this man left her now, she might never see him again. She was a woman, but she could not let him go without an effort.
“Against you! What against you? What do you mean?” she asked softly.