“So we go to Goldsborough’s encampment,” she said.
“Yes. This morning, when the scouts brought in the news that the enemy’s cavalry, informed by the little spy Gill, was after us, we called a hasty council of war—Goldsborough, myself, Mutchison, and Abershaw; when it was decided that we should consolidate the remnant of our bands, at the Black Bear’s Pass, there to wait for Monck, who is expected down from the Shenandoah Valley, to plan another raid into Pennsylvania or Maryland. Ah, what a hard life this for you, my tenderly reared love!” said the guerrilla chief, suddenly breaking off from his talk of rapine and bloodshed, to gaze with ineffable tenderness upon his companion.
“My Free Sword,” exclaimed his wife, fondly and proudly, “it is the life of my heart’s choosing. I am happy—oh, believe me—I am always happy by your side! only miserable when absent from you. And you never wish me absent, do you, Vittorio?”
“God knows, never!” exclaimed the Free Sword, fervently. “I am such an egotist as to want you always with me, cost you what it may.”
“‘Such an egotist’ are you, in making me so happy? Listen, my chief—oh, my dearest, listen: I am orthodox and I believe in Heaven and in hell. But I will have no Heaven that you do not share, my own! And death and hell are less terrible to me than the thought of parting from you,” she murmured, still fondly and proudly, as she had spoken before.
“Then by the splendor of Heaven we will never part again—no, not for a day!”
Their hands met in a clasp as fervent as the pledge of a first betrothal, and then they rode on again in silence for some moments, until the clatter of a horse’s feet was heard behind them, and Goldsborough galloped up, with Elfie still bound behind him. He lifted his hat gallantly as he passed Madam Corsoni.
“Oh, Vittorio!” exclaimed Alberta, as the horseman and his captive sped out of sight.
“What is it, love?” inquired Colonel Corsoni.
“Elfie! nothing can be done for her until we reach our destination, I suppose. But, oh, when we do, pray try to effect the deliverance of Elfie. It is shameful in Albert Goldsborough to carry her off against her will.”