"I am a soldier's daughter, and I can be a soldier's wife. I have tried hard to give you up, Paul, but I couldn't. You are love's soldier, dear, and it is a—a relief to surrender and have it over with."
They fell to discussing plans for the future. It all went smoothly and airily until he asked her when he should go to Washington to claim her as his wife. She gave him a startled, puzzled look.
"To Washington?" she murmured, turning very cold and weak. "You—you won't have to go to Washington, dear; I'll stay here."
"My dear Beverly, I can afford the trip," he laughed. "I am not an absolute pauper. Besides, it is right and just that your father should give you to me. It is the custom of our land." She was nervous and uncertain.
"But—but, Paul, there are many things to think of," she faltered.
"You mean that your father would not consent?"
"Well,—he—he might be unreasonable," she stammered. "And then there are my brothers, Keith and Dan. They are foolishly interested in me. Dan thinks no one is good enough for me. So does Keith. And father, too, for that matter,—and mother. You see, it's not just as if you were a grand and wealthy nobleman. They may not understand. We are southerners, you know. Some of them have peculiar ideas about—"
"Don't distress yourself so much, dearest," he said with a laugh. "Though I see your position clearly—and it is not an enviable one."
"We can go to Washington just as soon as we are married," she compromised. "Father has a great deal of influence over there. With his help behind you you will soon be a power in the United—" but his hearty laugh checked her eager plotting. "It's nothing to laugh at, Paul," she said.
"I beg your pardon a thousand times. I was thinking of the disappointment I must give you now. I cannot live in the United States—never. My home is here. I am not born for the strife of your land. They have soldiers enough and better than I. It is in the turbulent east that we shall live—you and I." Tears came into her eyes.