“Charles, you told me to-day for the first time, that you loved me, and asked me if I could not address you as dear Charles. You have been very kind to me, and, on one occasion, you rescued me from the hands of a villain. I feel grateful—truly so. But, whatever my feelings may be, I never can wed my country’s enemy. Look yonder. You see that white cottage. Once it was beautifully adorned with creeping vines, and the lawn before it bloomed with flowers and shrubbery. But, dearer than all, within its walls lived my father and my sister. Look at it now! Its beauty has departed—it is a wreck; father and sister have been driven from it, while I have been detained here by force. You profess to love me. If you do so, prove it! We are now more than a mile from the rebel camp, and you can escape with me to Springfield.”
“I will assist you to escape; indeed, I will accompany you a portion of the way to Springfield. But I must return to my own people and fight with them to the last. I do love you, and I would become your husband, gladly, if I could be satisfied you loved me for myself alone. But, I can not sacrifice one jot of honor or principle to win even you, dear Nettie.”
“And you will go with me, now?”
“Yes—stay, what is that? Did you not hear a low, moaning sound?”
“I heard nothing.”
“Well, perhaps I am mistaken. But I fancied I heard such a sound. No matter. I will go with you now to Springfield.”
“To what purpose, young man?”
The speaker was a powerful person, and had emerged from the bridge just in time to hear the last sentence of Charles Campbell.
“So, sir,” he continued, “you would desert us, and join the Yankees, and all for your foolish regard for this vixen!”
“Colonel Price, if you were not an officer I would make you eat your words. I have served you faithfully, and you have no right to question my loyalty. I do not intend to desert, neither is this lady a vixen any more than you are a coward.”