A laugh was the only reply.
“I trust Miss Hayward will permit me to become her protector!” said Walker, in an assumed tone of kindness.
Miss Hayward did not reply, but gazed around her. She was in a wild spot. She was seated beside a lovely stream of water, in a deep valley, while high on either hand were ragged hills or mountains. She knew the country for at least ten or twelve miles from Springfield in all directions was quite level, and she judged she must be near the Ozark country, the first range of whose ridges she had frequently seen from that point.
“Does not the lovely Miss Hayward deign a reply to her most devoted lover?” asked Walker.
“What was your purpose in tearing me from my friends, and conveying me here?” asked Miss Hayward.
“A pardonable one, I think. My life was forfeited in the Federal camp, and personal interest required me to depart. I could not think of leaving without you, and so I resorted to a little stratagem. My love for you must plead my excuse.”
“But I have told you, Captain Walker, that I could not love you. Do you suppose after what has transpired that I could entertain any other feeling toward you than detestation?”
“I am aware of that. But, when you know me better, I am sure you will consent to reward my devotion. I am going to convey you to your brother!”
“Then I will thank you, at least!” exclaimed Miss Hayward.
“Nothing else?”