"How hard you make it for me!" she cried. "Do you not see, can you not understand, that you ask impossibilities of me?"
"Irene," he said, in his low, deep, passionate tones, "you cannot say the words that will send me from you. My life is in danger here. Every moment that I stand by your side, holding your little, trembling hand in mine, increases my danger. We must go. I will never again leave you till you are my wife."
"Oh, heavens, Oleah! What is it that you mean?"
"I shall take you to my camp, and our chaplain shall marry us. Come, we have no time to lose."
"Oleah!" she cried, in such a tone, so firm and sharp, that he paused involuntarily. "Think what it is you would have me do. Think of the disgrace, the anxiety, the suffering, you would cause!"
"There cannot be disgrace for you, when your husband is by your side; and, as to the anxiety of my parents, theirs can be no greater than mine has been. My father cares not how much misery I and mine may undergo; need I care if a few gray hairs are added to his head? My love, my darling, listen! That old Yankee hunter, Dan Martin, is in the woods, his rifle is certain death five hundred yards away; and every moment I stand here, I do so at the peril of my life."
"Then, dear Oleah, go! Leave me, and go!"
"I came for you and I will not go alone."
"I can not, can not—"