"Don't let her go, aunt—I beg of you."
Mrs. Ruthven looked at her nephew curiously.
"What makes you so afraid of this war, St. John?"
"Afraid? I am not afraid exactly," he stammered. "I was thinking of dear Marion. It would be horrible for her to put up with the hardships, and such sights!"
"But somebody must bear such sights and sounds. War is war, and our beloved country must be sustained, even in her darkest hour."
He trembled and turned pale, but quickly recovered.
"What you say is true, Aunt Alice. I have wanted to go to the front, but my mother positively refuses her permission. She is in mortal terror that the Yankees will come to our plantation and loot the place in my absence."
"Do you think you can keep them from coming?"
"No, but I can—er—I can perhaps protect my mother."
"If you went off, she could come over here and remain with me."