It strangled him to think that he must leave her here. He wouldn’t! He would make her come with Marya, Zonia and her mother into the West and take her place in the field by his side.
The thought thrilled him with new life.
In ten minutes he was holding her in his arms—war and death, poverty and ruin lost in love’s mad rapture.
“You must come with me, my own!” he breathed. “I will find a tent for you on the great free plains—you, your mother, and Marya and Zonia. You can follow when I send you the word—”
She shook her head sadly.
“No, my lover, I cannot surrender to our enemies like that—my place is here.”
“Your life is not safe in Waldron’s hands.”
“I’m in God’s hands. I have work to do. You shall do yours on the plains training our brave boys for the day that shall surely come. I must do mine here—”
“I can’t leave you!” he protested bitterly.
“You must. My mother can’t live. I know this. The shock of a journey would kill her. Marya and Zonia shall be my sisters.”