But there was little enough of mirth in the young man's face, as he stood there gazing across the level meadows, and up at the sailing clouds, and in fact everywhere excepting into the clear, earnest eyes of his companion as she came near and laid her hand gently on his arm. "Lawrence, you bid me speak truth just now," she said, "and to my best I did; for I would scorn to tell a lie, and least of all to you. But it is not so you are serving me, sir, your old, old friend Ruth. You are hiding something from me. Oh! but you are. Something that troubles you; and that is not kind of you."
Sad jesting.
"Least said, soonest mended," he said, but in softened tones, and gently withdrawing his arm from her grasp. "There are things done in this world not good for such as you are to be told about, Ruth dear. Tell me," he added, pointing to the basket, "does your father know anything of all this?"
"No; I lacked the courage to anger him when he looked so kindly on me this morning; and besides, I—well, I thought first I would speak with you about it, Lawrence."
"That is well," answered Lee; "and for thy life, Ruth, do not tell him. Do you understand—eh? It would be betraying such—such terrible tales of these eavesdroppings of yours, letting such naughty cats out of bags. Eh? wouldn't it, now? Do not tell a single soul; do you hear, child?" and he gripped her by the arm till his fingers left their marks on it. "Promise. 'Tis of course but a mere trifle," he went on with ill-feigned unconcern. "Not worth our wasting our breath upon. But still, if I were in your place I'd tell nobody. Not a soul, dear heart! Eh?"
"That is as it may be," demurely answered she.
"But I command!" he cried sternly. "I forbid you to do it, do you hear? I'll have no conditions."
"Ay, but I will," she said, resolutely setting her lips.
"Ruth, child! Ruth!" he said in the agony of his desperation; "you don't know what you're saying. 'Tis playing with fire—with edged tools."
"Ay, indeed," she said, with another glance at the bayonet.