"No, Miss Willifred," earnestly, "they are not, because they come from the heart. You are a woman, and therefore you understand. You cannot be angry with me, no matter how hard you try. You are endeavoring to deceive yourself, but the effort is useless. You do care for me--that was why you waited for me to get safely across the river; that was why you have come to me now. Ever since I left you in the grape arbor I have been in your thoughts."
"And why I was also about to marry Captain Le Gaire, I suppose," she interposed defiantly, but with eyes unable to meet mine.
"I can comprehend that easily enough, helped by what I overheard. You cannot tell me you desired to marry Captain Le Gaire--can you?"
"No," for I stopped, and thus compelled an answer. "It would be useless to deny that."
"I was so sure of this that I acted, took the one course open to me to prevent your doing this wrong. I deliberately determined to risk your displeasure rather than permit the sacrifice. You were marrying him merely because you had promised, because you could not explain to your father why your feelings had changed--you were afraid to confess that you loved a Yankee."
"But I didn't--it was not that!"
"Then what was it?"
She remained silent, but now I was fully aroused.
"Billie," my voice low, and barely reaching her ear. "When I rode away that night I knew I loved you. I was a Yankee soldier, but I had been captured by a Rebel. I scarcely possessed a hope then of meeting you again, but I did believe you already realized what kind of a man Le Gaire was. I could not conceive that you would marry him, and I swore to myself to seek you out at the earliest moment possible. Don't draw back from me, dear, but listen--you must listen. This means as much to you as to me."
"But I cannot--I must not."