"And do you?"
"I shall believe I do. See, here is the ribbon; will you take it?"
"Of course not. Why should I care if you have that? It has no value to me. But I will not stay and talk longer. Let me go, Lieutenant! yes, you must. What shall I do to help--to help Gerald?"
"Go straight into the house, and report to the guard. You were walking in the garden for a breath of air, and overheard the struggle. They will find him. Good-bye, Billie."
I held out my hand, and she extended her own without a moment's hesitation.
"Good-bye," she said. "Shall I not wait here a few moments until you are across the road?"
I touched my lips to her fingers.
"What, with Gerald lying there!" happily. "Oh, Billie, are you so anxious as that for me to get safely away?"
"I--I am certainly not anxious to have you caught --not now. But you are almost impertinent; indeed you are. I cannot say a word you do not misinterpret. Please do not attempt to tease me; let us part friends."
The tone in which she said this meant far more than the mere words; I had ventured enough, and recognized the limitation to her patience. However strong her interest in me might already be, no acknowledgment was probable under present circumstances. I would but waste time, perhaps seriously injure my standing with her, were I to continue. The future must be left to work out its own miracle--to reveal her heart, and to prove the worthlessness of Le Gaire. For me to linger longer, holding her there in constant peril of discovery, would be simply madness.