“We may get him back some day,” said Colden, for want of aught better to say.
“If you can do that, John Colden, and have this rebel hanged who dared treat me so—” Elizabeth paused, and her look dwelt on the major’s face.
“Well?”
“Then I think I shall almost be really in love with you!”
But Colden sighed. “A rare promise from one’s betrothed!”
“Heavens, Jack!” said Elizabeth, now diverted from the thought of her horse. “Don’t I do the best I can to love you? I’m sure I come as near loving you as loving anybody. What more can I do than that, and promising my hand? Don’t look dismal, major, I pray,—and now make haste back to New York.”
“How can I go and leave you exposed to the chance of another visit from some troop of rebels?” pleaded Colden, in a kind of peevish despair, taking up his hat from the settle.
“Oh, that fellow showed no disposition to injure me!” she answered, reassuringly. “Trust me to take care of myself.”
“But promise that if there’s any sign of danger, you will fly to New York.”
“That will depend on the circumstances. I may be safer in this house than on the road.”