"Your sweetheart!" murmured Carl. "Where is he? Is he in trouble? Does he know you were left behind when the crazy French retreated?"
"He must know that," she said absently.
"Where is he, Cousin 'Linda?" asked the boy. "Is he a very fine young man? One of those millionaires we have all read about as being so plentiful in America?"
"I never thought to ask whether he was rich or not," Belinda confessed.
"No? Ach! then you must love him indeed," Carl declared quickly. "I wish I might know him, Cousin 'Linda," he added wistfully.
She turned to him suddenly. "Do you mean that, Carl?"
"Why not?" he repeated wonderingly. "If you love him——"
"Suppose he were here—in peril of capture? Suppose he might be apprehended as a spy?"
"Ach! Do not talk so crazily, 'Linda!"
"But if he were? Would you help me to save him, Cousin Carl?" Belinda demanded recklessly.