“When I come back may I tell you something I've wanted to tell you for ever so long—may I?”
She half hid her face on his arm, the pretty face that was making him a traitor to his duty. A new and strange emotion mastered him, as he felt her tremble at his side, the pressure of her little hands on his arm, her cheek against his sleeve; he drew her closer to him, and upward, until her flushed face was on a level with his own, and then for the first time he kissed her—not once, but again, and again.
“You know what I mean, Marian!” he whispered rapturously. “I'm not going to wait to tell you that I love you, I'm going to tell you now before I go;” for he was going, he could not stay to be held in contempt by her.
Presently they retraced their steps, the boy still drunk with ecstasy. The band was playing now; McKeever had ended his speech. Marian's eyes sparkled at the sound, her little feet kept eager step.
“Isn't it glorious!” she murmured, clinging to him. “Who wouldn't be a soldier that could be! I am so glad you are going, Stephen, I was almost afraid to ask you at first.”
But Stephen did not answer her. Joy in the pride of his asserted manhood left him dumb; he had broken free of the dull office, with its drab walls and dusty walnut woodwork, and littered desk, its bookcases with their yellow calfskin volumes; his future was to be wholly given over to heroism and glory! He was sure that he had made a choice that none, not even his Aunt Virginia or Benson, when they fully understood how he felt about it, would censure him for having made.
The drums and fifes rattled on merrily, the lights in the courthouse windows flashed out over the noisy mob on the square. Stephen found a place for Marian on the tavern steps where she could see all that was passing.
McKeever's Company, with McKeever at its head, was making the circuit of the square. Here and there as it moved along, a man would break through the crowd and fall in line, to be greeted by a burst of frantic cheering.
The company crossed the north side of the square, then the west and south sides, now it was approaching the east side and the tavern where Marian, clinging to the boy's arm, stood flushed and eager; but as the marching men came opposite them, she uttered a little smothered cry of dismay, for Stephen had gently released himself from her hold.
An instant later and he had vanished in the crowd, and when she saw him again he was one of the marching men.