Lettice made a detour and came around by the rear of the old graveyard. The thicket was closer here, and hid her from the view of any one passing. She threw herself down in the long grass, hiding her face in her arm. “I said that, and I am afraid I am growing to love him,” she murmured. “I have made one promise to my brother, and how can I make another to him?” She lay still a long time, and once in a while a tear trickled down her cheek. Presently she sat up. A sudden thought had struck her. Suppose she could win her lover over to her side of thinking. That would be a triumph indeed! Why shouldn’t she? Did he love her, he certainly would not give her up; yet as she pondered upon the subject, she felt that she was by no means certain of the success of her effort, and her face grew grave again. From over the hedge came a voice, calling softly, “Lettice! Sweet Lettice, where have you hidden yourself?” She sprang to her feet and stood where she could be seen. Robert pressed aside the detaining vines and came up to her. “Lettice, sweetheart, I could not stay away. Do you forgive me for coming so early? Was it a dream? a beautiful dream which I had last night, or did I see a light in your dear eyes? I love you so, sweet Lettice, that I could not sleep last night for thinking of you.” He gently pushed back the sunbonnet she had drawn over her face. “Sweetheart, you have been weeping,” he said in a troubled tone. “Your sweet eyes are wet. What is wrong?” Lettice gave a little sob, and for one moment yielded to the clasp of his arm, burying her hot face on his breast. She felt a sudden joy to be thus near him, to hear him speak, but only for an instant she allowed herself to remain thus, and then she sprang away, and stood a little beyond him. “Tell me,” she said, “do you love me enough to join the cause of my father and my brothers?” He looked at her gloomily, and then, leaning on the tall headstone which her movement had placed between them, he said slowly: “Do you make that an issue between us? You love me less than you love the platform upon which rests the opinion of certain members of your family?” She looked troubled in her turn. There was a long pause. An utter stillness prevailed. Once in a while a bird darted from the faintly rustling leaves. The distant sound of water plashing against the side of the bay shores, or the murmur of voices from the fields struck their ears. Lettice noted these things unconsciously, and with them the faint odors of the growing greenness about her, and the shapes of the shadows on the grass. She drew a long breath. “You do not love me, if you are willing to lose me because I love my country.”