"And that's why you will make a glorious wife for a soldier," replied Fortescue impudently, at which Betty blushed all over her face and neck. When Fortescue was walking back to Rosehill, he saw over his shoulder the lights shining from Betty's dormer windows. He went direct to his own room as soon as he reached Rosehill, and after a while saw the lights go out in Betty's windows. Fortescue, who, like most soldiers, believed in God and respected Him as the Great Commander, knew that Betty was saying her simple, earnest prayers for him, and the thought that the prayers of the innocent were heard gave him a reverent thankfulness. To Betty, in her little white bed in the darkened room, with the curtain drawn wide so that she could watch the lights at Rosehill as long as they burned, it was as if the world were growing too beautiful. Deep in her heart was the old Greek superstition that one cannot walk the airy heights of happiness long without a precipice opening beneath one's feet. The thought oppressed her and kept her awake long after the windows of Rosehill were dark. Something like a presentiment stole into her heart. "Whatever happens, though," she thought, "nothing can come between Jack and me. We understand each other too well." Suddenly the melancholy cry of a nightbird resounded outside in the darkness. It was strange to hear that cry at midnight in the dead of winter and it made Betty shiver. The next day the gaieties began with great vigor. The county was full of visitors, and the whirl of dancing feet was everywhere. Early the next day, Fortescue came over to Holly Lodge. He sat awhile in the sitting-room, talking pleasantly to the Colonel, who, in the old days before the continent was linked by railways, had travelled through the far-off country beyond the Rocky Mountains. Betty was congratulating herself upon the extreme good fortune that Fortescue and her grandfather had so much in common. But even that brought a little chill to her heart, for blessings have their price, and Betty was superstitious. The morning was cold and clear, and after awhile Fortescue asked Betty to come out for a turn with him. Betty went willingly enough. The Colonel watched the two as they started off up the lane toward the belt of woodland that skirted the highway. Betty's trim figure in black, with a little black hat on her shapely head, just came up to Fortescue's shoulder. They were a good height, and walked well together, thought the Colonel, used to watching marchers. Of course Betty and Fortescue had everything to tell each other, in spite of the long letters which had been exchanged weekly. But when they were once in the woodland, with the morning sun shining upon the tall and scattered cedars, Fortescue threw everything aside for the chief purpose he had in view.