“It is just what that wretch said!” thought Elfie—“it is just as if I had lost my footing on the nineteenth century and slipped down into the tenth, and lighted in Epping Forest, in the days of bold Robin Hood and his merry men. What a place for a civilized and Christian girl to find herself in!—the lair of outlaws; for I really do suppose the guerrillas are no better! Not that the life would be so bad either if it were not for the cause—‘the CAUSE, my soul!’ No bed was ever softer or more elastic than this pallet spread upon the leaves; no air was ever so sweet as this that comes laden with the fragrance of the mountain forest; and no serenade was ever so soothing as the small sing-song of these little minstrels of the bark. If this were only a Union camp, and Albert were a patriot, how happy I would be! If—if——” And here Elfie, pierced to the soul by the poignant thought of what “_might have been_,” began to weep. “Good night, dearest, good night! Remember if you needs must go upon this expedition, _I go with you_. At noon-day or at midnight, it matters not to me; I shall be ready. No toils, no perils, no privations shall dismay me, Vittorio! I dread but one evil in this world: separation from you; and that evil you have promised that I shall never suffer. Remember, dearest, remember!” These were the words addressed to the Free Sword by his devoted wife before she left him, raised the curtain, and entered the hut. She found Elfie still sobbing. She went and knelt down by the pallet, and gently inquired: “Why, Elfie—Elfie, dear! what is the matter? Why should _you_ weep? Why should _any_ one weep whose best beloved is not in deadly peril as mine is? Speak to me, Elfie! Tell me why you weep so much.” “It is abou—out that wretch Go—oldsborough!” sobbed Elfie. “Not because he has brought me off by force. I am not thinking of that now; for if he had been true to his country, he needn’t have brought me off by strength of arm. I would have accompanied him willingly anywhere—anywhere over the earth: into the camp—into the wilderness—into the battle! For _you_ know, Alberta, that we women who scream at the sight of a black beetle, can nevertheless face a battery by the side of one we love! And if he had been loyal—oh! if he had been loyal, I should have loved him so well!—I should have honored him so greatly! And if he should have been fated to come out of the war with the loss of both his arms and both his legs, I should still have married him. Yes—and a thousand times yes! I would all the sooner have married him that I might be hands and feet to him forever. But he has lost his HONOR, Alberta. And oh! you do not know it, perhaps—you cannot understand, it may be; but his treason—his treason was the heaviest blow that ever fell upon me, and to-night it weighs heavy as lead upon my heart. Oh! if he had been true—oh! if he had been true!”