“Elfie,” he said, “you know that I love you more than life. And you know that _I_ know you love me. And it is right that we should be married; but right or wrong, I am resolved to marry you to-day. Listen, you mad girl! Here you are in a guerrilla camp; the only woman in it. You have no longer Alberta’s protection. And unless you have a husband, what is to become of your good name? What do you suppose people will say of you?” he demanded, removing his hand from her lips. “What do I suppose people will say of me? What do _you_ suppose I care? Could they say worse of me than that I should be your wife?” fiercely demanded Elfie, struggling vainly to free herself. “Yes, Elfie. You know very well that they may say far worse of you than that, unless I prevent them. But they never shall say it, Elfie. I have got the marriage license and the wedding ring, and the minister is in my hut, only waiting my message to come and marry us.” “No minister will ever marry us against my consent!” “Elfie, I have said that to the Reverend Mr. Simmons which convinces him that it is duty to marry us. Come, Mutchison; we have no more time to lose. Go fetch the parson,” ordered Albert Goldsborough. The giant started on the errand. “Ho!” called Goldsborough after him. Mutchison looked back. “Don’t let any of the men know what’s up. We don’t want to afford them a spectacle in camp. See that they are kept at a proper distance from this.” “All right, sir,” said the giant, striding on his way. Albert Goldsborough raised Elfie in his arms and bore her into the hut. “Mind this!” said Elfie, whose very lips were white with rage, while her black eyes seemed to scintillate sparks of fire—“mind this, Albert Goldsborough! If you persist in this purpose, and if you succeed in carrying it out—_I will kill you!_” “Perhaps you will, Elfie. You really look as if you would; but I will risk it,” said Albert, firmly. Presently Mutchison returned to the hut, and said: “The parson is coming, sir.” “Mutchison, come here,” said Albert Goldsborough. And the giant came to his side. “Mutchison, there was once a princess of France who was as obstinately opposed to matrimony as our bride here. Even when this princess stood with her intended husband before the altar she refused to say ‘Yes’ to the all important question as to whether she would take that man to be her wedded husband. So her father went behind her, put his hands upon her obstinate little head and bent it forward with a nod of assent.” “And ‘a nod is as good as a wink,’” said Mutchison. “Certainly—and better, in these instances; for it is a sign of affirmation and means yes.” “The parson is at the door, sir,” exclaimed Mutchison, seeing a shadow move before the curtain. “Well, let him wait a moment, until I explain your part to you.”