Something like the same policy prevailed in Colonel Goldsborough’s conduct towards his captive bride. Having gained her hand by force, he was willing to win her favor by forbearance. No sooner had the curtain dropped behind the retreating form of Mutchison, than Albert Goldsborough turned towards Elfie, and sank upon one knee at her feet; and though the action was indeed rather melo-dramatic, I do not see, under the circumstances, how he could have done less than thus humble himself. The insolent abductor was all at once turned into the pleading lover. He earnestly prayed her to pardon him. “Elfie, my best beloved—my _only_ beloved, you will try to forgive me for this violence!” he murmured, in a low and gentle tone. “If I do, Albert Goldsborough, I pray that Heaven may never forgive _me_!” she answered, passionately. “My darling Elfie, Heaven never records our wicked prayers. If it did we should all be doomed!” he said, gently taking her hand. “Don’t touch me, you wretch, unless you wish to drive me raving mad. I tell you I am on the brink of frenzy now! and frenzy may give me strength to slay you!” she exclaimed, struggling and snatching her hand from his grasp. “Elfie, listen to me!” he pleaded. But Elfie drowned his murmuring voice in a torrent of bitter scorn and furious invective, which she poured upon him without stint or measure. He let her scold until she had exhausted herself, and had to pause for want of breath; then he took advantage of her silence and answered, gently: “Elfie, to all your cruel reproaches I have but this to say in my defence—I love you; I have loved you ever since I first saw you, and I believe that you love me. In this belief, Elfie, I could not leave you among the Yankees to be perverted by them, to be set against your own old State, your faithful friends, and your one true lover, I could not, my Elfie.” “You—ou! You—ou!” began Elfie, but she was too much out of breath to proceed, and so Albert resumed: “I could not give you up to the Yankees, Elfie. I could not, my dear. And so, at the imminent risk not only of my own life, but of the lives of all my command, I crossed the river and brought you away.” “A great risk you ran, truly, to come with your two hundred armed guerrillas upon a harmless pleasure party of less than forty persons,” passionately and scornfully cried Elfie, who had now recovered her voice. “Yes, Elfie, it _was_ a great risk—an imminent risk, as I said—for we crossed and landed between two forts whose scouts were out in search of us. And in three hours after our crossing, a squadron of cavalry, armed with their murderous six-shooters, were on our trail. But I would have risked much more than life for you, my Elfie.” “‘Risk’ again,” sneered Elfie. “I don’t see it. The only risk that was run for my sake that day was run by the only man of our party; for I hold that little Mim was the only male creature that proved himself a man on that occasion.”