“Yes, I heard of that, Elfie, through a spy I sent into the camp of the Free Sword. Tell me, my dear little friend, what happened after the spy had left,” said Justin. And Elfie began and related in detail all her adventures while a captive among the guerrillas. She told the story with firmness, and even with humor, until she came to describe her forced marriage, when she suddenly burst into tears of rage and shame, and wept and sobbed as if her heart would break. When Justin had heard the whole story of the marriage, he laid his hand upon Elfie’s bowed black head in a protecting and reassuring manner, and laughed as he said: “Why, Elfie, the marriage is not binding upon you, unless you choose to make it so by yourself acknowledging its validity. If you protest against it as a forced marriage, and bring this clergyman here as your witness, it cannot hold good.” “But there was a li—license! and a ring—ring! and an ordain—dained minister! and even a man—man to give me away! and all was reg—reg—reg—regular!” answered Elfie, scarcely able to articulate through her gasping sobs. “Nonsense, my dear girl! The vital, valid, lawful part of the affair, without which all the rest was all invalid, null and void, was wanting,” laughed Justin. “And what was that—at?” sobbed Elfie. “The consent of the woman, of course!” “Oh, but they had that!” “ELFIE!” “They took it by force, as they took me. That man—an—who acted as my pap—pap—papa, took me by my neck and hair and bobbed my head down three or four times in the most positive manner, as if he meant me to say, ‘Yes, _yes_, YES!’ and the ceremony went on.” “The villain! But, Elfie, my dear, that was no consent. Nonsense, my child! You are no more bound in law or gospel to your guerrilla abductor than you are to any other savage you can think of. Give yourself no uneasiness on that subject, _Miss Fielding_,” said Justin, with an intentional emphasis on Elfie’s maiden name. Apparently Elfie was not grateful for the consideration. “Justin Rosenthal, I’ll thank you not to call me ‘Miss Fielding!’ How do I know but what I am Mrs. Goldsborough? I hate to be placed in unequivocal position; and I _won’t_ be neither, there! Call me Elfie. The name given me in baptism is the only one either you or I can feel dead sure I am entitled to bear!” exclaimed the girl, passionately. “Very well, my child. Just as you please!” laughed Justin, with a shrug of his shoulders. Elfie pouted so long in silence that Justin found it necessary to recall her to her narrative. “Come, Elfie,” he said, “tell me how you and your companion in captivity happened to be bound to these trees?” “You know,” answered Elfie, “I told you how when Albert Goldsborough found that a battle was in progress on the hill, he made us dismount, and took away our horses, and set a mounted guard of six guerrillas to watch us.” “Yes.”