major,--a tall, broad-shouldered man, with abundant hair and an aggressive expression. The woman glanced up, but he closed the door, shutting out a jangle of voices, before speaking. "What was it? You sent for me?" She rose to her feet, and came a step forward,--my heart leapt into my throat, my fingers gripped the rail. "Yes," she said quietly, looking into his face, "I have decided I cannot do it." "Decided! What now?" and his surprise was beyond question. "Why, what does all this mean? No one has sought to coerce or drive you; this was your own choice. Surely you have had ample time in which to consider!" "Oh, yes," wearily, her hand pressing back her hair, "but--but I really never understood myself until to-night; I am not sure I do even now." "A girlish whim," he broke in impatiently. "Why, daughter, this is foolish, impossible; all arrangements are made, and even now they are toasting the captain in the dining-room. Under no other conditions could he have got leave of absence, for his injuries are trivial. Johnston told me as much before he left, and I know we shall need every man to-morrow if we force the fighting." "Why does he accept leave then, if he is needed here?" she asked quickly. "For your sake and mine, not fear of battle, I am sure. There will be no heavy action at this end of our line, as we shall fall back to protect the centre. But the movement as contemplated will leave all this ground to be occupied by the Yankees; they'll be here by to-morrow night beyond doubt; even now we retain only a skeleton force west of the pike. I cannot leave you here alone, unprotected." "Is that why you have pressed me so to assent to this hurried arrangement?" "Yes, Billie," and he took her hands tenderly. "Captain Le Gaire suggested it as soon as we learned this region was to be left unguarded, and when he succeeded in getting leave to go south it seemed to me the very best thing possible for you. Why, daughter, I do not understand your action--by having the ceremony to-night we merely advance it a few months." "But--father," her voice trembling, "I--I am not so sure that I wish to marry Captain Le Gaire at--at all." "Not marry him! Why, I supposed that was settled--you seemed very happy--" "Yes, once," she broke in. "I thought I loved him--perhaps I did--but he has not appeared the same man to me of late. I cannot explain; I cannot even tell what it is I mean, but I am afraid to go on. I want more time to decide, to learn my own heart." "You poor little girl, you are nervous, excited." "No, it is not that, papa. I simply doubt myself, my future happiness with this man. Surely you will not urge me to marry one I do not love?" "No, girlie; but this decision comes so suddenly. I had believed you very happy together, and even to-night, when this plan was first broached, there was no word of protest uttered. I thought you were glad."