United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
I could see her slight form sway as the full significance of these words
came to her; her cheeks flamed, but there was no shadowing of her eyes.
"I am going in, Lieutenant Galesworth," she said finally, drawing back
to the open window. "You have forgotten yourself, forgotten the
respect due me."
"But I have not, Billie," and in my earnestness I neglected all caution,
stepping forward into the full glare of light. "The highest respect is
the basis of true love, and, little girl, I love you."
She clung to the frame of the window, rendered speechless by my
audacity, struggling with herself.
"Oh, don't say that! I cannot listen; I must not. Believe me, Lieutenant
Galesworth, I do not altogether blame you, for I have been indiscreet,
foolish. I--I have not meant to be; I merely endeavored to prove kind
and friendly, never once dreaming it would come to this. Now it must
end, absolutely end; even if you despise me for a heartless coquette,
there is no other way. My path is laid out for me, and I must walk in
it. It may not be altogether pleasant, but I made my choice, and it is
too late now for retreat. I want you to help me, not make it
any harder."
"By going away, you mean? By leaving you to be coerced?"
"I was not coerced; it was my own free choice."
We were both so interested as to forget everything except ourselves,
utterly oblivious to the situation, or to what was occurring without. My
eyes were upon her face, endeavoring to read the real truth, and I knew
nothing of the two men at the edge of the orchard. Like a shot out of
the night broke in a voice:
"Billie, who is that you have with you?"
I saw her reel against the side of the window, every trace of color
deserting her face, her eyes staring down into the darkness. She gasped
for breath, yet answered, before a thought flashed through my brain:
"Only a friend, papa. Did you suppose I would consent to remain alone
long?"
"Le Gaire said he just left you."
She leaned out over the rail, half concealing me from view.
"Oh, that must have been fifteen minutes ago," and she laughed. "It is
never safe to leave me as long as that. You know that, papa, and now I
warn Captain Le Gaire."
The older man echoed her laugh, striking his companion lightly on the
shoulder.
"I fear the little witch is right, Gerald," he said pleasantly. "Come,
we'll go in, and uncover the whole conspiracy."
Their backs were toward us, and she straightened up, grasping me by the
hand. She was shaking from head to foot, even her voice trembled.
"You must not be found here, and we have but a moment. Drop to the
ground as soon as they turn the corner. Don't hesitate; don't
compromise me."
"But what will you tell them?"
"Oh, I do not know--anything that comes into my head. Don't mind me,
I'll take care of myself."
"But you will not; that is the whole trouble--if I go now I lose you
forever. Billie, let me stay!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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