“No,” I admitted reluctantly. “Perhaps I have no excuse even for being here at all. My duty as a soldier is certainly elsewhere, but I could not rest content until I knew you were in a position of safety. Believe me, Mrs. Brennan, I have intended no indiscretion, but I was informed by a soldier that you were being held here under fire. It would have been useless for me to appeal to the Major for information, and I felt I must know the truth. If I have erred in this I can only plead the deep interest I have always had in your welfare.” Her hand touched mine impulsively, and it was warm and throbbing. “I can merely thank you with all my heart, Captain Wayne, and assure you I both understand and appreciate your purpose. But truly I do not wish any trouble to occur again--you will go back to your post, will you not? You can serve me best in that way, and retain the gratitude and admiration I have ever felt for you.” There was a pathetic pleading in her voice, low as she spoke, impossible to resist. It made me feel thoroughly ashamed of my impulsive, ill-considered action. “At once, Mrs. Brennan,” I returned earnestly. “I realize I have done wrong in ever coming here as I have. It is my first act of disobedience to orders in all my military life. But tell me first that I have forfeited neither your confidence nor your friendship?” Her warm hand closed frankly over mine, and as I bent above it her hair softly brushed my cheek. “You have not,” she answered, so soft and low I could barely catch the words. “I appreciate your motive, and shall always respect and honor you.” She paused a moment, then added quickly, as though in sudden rush of feeling: “No friend stands higher in my esteem than you--now please go, Captain Wayne.”