“How terrible it is that a woman must ever choose between such evils,” she said almost bitterly. “The heart says one thing and duty another all through life, it seems to me. I have seen so much of suffering in these last few months, so much of heartless cruelty, that I cannot bear to be the cause of any more. You and Major Brennan must not meet; but, Captain Wayne, I will not believe that we are to part thus for ever.” “Do you mean that I am to seek you when the war closes?” “There will be no time when I shall not most gladly welcome you.” “Your home?” I asked, wondering still if she could mean all that her words implied. “I have never known where you resided in the North.” “Stonington, Connecticut.” She smiled at me through the tears yet clinging to her long lashes. “You may never come, of course, yet I shall always feel now that perhaps you will; and that is not like a final good-bye, is it?” I bowed above the hands I held, and pressed my lips upon them. For the moment I durst not speak, and then--a voice suddenly sounded in the hall below: “I am greatly obliged to you, Miss Minor; she is probably lying down. I will run up and call her.” We started as if rudely awakened from a dream, while a sudden expression of fright swept across her face. “Oh, do not meet him,” she begged piteously. “For my sake do not remain here.” “I will go down the back stairway,” I returned hastily, “but do you indeed mean it? may I come to you?” “Yes, yes; but pray go now!” Unable longer to restrain myself, I clasped her to me, held her for one brief instant strained to my breast, kissed her twice upon lips which had no opportunity for refusal. “This world is not so wide but that somewhere in it I shall again find the one woman of my heart,” I whispered passionately, and was gone. CHAPTER XXXV A PLAN MISCARRIED I remembered as I hurried down the back stairway her flushed face, but could recall no look of indignant pride in those clear eyes whose pleasant memory haunted me. She loved me; of this I now felt doubly assured, and the knowledge made my heart light, even while I dreaded the consequences to us both. To have won was much, even although hope of possession did not accompany the winning. Neither of us might ever again blot out those passionate words of love, nor forget the glad meeting of our lips. I stepped out into the kitchen and came to a sudden pause, facing a table laden with such a variety and abundance of food as had been strange to me for many a long day. Directly opposite, a napkin tucked beneath his double chin, his plate piled high with good things, sat Ebers, while at either end I beheld Mr. and Mrs. Bungay similarly situated. The astonishment of our meeting seemed mutual. The Sergeant, apparently feeling the necessity of explanation, wiped his mouth soberly. “I vos yoost goin' to fill me op mit der dings like a good soldier, Captain,” he said in anxiety.