“No matter how you look, you ought not to go. You are just making fun of it, as you always do of everything. No matter, you can have all the fun you like, but the whole thing is settled; you are not going away at all, you are going to stay here,” she concluded with most decided but winning emphasis. “Oh, I’m not going? Well, that is quite a change for me,” said Thorne composedly. He laid his hat back on the table and came closer to Edith. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me what I am going to do.” “I don’t mind at all, and it is this. You see, I have been to see—I am almost afraid to tell you.” “Don’t tell me,” said the man with sudden seriousness, laying aside all his pleasantry, “because it can’t be true. I have my orders, and I am leaving to-night.” “Where—to Petersburg—to the front?” “We can’t always tell where orders will take us,” he said evasively, again sitting down beside her on the lounge. He could scarcely tear himself away from her, from the delicious yet painful emotion aroused by her presence. He ought to have gone long since, yet he was with her, as he supposed, for the last time. Surely he might indulge himself a little. He loved her so desperately, so hopelessly. “But listen,” said the girl; “supposing there were other orders, orders from a higher authority, appointing you to duty here?” “It would not make any difference.” “You don’t mean you would go in spite of them!” cried the girl in sudden alarm. Thorne looked at her gravely and nodded his head. “But if it were proved that your first orders were a mistake——” She stretched out her hand toward him, which Thorne clasped closely again. “But it wasn’t a mistake, and I must go,” he said slowly, rising to his feet once more, but still holding her hand. “Is it something dangerous?” asked the girl apprehensively. “Oh, well, enough to make it interesting.” But Edith did not respond to his well simulated humour. She drew her hand away, and Thorne fancied with a leap of his heart that she did it with reluctance. She began softly: “Don’t be angry with me if I ask you again about your orders. I must know.” “But why?” asked Thorne curiously. “No matter, tell me.” “I can’t do that. I wish I could,” he answered with a slight sigh. “You needn’t,” said the girl triumphantly; “I do know.” The Captain started and, in spite of his control, a look of dismay and apprehension flitted across his face as the girl went on: “They’re sending you on some mission where death is almost certain. They will sacrifice your life, because they know you are fearless and will do anything. There is a chance for you to stay here, and be just as much use, and I am going to ask you to take it. It isn’t your life alone—there are—others to think of and—that’s why I ask you. It may not sound well, perhaps I ought not—you won’t understand, but you——”