After the greetings were over, Elizabeth, looking at Stephen Archdale, realized fully the difficulties of her task. She was to go through with it alone she perceived, for her father had turned away and taken up a spyglass that had been brought him at the moment, and was absorbed in looking through it at the new fascine battery. Evidently he expected her to give Captain Archdale the history of the facts and conclusions that had brought her father and herself to Louisburg. As she looked at the young man in his strength, she felt more than ever the necessity for speaking. He knew well enough that Mr. Edmonson hated him, and that was necessary to be known. And yet, speech was hard, for even though he could never imagine Edmonson's contemptible insinuations, still before he believed in his own danger he might have to learn his enemy's foiled purpose toward herself; and to be sought for her fortune was not a thing that Elizabeth felt proud of. Her head drooped a little as the young man stood watching her, and the color began to come into her face. Then the courage that was in her, and the power that she had of rising above petty considerations into grandeur, came upon her like an access of physical strength. The strong necessity filled her, and the thought that she might be bringing life where she had almost brought death, at least death of joy, lighted her face. Still she hesitated for a moment, but it was only to study how she should begin. Shall she give him Katie's letter at once, and in her name warn him to take care of the life that was of so much value to his betrothed? No, for with Katie's letter in his hand, he could not listen carefully to Elizabeth's words, he could think only of what was within. His thoughts would refuse to have to do with danger; they would be busy with joy. That must wait. "We have come here, my father and I," she began, "to say one word to you, Captain Archdale. We talked it over, and we saw no other way." "You are pale," cried Stephen suddenly. "You must be very tired. Let us sit down here while you tell me." And he pointed to a coil of rope at hand. But she shook her head. "I am not tired, thank you; I am disappointed that I can't go back immediately, that I must wait until to-morrow, when the dispatches will be ready." "You need not," he cried. "The General shall let you go if you wish it. I will insist upon it. The dispatches can go some other way. If the Governor wants news in such haste, he would do better to send us some powder to make them out of. He was enough in a hurry to get us off, to give us something to do after we are here."