“Not tell him you loved him! How then could you tell him yes, as it appears you did?” Helen asked, and Bell answered, “I could not well help that; it came so sudden and he begged so hard, saying my promise would make him a better man, a better soldier and all that. It was the very night before he went, and so I said that out of _pity_ and _patriotism_ I would give the promise, and I did, but it seemed too much for a woman to tell a man all at once that she loved him, and I wouldn’t do it, but I’ve been sorry since; oh, so sorry, during the two days when we heard nothing from him after that dreadful battle at Bull Run. We knew he was in it, and I thought I should die until his telegram came saying he was safe. I did sit down then and commence a letter, confessing all, but I tore it up, and he don’t know now just how I feel.” “And do you really love him?” Helen asked, puzzled by this strange girl, who laughingly held up her soft, white hand, stained and blackened with the juice of the fruit she had been paring, and said, “Do you suppose I would spoil my hands like that, and incur _ma chère mamma’s_ displeasure, if Bob were not in the army and I did not care for him? And now allow me to catechise you. Did Mark Ray ever propose and you refuse him?” “Never!” and Helen’s face grew crimson, while Bell continued: “That is funny. Half our circle think so, though how the impression was first given I do not know. Mother told me, but would not tell where she received her information. I heard of it again in a few days, and have reason to believe that Mrs. Banker knows it too, and feels a little uncomfortable that her son should be refused when she considers him worthy of the Empress herself.” Helen was very white, as she asked, “And how with Mark and Juno?” “Oh, there is nothing between them,” Bell replied. “Mark has scarcely called on us since he returned from Washington with his regiment. You are certain you never cared for him?” This was so abrupt, and Bell’s eyes were so searching that Helen grew giddy for a moment, and grasped the back of the chair, as she replied: “I did not say I never cared for him. I said he never proposed; and that is true; he never did.” “And if he had?” Bell continued, never taking her eyes from Helen, who, had she been less agitated, would have denied Bell’s right to question her so closely. Now, however, she answered blindly, “I do not know. I cannot tell. I thought him engaged to Juno.” “Well, if that is not the rarest case of cross-purposes that I ever knew,” Bell said, wiping her hands upon Aunt Betsy’s apron, and preparing to attack the piled up basket just brought in.