While she was looking at the book, Peyton took up the flowers. Elizabeth, as if thinking they were still where she had laid them, put out her hand to repossess them, keeping her eyes the while on the book. For a moment, her hand ranged the table in search, then she abandoned the attempt to regain them. Peyton held them out to her. "No, I thank you," she said, laying down the book, and went back to the spinet. "Ah, you give them to me!" cried Peyton, with sudden pleasure. "Not at all! I merely do not wish to have them now." "Oh," said he, thinking to make account by finding offence where none was really expressed, "has my touch contaminated them for you?" "How can you talk so absurdly?" And she resumed her seat at the spinet, and her playing. Peyton stood holding the flowers, looking at her, and presently heaved a deep sigh. This not moving her, he suddenly had an access of pride, brought himself together, and saying, with quick resolution, "I bid you good-night and good-by, madam," went rapidly towards the door of the east hall. But his resolution weakened when his hand touched the knob, and, to make pretext for further sight of her, he turned and went to go out the other door. Elizabeth had had a moment of alarm at his first sign of departure, but had not betrayed the feeling. Now when, from her seat at the spinet, she saw him actually crossing the threshold near her, she called out, gently, "A moment, captain." The pleased look on his face, as he turned towards her inquiringly, betrayed his gratification at being called back. "You are taking my flowers away," she said, in explanation. He plainly showed his disappointment. "Your pardon. My thoughtlessness. But you said you didn't wish to keep them." He laid them on the spinet. "I do not,--yet a woman must allow very few hands to carry off flowers of her gathering." She rose and took up the flowers and walked towards the fireplace. "Then you at least take them back from my hands," said Peyton. "Why, yes,--for this," and she tossed them into the fire. He looked at them as they withered in the blaze, then said, "Have you any objection to my carrying away the ashes, Miss Philipse?" She answered, considerately, "'Twill take you more time than you can lose, to gather them up." "Oh, I am in no haste." "Oh, then, I ask your pardon. A moment since, you were about to go." "But now I prefer to stay." "Indeed? May I ask the reason--but no matter." But he felt that a reason ought to be forthcoming. "Why, you know, because--" And here he thought of one. "I wish to stay to meet Major Colden, of whom you say I am afraid. I shall prove to you at least I am no coward. After what you have said to me this night, I must in honor wait to face him." "But it is late now. I don't think he will come till to-morrow." "Then I can wait till to-morrow." "But your duty calls you back to your own camp, now that your wound has healed."