"You mean that this white trash Lincoln may be President?" she exclaimed, seizing his arm. "Never!" he cried. "The South will not submit to that until every man who can bear arms is shot down." He paused. The strains of a waltz mingled with talk and laughter floated out of the open window. His voice dropped to a low intensity. "We are getting ready in Company A," he said; "the traitors will be dropped. We are getting ready to fight for Missouri and for the South." The girl felt his excitement, his exaltation. "And if you were not, Max, I should disown you," she whispered. He leaned forward until his face was close to hers. "And now?" he said. "I am ready to work, to starve, to go to prison, to help--" He sank back heavily into the corner. "Is that all, Jinny?" "All?" she repeated. "Oh, if a woman could only do more!" "And is there nothing--for me?" Virginia straightened. "Are you doing this for a reward?" she demanded. "No," he answered passionately. "You know that I am not. Do you remember when you told me that I was good for nothing, that I lacked purpose?" "Yes, Max." "I have thought it over since," he went on rapidly; "you were right. I cannot work--it is not in me. But I have always felt that I could make a name for myself--for you--in the army. I am sure that I could command a regiment. And now the time is coming." She did not answer him, but absently twisted the fringe of his buckskins in her fingers. "Ever since I have known what love is I have loved you, Jinny. It was so when we climbed the cherry trees at Bellegarde. And you loved me then--I know you did. You loved me when I went East to school at the Military Institute. But it has not been the same of late," he faltered. "Something has happened. I felt it first on that day you rode out to Bellegarde when you said that my life was of no use. Jinny, I don't ask much. I am content to prove myself. War is coming, and we shall have to free ourselves from Yankee insolence. It is what we have both wished for. When I am a general, will you marry me?" For a wavering instant she might have thrown herself into his outstretched arms. Why not, and have done with sickening doubts? Perhaps her hesitation hung on the very boyishness of his proposal. Perhaps the revelation that she did not then fathom was that he had not developed since those childish days. But even while she held back, came the beat of hoofs on the gravel below them, and one of the Bellegarde servants rode into the light pouring through the open door. He called for his master. Clarence muttered his dismay as he followed his cousin to the steps. "What is it?" asked Virginia, alarmed. "Nothing; I forgot to sign the deed to the Elleardsville property, and Worington wants it to-night." Cutting short Sambo's explanations, Clarence vaulted on the horse. Virginia was at his stirrup. Leaning over in the saddle, he whispered: "I'll be back in a quarter of an hour Will you wait?"