“I trust Miss Hayward will permit _me_ to become her protector!” said Walker, in an assumed tone of kindness. Miss Hayward did not reply, but gazed around her. She was in a wild spot. She was seated beside a lovely stream of water, in a deep valley, while high on either hand were ragged hills or mountains. She knew the country for at least ten or twelve miles from Springfield in all directions was quite level, and she judged she must be near the Ozark country, the first range of whose ridges she had frequently seen from that point. “Does not the lovely Miss Hayward deign a reply to her most devoted lover?” asked Walker. “What was your purpose in tearing me from my friends, and conveying me here?” asked Miss Hayward. “A pardonable one, I think. My life was forfeited in the Federal camp, and personal interest required me to depart. I could not think of leaving without you, and so I resorted to a little stratagem. My love for you must plead my excuse.” “But I have told you, Captain Walker, that I could not love you. Do you suppose after what has transpired that I could entertain any other feeling toward you than detestation?” “I am aware of that. But, when you know me better, I am sure you will consent to reward my devotion. I am going to convey you to your brother!” “Then I _will_ thank you, at least!” exclaimed Miss Hayward. “Nothing else?” She shuddered. “I must be plain with you,” continued Walker. “I am _not_ what I have seemed to be while with the Federals. I am a colonel in the Confederate army, but I accepted a commission in the so-called Union army, that I might furnish information to my Generals. Or, if you like the term better, you may call me a spy. These two soldiers have been with me for the same purpose. And we were not alone. There are now, in the army of the Mississippi, over three hundred privates, and over twenty officers, who _pretend_ loyalty to the Federal cause; and I think, when his sister has become the wife of Captain Walker, or Colonel Brown, he may be induced to join us!” “Will you take me to my brother?” “On one condition, I will.” “And this condition?” “Miss Hayward, I love you with all the ardor of my soul. You have become necessary to my very existence—_are_ a part of my life. When you spurned me, it drove me frantic, and I am so now. Beware—oh! beware how you turn this heart, which is yet pure, so far as you are concerned, into a hell of furies! Pity me! Oh! dear Miss Hayward, pity me!” “But my brother—what of him?” “I will tell you of your brother when you have answered my questions.” “Proceed, sir!”