"The time is gone by for me
to credit oaths."
"Miss Wharton, would you have me a coxcomb--make me contemptible in my
own eyes, by boasting with the hope of raising myself in your
estimation?"
"Flatter not yourself that the task is so easy, sir," returned Frances,
moving towards the cottage. "We converse together in private for the
last time; but--possibly--my father would welcome my mother's kinsman."
"No, Miss Wharton, I cannot enter his dwelling now; I should act in a
manner unworthy of myself. You drive me from you, Frances, in despair. I
am going on desperate service, and may not live to return. Should
fortune prove severe, at least do my memory justice; remember that the
last breathings of my soul will be for your happiness." So saying, he
had already placed his foot in the stirrup, but his youthful mistress,
turning on him an eye that pierced his soul, arrested the action.
"Peyton--Major Dunwoodie," she said, "can you ever forget the sacred
cause in which you are enlisted? Duty both to your God and to your
country forbids your doing anything rashly. The latter has need of your
services; besides"--but her voice became choked, and she was unable
to proceed.
"Besides what?" echoed the youth, springing to her side, and offering to
take her hand in his own.
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