I repeat, Frances, it was rash; it
was unkind; it was a sad, sad mistake."
She bent towards him and timidly took one of his hands, while with the
other she gently removed the curls from his burning brow.
"Why go at all, dear Peyton?" she asked. "You have done much for your
country, and she cannot exact such a sacrifice as this at your hand."
"Frances! Miss Wharton!" exclaimed the youth, springing on his feet, and
pacing the floor with a cheek that burned through its brown covering,
and an eye that sparkled with wounded integrity. "It is not my country,
but my honor, that requires the sacrifice. Has he not fled from a guard
of my own corps? But for this, I might have been spared the blow! But if
the eyes of the Virginians are blinded to deception and artifice, their
horses are swift of foot, and their sabers keen. We shall see, before
to-morrow's sun, who will presume to hint that the beauty of the sister
furnished a mask to conceal the brother! Yes, yes, I should like, even
now," he continued, laughing bitterly, "to hear the villain who would
dare to surmise that such treachery existed!"
"Peyton, dear Peyton," said Frances, recoiling from his angry eye, "you
curdle my blood--would you kill my brother?"
"Would I not die for him!" exclaimed Dunwoodie, as he turned to her more
mildly.
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