"You must," I whispered, - "till this war is over."

"What then?" said he quickly. "How will that help the matter?"

"Then they may see you for themselves. A letter would not do."

"If you please, how do you expect I am to live till then?" he said smiling. "With half a right to you."

"Yes - with that, - and without writing to me," I answered.

"Daisy!" exclaimed Thorold, raising himself half up.

"Yes," I said - "I know - I have been wanting to talk to you about it. You _know_, Christian, I could not write nor receive your letters without my father's and mother's permission."

"Can _you_ bear that, Daisy?" he asked.

My heart seemed to turn sick. His words suggested nothing new, but they were his words. I failed to answer, and my face went down in my hands.

"There, is no need of that, darling," he said, getting one of them and putting it to his lips. "Here you are fearing dangers again. Daisy -with truth on your side and on mine, nothing can separate us permanently."

"But for the present," - I said as soon as I could speak. "I am sure our chance for the future is better if we are patient and wait now."

"Patient, and wait?" said Mr. Thorold. "If we are patient now?

What do you mean by patience? You in Switzerland, with half a hundred suitors by turns; and I here in the smoke of artillery practice, unable to see twenty yards from my drill - and _that_, you think, does not call for patience, but you must cut off the post-office from our national inst.i.tutions. And to wait for you is not enough, but I must wait for news of you as well!"

"Christian!" said I, in desperation - "it is harder for me than for you."

He laughed at that; laughed and looked at me, and his eyes sparkled like a shower of fireworks, and then I was sure that a mist was gathering in them. I could scarcely bear the one thing ands the other. My own composure failed. He did not this time answer by caresses. He got up and paced the turf a little distance below me; his arms folded, his lips set, and the steps never slackening. So he was when I could look up and see. This was worse than anything. And the sun was lowering fast, and we had settled nothing, and our time was going. I waited a minute, and then I called him. He came and stood before me, face and att.i.tude unchanged.

"Christian," I said, - "don't you see that it is best - my plan?"

"No," he said.

I did not know what to urge next. But as I looked at him, his lips unbent and his face shone down at me, after a sort, with love, and tenderness and pleasure. I felt I had not prevailed yet. I rose up and stood before him.

"Indeed it is best!" I said earnestly.

"What do you fear, Daisy?" His look was unchanged and feared nothing. It was very hard to tell him what I feared.

"I think, without seeing you and knowing you, they will never let us write; and I would rather they did not know anything about the - about us - till you can see them."

He took both my hands in his, and I felt how hard it is for a woman to move a man's will when it is once in earnest.

"Daisy, that is not brave," he said.

"No - _I_ am not," I answered. "But is it not prudent?"

"I do not believe in cowardly prudence," he said; but he kissed me gently to soften the words; "the frank way is the wisest, always, I believe; and anyhow, Daisy, I can't stand any other. I am going to ask you of your father and mother; and I am going to do it without delay."

"I wish they could see you," I said helplessly.

"And as I cannot be present to do my pleading in person, I must trust you to plead for me."

"You forget," said I; "it is against you that you are a Northern officer."

"That may depend upon the event of the war," he said; and I saw a sparkle again. Wilful and manly as he could be; but he did not know my father and mother. Yet that last word of his might be true; what if it were? The end of the war! When might that be? and how? If all the Northern army were Thorolds, - but I knew they were not. I felt as if my magazine of words was exhausted. I suppose then my face spoke for me. He loosened his hold of one hand to put his arm round me and draw me to him, with a fine tenderness, both reverent and masterful.

"My Daisy" - he said, - "what do you want of me?"

And I could not tell him then. As little could I pretend to be dignified. Pain was too sharp. We drew very close to each other, and were very silent for those minutes. I would command myself, and did, hard work as it was, and though my face lay on his shoulder. I do not know how his face looked; when he spoke again the tone was of the gravest tenderness.

"What do you want of me, Daisy?"

"I think, this," I said, raising my head and laying my hand on his shoulder instead. "Suppose, Christian, you leave the question undecided - the question of letters, I mean, - until I get there, - to Switzerland, - and see my father and mother.

Perhaps I can judge then what will be safe to do; and if I can write, you know I will write immediately."

"And if you cannot?"

"Then - I will write once, to let you know how it is."

He stood still, reading my face, until it was a little hard to bear, and my eyes went down.

"Suppose your father and mother - suppose they are obdurate, Daisy, and will not have me, being a Northern man and in the Government service?"

What then? I could not say.

"Suppose it, Daisy."

"Well, Christian?" I said, raising my eyes to his face.

"What will you do?"

"You know, Christian, I _must_ obey my father and mother."

"Even as I my other duty. Well, we are both soldiers. But what would you do, Daisy?"

"Do? -" I repeated.

"Yes," he said very gravely, and with a certain determination to have the answer.

"I should do nothing, Christian. I should be just the same."

But I believe my cheeks must have answered for me, for I felt them grow pale.

"What if they chose a Southern husband for you, and laid their commands in his favour?"

"I am _yours_ -" I said, looking up at him. I could not say any more, but I believe Mr. Thorold understood it all, just what I meant him to understand; how that bond could never be unloosed, what though the seal of it might be withheld. He was satisfied.

"You are not brave, Daisy," he said, holding me again very close; "here are these cheeks fairly grown white under my supposings. Does that bring the colour back?" he added laughing.

"Christian," I said, seizing my time while my face was half hidden, "what would _you_ do, supposing I should prove to be a very poor girl?"