gazing up at the window where Calhoun was,
and a terror seized her. She now knew that she loved Calhoun, but with
that knowledge also came the thought that her love was hopeless, that even
if Calhoun returned her love, her father would never consent to their
union. He would rather see her dead than married to a Rebel, especially a
hated Morgan raider. Long did she struggle with her own heart, her sense
of duty, her ideas of patriotism; and duty conquered. She would give him
up, but she would save him.

It was evening before she could muster strength to have the desired
interview with Calhoun. When she did enter the room it was with a step so
languid, a face so pinched and drawn, that Calhoun stared in amazement.

"Joyce, what is it?" he cried. "Are you sick?"

"Not sick, only a little weary," she answered, as she sank into a chair
and motioned for the nurse to leave them. No sooner was she gone than
Joyce told Calhoun what had happened. Her voice was so passionless that
Calhoun wondered if she cared, wondered if he had been mistaken in
thinking she loved him.

"Joyce, do you care if I go to prison?" he asked.

"Care?" she cried. "The thought is terrible. You shall not go, I will save
you."

"Joyce! Joyce! tell me that you love me, and it will make my cell in
prison a heaven. Don't you see that I love you, that you saved my poor
life only that I might give it to you? Joyce, say that you love me!"

For answer she sank on her knees by his bedside and laid her head on his
breast. He put his weak arms around her, and held her close. For a while
she remained still, then gently disengaging his arms, she arose. There was
a look on her face that Calhoun did not understand.

"The first embrace, and the last," she sighed. "Oh, Calhoun, why did we
ever meet?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, his lips growing white.

"I mean that our love is hopeless. Father will never consent to our
marriage. I feel it, know it. Without his consent I shall never marry. But
save you from prison I will."

"Joyce, you do not love me!" said Calhoun bitterly.

"As my life," she cried.

"Yet you say you can never marry me!"

"Without my father's consent I cannot."

"Joyce, let us not borrow trouble. Even with your father's consent we
could not marry now. I am a prisoner. The war is going on, but it cannot
last forever. When it is over, when peace is declared, I will come to you.
Then, and not till then, will I ask your father for your han