.

"Five lines ... eighty-four words ... lead pencil ... paper torn front
pocket book...."

These were the only words she said, the effect of a mental calculation
so characteristic of her sex. But swifter than words could have spoken,
she went through the whole contents of the letter, replying to its every
expressed point, supplying its every insinuation, and supplementing the
effect of it all by her own kindred thoughts and feelings.

He had desired to speak to her last night as they parted in the
snow-storm at the door of the lower hall. She had expected that word of
farewell. It was to have been the culmination of the evening, the
crystallisation of all the undefined and unexpressed sentiment which had
passed between them. If he had not spoken, either through emotion,
timidity, or from whatever cause, she would have done so. The presence
of Pauline would have been no obstacle. The presence of her father would
have been no obstacle. The presence of her father would have been rather
an incentive. But at the supreme moment, the shadow of Batoche fell upon
the lighted door, like a blight of fate, the current of all their
thoughts were turned elsewhere, and the exquisite opportunity was lost.

And now he was gone. Alas! It was only too true to say that neither he
nor she knew what future lay in store for him. The soldier always
carries his life in his hands, and the chances of death are tenfold in
his case.

When he spoke of their friendship and asked a slight remembrance, her
own heart was the lexicon which gave the true interpretation to words
that appeared timid on paper. Zulma was too brave a girl to hide the
real meaning of her feelings from herself, nor would she have feared to
confess them to anybody else. Least of all, in her opinion, should Cary
ignore them. In other circumstances she would have preferred the
lingering indefiniteness and the gradual developments which are perhaps
the sweetest of all phases of love, but in the midst of danger, in the
presence of death, there could be no hesitation, and Zulma concluded her
long meditation with two practical resolves--the first, an instant
answer to the note, the second, the devising of means to meet Cary again
during the progress of hostilities.

When these determinations were made, her features resumed their usual
serenity, her beautiful head rose in its old pride of carriage, and
something very like a saucy laugh fluttered over her lips.

"I am sorry I of