hat the man she loves is--if she honors him. His cause is
hers, his country hers, his God is her God!"

"Her heart is with neither side----"

"Her heart is with you! Shame to doubt her--if I read her eyes! Read
them, Carus!"

I wheeled, speechless; Elsin Grey stood before me, deadly pale.

After a moment she moved forward, laying her hand on my shoulder and
facing Colonel Willett with a smile. All color had fled from her face,
but neither lip nor voice quivered as she spoke:

"I think you do understand, sir. We Canadiennes yield nothing in
devotion to the women of New York. Where we love, we honor. What
matters it where the alarm sounds? We understand our lovers; we can
give them to the cause of freedom as well here in Tryon County as on
the plains of Abraham--can we not, my betrothed?" she said, looking
into my face; but her smile was heart-breaking.

"Child, child," said Willett, taking her free hand in both of his, "you
speak a silent language with your eyes that no man can fail to
understand."

"I failed," I said bitterly, as Willett kissed her hand, placed it in
mine, and, turning, entered the open door.

"And what blame, Carus?" she whispered. "What have I been to you but a
symbol of unbridled selfishness, asking all, giving nothing? How could
you know I loved you so dearly that I could stand aside to let you
pass? First I loved you selfishly, shamelessly; then I begged your
guilty love, offering mine in the passion of my ignorance and
bewilderment."

Her arm fell from my shoulder and nestled in mine, and we turned away
together under the brilliant autumn glory of the trees.

"That storm that tore me--ah, Carus--I had been wrecked without your
strong arm to bear me up!"

"It was you who bore me up, Elsin. How can I leave you now!"

"Why, Carus, our honor is involved."

"_Our_ honor!"

"Yes, dear, ours."

"You--you bid me go, Elsin?"

"If I bid you stay, what would avail except to prove me faithless to
you? How could I truly love you and counsel dishonor?"

White as a flower, the fixed smile never left her lips, nor did her
steady pace beside me falter, or knee tremble, or a finger quiver of
the little hand that lay within my own.

And then we fell silent, walking to and fro under the painted
maple-trees in Johnstown streets, seeing no one, heeding no one, until
the bell at the fort struck the hour. It meant the end.

We kissed each other once. I could not speak. My horse, led by Jack
Moun