s rival," said he; "that you loved
me and that I was the only barrier to his hopes?"

"I did," said the girl.

"And he still was willing to save my life?"

"You see what he has done," answered the other. "He said that he loved
me, that he would risk his life to make me happy. And here we are."

"But not happy," Clif added, half under his breath.

Then again there was a long silence. One cannot say much when one feels
as deeply as those two felt then.

Clif thought of the heroism of that quiet Spanish officer. And his heart
went out toward him. He fancied what the man's own feelings must be, the
loneliness and the desolation.

He had ruined himself, accepted voluntarily disgrace and a shameful
death. And all in order that a woman who had been kind to him might be
set free and made happy.

Of the death there could be no doubt. When that officer was caught he
would have it to face. And he would face it for the sake of Bessie
Stuart.

And moreover, he was aiding Clif, his rival, the one who was robbing him
of his heart's desire; he was helping him to freedom so that the cadet,
when his work in the war was done, might claim the woman he loved as his
reward.

That was heroism; not the noisy kind in the battle, which every one sees
and applauds, but the quiet kind that knows it is right and cares for
no one else.

Clif felt that he could worship such a man as that.

And it is needless to say that his conscience troubled him. What right
had he to accept such a sacrifice?

But the alternative was a terrible one. The lieutenant might flee with
them to the United States; and then----

Clif could not finish the thought; it made him shudder.

Just then Bessie Stuart spoke again.

"Clif," she said, "I have something to say to you. And I shall speak
plainly, for there is no time to hesitate. I have told you how I feel
toward you; I have told you that I loved you. Neither of us would have
declared our feelings, I suppose, if it had not been for this situation.
But I have been with you for months, and I have never known you to do
anything I could not admire. And mine is no childish fancy, Clif, for we
have been doing the work of men, you and I. Clif----"

The girl choked back a sob--and then went on:

"We must stop," she said, "stop where we are."

Clif knew what was coming, and he felt his blood surging. Bessie
Stuart's hand was in his and it was trembling.

For a moment she could not speak; the words would no