r head slowly, but accompanied that half denial with a
bewildering smile.

"Entirely too much to announce in one evening," she decided; "do you
forget they have had other plans for you? We must give your family
more time to grow accustomed to me and to--your wishes."

"_Our_ wishes," he said, correctively, and she dropped her eyes and
bent her head in assent. She was adorable in the final surrender. He
murmured endearing, caressing words to her, and the warm color merged
across her face, and receding, left her a trifle pale. All her
indifference had been a pretense--he knew it now, and it strengthened
his protests against delay. He drew her away from the steps as the
dance ended, and the people came chattering and laughing out from the
brilliantly lit rooms.

"You talk of haste, but forget that I have waited three years,
Judithe; remember that, won't you? Put that three years to my credit;
consider that I wooed you every day of every year, and I would if I
had been given the chance! You talk of time as if there were oceans of
it for us, and you forget that I have but one more day to be with
you--one day; and then separation, uncertainty. I can't leave you like
that, now that I know you care for me--I won't."

"Oh--h!" and she met his look with a little quizzical smile. "You mean
to resign your commission for the sake of my society? But I am not
sure I should admire you so much then. I am barbarian enough to like a
fighter."

"I should fight all the better for knowing it was a wife I was leaving
behind instead of a sweetheart, Judithe; marry me tomorrow!"

She made a little gesture of protest, but he clasped her hand in his
and held it close to prevent her from repeating it. "Why not?" he
continued. "No one need know unless you wish; it can be kept secret as
the engagement would be. Then, wherever the fortunes of war may send
me, I can carry with me the certainty of your love. Speak to me,
Judithe! Say yes. I have waited three years; I want my wife!"

"Your wife! _Your_--oh!"--and she flung out her hands as though
putting the thought away from her. A tear fell on his hand--she was
weeping.

"Judithe, sweetheart!" he murmured, remorsefully.

"Tomorrow--not tonight," she half whispered. "I must think, so much is
to be considered."

"No! Only one thing is to be considered;" he held her hands and looked
in her face, with eyes ardent, compelling; "Only one thing, Judithe,
and that is, do you love me--now?"

"No