"Noreen," I said soberly, struggling to keep my hand from touching her own, where it rested on the grass, "it is too late now to go back; to think of going back. We cannot deny, or conceal, our marriage, since you have openly acknowledged it, and we have gone away together. There is only one straight path left for us now—across the mountains to old Virginia."
"I—I know—and then?"
"You must trust my honor, my discretion. We are friends, you say, and I mean to prove worthy. My orders will take me to Richmond; have you either friends, or relatives, there?"
"I am not sure, the war has made such changes—but I hardly think any in whom I could confide."
"Then we will find a way for you to join my mother; she is in North Carolina, out of the track of armies. You will consent to go to her?"
"If you think it best. I—I have never met your mother; perhaps—"
"You will be just as welcome; I will write her every detail, and she will be rejoiced to shelter you. The only trouble is the necessary delay involved by the war; the impossibility of your venturing to return to Green Briar until the conflict is over."
She was silent a long while, her eyes cast down,
