“But I will cut them if you say so.  Only you know that it is our way here to give the first who ask.”

“Yes, yes; that’s right.  I—­I couldn’t dance now.  I shall be all right, presently if—­if I see you happy.  Ah, Rosa, if—­if I should die—­if I should be carried away, would you always love me, would you always believe in me?”

“Why, Dick, you are really ill; let me feel your wrist.”  Rosa seized Dick’s hand and began a convulsive squeezing.  “Yes, you certainly have a fever.  You must go home.  I shall go with you.  It is your wound.  It has broken out again—­I know it has.  You shall go home this instant.  I will send for the carriage.  Come straight up-stairs, you wicked boy!  To let me come here when you are so ill!  I shall never forgive myself—­never!”

“A large vow for a small maid.”

“Mr. Jack!”—­for the voice was Jack’s—­“Dick is very ill, and he must go home at once.  Will you not get the carriage and take us?”

“I will not take you.  I am very experienced in Dick’s ailments, and I have already summoned a physician, who is waiting for us.  But he can not attend his patient if you are present.”

“Yes, Rosa, Jack is right.  I will leave you now, and when you see me again you will see that I am not ill—­that I—­I—­”

“I will stop for you at the door, Dick.  You know the physician can not be kept waiting, so make your parting brief.  Short shrift is the easiest in love and war.”

“A doctor is as dreadful to me as a battle, Rosa.  Kiss me as if I were going to the field,” Dick whispered as Jack’s back was turned.  A minute later he had joined his mentor, and the two hurried through the square and down toward the river.

“I can’t do it, Jack,” Dick suddenly broke out, as they hurried through the dark street.  “I must leave Rosa a line telling her my motive.  What will she think of me sneaking away like this without a word?  Now, you go on to Blake’s cabin and change your clothes.  I will get an old suit of Vint’s.  It will really make no difference in the time, and it will be safer for us to reach the prison separately than together.”

“No, Dick, be a man.  Every line you write will add to our peril.  She will, of course, show it to her mother.  Our night will be known in the morning.  Mrs. Atterbury is too loyal to the Confederacy to conceal anything.  You will thus give the authorities the very clew they need.  No, Dick, you must be guided by me in this; besides, you can send Rosa letters through Vincent at headquarters as soon as we reach Washington.”

“I can’t help it.  I know you are right, but I must do it.  I will be with you in less than an hour.  I’m off.”