“Poof!  I may be quick-tempered; perhaps we are neither of us angels, but you choose a poor time for a quarrel.  Come, Billie, let’s kiss and make up.  What!  Still angry?  Surely you are not in earnest?”

“But I am—­very much in earnest.”

“You mean to throw me down?  Now at the last moment, with all the fellows waiting in the next room?”

She had her hands freed, and with them held behind her, stood motionless facing him.

“Would you marry me against my wish?” she asked.  “Would you hold me to a promise I regret having made?  I sent for you merely to tell you the truth, to throw myself on your generosity.  I am scarcely more than a girl, Captain Le Gaire, and acknowledge I have done wrong, have been deceived in my own feelings.  You have my word—­the word of a Hardy—­and we keep our pledges.  I suppose I must marry you if you insist, but I implore you as a man of honor, a Southern gentleman, to release me.”

Her voice faltered, and Le Gaire laughed.

“Oh, I begin to see how the wind blows.  You do stand to your promise then.  Very well, that’s all I ask.”

“I do not love you; I do not think I even respect you.”

“Nevertheless you cannot shake me off like that.  It’s only a whim, a mood, Billie; once married I’ll teach you the lesson over again.  You were loving enough a month ago.”

“I was in the midst of a girl’s dream,” she said slowly, “from which I have awakened—­won’t you release me, Captain Le Gaire?”

“I should say not,” walking savagely across the room.  “Come, Billie, I’m tired of this tantrum.  A little of this sort of thing goes a long way with me.  You’re a headstrong, spoiled girl, and I’ve already put up with enough to try the patience of Job.  Now I’m going to show my authority, insist on my rights.  You’ve promised to marry me, now, to-night, and you are going to do it, if I have to go to your father and tell him plainly just what is the matter with you.”

“With me! the only matter is that I have ceased to care for you.”

“Yes, in the last week!  Do you think I am blind?  Do you suppose I don’t know what has changed your mind so suddenly?  Do you imagine I’m going to let you go for the sake of a damned Yankee?”

She fairly gasped in surprise, her fingers clinched, her cheeks flaming.

“A Yankee!  Captain Le Gaire, are you crazy?”

“No,” his temper bursting all control.  “That’s what’s the matter with you.  Oh, of course, you’ll deny, and pretend to be horrified.  I saw into your little game then, but I kept still; now you are carrying it too far.”

“What do you mean?  I am not accustomed to such language.”

“I mean this:  You think you are in love with that sneaking Yankee spy—­I don’t know his name—­the fellow you helped through our lines, and then hid at Moran’s.  Now don’t deny it; I asked some questions before I left there, and you were with him out under the grape arbor.  I saw the imprint of your feet in the soft dirt.  By God, I believe you knew he struck me, and permitted me to lie there while he got away.”