“Why could you not have come before?—­why could you not have told me?” she asked, a little reproachfully.

“Some day perhaps you will know,” he replied, turning away for a moment.

“I feared that maturer thought had convinced you that I could not be much of a friend,—­that I was only a gay young girl who wouldn’t appreciate an earnest man’s purposes.”

“Miss Marian, you wrong me in thinking that I could so wrong you.  Never for a moment have I entertained such a thought.  I can’t explain to you all my experience.  I wished to be more sure of myself, to have something definite to tell you, that would prove me more worthy of your friendship.”

“My faith in you has never faltered a moment, Mr. Lane.  While your words make me proud indeed, they also make me very sad.  I don’t wonder that you feel as you do about going, and were I a man I should probably take the same course.  But I am learning at last what this war means.  I can’t with a light heart see my friends go.”

“Let it be with a brave heart, then.  There are tears in your eyes, Miss Marian.”

“Why should there not be?  O Mr. Lane, I am not coldhearted and callous.  I am not so silly and shallow as I seemed.”

“I never thought you so—­”

By a gesture she stopped him, as she continued:  “I recognized the expression on papa’s face and yours the moment I saw you, and I know what it means.”

“Yes, Miss Marian; and I recognize the expression on your face.  Were you a man you would have gone before this.”

“I think it would be easier to go than to stay and think of all one’s friends must face.”

“Of course it would be for one like you.  You must not look on the dark side, however.  You will scarcely find a jollier set of men than our soldiers.”

“I fear too many are reckless.  This you have promised me not to be.”

“I shall keep my promise; but a soldier must obey orders, you know.  O Miss Marian, it makes such a difference with me to know that you care so much!  Knowing you as I do now, it would seem like black treason to do or be anything unmanly.”

Callers were now announced, and before an hour had passed there were half a dozen or more young men in the drawing-room.  Some were staying at the hotel, but the majority were from the villas in the neighborhood, the holiday season permitting the return of those in business.  However dark and crimson might be the tide of thought that flowed through the minds of those present, in memory of what had occurred during the last few days, the light of mirth played on the surface.  The times afforded themes for jest, rather than doleful predictions.  Indeed, in accordance with a principle in human nature, there was a tendency to disguise feelings and anxiety by words so light as to border on recklessness.  Questions as to future action were coming home to all the young men, but not for the world would they permit one another,