Part 41 (1/2)
”He did not,” he protested solemnly. ”Colonel Cooke was just as nice to me as he could be--”
”Certainly. He's an Old Virginia gentleman. Behind your back he told me confidentially what he thought of you.”
”All right. I dare you to cross your heart and tell me what he said.”
”Dare me?”
”Dee double dare you.”
”He said that you're a sad product of Sir Walter Scott's novels, a singing, rollicking, flirting, lazy young cavalier.”
”Didn't say lazy.”
”No.”
”I thought not.”
”I added that for good measure.”
”I thought so.”
”And he warned me that there might be a streak of the old Stuart purple blood in your veins that might make you silly for life--”
”Didn't say silly.”
”No, I added that, too.”
Stuart again seized the hand she had deftly withdrawn. He pressed it tenderly and sought the depths of her blue eyes.
”Ah, honey girl,” he cried pa.s.sionately, ”don't tease me any more, please! I've got to leave you in a few hours. My regiment is going to march. It may be a serious business. You're a brave soldier's daughter and you're going to be a soldier's bride.”
The girl's lips quivered for the first time and her voice trembled the slightest bit as she fought for self-control.
”I'll never marry a soldier.”
”You will!”
”My daddy's never at home. I promised my mother never to look at a soldier.”
”You're looking at me, dear heart!”
She turned quickly.
”I won't--”
Stuart drew her suddenly into his arms and kissed her.
”I love you, Flora! And you're mine.”