"You mean we might really be in love?" I asked curiously.
"I do not know. Do you think so?"
I laughed gaily, bending to search her eyes.
"What is love, Elsin? Truly, I do not know, having never loved, as you mean. Sir Peter wishes it; and here we are, with all the credit of Gretna Green but none of the happiness. Elsin, listen to me. Let us strive to fall in love; shall we? And the devil take your new gallant!"
"If you desire it----"
"Why not? It would please all, would it not?"
"But, Carus, we must first please one another----"
"Let us try, Elsin. I have dreamed of a woman--not like you, but statelier, more mature, and of more experience, but I never saw such a woman; and truly I never before saw so promising a maid as you. Surely we might teach one another to love--if you are not too young----"
"I do not think I am," she said faintly.
"Then let us try. Who knows but you may grow into that ideal I cherish? I shall attend you constantly, pay court to you, take counsel with you, defer to you in all things----"
"But I shall be gone northward with the flag, Carus."
"A flag may not start for a week."
"But when it does?"
"By that time," said I, "we will be convinced in one fashion or another."
"Maybe one of us will take fire slowly."
"Let us try it, anyhow," I insisted.
She bent her head, riding in silence for a while.
"Sweetheart," I said, "are you hungry?"
"Oh!" she cried, crimson-cheeked, "have you begun already? And am I--am I to say that, too?"
"Not unless you--you want to."
"I dare not, Carus."
"It is not hard," I said; "it slipped from my lips, following my thoughts. Truly, Elsin, I love you dearly--see how easily I say it! I love you in one kind of way already. One of these days, before we know what we're doing, we'll be married, and Sir Peter will be the happiest man in New York."
"Sir Peter! Sir Peter!" she repeated impatiently; a frown gathered on her brow. She swung toward me, leaning from her saddle, face outstretched.
"Carus," she said, "kiss me! Now do it again, on the lips. Now again! There! Now that you do it of your own accord you are advanced so far. Oh, this is dreadful, dreadful! We have but a week, and we are that backward in love that I must command you to kiss me! Where shall we be this day week--how far advanced, if you think only of courting me to please Sir Peter?"