mountains of hope whereon I sun my fainting soul is the
knowledge that you love no one else. I won't say that you
should in love hold to the ride 'first come first served,' but I
do say, 'first dare, first win.' And when you reflect on what
you said about the accident of war separating us, just put
Jack in my place. What would you think of a Southern
girl who should refuse him because he fought on the side of
his family and his State? What is the old line? 'I could
not love thee, dear, so much, loved I not honor more.' I'm
sure I couldn't ask your love if there were not honor in my
own. The war will be over and forgotten in six months,
but you and I are young; we have long years before us.
The right will win in the contest, and, right or wrong, I am
yours, and only yours, while there are life in my body and
hope in my soul. VINCENT."

In a little glow of what was plainly not displeasure, the young woman
"filed" this "writ of pre-emption," as Jack afterward called it, in
careful hiding, and resumed meditation of the writer. It could not now
be answered, for letters between the lines were subject to censorship,
and Olympia perhaps shrank from adding to her lover's misery by exposing
his rejection to the unfeeling eyes of the postal agents. There was pity
in the resolve as well as prudence. Had Vincent been able to read the
workings of the lady's mind, he would have donned his rebel gray with
more buoyant joy that day in Richmond. Another ally of the absent came
in the course of the day. Miss Boone, the daughter of the opulent
contractor and chief local magnate, called to plan work for the
soldiers. Vincent's name being mentioned, Miss Boone said, in the
apparent effusion of girlish intimacy: