Out into the long balcony, where the silvery moonlight lay softly as
dew upon the flowers, George Marshall led the way, with the young
girl clinging timidly to the brave strong arm, that for months had
known no tenderer touch than the cold, cruel steel of the musket,
the constant companion of the cadet in the military course just
closing.

They passed in silence through the corridor, and at last stood at
the eastern end that overlooked the sea, stretching her arms around
the child of her bosom, the devoted Queen City.

George Marshall, always taciturn, was now painfully silent. His
brain, always quick and clear to comprehend a problem in Legendre,
now seemed beclouded and sluggish. At length, embarrassed by the
oppressive silence, Lizzie endeavored to arouse her companion by
remarking,

"Are you fond of the sea, Mr. Marshall?"

Still gazing eastward over the deep, he replied abstractedly:

"Do you mean, am I fond of sea-life? If so, I answer most
emphatically, No. There's but one life in this world that attracts
me"--and here his manner grew constrained as he continued--"but one,
and that's the life of a soldier. I love military life and service,
and when my course is finished--which time is near at hand--if I am
successful, as I hope to be, I shall offer myself to my country, and
await impatiently her refusal or acceptance of my humble services.
But I beg your pardon, if my enthusiasm has led me away from your