I may not even come forth alive.

Must I go without a word, without a hope?
Claire, Claire, sweetheart, you have no right to turn me away, because of some phantom of imagination--" "But it is not, it is terribly real." "I care not; I would still love you in spite of all; you may be a spy--a British spy--but the fact would mean nothing to me.

I would trust you, Claire, your womanhood; I should know that whatever you did was in accordance with your conscience, and be content--if you but love me.

And, thank God! I know you do." "I--I--no! You cannot mean that!" "Ay, but I do.

Have you supposed I could not read the message of those eyes?
Oh, it may be dark, dear, but there is a star-gleam, and when the lashes lift--they confess a thousand times more than your lips acknowledge.