"That's part of it."

"What's the rest of it?"

"f.a.n.n.y Glen Vernon."

"What! Is Admiral Vernon your father?"

"He is."

"How is that?"

"When the war broke out he stayed with the North, was true to his flag, he said. I had seen little of him since my mother's death, when I was ten years old. I was a Southern woman. It seemed monstrous to me. I begged and implored him, but uselessly, and finally our relations were broken off. So I dropped the name of Vernon, and came here to work for our cause, the rest you know. But I could not let him be blown up unsuspecting, could I? If he were killed in action, it would be terrible enough, but this was a dreadful ending. I thought-I don't know what I thought. I love the South, but-"

"I understand, my dearest," he said, in no condition to understand anything very clearly, and caring little for the moment for anything except that she loved him.

"And you forgive me?"

"Forgive you? With all my soul. This moment with you in my arms, with your arms around my neck, with your kisses upon my lips, with your words in my ear, with your love in my heart-this makes up for everything! I shall go to my death gladly."

"To your death!" she exclaimed, drawing away from him in surprise and alarm.

"Yes. Your confession to me makes no difference."

"But I will tell the general."

"I forbid it! Darling, you have committed an act of treason to the South, and while your love for your father-and for me-has explained it, you could not make such a plea as that before any court-martial composed of soldiers. You would only harm yourself, and you would not help me, and so I won't allow it."

"But I must tell the general!" she persisted.

"Dearest, no," said Sempland, smiling fondly at her. "We will antic.i.p.ate what might have been. If all had gone well, you would have promised to obey me before the altar. Would you not?"

She nodded with astonishing docility.

"Well, then-"

"And if I will not?"

"Why, then, I shall have to discredit you, as I threatened, and my own situation will be more serious than before, for I shall brand myself as a coward, as well, and you would not like your lover to have that stigma on him."

"You will not let me save you, then?"

"No," answered the man, sighing deeply, "and life is so different to me now. I didn't care an hour ago what happened, but now-"

There was a tap on the door.

"What is it?" he called out impatiently.

"It's me, Lieutenant Sempland-Sergeant Slattery," answered the sergeant of the guard, a whilom friend to the prisoner. "On me own account, sor, I come to tell ye that they'll be afther comin' for ye in a few minutes, an' ye'd better git ready fer 'em. If ye have anythin'-any preparations to make, ye'd better be quick about it, sor."

"Thank you," answered Sempland. "You hear, dearest? You must go. I must have a moment to myself to enable me to face this court-martial. Leave me now, I beg of you. Go home. After it is over I shall ask permission of the general to have you visit me."

"I cannot go," said f.a.n.n.y Glen, archly.

"Why not?"

"I am a prisoner."

"A prisoner! What for?"

"For treachery, disobedience of orders, oh, everything!" she answered glibly.

"What do you mean?"

"General Beauregard sent me here this morning. The court-martial is for me, not you. They're going to set you free and I am to be tried and shot, it may be."

"Nonsense! How did he find out?"

"I told him myself. I didn't disobey you, you see. You had not forbidden me to do it then."

"What did you tell him?"

"That Admiral Vernon was my father, and that I kept you-I-I-loved you."

"Great heavens! And-"

"And then he called the adjutant-general and they whispered together a moment, and then he sent me here."

"Why did you do it?" cried the man, reproachfully. "They will punish you in some way. I would rather have died than have you tell. What shall we do now?"

CHAPTER XV

THE GENERAL'S LITTLE COMEDY

There was a hurried movement on the part of the sentry in the corridor, followed by the trampling of many feet. Sabres clanked, voices broke the stillness. f.a.n.n.y Glen was really frightened now. They were coming. They were there. What were they about to do to her? Of course, they would not shoot her,-she was reasonably sure of that,-but in any event she was certain to be parted from her lover. She drew nearer to him as the door was opened.

On the threshold stood General Beauregard himself, his visage charged with an unusual degree of solemnity. Back of him were grouped the members of his staff and others who had been on the wharf the night before. They were all in full uniform and made a most impressive sight. It was a highly dramatic moment, full of menace to the woman. As for Sempland, he scarcely comprehended it.

"The court-martial!" whispered f.a.n.n.y Glen, fearfully, instinctively shrinking closer to Sempland as she spoke.

That officer knew, of course, that no court-martial was ever inaugurated in that manner, but he said nothing. He did not understand. He would await developments. Something was in the wind, certainly. What could it be?

"Captain Sempland," said the general, formally, advancing further into the room, followed by the rest, "you are relieved from arrest, sir, and-"

"Captain Sempland?" murmured Sempland in great surprise.

"Yes, sir, Captain Sempland," with marked emphasis on the t.i.tle. "You are restored to duty forthwith, sir," continued the general, smiling at his astonished subordinate. "The charges of neglect of duty and disobedience of orders which I made last night and repeated this morning are withdrawn. There never was any suspicion of cowardice or treason. Although you did not succeed, having been prevented by causes beyond your control, as I now learn, from taking out the David, yet your earnest desire to do so, the fact that you volunteered for the detail, and even besought me to give it to you, the extreme measures to which you resorted to escape from confinement in order to carry out your orders, even going so far as to threaten a lady, warrant me in promoting you. Here," receiving the weapon from one of the staff officers, "is your sword. I return it to you." Next the general drew some papers from his coat. "Here is your commission as captain. Here are orders which take you to the Army of Northern Virginia. They are accompanied by a personal letter to my friend, General Lee, in which I have asked him to give you a position on his staff with all its opportunities for useful service and distinction. May you reflect credit, as I have no doubt you will, upon the South, the state of South Carolina, and all our hopes and ambitions for you. Gentlemen," to the others, "you are all witnesses to this rehabilitation of Captain Sempland."