hey drafted me; and I tried to tell them it was an
outrage, but they gave me the choice between Fort Lafayette and Kay's
Cavalry.... And I took the Cavalry and waited.... I wouldn't have gone
as far as to fight against the flag--if they had let me alone.... I only
had my private opinion that the South was more in the right than we--the
North--was.... I'm old enough to have an opinion about niggers, and I'm
no coward either.... They drove me to this; I didn't want to kill people
who were more in the right than we were.... But they made me enlist--and
I couldn't stand it.... And now, if I've got to fight, I'll fight
bullies and brutes who----"

He ended with a gesture--an angry, foolish boast, shaking his weapon
toward the north. Then, hot, panting, sullenly sensible of his fatigue,
he laid the pistol on the table and glowered at the floor.

She could have taken him, unarmed, at any moment, now.

"Soldier," she said gently, "listen to me."

He looked up with heavy-lidded eyes.

"I am trying to help you to safety," she said.

A hot flush of mortification mantled his face:

"Thank you.... I ought to have known; I--I am ashamed of what I
said--what I did."

"You were only a little frightened; I am not angry."

"You understand, don't you?"

"A--little."

"You are Southern, then?" he said; and in spite of himself his heavy
lids began to droop again.

"No; Northern," she replied.

His eyes flew wide open at that, and he straightened up in his chair.

"Are you afraid of me, Soldier?"

"No," he said, ashamed again. "But--you're going to tell on me after I
am gone."

"No."

"Why not?" he demanded suspiciously.

She leaned both elbows on the table, and resting her chin on both palms,
smiled at him.

"Because," she said, "you are going to tell on yourself, Roy."

"What!" he blurted out in angry astonishment.

"You are going to tell on yourself.... You are going back to your
regiment.... It will be your own idea, too; it _has_ been your own idea
all the while--your secret desire every moment since you deserted----"

"Are you crazy!" he cried, aghast; "or do you think I am?"

"--ever since you deserted," she went on, dark eyes looking deep into
his, "it has been your desire to go back.... Fear held you; rage
hardened your heart; dread of death as your punishment; angry brooding
on what you believed was a terrible injustice done you--all these drove
you to panic.... Don't scowl at me: don't say what is on