arp gallop down hill.

About three o'clock there came an unexpected roar of artillery from the
Union left; minute by minute the racket swelled as battery after battery
joined in the din.

Behind her the signal flags were fluttering wildly once more; a priest,
standing near her, turned nodding:

"Our boys will be going in before sundown," he said quietly.

"Are you Father Corby, chaplain of the Excelsiors?"

"Yes, madam."

He lifted his hat and went away knee-deep through the windy
hill-grasses; white butterflies whirled around him as he strode, head
on his breast; the swift hill swallows soared and skimmed along the
edges of the smoke as though inviting him. From her rocky height she saw
the priest enter the drifting clouds.

A man going to his consecrated duty. And she? Where lay her duty? And
why was she not about it?

"Captain West!" she called in a clear, hard voice.

Seated on his perch above the abyss, the officer lowered his field
glasses and turned his face. Then he rose and moved over to where she
was sitting. She stood up at once.

"Will you walk as far as those trees with me?" she asked. There was a
strained ring to her voice.

He wheeled, spoke briefly to a sergeant, then, with that subtle and
pleasant deference which characterized him, he turned and fell into step
beside her.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked softly.

"No.... God help us both."

He halted. At a nod from her, two troopers standing beside their quietly
browsing horses, cocked carbines. The sharp, steel click of the locks
was perfectly audible through the din of the cannon.

[Illustration: "Then, like a flash his hand fell to his holster, and it
was empty."]

The signal officer looked at her; and her face was whiter than his.

"You are Warren Moray--I think," she said.

His eyes glimmered like a bayonet in sunlight; then the old half-gay,
half-defiant smile flickered over his face.

"Special Messenger," he said, "you come as a dark envoy for me. Now I
understand your beauty--Angel of Death."

"Are you Major Moray?" She could scarcely speak.

He smiled, glanced at the two troopers, and shrugged his shoulders.
Then, like a flash his hand fell to his holster, and it was empty; and
his pistol glimmered in her hand.

"For God's sake don't touch your sabre-hilt!" she said.... "Unclasp your
belt! Let it fall!"

"Can't you give me a chance with those cavalrymen?"

"I can't. You know it."

"Yes; I know."

There