ainly not; with all these Confederate officers here. Sometimes I
think you are very conceited--I wonder if you are." And then before I
could answer,--"What a handsome man Captain Bell is; and so delightful
of him to remember having met you."

The witch was plainly enough laughing at me, but she chose a poor
subject in Bell.

"And my sentence, then, is solitary confinement?"

"That is far better than you deserve. Those windows open on the porch,
and there is a sentry there; the door leads to the rear of the house. I
shall not even lock it, nor this. I leave you here upon your word of
honor, Lieutenant Galesworth."

She was gone like the flutter of a bird, and I sank back upon the soft
cushion of a library chair, still smiling, my eyes wandering curiously
about the room. Then I got up, examined the windows and the rear door,
and returned. Escape was dangerous, but possible, yet no serious thought
of making such an attempt even occurred to me. For whatever unknown
reason, the girl's quick wit had saved me from capture; I owed her every
loyalty, and I had pledged her my word. That was enough. The more I
turned the circumstances over in my mind the less I seemed to comprehend
her motives, yet there could be no doubt she sought to serve me. A word
from her to Le Gaire, or to Beauregard, would have ended my career
instantly. Instead of speaking this word of betrayal she had
deliberately placed herself in my defence, deceiving her own people.
Why? Was there more than a mere impulse behind the action? Was she doing
for me more than she would have done for another under similar
circumstances? Was this act merely the result of womanly sympathy? For
the life of me I could not determine. She was like two individuals, so
swiftly did her moods change--one moment impressing me as a laughing
girl, the next leaving me convinced she was a serious-minded woman. Just
as I thought I knew, believed I understood, she would change into
another personality, leaving me more bewildered than ever. Suddenly I
thought again of Le Gaire, remembering his dark, handsome face, his
manner of distinction, and there came to me mistily the words overheard
during their unexpected meeting. She had called him "Gerald," and there
had been other words exchanged--aye! he had even taunted her with their
engagement, objecting to her being alone with me, and she had denied
nothing. Somehow this suddenly recurring memory left me hot and angry. I
disliked Le Gaire;