down that bar."

The major stared at me, and then extended his hand.

"You--you don't suppose I sent her?"

"Oh, no, you have been most honorable. There is no reason why I should
hold you here; the others have gone, and you may be of assistance to
Miss Willifred. It is bound to be lively enough for us in here presently
without prisoners to look after."

"But you have not accepted my hand, Lieutenant Galesworth. I wish to
feel that we part friends."

"We certainly do," I returned heartily, grasping his fingers. "And--and
I may never see your daughter again. There is scarcely a possibility
that I ever shall. Tell her that I respect her loyalty to the South."

He stood looking directly into my eyes, grasping both my hands.

"You mean to remain here, defending the house?"

"While there is a man left alive."

"It is a pity--in my judgment; not war, but a useless sacrifice."

"Yet a soldier's duty, Major--obedience to orders."

He bowed, choking in the throat, as he lifted his hat. With one glance
at the silent soldier holding open the door he passed out. Then he
turned, hat still in hand, and glanced back.

"You may feel assured I will deliver your message, sir,--good-bye."

* * * * *

The broad hallway ran from the front of the house to the kitchen ell,
and I could see its entire length. Several men were clustered at the
other end, peering out through the narrow panes of glass either side the
front door, and one came running toward me. It was the Irish sergeant.

"They're a-coomin', sorr--a bunch o' gray-backs. Shud Oi hay' the byes
let drive?"

"Not until I speak to them, Mahoney. We'll give the fellows fair warning
first."

I hurried back with him, and a soldier stepped aside to give me
opportunity to look out. A glance was sufficient. A regiment of cavalry
was halted under the trees of the lawn, the men dismounted and standing
at the heads of their horses. Apparently they were, merely waiting
orders. Riding straight across the grass toward the porch came a little
group of a dozen officers, as I judged, although this was largely
conjecture, their uniforms so dust-covered as to be meaningless. The
carelessness of their approach, scarcely glancing toward the house,
convinced me they had no thought of meeting any resistance from
within--their only object the shade of the steps, or a possible glass of
wine. To greet them with a volley would be murder, and I motioned the
men