he
common decency after all to come and see him this morning? He was in
trouble, and he suffered for her sake. She must know that, she must
realize it. Why did she give no sign of it?

His loneliness and his craving to see her was terrible. His desire to
see her grew with every passing moment, he was consumed by it; yet, he
thought bitterly, to what purpose, after all?

Some of this had come to him last night; but the more he thought of it,
the more uncertain, miserable, and deserted he felt. So it is not
strange that it was not so much his own impending fate as it was the
hopeless endeavor to discover the real reason for Fanny Glen's conduct
which engrossed his attention that fateful morning.

He had failed miserably, officially and personally. He decided, against
heart and hope, at last, that he had made no progress in his love
affair. The woman he adored had given him convincing proof, so he
argued, rebellious against the conclusion to the last, that his
professional future was a matter of indifference to her; nay, that his
very life was a thing she would jeopard or even forfeit lightly. Lacy,
as usual, had stepped in the breach and earned immortal fame, even if
he had to die to secure it. Sempland envied him his rest, with his
brave companions in arms in the desperate sea venture, beneath the
cool, green waters of the ocean that laved their beloved shore.

Well, there was no use in worrying or speculating any longer. It would
all be over soon now. He was sufficiently experienced as a soldier to
know what would happen to him. There was only one possible verdict,
only one punishment for the crimes with which he was charged.

When he was sentenced to death, his friends would undoubtedly move
heaven and earth to get President Davis to mitigate or commute his
punishment; but he was resolved in his own mind firmly to discourage
such efforts. He took a gloomy view of life and of love and of
women--do they not always go together in the heart of youth? There was
nothing now, therefore, for which he cared to live.

Yet if he could only see Fanny Glen again! Why did she not send some
one to inquire as to his whereabouts? Surely she might ask after his
welfare. She must know he was under arrest. Why could she not come
herself? He was sacrificing himself for her, to preserve her freedom,
ay, her honor and reputation. She might not love him, but at least she
might have manifested a decent interest in his fate. The barest
p