ms around my neck, with your kisses upon my lips, with your
words in my ear, with your love in my heart--this makes up for
everything! I shall go to my death gladly."

"To your death!" she exclaimed, drawing away from him in surprise and
alarm.

"Yes. Your confession to me makes no difference."

"But I will tell the general."

"I forbid it! Darling, you have committed an act of treason to the
South, and while your love for your father--and for me--has explained
it, you could not make such a plea as that before any court-martial
composed of soldiers. You would only harm yourself, and you would not
help me, and so I won't allow it."

"But I must tell the general!" she persisted.

"Dearest, no," said Sempland, smiling fondly at her. "We will
anticipate what might have been. If all had gone well, you would have
promised to obey me before the altar. Would you not?"

She nodded with astonishing docility.

"Well, then--"

"And if I will not?"

"Why, then, I shall have to discredit you, as I threatened, and my own
situation will be more serious than before, for I shall brand myself as
a coward, as well, and you would not like your lover to have that
stigma on him."

"You will not let me save you, then?"

"No," answered the man, sighing deeply, "and life is so different to me
now. I didn't care an hour ago what happened, but now--"

There was a tap on the door.

"What is it?" he called out impatiently.

"It's me, Lieutenant Sempland--Sergeant Slattery," answered the
sergeant of the guard, a whilom friend to the prisoner. "On me own
account, sor, I come to tell ye that they'll be afther comin' for ye in
a few minutes, an' ye'd better git ready fer 'em. If ye have
anythin'--any preparations to make, ye'd better be quick about it,
sor."

"Thank you," answered Sempland. "You hear, dearest? You must go. I must
have a moment to myself to enable me to face this court-martial. Leave
me now, I beg of you. Go home. After it is over I shall ask permission
of the general to have you visit me."

"I cannot go," said Fanny Glen, archly.

"Why not?"

"I am a prisoner."

"A prisoner! What for?"

"For treachery, disobedience of orders, oh, everything!" she answered
glibly.

"What do you mean?"

"General Beauregard sent me here this morning. The court-martial is for
me, not you. They're going to set you free and I am to be tried and
shot, it may be."

"Nonsense! How did he find out?"

"I told him myself. I didn