_MACMILLAN'S STANDARD LIBRARY_

[Illustration: "Miss Fanny Glen detested a masterful man. "]

A Little Traitor to the South

A WAR-TIME COMEDY

With a

TRAGIC INTERLUDE

By

Cyrus Townsend Brady

The Illustrations are by A. D. RahnDecorations by C. E. Hooper. 

NEW YORKGROSSET & DUNLAPPUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1903, By CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY. 

Copyright, 1904, By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 

Set up and electrotyped. Published February, 1904. ReprintedAugust, 1904; March, September, 1907; April, 1908; April, 1909. 

Norwood PressJ. S. Cushing & Co. --Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass. , U. S. A. 

_To "Patty"_

_Most Faithful and Efficient of Coadjutors_

PREFACE

"The tragic interlude" in this little war-time comedy of the affectionsreally happened as I have described it. The men who went to their deathbeside the _Housatonic_ in Charleston harbor were Lieutenant George F. Dixon of the Twenty-first Alabama Infantry, in command; Captain J. F. Carlson of Wagoner's Battery; and Seamen Becker, Simpkins, Wicks, Collins, and Ridgway of the Confederate Navy, all volunteers. Thesenames should be written in letters of gold on the roll of heroes. Nomore gallant exploit was ever performed. The qualities and characteristicsof that death trap, the _David_, were well known to everybody. Thehistory of former attempts to work her is accurately set down in thetext of the story. Dixon and his men should be remembered with Decatur, Cushing, Nields, and Hobson. 

The torpedo boat was found after the war lying on the bottom of theharbor, about one hundred feet from the wreck of the _Housatonic_, with her bow pointing toward the sloop of war and with every man of hercrew dead at his post, --just as they all expected. 

I shall be happy if this novel serves to call renewed attention to thissplendid exhibition of American heroism. Had they not fought for acause which was lost they would still be remembered, as, in any event, they ought to be. 

For the rest, here is a love story in which the beautiful Southern girldoes not espouse the brave Union soldier, or the beautiful Northerngirl the brave Southern soldier. They were all Southern, all true tothe South, and they all stayed so except Admiral Vernon, and he doesnot count. 

CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY. 

BROOKLYN, N. Y. , February, 1904. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

 I. Hero _versus_ Gentleman 15

 II. She Hates them Both 33

 III. A Strife in Magnanimity 51

 IV. Opportunities Embraced 65

 V. What happened in the Strong Room 81

 VI. An Engine of Destruction 103

 VII. The Hour and the Man 115

VIII. Death out of the Deep 125

 IX. Miserable Pair and Miserable Night 141

 X. A Stubborn Proposition 157

 XI. The Confession that Cleared 171

 XII. The Culprit is Arrested 185

XIII. Companions in Misery 199

 XIV. The Woman Explains 223

 XV. The General's Little Comedy 241

ILLUSTRATIONS

"Miss Fanny Glen detested a masterful man" _Frontispiece_

 PAGE

"'Ah, Sempland, have you told your little tale?'" 43

"The door was suddenly flung open" 95

"Poor little Fanny Glen . .. She had lost on every hand" 153

"'You were a traitor to the South!' said GeneralBeauregard, coldly" 191

"'Would they shoot me?' she inquired" 219

A Little Traitor to the South

CHAPTER I

HERO VERSUS GENTLEMAN

Miss Fanny Glen's especial detestation was an assumption of authorityon the part of the other sex. If there was a being on earth to whom shewould not submit, it was to a masterful man; such a man as, ifappearances were a criterion, Rhett Sempland at that moment assumed tobe. 

The contrast between the two was amusing, or would have been had notthe atmosphere been so surcharged with passionate feeling, for RhettSempland was six feet high if he was an inch, while Fanny Glen by aProcrustean extension of herself could just manage to cover thefive-foot mark; yet such was the spirit permeating the smaller figurethat there seemed to be no great disparity, from the standpoint ofcombatants, between them after all. 

Rhett Sempland was deeply in love with Miss Fanny Glen. His fullconsciousness of that fact shaded his attempted mastery by ever solittle. 

He was sure of the state of his affections and by that knowledge theweaker, for Fanny Glen was not at all sure that she was in love withRhett Sempland. That is to say, she had not yet realized it; perhapsbetter, she had not yet admitted the existence of a reciprocal passionin her own breast to that she had long since learned had sprung up inhis. By just that lack of admission she was stronger than he for themoment. 

When she discovered the undoubted fact that she did love Rhett Semplandher views on the mastery of man would probably alter--at least for atime! Love, in its freshness, would make her a willing slave; for howlong, events only could determine. For some women a lifetime, forothers but an hour, can elapse before the chains turn from adornmentsto shackles. 

The anger that Miss Fanny Glen felt at this particular moment gave hera temporary reassurance as to some questions which had agitatedher--how much she cared, after all, for Lieutenant Rhett Sempland, anddid she like him better than Major Harry Lacy? Both questions wereinstantly decided in the negative--for the time being. She hated RhettSempland; _per contra_, at that moment, she loved Harry Lacy. ForHarry Lacy was he about whom the difference began. Rhett Sempland, confident of his own affection and hopeful as to hers, had attempted, with masculine futility and obtuseness, to prohibit the furtherattentions of Harry Lacy. 

Just as good blood, _au fond_, ran in Harry Lacy's veins as in RhettSempland's, but Lacy, following in the footsteps of his ancestors, hadmixed his with the water that is not water because it is fire. 

He "crooked the pregnant hinges" of the elbow without cessation, many atime and oft, and all the vices--as they usually do--followed _entrain_. One of the oldest names in the Carolinas had been dragged inthe dust by this latest and most degenerate scion thereof. Nay, in thatdust Lacy had wallowed--shameless, persistent, beast-like. 

To Lacy, therefore, the Civil War came as a godsend, as it had to manyanother man in like circumstances, for it afforded another and morecongenial outlet for the wild passion beating out from his heart. Thewar sang to him of arms and men--ay, as war has sung since Troia's day, of women, too. 

He did not give over the habits of a lifetime, which, though short, hadbeen hard, but he leavened them, temporarily obliterated them even, bysplendid feats of arms. Fortune was kind to him. Opportunity smiledupon him. Was it running the blockade off Charleston, or passingthrough the enemy's lines with despatches in Virginia, or heading adesperate attack on Little Round Top in Pennsylvania, he always won theplaudits of men, often the love of women. And in it all he seemed tobear a charmed life. 

When the people saw him intoxicated on the streets of Charleston thatwinter of '63 they remembered that he was a hero. When some of his moreflagrant transgressions came to light, they recalled some splendid featof arms, and condoned what before they had censured. 

He happened to be in Charleston because he had been shot to pieces atGettysburg and had been sent down there to die. But die he would not, at least not then. Ordinarily he would not have cared much aboutliving, for he realized that, when the war was over, he would speedilysink back to that level to which he habitually descended when there wasnothing to engage his energies; but his acquaintance with Miss FannyGlen had altered him. 

Lacy met her in the hospital and there he loved her. Rhett Sempland mether in a hospital, also. Poor Sempland had been captured in an obscureskirmish late in 1861. Through some hitch in the matter he had beenheld prisoner in the North until the close of 1863, when he had beenexchanged and, wretchedly ill, he had come back to Charleston, likeLacy, to die. 

He had found no opportunity for distinction of any sort. There was noglory about his situation, but prison life and fretting had made himshow what he had suffered. At the hospital, then, like Lacy, he too hadfallen in love with Miss Fanny Glen. 

By rights the hero--not of this story, perhaps, but the real hero--wasmuch the handsomer of the two. It is always so in romances; andromances--good ones, that is--are the reflex of life. Such acombination of manly beauty with unshakable courage and recklessaudacity was not often seen as Lacy exhibited. Sempland was homely. Lacy had French and Irish blood in him, and he showed it. Sempland wasa mixture of sturdy Dutch and English stock. 

Yet if women found Lacy charming they instinctively depended uponSempland. There was something thoroughly attractive in Sempland, andFanny Glen unconsciously fell under the spell of his strongpersonality. The lasting impression which the gayety and passionateabandon of Lacy could not make, Sempland had effected, and the girl wasalready powerfully under his influence--stubbornly resistantnevertheless. 

She was fond of both men. She loved Lacy for the dangers he had passed, and Sempland because she could not help it; which marks the relativequality of her affections. Which one she loved the better until themoment at which the story opens she could not have told. 

Nobody knew anything about Fanny Glen. At least there were only twofacts concerning her in possession of the general public. These, however, were sufficient. One was that she was good. The men in thehospital called her an angel. The other was that she was beautiful. Thewomen of the city could not exactly see why the men thought so, whichwas confirmation strong as proofs of Holy Writ!

She had come to Charleston at the outbreak of the war accompanied by anelderly woman of unexceptional manner and appearance who called herselfMiss Lucy Glen, and described herself as Miss Fanny Glen's aunt. Theyhad taken a house in the fashionable quarter of the city--they were notpoor at any rate--and had installed themselves therein with theirslaves. 

They made no attempt to enter into the social life of the town and onlybecame prominent when Charleston began to feel acutely the hardships ofthe war which it had done more to promote than any other place in theland. 

Then Fanny Glen showed her quality. A vast hospital was established, and the young women of the city volunteered their services. 

The corps of nurses was in a state of constant fluxion. Individualscame and went. Some of them married patients, some of them died withthem, but Fanny Glen neither married nor died--she abided!

Not merely because she stayed while others did not, but perhaps onaccount of her innate capacity, as well as her tactful tenderness, shebecame the chief of the women attached to the hospital. Many a sicksoldier lived to love her. Many another, more sorely stricken, diedblessing her. 

In Charleston she was regarded as next in importance to the general whocommanded the troops and who, with his ships, his forts, his guns, andhis men, had been for two years fighting off the tremendous assaultsthat were hurled upon the city from the Union ironclads and ships farout to sea. It was a point of honor to take, or to hold, Charleston, and the Confederates held it till 1865!

Fanny Glen was a privileged character, therefore, and could go anywhereand do anything, within the lines. 

Under other circumstances there would have been a thorough inquiry bythe careful inhabitants of the proud, strict Southern city into herfamily relationships; but the war was a great leveller, people weretaken at their real value when trouble demonstrated it, and fewquestions were asked. Those that were asked about Fanny Glen were notanswered. It made little difference, then. 

Toward the close of 1863, however, there was an eclipse in the generalhospital, for Fanny Glen fell ill. 

She was not completely recovered, early in 1864, when she had thefamous interview with Rhett Sempland, but there was not the slightestevidence of invalidism about her as she confronted him that afternoonin February. 

Wounded pride, outraged dignity, burning indignation, supplied strengthand spirit enough for a regiment of convalescents. 

The difference between the two culminated in a disturbance which mightaptly be called cyclonic, for Sempland on nearly the first occasionthat he had been permitted to leave the hospital had repaired to FannyGlen's house and there had repeated, standing erect and looking downupon her bended head, what he had said so often with his eyes and onceat least with his lips, from his bed in the ward: that he loved her andwanted her for his wife. 

Pleasant thing it was for her to hear, too, she could not but admit. 

Yet if Fanny Glen had not rejected him, neither had she accepted him. 

She had pleaded for time, she had hesitated, and would have been lost, had Sempland been as wise as he was brave. Perhaps he wasn't quitemaster of himself on account of his experience in war, and his lack ofit in women, for he instantly conceived that her hesitation was due tosome other cause than maidenly incertitude, and that Harry Lacy, ofwhom he had grown mightily jealous, was at the bottom of it. 

He hated and envied Lacy. More, he despised him for his weaknesses andtheir consequences. The two had been great friends once, but a year ortwo before the outbreak of the war they had drifted apart. 

Sempland did not envy Lacy any talents that he might possess, for hewas quite confident that the only thing he himself lacked had beenopportunity--Fate had not been kind to him, but the war was not yetover. Consequently when he jumped to the conclusion that Fanny Glenpreferred Lacy, he fell into further error, and made the frightfulmistake of depreciating his rival. 

Assuming with masculine inconsistency that the half acceptance she hadgiven him entitled him to decide her future, he actually referred toLacy's well-known habits and bade her have nothing to do with him. 

CHAPTER II

SHE HATES THEM BOTH

"You are, " he said at last, "a lonely, unprotected young girl. Whereyou come from or what you have been doesn't matter to me. I know whatyou are. And that is why I love you. You have no father or brother toadvise you. I must do it and I will, much as it pains me. If you won'ttake my affection, you must my counsel, "--he called it counsel, butonly an expert could have distinguished it from command--"you do notknow this man Lacy. He is a dissolute, abandoned--"

"Stop!" cried the girl. "To me he is always a gentleman--a hero. "

"The man is brave enough, I'll admit. And he has done some finethings. "

"Yes, while other men have escaped dangers by being made prisoners. "

By that unkind remark she lost a large part of her advantage. 

"As you say, " he returned, wincing under her cruel thrust, butpersistent, "but we are not discussing me now, but Lacy. "

"Speaking of wickedness, you would better discuss yourself, I think, than him. "

"I will not be put off in this way, Miss Fan--"

"Miss Glen, please, " she interrupted, but he paid no attention. 

"Lacy is well enough as a soldier. There is much to commend in him. Hehas the manner of a gentleman when he wishes to exhibit it, butnevertheless he is not a fit person to be entrusted with the future ofa lovely, pure, innocent young girl like you. "

"Shame! Shame!" cried the girl. 

"You may cry 'shame' upon me, " he went on calmly, "and I realize, ofcourse, that I am censurable in speaking thus of my rival. "

"You flatter yourself. "

"How is that?"

"You are no rival of Major Lacy's. "

"No? Well, then, as a friend. "

"Of his?"

"Of yours. "

"Nor are you a friend of mine. "

"Well, then, as an enemy, a fool, anything! I want to tell you thatnothing but unhappiness awaits you if you encourage him. I know him, Itell you. I know what sort of a man he is. Unstable as water, fickle, dissipated--"

"I'll hear no more!" cried the girl, passionately, turning her head andattempting to leave the room. 

"Excuse me, " said the man, coolly, preventing her by occupying thedoorway. "You shall hear me! And hear this first of all. I am notsaying anything about Major Lacy which is not a matter of publicknowledge and which I have not said to him directly, and which I wouldnot repeat in his presence. "

"You tell me that--"

"You do not believe me?"

"No. "

"I beg to assure you, Miss Glen, upon my word of honor--and it has notbeen questioned heretofore--that I told him these very things notlonger than half an hour ago. And I informed him that I intended totell you. "

"What did he say?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of herfor the moment. 

"He laughed. Said that the South had a present and pressing need forsuch as I, " he replied with sturdy honesty, "but that he would takegreat pleasure in killing me when the war was over if we were bothspared. "

"Well, sir, was not that a fine reply?"

"It was. It was a gentleman's answer. I admired him for it and told himso. At the same time I told him that he must cease his attentions toyou. "

"By what right did you dare--" cried the girl, almost choking withsudden and indignant protest. 

"No right. Unless my love for you, with a desire to serve you, greaterthan everything save my devotion to that flag yonder, can excuse me. "

"And that cannot. Unless love be returned, it entails no rightswhatsoever. "

"And you do not love me?"

"Love you!" cried the girl, scornfully. 

"I know you don't, but won't you?" he pleaded. 

"I won't!"

"Won't you try?"

"No!"

"You do not dislike me?"

"I hate you!"

"Do you love Lacy?"

"I will not allow you to question me!"

"You must answer me!" said the man, taking her almost savagely by thearm, and in spite of herself she thrilled at his touch. 

"You hurt me, " said the girl. 

"Nonsense! You hurt me more than I do you. Do you love this man?"

"Why not? He has his failings, his weaknesses, but he fights againstthem, he tries to overcome them. The whole South knows him, loves himfor his deeds, pities him for his failings. And I--"

"Yes? You what?"

"You shall see. Meanwhile before you depreciate a brother soldier, whydon't you do something yourself? You are not in the same class. "

"I wouldn't say that, Miss Glen, if I were you, " exclaimed Major Lacy, quietly entering the room through one of the long windows opening onthe veranda. "Ah, Sempland, have you told your little tale?"

[Illustration: "'Ah, Sempland, have you told your little tale?'"]

"Yes. "

"Exposed me to this young lady?"

"I have. "

"And condemned me as an utter scoundrel, a blackguard?"

"Not quite. I told the truth, " returned Sempland, calmly, "just as Isaid to you I would, and for that I am ready to answer in any way toplease you. We can settle the matter when the war is over. "

"Very well. What did you say, Miss Glen?" continued Lacy, turning tothat young woman. 

"I told him it wasn't true!" burst out the girl, impetuously. 

"Ah, but it is, " said Lacy, softly. "I am all that he says, and more, too. "

"But look at what you have done. "

"But little, after all. I heard you reproaching Sempland for what hehad not done when I came in. That isn't fair. No braver man lives thanRhett Sempland. Why, did it not take courage to defy me, to tell me tomy face that I was a scoundrel, a blackguard? And it took more courageto defy custom, convention, propriety, to come here and tell you thesame things. No, Miss Glen, Sempland only lacks opportunity. Fortunehas not been kind to him. In that settlement after the war there willbe a struggle I'll warrant you. "

"See! He can speak nobly of you, " cried Fanny Glen, turningreproachfully to Sempland. 

"I never said he was not a gentleman, could not be a gentleman, thatis, when he was--when he wished to be one, that is, as well as a braveman. He has good blood in him, but that doesn't alter the case. Heisn't a fit match for you, or for any woman. I am not speaking formyself. I know my case is hopeless--"

"Gad!" laughed Lacy, "you have tried then and lost? It's my turn then. Miss Glen, you have heard the worst of me this afternoon. I have been adrunkard, a scoundrel. I have fallen low, very low. But sometimes I ama gentleman. Perhaps in your presence I might always be. I can't tell. I'm not sure. Will you take me for your lover, and in good time yourhusband, under such circumstances? Faith, I'm afraid it'll not be forbetter, but for worse. "

Sempland said nothing. He would not interfere now. Fanny Glen mustanswer for herself. He clenched his teeth and strove to controlhimself. In spite of his efforts, however, the blood flamed into hisdark face. Fanny Glen grew very white, her blue eyes shone like starsin the pallor of her face under her fair hair. She hesitated. Shelooked from one to the other. She could not speak. She was tooconscious of that stern iron figure. Yet she would have given worlds tosay "yes" to Lacy's plea. 

"Choose, Miss Glen, " said Lacy, at last. It was hard for him to waitfor anything. "You stand between us, you see. I warn you if you donot take me, you will take Sempland. Look at him, --" he smiledsatirically, --"he always gets what he wants. He is the very incarnationof bulldog tenacity and resolution. If I don't get you, he certainlywill. "

"How dare you comment upon me?" cried Sempland. 

"Patience, my good sir, " said the other, coolly. "You commented upon mein my absence. I comment upon you in your presence. The advantage ismine. As I said, Miss Glen, it is a choice between us. Do not chooseme, if you should be so fatuously inclined, because I happen to havehad some chances for distinction, for I assure you, on my honor, allthere is left of it, that if Sempland gets half a chance he'll dobetter than I. Choose because you love him--or me. "

The girl stared from one to the other in indignant bewilderment. Lacywas an ideal lover. Sempland looked like a stern master, and she hateda master. She made a half step toward the handsomer and weaker man, anda half turn toward the homelier and stronger. In her heart of heartsshe found in that moment which she preferred. And, as love is wayward, in the knowledge came a surprise for her--and it brought shame. Lacywas handsome and gallant and distinguished, in spite of all, butSempland was strong--a man indeed. 

"Oh!" she cried, looking at him, "if you only had done something greator--"

"What!" he cried, his face alight. 

But she turned instantly away. In her words Lacy, more subtile and moreused to women, read her preference and his rejection. But he smiledbravely and kindly at her in spite of his knowledge. 

"Major Lacy, " she said, giving him her hand, "I esteem you, I honoryou, I respect you. I do not believe what this--what has been saidabout you. But I do not love you. " She drew away from him. "You weremistaken. There is no choice between you, for I love neither of you. Ido not love anybody. I hate you both!" she flashed out inconsistently. "Now go! I don't want to see either of you again. "

She buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. 

"I will do something to deserve your praise, " said Sempland, in hisdeep voice, turning away. 

"Miss Glen, " said Lacy, most graciously, --Fanny Glen's presence seemedto call all that was good in him to the surface, --"no one has respectedme, or trusted me, or honored me as you have, for years. Semplandcannot rob me of that, even though he should win you. Good-by, and, ifit be not grotesque from me, may God bless you!"

CHAPTER III

A STRIFE IN MAGNANIMITY

"Well, Sempland, " said Lacy, with astonishing courtesy and forbearanceunder all the circumstances, as he overtook the other man ploddingalong the shaded street, "you don't seem to be in much greater favorwith the young lady than I. "

"Lacy, " returned the other, "you did well this evening. You are notgood enough for Miss Glen, I still think. Nobody is, for that matter, but you less than others. My opinion of you, you know--"

"Faith, all the world may know it apparently!"

"That's unjust. I have never mentioned it to any one, and should nothave expressed it to Miss Glen had it not been to save her. But youshowed the stuff that was in you, that used to be in you, to-night. Itwas fine. I thank you for having said--" he paused. 

"What?" asked Lacy. 

"Why, that about my not having had a chance, you know. "

"Oh, that was a trifle. "

"I know. But not many men would have said it at the time. "

"I tell you what it is, Sempland. I like you, I always have liked you. When I--er--dropped out of the old set, you know, before the war, Ididn't mind giving up any one so much as you. And I was sorry for youto-night. You hadn't had a chance. God knows I love the girl, but I amnot the man for her. I would break her heart in a month. You don't knowwomen, I take it, but I think she will be yours in the end. I give herto you. "

"She is not yours to give. "

"No, I know she isn't. But I withdraw in your favor. "

"I don't want that sort of a fair field. Harry, " went on the other man, unconsciously dropping into the familiar form of boyhood, which causedLacy's face to flush with pleasure, "I am sure she loves you. I thoughtit was I, at first, but since this afternoon I have changed my mind. Why can't you be different? You are not a fit man to marry any honestwoman now, and when I thought of your record I doubted that you everwould be. I was sure you would not, but--see here, old man! Throw thepast aside! A fellow that's got it in him to do what you have done forthe South--why can't you control yourself? Turn over a new leaf. I loveher, too. She's more to me than life itself, but her happiness is morethan mine. If she loves you, and wants you, make yourself worthy ofher. By heaven, I'll help you, if it kills me! You thought I was harshto-day. I swear to you if you succeed nobody will acknowledge itquicker than I!"

"Will you tell her so?"

"I will!"

"Rhett, " said the other man, stretching out his hand, "the woman I lovehas this day honored me, but by heaven I believe you have honored memore. I did think it was a low-down trick for you to go to Miss Glen, but I know why you did it, and you were right. It's too late. I cannever be anything different. My father and grandfather both died indrunken sprees--it's in my blood. I can't help it. I've had a chance ortwo to do something a little out of the ordinary in this war, thank Godfor it, but I suppose the reason I was able to carry it through wasthat I cared little whether I lived or died. No, that isn't true. I'drather die than live, but I would like to go out of existence doingsomething fine and noble. I--I--might get a better chance on the otherside, then, you know. Life is nothing to me, and there are nopossibilities in it. "

He spoke bitterly. It was rare that any one saw him in that mood. 

"I tell you I'm cursed! I wouldn't take that girl if she did accept me. I only wanted to trouble you. Well, no, not exactly that, either. Ilove her, God knows, but the devil's got me in his grip and--"

"I can't understand it, " said Sempland, vaguely. 

"Of course you can't. You're so strong and so self-contained--such asyou never can understand such as I. But to be a drunkard, and agambler, and a--"

He stopped and threw up his hands, and then dropped them heavily by hisside. 

"It's in my blood, I tell you! It is not all my fault. Yet there isgood in me, enough good to make me go mad if I stop to think of it. Iwant some way to get out of this life with honor. I leave the field foryou. "

"She doesn't love--"

"You're a fool, Sempland--forgive me--about that woman. I know womenbetter than you. Not so much the good as the bad, but in some thingswomen are alike, a woman is a woman whatever she does. That girl lovesthe ground you walk on. "

"Nonsense! It's you. "

"Pshaw! She is fascinated by what she's heard on one hand, and sheshuts her eyes to what she has heard on the other. The war is young. We'll be beaten, of course, but not without some hard, desperatefighting. Your chance will come, and when it does--"

"I will master it or die!"

"Of course, but don't die. Master it. Leave dying to me. I've soughtways for it, and now one is at hand. "

"What is it?"

"I am going to take out the _David_ to-night. "

"What!"

"Yes. It's a dead secret, but I can tell you. There are threeblockade-runners ready to sail. The _Wabash_ lies off the Main ShipChannel. Of course, all the others are blockaded, too, but GeneralBeauregard thinks that if we can torpedo the flagship the others willhurry to her assistance and the blockade-runners can get out throughthe Swash Channel. Our magazines are running low, and we must havearms, powder, everything. There are two or three shiploads at Nassau. This is an attempt to get to them. If we can blow up Admiral Vernon'sflagship, perhaps we can raise the blockade. At any rate it's the onlychance for the blockade-runners to get out. "

"Did the general order you to do this?"

"Certainly not. I suggested it to him. They don't order any one to the_David_, you know. "

"I should say not, " returned Sempland. "She's been down five times, hasn't she?"

"Yes, and every time with all of her crew. "

"How many, all told, has she carried to death?"

"Some thirty or more, I believe. "

"And she has never done any damage to the enemy?"

"She scraped the paint off the _New Ironsides_ one night and scared herpeople to death, I reckon, but that's all. "

"Lacy!" cried Sempland, suddenly, "I have no right to ask favors ofyou, but--"

"That's all right. Ask. "

"Let me go to-night. "

"What's the use? One officer is enough, and you could not do any goodby going along. I should be in command--"

"Let me go in your place!"

"Nonsense! It's almost certain death. "

"I don't care. It's my chance. I can run the thing as well as you. "

"Oh, anybody can run the thing, for that matter. "

"My life is of no more value to the South or to me than yours. Come!You have had your chances, and improved them; give this to me. "

Lacy hesitated. 

"Sempland, you're a fool, as I said before. You're running away fromthe woman who loves you. You're risking your life. "

"Never mind about that, " returned the other. "She doesn't love me, andI want to do it. For God's sake, old man, don't be selfish! Let me havean opportunity!"

Sempland was ordinarily a reticent and a quiet man, but thispossibility awoke him into action. He pleaded so long and so hard, andso determinedly that he overbore the other man, and finally wrung fromhim a grudging assent to his request. 

"If the general is willing, I'll give you my chance. "

"Thank you. God bless you! If I don't come back, remember that you'reto make a man of yourself--for her. "

"You will come back. You must come back!"

CHAPTER IV

OPPORTUNITIES EMBRACED

"General Beauregard, " said Lacy, as the two young officers were usheredinto the general's office, "I have a most unusual request to make ofyou, sir. "

"What is it, Major Lacy?" returned the little general. 

"I want you to relieve me of the duty of taking out the _David_to-night, sir. "

"What!"

"I want you to give it to Mr. Sempland here. "

"You wish to avoid the danger?" queried Beauregard, gazing intently atLacy. 

"He does it as a favor to me, General, " interrupted Sempland. "He hashad his chance, and I have had none. I begged and implored him to allowme to go, and only wrung a most reluctant consent from him. "

The general turned his head away, his fingers tapped softly on thedesk. 

"Things have not gone as we wished, " he murmured half to himself, "theSouth is hard pushed, indeed. The war has dragged on. It becomes harderand harder, but we may not despair for our beloved country when hersons strive for posts of danger and are emulous to die in her service. Do you know what this means, Mr. Sempland?"

"What it means, General?"

"There is about one chance in a thousand of your coming back. Everytime that infernal submarine has been used she has done no damage tothe enemy and has drowned her crew. Payne was drowned in her with eightmen when she was first sent out. She was swamped by the wash of apassing steamer on her next trial, and all hands were lost. Then shesank at Fort Sumter wharf, carrying down six of her men. Hundley tookher into the Stono River and made a dive with her, hit mud, stuckthere, and every soul was suffocated. They raised her and fixed her upagain and tried her once more in the harbor here. She workedbeautifully for a while, but fouled the cable of the receiving shiptrying to pass under her keel, and stayed there. She has just beenraised, the dead cleared out of her, now you want to go on her again. "

"I do, sir, " returned Sempland. 

"Is life worth so little to you that you are willing to sacrifice it?"

"There is Lacy, sir. "

"Oh, he is different!" burst out the general, and then bit his lip. "Itwould be greatly to Lacy's credit, " had flashed into his mind, "if hecould manage to die in some such heroic action. "

Lacy and Sempland knew what the general thought, and Sempland couldthink of no words to bridge over the pause. 

"You see, " at last said Lacy, smiling satirically at Sempland, "thegeneral understands. You would better let me go. "

"No. The thing sometimes works. Glassell got out alive when he tried toblow up the _New Ironsides_, and anyway, I want this chance. I have hadfour years of war and have spent three of it in prison. For God's sake, General--"

"Very well. You shall have it, " answered Beauregard, "but I will nothave the boat used as a submarine. You can sink her until her hatch isawash, but no lower. "

"Thank you, " answered the delighted Sempland; "where shall I get acrew?"

"One has already been selected from among hundreds who volunteered. Five seamen are to attend to the propeller and an artillery officer tolook after the torpedo. You can steer the boat?"

"I lived on the water before I entered the army. "

"All right. The _Wabash_ is lying off the Main Ship Channel. I have noinstructions to give you except to go at her and sink her. I am toldthe most vulnerable spot of a ship is just forward of the mainmast. Hither there. Don't explode your torpedo until you are in actual contactif possible. Glassell's went off the moment he saw her withouttouching, else he would have sunk the _New Ironsides_. You will findthe torpedo boat at the government wharf. Everything is ready. You willleave at seven. The three blockade-runners will follow you as close asis practicable, and when you torpedo the frigate they will dart throughthe Swash and try to get to sea. I reckon upon the other Yankee shipsrunning down to aid the _Wabash_. I'll see you on the wharf. God blessyou, and may He have mercy on your souls!" said the little general, solemnly. 

He put out his hand to the young man, and Sempland shook it vigorously. 

"I pray that I may succeed for the sake of the South, sir, " returnedthe young man, firmly. 

"For the sake of the South, gentlemen. That is our watchword, " criedBeauregard, standing up and bringing his hand to a salute. 

"Have you any preparations to make, Sempland?" asked Lacy, when theyleft the office. 

"I have a letter to write. "

"Very well. I will look after the boat and will meet you on the wharf. Shall you see Miss Glen before you go?"

"No. "

"You must. "

"I cannot. What difference does it make to her, anyway? I will be atthe wharf"--he looked at his watch, it was already six o'clock--"inthree-quarters of an hour. Good-by. "

The two men shook hands and separated. 

"The boat is ready, " said Lacy to himself. "I saw to that thisafternoon. There is nothing for me to do there. I wonder--by Jove, I'lldo it!"

A few minutes after he was ushered again into the presence of MissFanny Glen. She had at first pleaded indisposition, but he had insistedupon seeing her. 

"I have something of so much importance to tell you, Miss Glen, " hebegan, as she entered the room, "that I was forced to override yourdesires. "

"Is it about the subject that we--I--talked about this afternoon? Ifso--"

"It is not. I shall say no more on that score. I had my answer then. "

"I am very sorry, " continued the girl. "I admire you, respect you, but--but--I do not--"

"I understand. Never mind that. You said that Sempland had never doneanything to distinguish himself. Well, he's going to do it to-night. "

"What is he going to do?" asked the girl, all the listlessnessinstantly going out of her manner. 

"He is going to take out the _David_. "

"Yes?"

"And blow up the _Wabash_. "

Her hand went to her heart. Her face turned whiter than the frock shewore. 

"My God!" she whispered, "Admiral Vernon's ship!"

"She loves him! She loves him!" flashed into Lacy's mind, and for themoment he suffered agonies of jealous pain. 

"But, " continued the girl, "why should they--"

"In the first place, " went on Lacy, "if the venture succeeds, we sink anoble ship and put out of the way a most determined enemy, and we hopeto let the blockaded cotton ships get to sea. "

"But the _David_!" said the girl, who knew the sinister story of thecrazy submarine torpedo boat as did every one in Charleston. "It issure death!"

"It is dangerous, " said Lacy, softly, "but General Beauregard hasordered Sempland to keep her on the surface. That ought to give them achance. Glassell escaped, you remember, when he tried the _NewIronsides_. "

"He will be killed! He will be killed!" she cried piteously, "and--Admiral Vernon!"

"What is the Yankee admiral to you, to any of us?" Lacy asked, curiously interested to know the meaning of her remark. 

"Why do you tell me of all this?" she asked, failing to notice hisquestion in her anxiety and alarm. 

"Because I want you to know Sempland as the hero he is, andbecause--forgive my frankness--I believe that you love him. So I wanthim to hear you say it before he goes out. It will double his chancesof escape if he has your love to think of. You will inspire him to comeback. As it is now, I am afraid he does not especially care to. He'stoo good a man to lose, if we--if you--can save him, Miss Fanny. "

"And this man abused you to me this afternoon!" murmured the girl. 

"He said what was true. I honor him for it. I love you, Miss Fanny. Iam proving it to you now as I proved it to him when I gave him my placeat his earnest entreaty. The detail was mine. "

"Why did you do it?"

"For his sake, for yours. It's his solitary chance. I've had so many, you know. "

"And he is going to blow up the _Wabash_, the admiral's ship, did yousay?"

"Yes, if he can. "

Fanny Glen was a picture of terror plainly apparent in spite of hervaliant effort to conceal her feelings. Her agitation was sooverwhelming, her anxiety so pronounced, that even on the hypothesis ofan ardent affection for Sempland, Lacy was completely at loss toaccount for her condition. What could it mean? But he had no time tospeculate upon it. The minutes were flying by. 

"Come, Miss Glen, " he said at last, "it isn't so bad as all that. "

"But those men on the ship, the--the admiral! They won't have a chancefor their lives. It is appalling to think of! I cannot bear it! I--"

"Let them lift the blockade then, " coolly returned the young officer;"it is a chance of war. Don't waste your sympathy on them. Bestow itnearer at hand. Sempland starts in half an hour. Won't you see himbefore he goes?"

"Yes, " whispered the girl, "if you will send him to me. "

"There is no time to lose. I will have him here in a few moments. "

As he turned away the girl stretched out her hand to him. 

"You have been very good--very brave--very noble, " she faltered. "Iwish--I--I loved you more than--than I do. "

He stooped over her and kissed her bended head. She was a little womanand so appealing. He breathed a prayer over her and tore himself away. 

"Thank you, " he said, "you have rewarded me. Good-by. "

CHAPTER V

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE STRONG ROOM

As she heard his departing footstep on the porch the poor girl threwherself down upon her knees and lifted her hands. 

"The South and--and--he, mistaken, but still--ah, where is my duty? Theship and Rhett Sempland! I love him. I cannot let him go! It would bewicked. God pity me! But how, how to prevent it? If I can only delayhim until to-morrow, I can tell the general everything, and--is there away, is there a way, O God?"

She thought deeply, every atom in her being concentrated on the problemwhich tore her between love and duty, devotion to the cause of theSouth and those other appeals, which, finding lodgment in her heart, moved her so profoundly. She wrestled with the question as to where herduty lay as Jacob wrestled with the angel of old, and if she did notconquer, at least she decided. 

Determining on a desperate course of action, she rose to her feet andsharply struck a bell by her side on the table. The house was anancient mansion when it had been rented by her aunt and herself threeyears before. It dated back to Colonial times. There was a strong roomin it, the windows of which were barred. It would make a safe prisonfor any one. He should be put in there and be kept there until morning. He would be safe there. No harm would come to the ship, and when thegeneral knew, he would forgive her. She would tell him the first thingin the morning. 

It would cause her lover pain and grief, this summary action of hers, but she could explain it to him, too; and he would forgive her also andshe would reward him with herself! There was compensation in that, shethought proudly and tenderly. 

"Cæsar, " she said, as the aged butler made his appearance in responseto the bell, "send Joe and Sam and Cato to me. Boys, " she continued, asthree stalwart young negroes presented themselves before her soonafter, "Mr. Sempland is coming here to-night to see me. I--he--" shefound it somewhat difficult to explain. "General Beauregard wants himdetained here. I cannot let him get away. Show him into the strong roomon the other side of the house when he asks for me, and then lock thedoor on him. Don't let him get out under any circumstances untilto-morrow, but on no account are you to do him any hurt. You hear? Youunderstand?"

"Ya-as, Miss Fanny, I specs we does, " answered Cato, the oldest andmost intelligent of the three. 

"Cæsar, you lead him into the strong room. Say I will meet him there ina moment. He won't suspect anything, I reckon. The rest of you stay inthe passage, and as soon as he enters lock the door upon him. Don'tneglect that! He'll try to get out. He may break the door down. But youmust keep him there, even if he attempts to kill you--unless I say foryou to release him. "

The three slaves were devoted to their young mistress and, acceptingher orders without a question, they at once began their preparations tocarry them out. As they were talking together a light step sounded onthe porch. There was a ring at the door. The men hurried to theirplaces of concealment. Miss Fanny Glen hid in the dark drawing-room, asCæsar shuffled along the hall to the front door. 

"Your mistress has sent for me, " said Sempland. And from where shestood in the drawing-room, Fanny Glen's heart leaped at the tones ofhis voice. 

"Yas, suh, " returned the darky, obsequiously ushering him through thehall. "Step right dis way, suh, Mass' Sempland. Miss Fanny done axesyou to go in dis room at de end ob de passage, suh. An' she tol' me shegwine be wid you in a minute, suh. "

The room was one which Sempland had never entered before. It was small, furnished like a library or office, with several large closets and anold iron safe, and had two grated windows and one heavy mahogany door. It had formerly been used as an office and as a treasure room. Seeingthe visitor safe within, Cæsar calmly withdrew, and as he adroitlycoughed violently in the passage Sempland did not hear the ponderouskey turning in the old-fashioned lock. He waited a few minutes, andthen, as time was precious, he looked around for a bell. Seeing none hewalked to the door, laid his hand upon the knob, and tried to open it. It did not give. 

"Locked!" he muttered in surprise. 

Raising his hand he struck a light blow on the panels, but there was noreply. Then he called out and received no answer. He struck and calledagain and again, his voice rising to a shout while his hands werebleeding from the blows he had rained on the hard surface. Finally avoice came to him faintly through the door. 

"Wat's de matta, suh?"

"Open this door instantly, you black dog! Where is Miss Glen?"

"She's a-comin', suh. "

"I wish to see her immediately!" he cried imperiously, kicking andbattering again upon the door in furious rage, which was stilled theinstant he heard her voice outside. 

"Mr. Sempland?"

"What is the meaning of this action, this outrage, Miss Glen?" hecried. "You sent for me. I came. Why am I locked in here? Open thedoor! I must leave immediately!"

"You are locked in here by my orders, Mr. Sempland, " said Fanny Glen, nervously. 

"Impossible! For what reason?"

"Because I--I--"

"By heavens, this is maddening! You don't know what you do! I amordered to-night on a hazardous expedition. I must be at my post in tenminutes. Let me out instantly!"

"I know, " returned the girl. 

"Well, then, why don't you open this door? I will say nothing ofthis--"

"I cannot. "

"Why not?"

"I--I--do not wish you to go out on the _David_. "

"What is it to you? How dare you interfere? You said I had done nothingbut lie in prison, " he replied. "I will show you to-night. "

"Not to-night. "

"This is madness! Think what you are doing!"

"I can't help it. "

"Why not?"

"Because I--I--"

"In God's name, what do you mean?"

"I will not have you take the risk. It is certain death to you, and theadmiral's ship--" said the girl, so softly that he could scarce hearher. "You will forgive me when you understand. I shall release youto-morrow. Mercy! Have pity on me, I am almost crazy!"

"Do you know that you will dishonor me? If you care, let me go. "

"There is another reason. I will not have the _Wabash_ blown up. Thereis a--a--"

"Another man?" shouted Sempland. "You are a coquette! Let me out, Isay! I will get out! My God, was ever a man in such a situation?"

He beat and hammered on the massive door until his bruised hands bledagain. He shook it in its frame like a madman. He was exhausted by theviolence of his efforts and of his passion. Through it all the girlstood in the hall frightened nearly to death. What mad scheme had sheentered upon? Had she strength enough to carry it through? The threeservants were terrified also, their eyes rolling in their sockets, their hands nervously fingering their weapons. Suddenly another voice, Cæsar's, broke through the turmoil, reaching even the ear of thedesperate man on the other side of the heavy mahogany door. He stoppedto listen. 

"Miss Fanny, " said the butler, "dah's a sojah man at de do', an' hewants to know if Mass' Semplan' is heah. "

"Tell him, no, " said Fanny Glen, resolutely. "Say he left a half-hourago. "

"My God!" groaned Sempland. "I am a disgraced and ruined man! Listen tome, Fanny Glen! I swear to you, on my honor as a gentleman, if you donot instantly open this door I'll blow my brains out in this room!"

"Oh, you wouldn't do that?"

"I will, so help me God!"

There was conviction in his voice. The girl listening in the passageheard the click of a raised revolver hammer. 

"Don't!" she cried in greater terror than ever, "I will open!"

He heard a brief whispered consultation, the key was turned in thelock, and the door was suddenly flung open. Sempland darted toward iton the instant and recoiled from the terrible figure of the littlewoman barring him with outstretched arms. If he had suffered within, she had suffered without the room. Such a look of mortal agony andanguish he had never seen on any human face. She trembled violentlybefore him. Yet she was resolute not to give way, determined to keepthe door. Clustered at her back were the three trembling negroes armedone with a knife, another with a pistol, another with a stout club. Hewould have swept them out of his path in an instant had it not been forthe girl. She stood before him with outstretched arms, her attitude amixture of defiance and appeal. 

[Illustration: "The door was suddenly flung open. "]

"It is too late, " she said, "you were to go at seven. It is past thatnow. Saved, saved!"

He could do her no violence, that was certain. He stood silent beforeher, his head bent toward the floor, thinking deeply. Her heart wentout to him then, her soul yearned to him. She had hurt him, he musthate her--and she loved him. 

"Will you not come in and speak to me for a moment?" he asked herquietly enough at last. 

She signed to the men, stepped forward, the door was closed, and lockedbehind her, and they were alone. 

"Did you think to be of service to me?" he burst out, as she drew nearand then paused irresolute, miserable. "You have ruined me for life! Ibegged that detail. I volunteered. I must get out! They may wait forme. It may not be too late. For God's sake unlock that door!"

She shook her head, she could not trust herself to speak. 

"I don't understand you. If it is--love--for me--"

She stared at him beseechingly, mute appeal for mercy, for help, in herlovely eyes. 

"You are condemning me to death, to worse than death. I am going!"

"You cannot!"

She came nearer as she spoke. Suddenly he seized her, drew her close tohim, held her with his left arm, and there was happiness for her in histouch. She was as a child before his strength. With his right hand hepresented his pistol to her temple. He took advantage of her weakness, but only in the service of a higher cause than love of woman, in answerto a greater demand than even she could make. She offered no resistanceeither. What was the use?

"Boys!" he called out sharply. "Are you there?"

"Yas, suh, " answered Cato. 

"I have your mistress in my arms, my pistol is at her head. If you donot instantly open the door, I shall kill her where I stand!"

"Cato, I forbid you to open!" cried Fanny Glen, in a ringing voice, still making no effort to struggle and looking up into the infuriatedman's face with the expression of a martyr and an angel. He saw andrecognized, but persisted; it was his only way. 

"Open instantly!" he said again, "unless you would see your mistressdie!"

That was a threat the men could not resist. In a second the door wasopened. The awe-struck faces of the blacks peered into the room. 

"Throw down your arms, here at my feet, you black hounds!" shoutedSempland. "Quick! Or I fire!"

Instantly knife, pistol, and bludgeon clattered on the floor at hisfeet. 

"Out of the way now! Leave the hall! I want a clear passage!"

"Kill me! Kill me!" cried the girl, "and have done!"

He released her in a moment. 

"You have dishonored me, " he cried. "I fear it is too late. I wouldn'thurt a hair of your head. But I love you, I love you!"

He strained her to his breast, pressing a passionate, burning kiss uponher lips. He wasted a few precious seconds, but he could not help it. She threw her arms about his neck and returned his kiss. He could feelher heart beating against his own. 

"I cannot let you go!" she cried. "Stay with me and I am yours!"

"I must go!"

He tore himself from her and ran down the passage into the street. Shethought she would have fainted at that instant, but something--suspense, the faint possibility of success, doubt--nerved her to action. After afew moments of awful uncertainty she followed Sempland along thehallway, out through the door, and into the night. He was not to beseen. She knew where he had gone, however, and she bent her stepstoward the government wharf. She went slowly at first, but finally ranat her greatest speed. 

CHAPTER VI

AN ENGINE OF DESTRUCTION

The _David_, so named because although she was small it was hoped shewould strike terror to the huge Goliaths of the Union fleet, was builtof boiler iron. She was thirty feet long and of a cigar shape, hergreatest diameter being a little less than six feet. She was propelledby a hand engine worked by members of her crew, and could be submergedat pleasure, but experience had shown that once down she usually stayeddown with all on board. A résumé of her history has been given. She wasa floating, or sinking, death-trap. 

Originally she was intended to drag after her a floating torpedo in thehope that she could pass under a vessel's keel and explode the torpedowhen she reached the proper position. General Beauregard, however, hadpositively forbidden that she should be used as a submarine any longeron account of her disastrous behavior, and on this occasion she wasprovided with a long spar sticking out from her nose, on the end ofwhich was one hundred pounds of powder in a copper cylinder providedwith four extremely sensitive tubes of lead containing a highlyexplosive mixture, which would ignite upon contact with a ship's sideor bottom and explode the torpedo. 

She was painted a slate-gray, and her ballast was so adjusted that withthe seven men who manned her on board, one to steer, one to look afterthe torpedo, and five to turn the propeller crank, her low hatchscarcely rose above the water. In that condition, and especially atnight, she looked like a plank floating on the surface. By hard andconscientious labor her five man-power engine could shove her along atabout a speed of four knots. Although the order of General Beauregardthat she should not be submerged again had materially diminished therisk which experience had shown was overwhelming, yet the proposedexpedition was nevertheless hazardous in the extreme. 

In the first place, an excellent lookout was kept on the Union ships onaccount of the several attempts which had been made against them bysimilar boats. If she were discovered, one shot striking the boat asshe approached, even a rifle shot, would suffice to sink her. No oneknew what she would do even if she succeeded in exploding the torpedo. It was scarcely hoped that she could get away from a sinking shipin that event. 

The little party of officers grouped on the wharf bade good-by to themen who entered the deadly affair as if they were saying farewell tothose about to die. Every preparation had been made, the artilleryofficer had finally and carefully inspected the torpedo to see if itwas in good working order, the men had descended into the crampednarrow little hull of the boat and had made ready to start thepropeller. None of them wore any superfluous clothing, for it wasoppressively hot in the confined area of the little iron shell, andthey might have to swim for their lives anyway--perhaps they would belucky if they got the chance. In short, everybody was ready and everyone was there except the commander of the expedition. 

Great secrecy had been observed in the preparations lest there might bea spy in the town, who, learning of the attempt, would communicate thevaluable information to the Federal fleet, and so frustrate it. GeneralBeauregard had caused the wharf to be cleared and guarded early in theevening. It was quite dark in February at six o'clock, and no oneexcept his trusted staff officers and Lacy, who had so magnanimouslysurrendered his opportunity to Sempland, was present. 

At a quarter before seven, which was the time Sempland had appointed toreturn when he left in obedience to Fanny Glen's summons, the generalbegan to feel some uneasiness. He spoke about it to Lacy, but wasreassured by that gentleman, who professed full confidence that theyoung lieutenant would undoubtedly be there in a few moments. He hadalready of his own motion despatched a soldier to Fanny Glen's houseand had learned from him the false news that Sempland had been thereand had left. Lacy supposed he had returned to his quarters. 

The state of the tide, the necessities of the blockade-runners whohoped to escape that night under cover of the confusion caused by theattack, rendered it absolutely necessary that there should be no delayin the departure of the torpedo boat. The time had been set for seveno'clock, as late as practicable, in order to secure the advantage ofsettled darkness before the blow was delivered. The party on the wharfwaited apprehensively a little longer, conversing in low tones as themoments ran away, and there was great anxiety as to the whereabouts ofthe missing officer. Seven o'clock struck from the ancient churchsteeple hard by; still he did not appear. 

"General, " said Lacy, a few moments later, "if I might suggest, sir--"

"Go on. What is it?"

"It might be well to send for him. "

"Never!" said the general, shortly; "it is a soldier's duty to be atthe place appointed him at the specified time. I shall not send forhim. If he has forgotten himself, his duty, for any cause, he shallsuffer the consequences. "

Lacy was in despair. He could not understand the situation. He had notthe slightest doubt of Sempland's courage. He knew his friend's rigididea of soldierly duty or honor. Where had he gone? If there had beenany way, he would have despatched men to hunt for him in everydirection, but the general's prohibition was positive. And for somereason which he could not explain he refrained from saying anythingabout Sempland's visit to Fanny Glen, merely advising the general, inresponse to an inquiry, that he had left him to go to his quarters towrite a letter. 

Five minutes more dragged along. 

"General Beauregard, " said Lacy at last, "with your permission I willseek him myself. "

"No, " said the general, sternly, "we can wait no longer. I need you forsomething else. "

"You mean--?"

"I mean that I shall carry out the original plan. Mr. Sempland hasforfeited any consideration whatever at our hands. "

"Then I am to--?"

Lacy pointed toward the _David_. 

"Unless you wish to back out. "

"No one has ever used these words to me, sir, " answered Lacy, proudly. "I am as ready, as anxious, to go as I ever was. But Sempland--sir, Iwould stake my life on his fidelity. "

"It may be so. I can wait no longer. Will you go, or shall I give upthe expedition?"

"Rather than that, sir, " said one of his staff officers, "if Major Lacyhesitates, let me go. "

"Enough!" said Lacy. "Will you explain to Sempland how it came about?Good-by. "

CHAPTER VII

THE HOUR AND THE MAN

Lacy tore off his coat and vest, and threw them on the wharf, salutedthe general and stepped into the boat. Some one in the group lifted alantern. The flickering light fell on the pale faces of the determinedmen. 

"Good-by, sir, " said Beauregard. "You, at least, are an officer, asoldier of whom the South is proud. Remember the flagship is your game. She lies at anchor right off the Main Ship Channel. Good luck to you. Acolonel's shoulder straps await you here if you come back. God blessyou all!"

He wrung the major's hand, watched him step into the _David_ andwhisper an order to his men, heard him call out "Good-by, sir. If wedon't come back, don't forget us, " and that was all. 

The little boat was shoved away from the wharf by willing hands and ina moment was lost in the darkness of the bay. There was no moon, andthe night was dark. There was no light save from the stars. The torpedoboat slipped through the water without making a sound. She becameentirely invisible a hundred feet away. The officers rubbed their eyesas they stared in the direction where they had last seen her, almostfearing that she had again sunk beneath the sea. They stayed thereperhaps five minutes, at least until the blockade-runners, none of themshowing a light of any description, could get under way in obedience toa lantern signal from the general and noiselessly slip down the bay inthe wake of the frail little craft which it was hoped would be able toclear the path for them. 

"Now, " said Beauregard, turning away at last, "for Mr. Sempland. I donot understand it. I never thought him a coward. "

"Nor am I, sir!" panted a voice out of the darkness, as a pale andbreathless man burst through the group surrounding the general. 

"Mr. Sempland!"

"For God's sake, sir, am I in time? The boat?"

"Gone. "

"How long? Call her back!"

"It is too late. She has been gone ten minutes. Where were you, sir?"

"Who took her out?"

"Major Lacy. Answer my question, sir!"

"He! My God! I am disgraced! Dishonored! And she--"

"Where were you, sir?"

"I--I--"

The young man hesitated. 

"Why don't you answer? Do you realize your position? You begged thisdetail. Why were you not here?"

"Oh, General Beauregard--"

"How could you forget your honor, the South? Where were you, I say?Answer, or I will have you shot in the morning!"

"I--I--was detained, sir. I--"

"Is that your only excuse, sir?" sternly. 

Sempland was in a fearful predicament. To have restrained him by forcewas an act of high treason. He could only explain himself byimplicating the woman he loved. The consequences in either case weredreadful. Fanny Glen a traitor to the South? Beauregard was a stern, inexorable soldier. He would not condone such an offence as hers. Thatshe had failed in her effort to prevent the expedition would meannothing to the general. Fanny Glen, the pride of Charleston, the womanwho had done more for the South than any other woman in the Carolinas, perhaps, to be disgraced, certainly to be punished, it might be--shot!

She had ruined him, but he had kissed her. He could not say the wordwhich would incriminate her and leave him free. He was disgracedalready, he would be cashiered. Well, what mattered it? His chance wasgone, the woman did not love him. His heart was hot against her. Yet heremembered the scene in the strong room--had she indeed returned hiskiss? He closed his lips firmly and said nothing. He would not, hecould not betray her, even to himself. 

"You do not answer, sir! What excuse have you to offer?"

"None. "

"You sought this detail. You forced yourself into the expedition. Haveyou nothing to say for yourself?"

"Nothing. "

"You are under arrest, sir, for disobedience of orders, for derelictionof duty! By heavens!" said the general, striking his left hand with hisright, "for cowardice!"

"For God's sake, not that, sir!"

"For cowardice, sir! You knew the expedition was one of extreme hazard. You have no excuse to offer for not having been here. What else is it?"

"Not that, sir! Not that!" pleaded the lieutenant. "Anything but that!"

"A traitor, a coward, I say!"

"General Beauregard!" cried a high-pitched voice out of the darkness, shrill and unnatural with terror and fatigue. The next moment FannyGlen herself, bareheaded, panting from her rapid run, white-faced inthe light cast by the lantern held by the staff officer, pushed throughthe group surrounding the general. 

"Where is Mr. Sempland, sir?" she asked. 

"Here, under arrest. He failed to arrive in time. Can you explain it?"

"The boat?"

"Gone. "

"Gone? Then who--"

"Major Lacy took it out. "

"And the _Wabash_?"

"Will be blown up, please God, if all goes well. "

The girl put her face in her hands as if to shut out some dreadfulpicture. She kept them there for a few seconds, then she lifted herhead and looked unsteadily from the severe face of the general to thecold, disdainful countenance of Sempland. The man she loved shrank awayfrom her. 

"Useless! Too late!" she murmured, then fell fainting at their feet. 

CHAPTER VIII

DEATH OUT OF THE DEEP

At 8. 30 that night, February 17, 1864, the little torpedo boat, afterhaving successfully passed the monitors and ironclads anchored just outof range of Fort Sumter, and inside the shoals at the harbor mouth, wasstopped about a mile from the outer entrance of the Main Ship Channel, where her quarry had been reported as lying quietly at anchor atnightfall. Success had attended the efforts of her devoted crew so far. By Lacy's command the _David_ was stopped in order to give a littlerest, a breathing space, before the last dash at their prey, to theweary seamen who had driven her steadily on since leaving the wharf. 

The night was calm and very still. The hatch covers were thrown back, the tired men thrust their heads into the cool, sweet air, sorefreshing after the closeness of their badly ventilated vessel, andwetted their fevered, exhausted bodies with the stimulating water ofthe bay. The artillery officer took advantage of the opportunity tomake a careful reëxamination of the torpedo, and Lacy was greatlyrelieved when he reported that he had everything in good working order, so far as he was able to judge. The young commander of the expeditionwas the more anxious for success because of the previous failures ofsimilar endeavors. After a ten-minute rest he gave the order to getunder way. 

"Men, " he said coolly, "you know the history of this boat. There's achance, ay, more than a chance, that none of us will ever come backfrom this expedition. You knew all that when you volunteered. If we doget out alive, our country will reward us. If we do not, she will notforget us. Shake hands, now. Good-by, and God bless you. Put everypound of muscle you have into that crank when we get within one hundredyards of the frigate, and jump the boat into her. I'll give the signal. I want to strike her hard. "

"Ay, ay, sir, " replied the seamen as cheerfully as if there was only afrolic before them. "We'll do our best. Good-by, and God bless you, sir. We're proud to serve under you whatever comes. "

"Thank you. All ready with the torpedo, Captain?"

"Yes, Major Lacy. "

"Good! Down everybody, now! Clap to the hatch covers and start thecranks. Easy at first, and when I give the word--hard!"

He seized the spokes of the steering wheel in his steady hands as hespoke. Back of him, to relieve him in case of accident, stood CaptainCarlson, the artillery officer. The heavy planks were drawn over theopen hatch, locked, and bolted. Silently the men manned the cranks. Thelittle engine of destruction gathered way. It was pitch dark, and veryclose and hot. There was no sound in the shell save the slight creakingof the cranks and the deep breathing of the crew as they toiled overthem. 

Forward by the wheel there was a glass hood, which permitted the menwho steered to direct the course of the boat. As the sinister sea demonstole through the waters, Lacy caught a sudden glimpse at last of thespars of a heavy ship at anchor before him. The night had clearedsomewhat, and although there was no moon, the stars gave sufficientlight for him to see the black tracery of masts and yards liftingthemselves above the horizon. 

How still the looming ship lay. There was scarcely sea enough totremble the top-hamper of the unsuspecting man-of-war. A faint film ofsmoke falling lazily from her funnel in the quiet air, with her ridingand side-lights, were the only signs of life about her. No morepeaceful-looking object floated over the ocean apparently. 

"It would be a pity, " reflected the man at the wheel for an instant, "to strike her so. " But the thought vanished so soon as it had beenformulated. His heart leaped in his breast like the hound when helaunches himself in that last spring which hurls him on his quarry. Another moment--a few more seconds--

"That will be our game, " whispered Lacy to the artillery captain, in avoice in which his feelings spoke. 

"Yes. "

They were slowly approaching nearer. The bearings of the cranks andscrews had been well oiled, and the _David_ slipped through the waterwithout a sound. She was so nearly submerged that she scarcely rippledthe surface of the sea. There was no white line of foam to betray hermovement through the black water. It was almost impossible for any oneto detect the approach of the silent terror. There was nothing showingabove water except the flat hatch cover, and that to an unpractised eyelooked much like a drifting plank. 

Yet there were sharp eyes on the ship, and no negligent watch was kepteither. When the _David_ was perhaps two hundred feet away, she wasseen. The steadiness of her movement proclaimed a thing intelligentlydriven. 

A sharp, sudden cry from the forecastle ahead of them rang through thenight. It was so loud and so fraught with alarm that it came in amuffled note to the men in the depths of the torpedo boat. A bugle callrang out, a drum was beaten. The erstwhile silent ship was filled withtumult and clamor. 

"They have seen us!" said Lacy. "Ahead!" he cried, hoarsely. "Hard!"

At the same instant the chain cable of the vessel was slipped, bellsjangled in her depths, the mighty engines clanked into sudden motion, the screws revolved, and she began slowly to drive astern. But it wastoo late, the sea devil was too near to be balked of the prey. The menat the cranks of the _David_, working with superhuman energy, fairlyhurled the torpedo boat upon the doomed ship. Lacy had time for asingle upward glance--his last look at anything! The black railingtowering above his head was swarming with men. Flashes of lightpunctured the darkness. Bullets pattered like rain on the iron. One ortwo tore through the flimsy shell. A jet of water struck him in theface. 

The next second there was a terrific concussion. The torpedo struck theship just forward the mainmast and exploded, tearing a great hole inthe side, extending far below the water-line. In the blaze of lightthat followed, the men in the _David_ cheered wildly, and the nextmoment blackness overwhelmed them. 

On the frigate there was the wildest confusion as the sleeping menbelow came swarming up on deck. Some of them never succeeded inreaching the hatchways and were drowned where they slept. Some werekilled by the explosion. The officers, however, quickly restored order, and as a last resort ordered the surviving men into the rigging, forthe water where she lay was shallow, and there they could find safety. 

The ship was hopelessly lost. Indeed, she began to sink so soon as thetorpedo exploded. The water poured into her vitals, and soon the crashof exploding boilers and the hiss of escaping steam added their quotato the confusion. 

Some of the cooler among the officers and men lingered on the decks, small arms in hand, searching the sea on every hand, until the deckswere awash. They were looking and hoping for a chance at the boat whichhad caused them such a terrible disaster, but they never saw her. Shehad disappeared. 

Signals had been burned instantly on the shattered ship. Far up anddown the line the lights of moving vessels burning answering signalsshowed that they were alert to render assistance. Boats, ships'cutters, dashed alongside to render help, and they, too, sought thetorpedo boat, but in vain. She was not to be found. 

At the same time the ships of the fleet did not move from theirappointed stations, and when the blockade-runners came dashing downthrough the Swash Channel in the hope that the vessels usuallystationed there would be withdrawn in the excitement, they were met bya deadly fire from the rifled guns, which rendered it impossible forthem to proceed. They turned tail and fled. Two of them succeeded inreturning to the harbor. One of them never came back. She was set onfire and burned by the shells of the ships. The monitors and ironcladsjoined in the battle, the forts returned the fire, and the quiet nightwas filled with the noise of roaring cannon and exploding shell. 

Lacy's had been a gallant and heroic attempt. It had succeeded as tothe blowing up of a Federal warship, but it had failed otherwise. By asingular freak of fortune the blow had not fallen upon the vessel forwhich it had been intended. After dark the fine new sloop-of-war_Housatonic_ had replaced the _Wabash_ off the Main Ship Channel, andshe had suffered instead of the flagship. 

Although when day broke she was sought for again, nothing more was seenof the _David_. At least not then. With the explosion of the torpedoshe had vanished from the face of the waters. For a long time GeneralBeauregard and the people in Charleston waited for tidings of her, butit was not until the war was over and the _Housatonic_ was raised thatthe mystery was solved. They found the torpedo boat with her nosepointed toward the hole she had torn in the side of the ship, about ahundred feet away from the wrecked sloop-of-war. She had been riddledwith bullets and shattered by the explosion of her own torpedo. Shewas, of course, filled with water, and in her, at their stations, theyfound the bodies of her devoted crew, Lacy with his hand on the wheel. 

Nothing in life had so become Lacy as the ending of it. It is a proverbthat the good men do lies buried with them, the evil is longremembered. It was not so in his case, at any rate, for men forgoteverything but the dauntless heroism with which he had laid down hislife for his country, and assured his fame. 

And, after all, he was not to be pitied for that he died the death ofhis choice. 

CHAPTER IX

MISERABLE PAIR AND MISERABLE NIGHT

Sempland's mind was in a fearful turmoil. It had all come so suddenlyand unexpectedly upon him that as yet he hardly realized the gravity ofhis situation, although it could scarcely be worse. He was under arrestand in confinement, facing such serious charges as neglect of duty, disobedience of orders, treason, cowardice! As to these last, he was soconscious of his loyalty and intrepidity that they did not worry him somuch as they might have done. The other things were bad enough, butsurely, surely, no one could ever believe him either a traitor or acoward!

His mind did not dwell on his own situation as it might have done, either, if it had not been for Fanny Glen. Instinctively he had steppedforward to gather her in his arms when she fainted before him on thewharf that night, but he had been sternly waved back by the general, and without being given a chance to learn anything about her conditionhe had been hurried to headquarters and heavily guarded in the roomwhere he was to be held pending Beauregard's further pleasure. As forFanny Glen, although Sempland could not know it, the surgeon who hadbeen present had speedily revived that young woman, a carriage had beensummoned, and she had been taken home under the escort of one of thestaff officers. 

Sempland was utterly unable to fathom her mysterious conduct. He hadthought upon it swiftly as he could during those trying moments whichhad been so filled with action, but he had not had time, until in thequiet and solitude of his confinement, to give it any calmconsideration. He was at a loss to understand her actions. 

Was she a traitor to the South? Did she think to prevent the loss ofthe flagship of the Federal fleet by detaining him? That could not be, for if ever truth and sincerity shone in a woman's face and wereevinced in a woman's actions, they were in Fanny Glen's appearance andlife. Her patriotism was unquestioned. That hypothesis must bedismissed at once. 

Was it because she loved him so that, fancying the expedition promisedcertain death to him, she had taken this unfortunate method ofpreserving his life? He had not been too agitated in the strong room ofher house to realize as he held her that in some mysterious way she washappy at being in his arms. His heart leaped at the recollection. Shehad not struggled. She had almost nestled against him. 

He could recall the clasp of her arms, the kiss that she had given him, the words that she had said. He was almost sure that she loved him ashe thought of these things. 

Yet--she had disgraced him, dishonored him! That was not the act of aloving woman. She had shown herself possessed of a full measure ofwomanly heroism and courage. She knew exactly what was involved in hisfailure to carry out his orders. How could she have done it? Was it allacting then? Did her kisses betray him? Was she indeed a traitor--andto him? Yet--for whom?

There was Lacy--oh, had he repented after all? Had he wished to resumethe command he had so reluctantly surrendered? Had she been a party toany plan whereby the matter might be brought about? Was he to be shamedand sacrificed for Lacy's glory and honor by this woman? Perish thethought! Yet why had she fainted on the wharf? Was it at the mention ofLacy's name? Was she alarmed for his safety? If that were the case, whyhad she not striven to restrain Lacy and allowed him to go in hisplace?

Suddenly there flashed into his mind that there might be some one onthe _Wabash_ whom she wished to protect! Could that be the solution ofthe mystery? No one knew anything of her origin, her past history. Wasshe faithful to the South, yet had she a--a--lover in the Union fleet?Was she indeed what he called her, a heartless coquette? He could havesworn from that brief moment when he held her in his arms, when helooked at her, that she loved him. She had returned his kiss. Oh, hadshe? Was it a dream? A play? To deceive him? Great God! was he goingmad?

Of only one thing was he certain. He could never disclose to any onethe cause of his failure to present himself on the wharf in time. Whether she loved Lacy, or some one in the Union fleet, made nodifference to his love. He would love her till he died. Ay, he wouldlove her even in the face of her treachery, her faithlessness--everything!He hated himself for this, but it was true, he could not deny it. 

And he would save her from the consequences of her action at the costof his life--his honor even. What had he to live for anyway, if shewere taken from him? Death might come. It would come. He would make nodefence. It was quite within the power of a court-martial to order himshot. And it was quite within the power of a court-martial to punishFanny Glen, too, if he fastened the culpability for his failure uponher; perhaps not by death, but certainly by disgrace and shame. Thecity was under martial rule, General Beauregard was supreme. No, hecould not expose her to that condemnation--he loved her too well. 

Yet he wished that he could hate her, as he paced up and down the longroom, stopping at the windows to stare out into the dark in thedirection of the sea--where he should have been if all had gone well. 

He was too far away to hear the explosion of the torpedo, which wasmuffled, because it took place under water, but he could hear thebatteries of the ships as they opened on the blockade-runners, and theanswer from the forts, and he knew that something had happened at anyrate. And his suspense as to that added to his wretchedness. Lacy hadsupplanted him and reaped the glory--again. It was maddening. No onecame to bring him any word. The general concluded to postpone hisinquiry until the next morning, and Sempland paced the floor the nightlong in a pitiable condition of wounded love, blasted hope, shatteredfame. 

At home, not far away, poor Fanny Glen was even more miserable thanRhett Sempland, for she had divined--yes, so soon as the two men hadleft her presence the afternoon before, she had recognized thefact--that she loved Sempland. Conviction had grown upon her swiftly, and in those moments when she was fearful that he would succeed in hispurpose, when she had kept him a prisoner in her home to prevent himfrom taking out the _David_ to try to blow up the _Wabash_, she knewthat she loved him. 

When he had held her in his arms in that bold and successful effort toescape, when he had strained her to his breast, when he had kissedher--oh, that kiss!--the consciousness of her passion overwhelmed her. The recollection of it even filled her with passionate tenderness. Shehad not been afraid when he had threatened her with the pistol. Shecould have died easily then--in his arms, with his kiss upon her lips, his heart beating against her own. He loved her! Nothing else matteredfor the moment. 

She had endeavored to keep him a prisoner partly for his own sake, butprincipally for another and greater reason. She had not thought ofdisgrace or shame to him. It had all come so swiftly. She had no timeto reflect at all. She had decided upon impulse, with but one thoughtat first--to save the Union ship. In her sudden alarm and anxiety shehad not realized that she was playing a traitor's part. Or if she had, she had done it willingly, in the belief that the punishment would fallupon her, and that he would be held blameless. 

But for whatever reason she had acted as she had, she had failed afterall, for another had taken Sempland's part, and the flagship, if the_David_ succeeded, was doomed. Her sacrifice was unavailing. She hadlost everything. Sempland had shrunk away from her when she hadconfronted him and the general on the wharf, and when she had recoveredconsciousness he was gone. She could not know his heart had gone out toher lying there, nor how they had hurried him away from her prostratefigure. 

He would never forgive her--never! she thought miserably. He was underarrest now. What was that word she had caught as she ran toward them?Coward! They would kill him perhaps. She had lost all--love, the ship, everything! Lacy, too, was gone. He had taken the boat out inSempland's place. Why had she not thought of that possibility? And hehad loved her, and he would never come back. 

With a misery akin to Sempland's she heard the bombardment whichproclaimed that something had happened. Had the flagship been blown up?Nothing was left to her. She would go to the general and tell the truthin the morning, and then--he would be free. They could punish her andshe could die. Well, death would be welcome. 

[Illustration: "Poor little Fanny Glen . .. She had lost on everyhand. "]

Poor little Fanny Glen! She had played, and played the foolexceedingly--and she had lost on every hand!

CHAPTER X

A STUBBORN PROPOSITION

The general, who was always on the alert, ordinarily began his workwith the sun, and rarely did he stop with the setting of it, either. The next morning, therefore, he was at his headquarters at an unusuallyearly hour. 

Fortune had favored him in that one of the harbor patrol boats, makinga daring reconnaissance about midnight, to discover if possible whathad happened to the _David_, had captured a whale boat from one of theUnion ships, bound on a similar errand, and had brought her crew to thecity. By questioning them Beauregard learned of the blowing up of the_Housatonic_, and the almost certain loss of the torpedo boat. He wassorry that he missed the _Wabash_ and the admiral, and intenselygrieved over the lack of any tidings from the _David_ or her men, which, however, caused him little surprise, but he was glad, indeed, they had been so brilliantly successful in eliminating the magnificentnew steam sloop-of-war _Housatonic_ from the force blockading them. 

Incidentally he learned, with some additional satisfaction, thatAdmiral Vernon was to be relieved of his command on account of illnessand was going North with his flagship in a few days. The admiral hadshown himself so intensely enterprising and pugnacious that Beauregardhoped and expected that any change in opponents would be for thebetterment of the situation from the Southern point of view. 

When he had digested the important news of the morning, he sent for hisprisoner of the night before. The general had been very indignant onthe wharf, and justly so, but he instinctively felt that there wassomething in the situation, which, if he could get at it, might relievefrom the odium of his position the young officer, whose family history, no less than his personal character, absolutely negatived the idea ofcowardice or treachery. 

General Beauregard hoped that by questioning him quietly and calmly, and by representing to him the critical situation in which he foundhimself, that he might induce him to clear up the mystery. He spoke tohim kindly, therefore, when he was ushered into the room and bade himbe seated. He marked with soldierly appreciation of the lieutenant'sfeelings the evidences of his sleepless night, the anguish of his soul, in the haggard look upon his face. 

"Mr. Sempland, " he began with impressive and deliberate gravity, carefully weighing his words that they might make the deeper impressionupon the younger man, for whom he felt profound pity, "you bear one ofthe noblest names in the commonwealth. I knew your father and yourgrandfather. They were men of the highest courage and of unimpeachablehonor. Their devotion to the South cannot be questioned. I grieve morethan I can say to find you in so equivocal a position. I am convincedthat there is some explanation for it, and I ask you, not as yourgeneral, but as your friend, to disclose it to me. "

"You called me a coward last night, sir. "

"In the heat of my disappointment and surprise I did make use of thatterm, sir. It was a mistake. I regret it, " said the general, magnanimously. "I do not believe your failure to take out the _David_ arose from anyfear. "

This was a great concession indeed, and Sempland was intenselyrelieved, and an immense load was lifted from his breast by thegeneral's reassuring words. 

"Sir, I thank you. I could have borne anything than that. "

"But, my boy, " continued the general, severely, "you must remember thatyou still lie under the imputation of treachery to the South, and youwill recognize readily that such an accusation is scarcely lessterrible than the other. "

"General Beauregard, believe me, sir, " burst out Sempland, impetuously, "I pledge you my word of honor, I am not a traitor to the South, Iwould die for my country gladly if it would do her service. I fullyintended to take out the _David_. I begged for the detail, and wasthankful beyond measure to you for giving it to me. I was overwhelmedwith anger and dismay and horror at my failure. I swear to you, sir, byall that is good and true, by everything holy, that it was not my faultthat I was not there--I--I--was detained. "

"Detained? By whom?"

Sempland only bit his lip and looked dumbly at the general. 

"Come, my boy, I want to help you, " said the veteran officer, persuasively. "Who, or what, detained you? Where were you detained? Itmust have been some man--or was it a woman? Tell me, and, by heavens, I'll make such an example of the traitor as will never be forgotten inSouth Carolina or the Confederacy!"

"I cannot, sir. "

"Think! Your rank, your honor, it may be your life, all depend uponyour reply. You are concealing something from me. You do not answer, "continued Beauregard, keenly scanning the face of the young manstanding before him in stubborn silence. "I see that you are shieldingsome one, sheltering some unworthy person. Who is it?"

Still no answer. The general's patience was gradually vanishing in theface of such obstinacy. Yet he restrained his growing displeasure, andcontinued his questioning. 

"Where did you go after you left me?"

"To my quarters, sir, to write a letter. "

"Were you there all the time?"

"No, sir. "

"Where did you go after the letter was written?"

No answer. 

"Major Lacy said--" began the general, changing his tactics. 

"Did he tell you?" cried Sempland, in sudden alarm and great dismay. 

"He knew then?" exclaimed the general, triumphant in his clew. "No, hedidn't tell. He never will tell now. I have learned from a picket boatthat was captured last night by our patrols, that nothing was seen ofthe _David_ after the explosion. "

"Poor Lacy!" said Sempland. "Well, sir, he died the death of hischoice. "

"Yes, " said Beauregard, "little in life became him as the ending ofit. "

A little silence fell between the two in the room. 

"And I might have been there, " said Sempland at last. 

"I had rather see you dead, sir, than in your present case, " commentedthe general, deftly. 

"Yes, sir, and I'd rather be there myself, " returned the young man, "but I--I beg your pardon, General, were they successful?"

"In a measure. They missed the _Wabash_, but blew up the _Housatonic_. "

"Did the cotton ships get out?"

"Unfortunately, no. One of them was sunk. The other two returned insafety. But all this is beside the question. We are losing sight of themain point. For the last time, will you tell me why you failed to be onhand?"

"General Beauregard, as I said, I would rather be where Lacy is nowthan have failed as I did, but I cannot tell you what detained me"

"For the last time, Mr. Sempland, I beg of you to answer me. You knowthe consequences?"

The general spoke sharply now. Such determination and contumacy had atlast got the better of his patience and forbearance. He had tried tosave Sempland, but the young officer would give him no assistance. Well, on his own head it would be. 

"You realize what is before you, sir?"

"Yes, sir. "

"A court-martial. Possibly--nay, certainly, death. For in the face ofyour refusal to explain I can do nothing more for you. "

Sempland bowed to the inevitable. 

"You have said, " he began, "that you did not believe I was a coward, nor a traitor. If you will not allow the stigma of either of thesecharges to rest upon me, I will bear with equanimity whateverpunishment the court-martial may award. "

"Even to loss of life?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Very well, " said the general, shrugging his shoulders, a trick of hisFrench ancestry. "I have done my best, Mr. Sempland, for you. As to mypersonal beliefs, I can and will express them, but I cannot tellwhether the court-martial will receive them or not. Will nothing moveyou?"

"Nothing, sir. "

The general struck a bell on the desk before him. 

"Orderly, " he said, as a soldier presented himself, "my compliments tothe assistant adjutant-general. Ask him to come here. Ah, GeneralWylie, " he said as that functionary presented himself, "will you makeout an order assembling a court-martial to try Lieutenant RhettSempland, here, for disobedience of orders and neglect of duty in thepresence of the enemy, and--well, that will be enough, I think, " hecontinued after a pause which was fraught with agony to Sempland atleast, lest the general should mention cowardice or treason again. "Meanwhile see that Mr. Sempland is carefully guarded here in theheadquarters building. "

"Very good, sir, " said the officer, saluting. "This way, Mr. Sempland. "

CHAPTER XI

THE CONFESSION THAT CLEARED

As the two men left the room the orderly entered it once more andannounced to the general that a lady was below who asked the privilegeof an interview with him. 

"Lady? What lady?" demanded Beauregard, impatiently. 

He was in no mood for feminine society after the difficult interview inwhich he had just participated. 

"I think it is Miss Glen, sir. She says she must see you and--"

"Ah!" interrupted the general, hastily, as he recollected the scene onthe wharf the night before, when Fanny Glen had fainted at the newsthat the boat was gone and that Lacy had gone with it. "Show her inhere at once, orderly. "

He had intended to seek her in her house in the course of the morningand break the melancholy news to her that the torpedo boat was lost inall probability with all on board, for from her agitation on the wharfhe inferred that her affections were bestowed upon Lacy. He was verysorry for her, of course; but knowing Lacy as he had, and estimatingFanny Glen as he did, there was a certain sense of relief that shewould not be condemned to a lifetime of misery which such a marriagewould inevitably have entailed. Still he pitied her profoundly, and hepitied her more when she came into the private office in the wake ofthe orderly and threw back her veil. Her beautiful face showed thesorrow under which she labored. Suffering had thrown a blight upon it. The freshness and youth seemed to have departed from it. She was apiteous little spectacle indeed. 

The general received her with the utmost cordiality and consideration. He handed her to a chair, and bade the orderly see that they were notdisturbed on any account. 

"Miss Fanny, " he began gently--the war had brought the general and thebrave girl very close together--"I was coming over to see you in alittle while. You have shown yourself a brave little woman many times. You need all your courage now. "

"Yes, General, " said the girl, faintly, "I know. "

"You have sustained a terrible loss. "

"Is--is--Mr. Sempland--?"

"He is well enough at present. I refer to your friend, Major Lacy. "

"Is he--?"

"I am sorry to say that in all probability he has lost his life in thetorpedo boat. We can get no tidings of her or of any of her crew. Shemust have sunk with the ship. "

"Did they succeed, sir?" interrupted Fanny Glen with an anxiety and anapprehension too great to be controlled. 

"They did, " returned Beauregard, somewhat surprised at her question, "but the torpedo boat, I think, went down with the ship she blew up; atany rate no one has seen her or any of her crew since the explosion. Iknew that it was almost certain death to them. "

Fanny Glen sank back in the chair. She almost lost consciousness in heragony. She murmured strange and incoherent words. The general did notunderstand them, but he rose, came to her side, bent over her and tookher hand, patting it softly. 

"I know, I know, my dear child, " he said gently, "how you must suffer. Many another woman has had to give up her heart's desire for ourbeloved country. Think of the service he rendered, to you and to all ofus! Think of his noble sacrifice, his death! Cherish his memory and beproud that he loved you and that you loved him. Few women have donemore for the South than you, and there is still much to do. Work willassuage your grief, " continued the general, laying his hand tenderlyupon the bowed head. "You will always have the deathless memory of hisheroism. "

"Oh!" cried the woman, throwing back her head, "you are wrong. You donot know, you do not understand. I honored Major Lacy, I rejoiced inhis courage, but I did not love him. It is not he that I think of. Itis my father. "

"Your father? What do you mean?"

"Admiral Vernon. "

"What!"

"Yes, he is my father. My name is Fanny Glen Vernon. "

"Good heavens! It cannot be possible. "

"It is true. My mother was a Southern woman, one of the Glens ofHalifax--"

"I knew her!" exclaimed Beauregard. 

"She died when I was a child, and I was brought up by her sister. Myfather--I did not see much of him. He was a sailor, and after mymother's death he sought constantly to be in active service. When thewar broke out he said he must stand by the old flag. I strove topersuade him differently. It was horrible to me, to think that a son ofSouth Carolina, and my father, would fight against her. There was aquarrel between us. I told my father I would not acknowledge him anylonger. I repudiated the Vernon name and came here and worked for theSouth, as you know. When I learned yesterday that you were going toblow up the _Wabash_--"

"But my dear child, " interrupted the general, quickly, "we didn't blowup the _Wabash_. "

"But you said that Major Lacy had succeeded!" said the girl in greatbewilderment. 

"He did. The _Wabash_ and _Housatonic_ exchanged places during thenight, and the latter was sunk. The _Wabash_ is all right. For yoursake, my dear Miss Fanny, I say thank God for the mistake. "

"Then my father is safe?"

"He is. Some Yankees we captured this morning say that he is to berelieved of his command and ordered North on a sick leave. He will nolonger be in danger from us, you see. "

"Thank God, thank God!" cried the girl, and the relief in her voice andface seemed to make another woman of her. "It was wrong, I know. It wastreason to the South--I love the South--but I strove to prevent--"

"Ah!" exclaimed Beauregard. "I have it now! Sempland--"

"Oh, sir!" cried the girl, "where is he?"

"He is preparing, " continued Beauregard, coolly--he had the clew to themystery and he determined to follow it to the end--"to be tried by acourt-martial--"

"By a court-martial, General Beauregard! For what, sir?"

"For disobedience of orders and neglect of duty, in the face of theenemy. And I am in two minds whether to these charges should be addedcowardice and treason or not!"

"Impossible!" exclaimed Fanny Glen. 

"Miss Glen, it is an absolute fact. He came to me yesterday afternoonand volunteered for the command of the expedition. Begged for it, infact. Major Lacy reluctantly but generously yielded to him with myconsent. "

"It was for me he sought it, " said the girl, full of reproach forherself. "I had mocked him for his lack of distinction, sir, before hesaw you. He hazarded his life for my approval and for the cause of theSouth. "

A fuller light broke upon the general's mind. He understood all now, yet he went on pitilessly. 

"After getting command in this peculiar way he failed to presenthimself on the wharf at the appointed time. We waited ten minutes forhim, as long as we dared, in fact, and then as you know, sent the boatout under Major Lacy. "

"He was detained, " said the girl, faintly. 

"So he said when I arrested him last night, and he repeated thestatement this morning. I pressed him to tell me by whom and where hehad been detained, but he refused to tell. I plied him with everyargument at my command. I pointed out to him the consequences of hisaction, his failure to justify himself, that is, showed him clearly thepenalty which the court-martial would undoubtedly inflict upon him--"

"That is?"

"Death, madam! He will probably be shot to-morrow, for his guilt isclear. "

The girl's head fell forward in her hands. There was a little silencein the room. The general watched her narrowly, but said nothingfurther. He was waiting, in full confidence that she would speak. Hecould afford to be patient now. 

CHAPTER XII

THE CULPRIT IS ARRESTED

"General Beauregard, " she whispered at last, "I am the traitor. He wasdetained by me. "

"That doesn't excuse him, " said the general, severely. "Any man whofails in his duty because he succumbs to a woman's wiles, even thoughthat woman loves him, has no plea to urge in justification. He is asoldier. His duty to obey orders is first of all. "

"But--but--you don't understand. I--I--kept him there by force, sir. Major Lacy told me of the expedition--he and Mr. Sempland had calledupon me in the afternoon. They--they had each of them askedme--in--marriage. We--we quarrelled. Mr. Sempland left me in anger, Major Lacy divined that I--I--cared for Mr. Sempland. He came backlater in the evening and told me Mr. Sempland was going to blow up the_Wabash_, and he begged me to see Mr. Sempland again and bid himgood-by. I had only two thoughts--that it meant certain death to myfather and possibly Mr. Sempland--the man--I--What was I to do? I mighthave sacrificed myself by letting Mr. Sempland run the risk, but myfather, sir--"

She stopped and looked at him in pitiful entreaty. 

"Go on, " said the general, inflexibly. 

"I had Mr. Sempland ushered into the strong room of the house--the oldRennie house, you know, sir?"

The general nodded. 

"The door was locked on him after he entered. My three negro boys keptwatch outside. There was no escape for him. He beat and hammered on thedoor until his hands bled. He begged and implored to be released. Itwas agonizing to hear. I did not realize that he was telling the truthwhen he said he was being dishonored. I had no time to consideranything. I only thought of my father--helpless on that great ship--thesudden rush of that awful little boat. "

"You were a traitor to the South!" said General Beauregard, coldly. 

[Illustration: "'You were a traitor to the South!' said GeneralBeauregard, coldly. "]

"Yes. God pity me, I see it now, " answered the girl. 

"How did he get away? Did you release him?" continued the general. 

"He swore that he would kill himself if I did not open the door. "

"Did you open it?"

"Yes. "

"Then did he burst through you and the men?"

"No. They were armed and would have killed him. He could not have madehis escape that way. He begged me to speak to him alone for a moment. Iwent into the room and shut the door. He seized me in his arms and thenput his pistol to my head, threatening to kill me if I did not orderthe door opened. "

"And you obeyed?"

"No, I refused. Then he called out to the slaves to open at once or hewould kill me, their mistress. "

"What happened then?"

"I ordered them not to open the door, to let me die. But they did as hesaid. He made them leave the hall. They obeyed him in spite of myprotests. Then he threw me aside, and ran to the wharf. I followedafter. The rest you know. It was useless after all. I thought no onewould go if he did not. I thought if I could detain him a night--getsome delay--I would come here in the morning and tell you the truth andask you to spare my father. "

"Miss Glen, " said the little general, "I would not spare my own fatherif my duty demanded that he be sacrificed. "

"I suppose so. You are a man, you cannot understand. I am a woman. There were but two I loved on earth. I was ashamed of my father, but Iloved him. Four years of war have taught me other things. I am sorrythat he did not go with the South, but it is not for me to judge him. Icould not see him condemned to death and not raise a hand to save him. And I discovered too late that I--I--cared for Mr. Sempland. I drovehim from me in scorn and contempt--I taunted him. He sought that detailto prove his courage, I could not let him go to certain death. If hedid it would be my fault, I would have murdered him. Pity me! I am onlya woman. Try to understand!"

"But the young man has proven his courage--"

"I know, I know! I never doubted it, " she interrupted. 

"By keeping silent this morning, by facing certain death upon chargesthat are worse than the punishment to a soldier, in that they blast hisfame, " said the general. 

"Thank God for that kindness to me!"

"And he did all this for you. "

"He loves me, as I love him. "

"But your love has disgraced him, his has protected you. "

The girl shrank before the stern words of the soldier. 

"Yes, " she said faintly, "it is as you say. I alone am to blame. Letmine alone be the punishment. I will tell all to the court. He must becleared!"

"It is just, " said Beauregard. "You have committed an act of treasonagainst the South. There is, however, some excuse for your action, andyour previous record in the hospital service has been such as toentitle you to every consideration. I am disposed to be lenient, butthe offence is one I cannot condone. I will have to put you under guarduntil I can consider what is best to be done. "

"I make no protest, " said Fanny Glen. "You will, of course, release Mr. Sempland from arrest, and see that his reputation takes no hurt?"

"I will attend to that. "

He struck a bell again and summoned the assistant adjutant-general oncemore. Fanny Glen dropped her veil so that her face was concealed fromthe officer. He did not perceive what she had suffered and wassuffering. Yet her heart was full of relief--her father was safe, herlover would be free, and, best of all, she had such testimony as fewwomen have received to the depth and power of his passion. He loved herindeed. There was a joy in that thought that set her heart beating. 

The general drew his subordinate into a corner of the room, where theyconversed earnestly for a few moments. Then they came back to the younggirl. 

"Adjutant-General Wylie, " said the commander-in-chief, "you will takecharge of Miss Glen. You will follow him, Miss Glen. I will communicatemy further plans within an hour. "

There was something intensely pathetic in the droop of the littlefigure, in spite of the comforting thoughts that had come to her, whenthe girl rose and followed the soldier from the room. 

The general was almost persuaded to call after her a reassuring word ortwo, but he restrained himself and said nothing. 

CHAPTER XIII

COMPANIONS IN MISERY

It is conceivable that a man could manage to bear without repining theloss of fame and fortune, that he could survive deprivation of rank andstation with equanimity, nay, more, that he might even contemplate witha philosophic indifference an impending forfeiture of life, provided hehad love to sustain him. But when that is lost, and consequentlyeverything is gone, he has to fall back upon conscious rectitude alone, which is well enough in schemes of philosophy, but most inadequate inthe emergencies and crises of real life. 

Lieutenant Rhett Sempland, under arrest, in confinement, awaitingtrial, alone and unvisited by any one, --which meant Fanny Glen, --feltthat morning as if he had indeed lost everything. He had been certainat first that Fanny Glen had returned his swift, impulsive caress inthe strong room even in the peculiar circumstances under which he hadbestowed it upon her, and he had therefore naturally inferred that sheloved him. Indeed, when he thought of the look in her eyes when hestrained her to his breast, although he had the pistol pointed at herforehead, the conviction was strong within him. 

Yet, again and again this proposition presented itself to him, crushinghis hope and breaking his heart: How could a woman who loved a man, anda woman especially who had become sufficiently conversant with militaryaffairs through her hospital service and other experiences in this warto understand what she was doing, have placed her lover in socompromising a position?

And most damnably crushing thought of all, why had she not had thecommon decency after all to come and see him this morning? He was introuble, and he suffered for her sake. She must know that, she mustrealize it. Why did she give no sign of it?

His loneliness and his craving to see her was terrible. His desire tosee her grew with every passing moment, he was consumed by it; yet, hethought 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 notstrange that it was not so much his own impending fate as it was thehopeless endeavor to discover the real reason for Fanny Glen's conductwhich engrossed his attention that fateful morning. 

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

Well, there was no use in worrying or speculating any longer. It wouldall be over soon now. He was sufficiently experienced as a soldier toknow 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 moveheaven and earth to get President Davis to mitigate or commute hispunishment; but he was resolved in his own mind firmly to discouragesuch efforts. He took a gloomy view of life and of love and ofwomen--do they not always go together in the heart of youth? There wasnothing now, therefore, for which he cared to live. 

Yet if he could only see Fanny Glen again! Why did she not send someone to inquire as to his whereabouts? Surely she might ask after hiswelfare. She must know he was under arrest. Why could she not comeherself? He was sacrificing himself for her, to preserve her freedom, ay, her honor and reputation. She might not love him, but at least shemight have manifested a decent interest in his fate. The barestpoliteness ought to make a woman take some thought for a man who wasabout to be shot for her sake, he thought bitterly. 

Well, he swore to himself, if she should come at the last moment, shewould find him as cold as ice, as indifferent as a Laodicean! He wouldshow her that he appreciated at its true value not only her heinousconduct, but her criminal neglect as well. He would make her understandthat it was not love for her that kept him silent. Oh, no! Simply theobligation of a gentleman, a man of honor, albeit a quixotic one. 

Oh, noble resolution! He would go to his grave silent, loading upon herthe weight of an obligation, from which she should never escape. Whenthe war was over she might marry that man on the _Wabash_ whom she hadbeen so anxious to save that she had pretended love for him--Sempland!Yes, he would be under obligation, too, this Union sailor, for toSempland would be due his possession of Fanny Glen. 

The imprisoned officer ground his teeth in rage at that thought andturned suddenly from the barred window where he had been standinglistlessly looking down the bay toward old Fort Sumter, almost knockedto pieces by fierce bombardments, yet still flying the Stars and Barsin brave defiance of the ironclads far away, and with clenched hands, firm-set lips, and troubled brow, began pacing up and down the longapartment. The moments dragged miserably. He wished they would assemblethat court-martial and have it over with. He would not care what theydid, he thought savagely. He was sick and tired of the wholebusiness--the war, the South, General Beauregard, Fanny Glen, everything, everybody!

Suddenly he heard footsteps, the clanking of a sword, a word or twoexchanged between the sentry and a newcomer, in the corridor. Some oneturned the handle of the door. It was opened. 

Sempland instantly stood at attention, then folded his arms with greatdignity, expecting, of course, to confront some one sent to fetch himto the opening session of the court. General Beauregard was remarkablefor his promptness and celerity, and he had declared that the young manshould be tried immediately. He had wondered already at the unnecessarydelay. But no stern-featured, dignified official presented himself. Sempland's astonished gaze fell upon the small figure of a woman!

The door was instantly closed and locked behind her without a word ofexplanation from those outside, and the two were alone in a locked roomfor the second time in twenty-four hours. There was a difference in thesituation that morning, although the man did not know it. On thisoccasion Fanny Glen was a prisoner as well as he. 

He could not see her face as her veil still remained down, yet therewas no mistaking her form. Indeed he felt that had it been midnight hewould have recognized her presence. His heart leaped within his breastat the sight of her. He thought it beat so she might almost have heardit in the perfect silence that had fallen between them. 

His first impulse was to run toward her and take her in his arms oncemore. Above all his troubled conclusions of the night before therecollection of that instant when he had held her so closely stillremained dominant. In her presence he almost forgot everything butthat. Yet he looked at her impassively for a moment, bowed slightly, then turned and walked deliberately to the other end of the room, resuming his station at the window looking out to sea. 

She had an excellent view of his back. The beating of his heart did notmanifest itself outwardly after all. To her gaze he appeared asimpassive, as quiet, as motionless, as if he had been cut out of ironlike the grated bars. It was a most unsatisfactory beginning to whatmust prove an important interview. They played at cross purposesindeed. He had sacrificed himself to save her, she had sacrificedherself to save him, and here they were both prisoners apparently, andthings were as unsettled as ever!

Poor Fanny Glen was infinitely more surprised at the sight of her loverthan he had been at the sight of her. Not until she had fairly enteredthe room and the door had been closed behind her had she realized thatshe was not alone, that he was there. She stood rooted to the spot, waiting to see what he would do. Had he followed his first impulse, which would have been to sweep her to his breast, he would have foundher unresisting, submissive, acquiescent. The kiss which had been givenher last night still trembled upon her lips. It was for the taking, shewas his for the asking. 

Yet his first movement, save for that cold, perfunctory salutation, hadbeen one of indifference amounting to contempt. He despised her, then;he hated her. She had brought him to a terrible position. Ah, well, hewould be sorry for her when he learned her reason, and he would be moresorry for his treatment of her when he learned that he would be freeand she would suffer for it, not he. 

There was something very attractive, after all, in her possiblemartyrdom. The thought gave her not a little comfort. She was surprisedthat Sempland had not been immediately summoned to the general'spresence when she had been put under guard. She supposed, however, thatthe delay was due to some military technicality, and she imagined thatthe next moment would see him called from the room in her presence. Andshe would be left alone, most miserably, forlornly alone to face herfate. 

Being a martyr is certainly a fine thing, but the position loses halfits charm unless people know it. To complete her melancholysatisfaction, he--and he considered himself the martyr, not she!--mustrecognize it. If he would only turn and speak to her. This silence, this immobility, on his part, was unbearable. 

She coughed gently and took a step or two across the floor toward him. He gave no sign that he heard her. How cruel he was! So despotic, sodetermined, so masterful! She abominated a masterful man! She coughedagain, and this time a little more emphatically. Still no attention. Itwas discouraging!

There was a small mirror upon the wall of the room. Her eye inaccordance with an instinct feminine, fell swiftly upon it. She liftedher veil to see how far the experiences she had gone through hadaffected her most potent talisman. 

"Heavens!" she thought, "what a fright!"

To take off her hat was the work of a moment. Her swift, subtle fingersbusied themselves with her rebellious curls. Another glance reassuredher a little. She felt more confident. She coughed again, but asbefore, he did not move. 

"Mr. Sempland, " she said softly at last, in sheer desperation. 

He turned on his heel as suddenly as if he had been moved by a spring, and faced her. He had been longing for a chance to recede from hisposition. 

"Miss Glen, " he answered with depressing coldness. 

"You--you--don't--seem very glad--to see me, sir. "

The moment was one of great importance to both of them; their future, the life and happiness of one, the honor and good name of the other, depended upon it--so they thought at least. The conversationaccordingly began, as conversations under such circumstances usuallybegin, in trivialities. 

"I am not, " he answered shortly and mendaciously as well. 

"I suppose not. I noticed that you--your welcome--wasn't very cordial, I am sure. "

"I didn't mean it to be. "

"Why didn't you order me out of your room, then?" she went on withbecoming humility. 

"This room is not mine, I am a prisoner, madam. I have no choice as tomy guests. "

"But you will soon be free, " returned the girl, quietly. "That is, assoon as General Beauregard learns that I--I--"

"Give yourself no concern, Miss Glen, " he said loftily; "I shall notbetray you. "

"What! You won't tell him?" with a perfect assumption of profoundamazement. 

"I will not, " sternly. 

"But they say--I heard--you are to--be--court-martialled. "

Her voice sank to a low whisper, as if she were awestricken by theheavy tidings. 

"I am. "

"And that you will be found guilty--"

"I shall be. "

"And--you may--be--shot!"

"You should have thought of that last night when you arrested me, imprisoned me, and so made me false to my duty; but what's the use--"He checked the swift rush of his indignation and continued in bittercalm: "A woman who could so trifle with a soldier's honor cannotappreciate the consequences to him. "

"I am sure, " she went on very humbly, "that I didn't realize what wouldhappen. "

"Of course not, " sarcastically. 

"And I am willing to make any amends that I can. I will tell GeneralBeauregard myself that I did it. That it was my fault. That I alone amto blame. "

"I forbid you to do it!" he exclaimed with great energy. 

"I do not care what you say, I shall do it!" stubbornly. 

"You do not know what it means, " he urged, his heart leaping at thethought that she was willing to set him right and take the blame uponherself--and she loved him after all! Yet he could not permit her to doit. "You do not know what this would mean to you, " he repeated. "It wasan act of high treason to the South. They will put you in my place. They will certainly punish you. "

"Would they shoot me?" she inquired in her most terrified manner, hereyes wide open with beautifully simulated terror. 

[Illustration: "'Would they shoot me?' she inquired. "]

He felt so sorry for the poor little frightened thing. He longed togather her up in his arms and comfort her, reassure her. 

"They might, " he returned, stepping nearer to her and visiblyunbending. "I cannot have you take the risk. I won't allow it!"

There was something nice, after all, in the imperative mood, shethought. 

"But how will you prevent it, Mr. Sempland?"

"I tell you, I forbid you!"

"But if I disobey? I never promised to obey you, did I?--that is, notyet?"

"I cannot compel you, of course, " he answered sadly, drawing back alittle. "I know I have neither power nor influence over you, Miss Glen, but this, at least, I can do. I can swear that you are not telling thetruth. "

"I am sure they would not believe you against me, " she retortedvehemently. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE WOMAN EXPLAINS

"I think they would believe me against even you, " answered Sempland. "Iwould tell them that you--ah--love me and that you are trying to saveme. And more, if you say one word to General Beauregard, or any oneelse about it after you leave this room, I give you my word of honor Iwill declare that I was afraid to go and that I stayed with you. "

"Why will you be so foolish?" she asked. 

"Because I love you, " he burst out, "that's the only reason. I havetold you before, but you did not seem to believe it, at least you didnot appear to care; but now it won't hurt you to hear it once more. Youwon't have to hear it again from me. It's the last time. I expect everymoment they will be here to summon me before the court-martial, so Imust tell you now. You are a cruel, heartless coquette. You encouragedLacy--"

"I did not!" indignantly. 

"And you didn't discourage me. "

"How dare you say so?"

"Last night when I held you in my arms and kissed you--"

"I was powerless--"

"When I released you you clasped me around the neck and returned mycaress. I'll swear you did, and all the time you had another man inyour heart. "

"Another man?" she exclaimed in great astonishment. 

"Yes. That man on the _Wabash_!"

"Oh, the man on the _Wabash_!"

"Yes. You wanted to save him. So you played with me. Why weren't youhonest about it? Why didn't you tell me the truth? But no, you chose todisgrace me for him. Well, you succeeded. I shall pay the penalty. Ishall keep silent for your sake. He may have you and you may have him, but my death will be ever between you. The burden of obligation will beheavy upon you both, more than you can carry!"

He had worked himself up into a jealous rage by this time. Hisself-control was completely gone. 

"Who is this man?" he burst out at last, while she took a wicked joy inhis misapprehension. 

"His--his--name--is--" she spoke slowly and with seeming reluctance, as if to spare him. 

"Then there is a man? Good God! I had hoped, in spite of everything, that I might have been mistaken, that you acted so for some otherreason. Do you love him?"

"Yes, " faintly, turning away her head. 

"Do you really love him, or are you making a fool of him as you did ofme?"

"But I--love you, too, " she said demurely, slowly dropping her head sothat her face was half hidden from his intent gaze. 

"How can you love both of us?" he exclaimed, angered beyond enduranceby her apparent coquetry. 

"It's--it's--different, " she answered demurely. 

"If Lacy were here, I suppose he would understand, but women such asyou are beyond me. "

"It seems so. "

"But why prolong this interview longer, Miss Glen? Your secret is safewith me. Probably you came here to learn that. I will not allow you tobetray it, either;"--how inconsistent he was, she thought;--"you knowthat I love you, and I know that you do not love me, that your heart iswith that man on the ship. Won't you please leave me to myself? Ireally shall need all my self-command, my strength, to face thecourt-martial, and you--you--unman me. I thank you for coming to seeme, but--forgive my apparent discourtesy--I would rather be alone. Good-by. "

"Wait, " she said. "That man on the _Wabash_--"

"By heaven!" he interrupted savagely--he was a man of somewhatelemental passions when he was aroused, and he was thoroughly arousedthen--"have you no mercy, no pity? This is too much! I don't want tohear a word about him. Whoever he is I--"

"Stop, sir!" cried the girl, impressively, "or you will say somethingfor which you will be sorry. "

"Sorry! I should like to have him within reach of my hand!" he saidgrimly, extending his arm as he spoke, and his expression was notpleasant to see. "I'd--"

"I am sure, " she went on hurriedly, cutting him off, "you would not doa thing to him if he stood right here. "

"Would I not? And pray, why not?" he asked her bitterly. 

"Because--"

She stopped, reluctant to disclose her secret. Once she did so herpower was gone. 

"Because--" she said again. 

"Tell me in heaven's name! You torture me!"

"Because he--is--my--"

Again she stopped, and again his anxiety got the better of him. Hecaught her hands in his own and held them with a grasp that hurt her. 

"My God, will you cease this cruelty? He is not your--you are notreally married to him, are you?"

"Hardly. Let go of my hands, " she answered, striving to draw away: yetfor a fairly strong young woman she exhibited an astonishing feeblenessin her endeavor. 

"Who is he?" with imperious insistence. 

"My father--there! Now, will you release me?"

"Your father! And there is no other man?" in great bewilderment, through which the glimmering of greater relief began to shine. 

She shook her head. 

"And you did this for him alone?"

"No-o-o, " with reluctance, "not altogether for him alone. "

"Who else then?"

"I told you last night, " she answered evasively. 

"For me?"

"Ye-es, " faintly. "I could not bear to see you lose your--your life. "

Slowly she felt herself being drawn nearer to him. She struggledfeebly, glad to be overborne by his superior strength. In anothermoment she was in his arms for the second time. Her head was bent downtoward his waistcoat pocket. Holding her safe with one arm he put hishand under her chin, and turned her face upward. There were blushes onher cheeks, laughter and tears in her eyes. The interrupted kisstrembled upon her lips, and he--well, this time it was longer than thenight before and more satisfying. As he kissed her her arms went aroundhis neck again. 

"There was no other man, " she whispered, "there never was any one butyou. I did wrong, very wrong, but my father and you--that was myexcuse. And I loved you all the time. "

When there was opportunity some moments later for articulateconversation, he endeavored to solve the mystery of her paternity, theunderstanding of which he had put by in the face of more pressingbusiness--or pleasure. 

"Then your name isn't Fanny Glen?"

"That's part of it. "

"What's the rest of it?"

"Fanny Glen Vernon. "

"What! Is Admiral Vernon your father?"

"He is. "

"How is that?"

"When the war broke out he stayed with the North, was true to his flag, he said. I had seen little of him since my mother's death, when I wasten years old. I was a Southern woman. It seemed monstrous to me. Ibegged and implored him, but uselessly, and finally our relations werebroken off. So I dropped the name of Vernon, and came here to work forour cause, the rest you know. But I could not let him be blown upunsuspecting, could I? If he were killed in action, it would beterrible enough, but this was a dreadful ending. I thought--I don'tknow what I thought. I love the South, but--"

"I understand, my dearest, " he said, in no condition to understandanything very clearly, and caring little for the moment for anythingexcept that she loved him. 

"And you forgive me?"

"Forgive you? With all my soul. This moment with you in my arms, withyour arms around my neck, with your kisses upon my lips, with yourwords in my ear, with your love in my heart--this makes up foreverything! I shall go to my death gladly. "

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

"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 theSouth, and while your love for your father--and for me--has explainedit, you could not make such a plea as that before any court-martialcomposed of soldiers. You would only harm yourself, and you would nothelp 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 willanticipate what might have been. If all had gone well, you would havepromised 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 ownsituation will be more serious than before, for I shall brand myself asa coward, as well, and you would not like your lover to have thatstigma on him. "

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

"No, " answered the man, sighing deeply, "and life is so different to menow. 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 thesergeant of the guard, a whilom friend to the prisoner. "On me ownaccount, sor, I come to tell ye that they'll be afther comin' for ye ina few minutes, an' ye'd better git ready fer 'em. If ye haveanythin'--any preparations to make, ye'd better be quick about it, sor. "

"Thank you, " answered Sempland. "You hear, dearest? You must go. I musthave a moment to myself to enable me to face this court-martial. Leaveme now, I beg of you. Go home. After it is over I shall ask permissionof 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 answeredglibly. 

"What do you mean?"

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

"Nonsense! How did he find out?"

"I told him myself. I didn't disobey you, you see. You had notforbidden me to do it then. "

"What did you tell him?"

"That Admiral Vernon was my father, and that I kept you--I--I--lovedyou. "

"Great heavens! And--"

"And then he called the adjutant-general and they whispered together amoment, and then he sent me here. "

"Why did you do it?" cried the man, reproachfully. "They will punishyou in some way. I would rather have died than have you tell. Whatshall we do now?"

CHAPTER XV

THE GENERAL'S LITTLE COMEDY

There was a hurried movement on the part of the sentry in the corridor, followed by the trampling of many feet. Sabres clanked, voices brokethe stillness. Fanny Glen was really frightened now. They were coming. They were there. What were they about to do to her? Of course, theywould not shoot her, --she was reasonably sure of that, --but in anyevent she was certain to be parted from her lover. She drew nearer tohim as the door was opened. 

On the threshold stood General Beauregard himself, his visage chargedwith an unusual degree of solemnity. Back of him were grouped themembers of his staff and others who had been on the wharf the nightbefore. They were all in full uniform and made a most impressive sight. It was a highly dramatic moment, full of menace to the woman. As forSempland, he scarcely comprehended it. 

"The court-martial!" whispered Fanny Glen, fearfully, instinctivelyshrinking closer to Sempland as she spoke. 

That officer knew, of course, that no court-martial was everinaugurated in that manner, but he said nothing. He did not understand. He would await developments. Something was in the wind, certainly. Whatcould it be?

"Captain Sempland, " said the general, formally, advancing further intothe room, followed by the rest, "you are relieved from arrest, sir, and--"

"Captain Sempland?" murmured Sempland in great surprise. 

"Yes, sir, Captain Sempland, " with marked emphasis on the title. "Youare restored to duty forthwith, sir, " continued the general, smiling athis astonished subordinate. "The charges of neglect of duty anddisobedience of orders which I made last night and repeated thismorning are withdrawn. There never was any suspicion of cowardice ortreason. Although you did not succeed, having been prevented by causesbeyond your control, as I now learn, from taking out the _David_, yetyour earnest desire to do so, the fact that you volunteered for thedetail, and even besought me to give it to you, the extreme measures towhich you resorted to escape from confinement in order to carry outyour orders, even going so far as to threaten a lady, warrant me inpromoting you. Here, " receiving the weapon from one of the staffofficers, "is your sword. I return it to you. " Next the general drewsome papers from his coat. "Here is your commission as captain. Hereare orders which take you to the Army of Northern Virginia. They areaccompanied by a personal letter to my friend, General Lee, in which Ihave asked him to give you a position on his staff with all itsopportunities for useful service and distinction. May you reflectcredit, as I have no doubt you will, upon the South, the state of SouthCarolina, and all our hopes and ambitions for you. Gentlemen, " to theothers, "you are all witnesses to this rehabilitation of CaptainSempland. "

The room was instantly filled with the sound of hearty cheering fromthe officers in attendance. 

"General Beauregard, you have overwhelmed me, " faltered Sempland assoon as he could make himself heard. "I have done nothing to deservethis honor. "

Beauregard stepped nearer to him. 

"You would have sacrificed your life for a woman, " whispered thegallant little general, approvingly. "I understand. " Then he saidaloud: "See that you strive to merit our trust and confidence in thefuture, then. You will have many chances for great deeds with GeneralLee. Would that I were with him!"

"General, " said the young man, "your kindness emboldens me. This lady, sir--"

"Is a prisoner, " said the general, shortly. 

"I know it, sir. She committed a terrible blunder, yet--"

"Gentlemen, " said Beauregard, turning to his staff officers, "you knowthe story of last night. How this lady interfered to prevent animportant military manoeuvre, the object of which was the destructionof the Federal flagship by a torpedo, and incidentally the probabledeath of Captain Sempland. Such conduct is essentially treasonable, especially in a state of war. What is the punishment for such actionsin the face of the enemy?"

"Death, sir, " returned the adjutant-general, solemnly. 

"Are you all agreed as to that, gentlemen?"

"We are, sir, " was the unanimous reply. 

They had been well tutored in the little comedy which the general hadarranged, it was evident. 

"Impossible, sir!" cried Sempland, in agony. They deceived even himwith their seriousness. "This is most irregular! I protest--"

"I am ready, gentlemen, " whispered Fanny Glen, bravely, turning verywhite as she spoke, and not appearing at all ready in fact, "I--I--amglad to--suffer, since Captain Sempland--" she faltered with amiserable attempt at courage. 

"One moment, please, " broke in the little general, imperatively. "But, gentlemen, the culprit has otherwise deserved well of her country, asyou know. During the war her services in the general hospital have beenbeyond price. She is a woman. On the ship which it was proposed to blowup was her father, Admiral Vernon, a South Carolinian, whose ideas ofduty led him to continue his services to the United States. These aremitigating circumstances. Here is no treachery to the South, merely awoman's desire to save her father from a swift and sudden death. Nomischance has arisen from her action. Major Lacy took out the boat withhis usual distinction, although, fortunately for the lady and theadmiral, the _Housatonic_ seems to have suffered instead of the_Wabash_. Under these circumstances, I think, it does not behoove us tobe too severe. You agree with me, I am sure, gentlemen?"

"Certainly, sir, we do, " replied the officers in chorus. 

"Thank you! thank you!" exclaimed Fanny Glen, gratefully, withboundless relief in her voice. 

By this time she was as close to Sempland as she could get, andentirely unconscious of what he was doing, the latter had thrown hisarm protectingly around her waist. 

"Wait, Miss Glen, " said the general, severely, lifting his hand andchecking her further speech, "you cannot think to escape scot free. Such actions cannot go entirely unpunished. So long as Miss Fanny Glenexists she must suffer for her actions. You are agreed with me, gentlemen?"

"We are, sir. "

It was remarkable the unanimity with which they all supported theirgeneral's decisions on so serious a matter, and practically withoutdeliberation. 

"Captain Sempland, as a soldier, I am sure you will acquiesce in theviews of your brother officers. "

Sempland bit his lip. Fanny Glen nestled closer to him and looked up athim beseechingly. 

"Oh, General!" he said at last. "Isn't there some way out of it?"

"There may be, " said the general, solemnly. "Let me think a moment. Suppose--ah, suppose, Miss Fanny Glen were to disappear?"

"But where can I go, sir?" asked the girl, nervously. "All that Ilove--" she observed a smile flickering upon the general's lips as sheglanced at Sempland. "I mean everybody and everything that I love ishere. " She stamped her foot impatiently. "You won't send me to theUnion fleet? I know my father is safe--but I love the South. I willnever do anything wrong again if you won't send me away!" she pleaded. 

It was, indeed, a sweeping promise, one she could scarcely have kept. 

"There are other ways by which Miss Fanny Glen might disappear, " saidBeauregard, gravely. 

"How, sir?"

"You might change your name--again!"

"Change my name?"

"Yes. You might become--Mrs. Rhett Sempland, let us say!"

"O-o-oh!" cried the girl, blushing furiously and drawing away from herlover's side. 

"Quite so, " answered the general with deep gravity, too deep not to besuspicious, while Sempland's heart leaped with happiness. This was themeaning of the general's little play, then?

"Proceedings which would have to be instituted against Fanny Glen couldthen be allowed to drop, " continued Beauregard, enjoying the situationimmensely. "Is not that a solution, gentlemen?" he asked, throwing backhis head and laughing cheerfully at the pleasant ending of the littlecomedy he had planned, which pleased the small audience hugely. 

"That is the happiest of all solutions, sir, " said Sempland, takingFanny Glen's hands. 

"I won't be married simply to save my life, " said the girl. 

"Of course not, " said the general. "Yet either you must becourt-martialled or Mr. Sempland will be. "

"I--I might do it--to save--his life, sir, " she said, blushingfuriously again. 

"However it is done--" said Sempland, "however it may be brought about, it satisfies me completely. "

"'If 'twere done when 'tis done, 'twere well 'twere done quickly, '"quoted the general with striking appositeness, greatly delighted at theoutcome of the affair. 

"I agree with you entirely, sir, " returned Sempland, smiling--it wasthe part of wisdom for a captain to agree with a general always, andthe way of prudence was the path of pleasure in this instance. 

"Captain Sempland, " said Beauregard, "your orders need not be carriedout until to-morrow. There will be time enough before that time for awedding, in which, in the absence of her father, I promise myself thepleasure of giving away the bride. Now, gentlemen, we will leavethe--ah--two culprits to talk it over for a few moments. Let me knowyour decision, Miss Glen, as soon as may be, that I may decide whetherto assemble or dissolve the court. And rest assured the happenings oflast night and this morning, so far as they concern Miss Glen, are notto be spoken outside this room by any one. Good morning. "

 * * * * *

"Fanny Glen, " said Sempland, when they were alone once more, "are youmarrying me to save yourself?"

She shook her head. 

"Rhett Sempland, are you marrying me, " she asked in return, "to saveyourself?"

"I am marrying you, you little darling, as you very well know, becauseI love you. "

"And that is my reason, too, " said Fanny Glen. 

"Fanny Glen, " he said imperiously, "come here!"

And to him she came with astonishing meekness. 

"Put your arms around my neck!"

And obediently there she put them!

"Lift up your head!"

Slowly, surely, up it came!

After all, Fanny Glen did love a masterful man!