To take off her hat was the work of a moment. Her swift, subtle fingers busied themselves with her rebellious curls. Another glance reassured her a little. She felt more confident. She coughed again, but as before, 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 his position. "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 conversation accordingly began, as conversations under such circumstances usually begin, 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 with becoming humility. "This room is not mine, I am a prisoner, madam. I have no choice as to my guests." "But you will soon be free," returned the girl, quietly. "That is, as soon as General Beauregard learns that I--I--" "Give yourself no concern, Miss Glen," he said loftily; "I shall not betray you." "What! You won't tell him?" with a perfect assumption of profound amazement. "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 the heavy 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 bitter calm: "A woman who could so trifle with a soldier's honor cannot appreciate the consequences to him." "I am sure," she went on very humbly, "that I didn't realize what would happen." "Of course not," sarcastically. "And I am willing to make any amends that I can. I will tell General Beauregard myself that I did it. That it was my fault. That I alone am to 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 the thought that she was willing to set him right and take the blame upon herself--and she loved him after all! Yet he could not permit her to do it. "You do not know what this would mean to you," he repeated. "It was an 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, her eyes wide open with beautifully simulated terror. [Illustration: "'Would they shoot me?' she inquired."]