She seized the bars of her grated window, and shook and rattled them; she put her wasted hand through, them and waved it; she called and shouted, but her voice was weak, and the din below was deafening; so that she failed to attract attention until Major Mim, happening to look up, saw the wasted hand waving through the grated window. He did not recognize Miss Conyers then, but he saw that the pale hand belonged to an imprisoned _woman_, and that was quite enough to fire the blood of such a devoted “squire of dames” as Major Mim. He had been just on the point of opening the prison doors to release such of our people as he might happen to find there, this being his appointed duty on the premises, but now he hurried his movements. Calling to four or five subordinate officers to follow him, he entered the prison. There were none to resist him. The guards had run away hours before. Britomarte, in her cell, heard the rushing footsteps of her deliverers. They spread themselves throughout all the lobbies of the prison. But the squad led by little Mim came hurrying towards her door, and paused in much excitement before it. This door was locked and barred on the outside, and it required some little time and force before it could be broken open. Then Major Mim, with his face fiery from exertion and excitement, rushed in. “You are free, Madam!” he exclaimed, lifting his cap to Britomarte, but failing to recognize her. “Don’t you know me”—she hesitated a moment to glance at his straps and ascertain his precise rank—“Major Mim? Don’t you know me?” “Heaven and earth! It is Miss Conyers!” exclaimed little Mim, in consternation. “Or what remains of her,” added Britomarte, with a wan smile. “In the name of Providence, how came you here?” demanded Mim. “I was taken as a suspected spy. The story is too long to tell you now, Major. But tell me news of our army. I am dying, yes, dying to hear.” “We have got Richmond,” said Mim. “I see that. But Colonel Rosenthal?” “He is with General Grant.” “And General Grant?” “Is gone after Lee.” “And Lee?” “In full retreat down the valley, half his army destroyed, the other half doomed.” “So Richmond is ours. Thank Heaven! But oh, why did you set the city on fire? Was that necessary?” “_We_ set the city on fire! No, thank Heaven, Miss Conyers, the crime of burning this beautiful city does not rest on our souls. It seems to have been set on fire either by the evacuating party or by the excited mob, we do not know which, but we do know that when we marched in we found the city in flames, and that our first business was to go to work, as fast as we could, to put it out. And although the wretches that fired the city also cut the hose, we are still, by the blessing of God, bringing the flames under.” “Thank Heaven for that! Tell me more news of our friends. Who has fallen? Who survive?”