I knew this before she spoke; had known it almost from the beginning, and yet her words, the message of her uplifted eyes, gave me a new conception of all love meant. A moment I gazed into the blue-gray depths where her heart was revealed, and then my arms were about her, and our lips met. Surely no one ever received the gift of love in stranger situation. On the stairs leading down into that gloomy cellar where a murderer hid, his victim borne past as we talked; all about us silence and gloom hiding a mysterious crime; above us the heavy feet of men treading the echoing floor, and without the ceaseless roar of battle, volleying musketry, and hoarse shouting. Yet it was all forgotten--the fierce fighting of the past, the passions of war, the sudden death, the surrounding peril--and we knew only we were together, alone, the words of love upon our lips. I felt the pressure of her arms, and crushed her to me, every nerve throbbing with delight. "Sweetheart, sweetheart," I whispered, "you have kept me in doubt so long." "It has only been because I also doubted," she answered,--"not my love, but my right to love. To a Hardy honor is everything, and I was bound by honor. Dear, could you ever think a uniform made any difference?--it is the man I love." She drew gently back, holding me from her, and yet our eyes met. "But we must not remain here, thinking only of ourselves, when there is so much to be done. Remember what is down there, and what scenes of horror surround us. You have work to do." The way in which she spoke aroused me as from a dream, yet with a question upon my lips. "Yes," I said, "and we are in midst of war--in this are we yet enemies?" "I am a Southerner," smiling softly, "and I hope the South wins. My father is out yonder fighting, if he be not already down, and I would do my best to serve his cause. Do you care for me less because I confess this?" "No." "But now," she went on, more softly still, her words barely audible, "my heart is with you here; with you, because I love you." We both glanced up swiftly, startled by the sound of heavy steps in the upper hall. A man's head was thrust through the half-opened door at the top of the stairs. Apparently he could not see any distance through the gloom, and I hailed him, although still retaining my clasp of the girl's hand. "What is it, my man?" "Sergeant Mahoney told me to find the lieutenant." "Well, you have; I am the one sought. What's happening?" "They're a-comin', sorr," his voice hoarse with excitement, and waving one hand toward the front of the house, "an' thar's goin' ter be hell ter pay this toime" "You mean the gray-backs? From the front? What force?" "Domn'd if Oi know; Oi wasn't seein' out thar--the sergeant told me."