"To see you unjustly condemned, and--and to realize that perhaps I am disloyal to my country." Something about these simple words of confession, wrung from her lips by my insistence, held me silent. I failed to realize then the full significance of this acknowledgment, and she gave me no opportunity. "This is ungenerous," she broke in quickly. "I do feel friendly toward you; surely I need not be ashamed of this, even though our interests are unlike, our causes opposed. Everything has conspired to make us friends. But you must not presume, or take advantage of my position. Now listen--I am here for one purpose: to give you an opportunity of escape. After that we are strangers; do you accept my terms?" "You offer no others?" "None." "Then I accept--until Fate intervenes." "You believe in Fate?" "When aided by human persistence, yes; I intend to represent that goddess." She drew back a step, her hand on the door. "You almost make me regret my effort," reproachfully. "However I warn you the goddess this time shall play you false. But we waste moments in talk. Here is your revolver, Lieutenant; now come with me." She thrust the butt into my hand, and crossed the room to the door opening out into the back yard. An instant she peered forth into the night; then turned her face back toward me. "Take my place here," she whispered. "See that line of shadow yonder--it is the grape arbor. I am going to steal along to the end of the house where I can watch the sentinel. The instant I signal make for that arbor, and lie quiet until I come." I watched the dim outline of her form. She was actually doing all this for me--for me! She was running this great risk, smothering her own conscience--for me! I could not doubt this as a truth; I had probed deeply enough to be assured there was personal interest, friendliness, inspiring the sacrifice. She would never have lifted a hand to save a Yankee spy; all her sympathy was with the Confederacy. Yet she was risking all--her reputation, her life--to save me! The knowledge seemed to send fire through my veins, my heart throbbed fiercely. Oh, she could dissemble, could pretend all this was merely duty, could rage against herself and me, but nevertheless I understood--she was doing it for me! I knew, and she should know--yes, this very night, out yonder in the shadows, when we were alone together I would make her realize what it all meant. Le Gaire? What cared I for Le Gaire! This was Love and War combined, and all is fair in either. Besides, it was the girl who counted, who must say the final word--why should I hesitate for the sake of Le Gaire? Let him fight for himself; surely the prize was worth the battle.