“I was not thinking of the main combatants, but rather of those irregulars who will be most certain to invade promptly any section not patrolled by disciplined troops. I confess to fearing greatly that there will be an early outpouring of these rascals from the mountains into the adjacent lowlands the moment we are compelled to fall back and let loose the iron grip with which we have held them thus far partially in check. Yet I do not say this to frighten you, or in any way spoil the pleasure of your contemplated visit.” “Indeed I shall not permit it. So many have assured me it would be perfectly safe that I do not mean to worry. I expect to be very happy there until the war is over. Surely, Captain Wayne, it cannot long continue now?” Her voice was low, earnest, almost supplicating. “It looks hopeless, even from our standpoint, I admit,” I returned, watching the straying sunlight play amid the dusky coils of her hair. “Yet we are not likely to yield until we must.” “But you, Captain Wayne; surely you have already risked enough?” “I presume I am a prisoner,” I answered, smiling, “and therefore unable at present to choose my future; but were I free to do so, I should return to my command to-morrow.” “Yet surely you do not consider that this terrible rebellion is justified, is right?” “I think there is, undoubtedly, much wrong upon both sides, Mrs. Brennan; but I am a soldier, and my duty is very simple--I follow my flag and, as a Virginian, am loyal to my State and to the principles taught me in my childhood.” Her beautiful eyes filled with tears, and as she bent down her head that the others might not perceive her agitation, one salty drop fell upon my hand. “It is all so very, very sad,” she said softly. “There is much suffering upon both sides, but surely even you would not wish me to be other than true to what I look upon as a duty?” “No; I--I think I--I respect you the more.” “Then you do respect me?” Another word, a far stronger one, trembled upon my lips, yet I restrained it sternly, and asked all I dared. “I do,” earnestly, her eyes dwelling upon my face. “I may not comprehend how you can view matters from your standpoint, for I am in full sympathy with the Union, and am a woman. But I believe you to be honest, and I know you to be a gallant soldier.” I clasped her hand close within my own. “Your words encourage me greatly,” I said earnestly. “I have done so much to bring you trouble and sorrow that I have been fearful lest it had cost me what I value more highly than you can ever know.” These words were unfortunate, and instantly brought back to her a memory which seemed a barrier between us. I read the change in her averted face.