cling to a merely spoken word, or an empty oath.  Well, let that pass!  I am weary; I have done my share of this work, you have done yours.  Let us both fly; let us leave the fight to those who shall come after us, and let us go together to some distant land where the sounds of these guns or the blood of our brothers no longer cry out to us for vengeance!  There are those living here—­I have met them, Clarence,” she went on hurriedly, “who think it wrong to lift up fratricidal hands in the struggle, yet who cannot live under the Northern yoke.  They are,” her voice hesitated, “good men and women—­they are respected—­they are”—­

“Recreants and slaves, before whom you, spy as you are—­stand a queen!” broke in Brant, passionately.  He stopped and turned towards the window.  After a pause he came back again towards the bed—­paused again and then said in a lower voice—­“Four years ago, Alice, in the patio of our house at Robles, I might have listened to this proposal, and—­I tremble to think—­I might have accepted it!  I loved you; I was as weak, as selfish, as unreflecting, my life was as purposeless—­but for you—­as the creatures you speak of.  But give me now, at least, the credit of a devotion to my cause equal to your own—­a credit which I have never denied you!  For the night that you left me, I awoke to a sense of my own worthlessness and degradation—­perhaps I have even to thank you for that awakening—­and I realized the bitter truth.  But that night I found my true vocation—­my purpose, my manhood”—­

A bitter laugh came from the pillow on which she had languidly thrown herself.

“I believe I left you with Mrs. Hooker—­spare me the details.”

The blood rushed to Brant’s face and then receded as suddenly.

“You left me with Captain Pinckney, who had tempted you, and whom I killed!” he said furiously.

They were both staring savagely at each other.  Suddenly he said, “Hush!” and sprang towards the door, as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed along the passage.  But he was too late; it was thrown open to the officer of the guard, who appeared, standing on the threshold.

“Two Confederate officers arrested hovering around our pickets.  They demand to see you.”

Before Brant could interpose, two men in riding cloaks of Confederate gray stepped into the room with a jaunty and self-confident air.

“Not demand, general,” said the foremost, a tall, distinguished-looking man, lifting his hand with a graceful deprecating air.  “In fact, too sorry to bother you with an affair of no importance except to ourselves.  A bit of after-dinner bravado brought us in contact with your pickets, and, of course, we had to take the consequences.  Served us right, and we were lucky not to have got a bullet through us.  Gad!  I’m afraid my men would have been less discreet!  I am Colonel Lagrange, of the 5th Tennessee; my young friend here is Captain Faulkner, of the 1st Kentucky.  Some excuse for a youngster like him—­none for me!  I”—­