"Yes, he is my father. My name is Fanny Glen Vernon."
"Good heavens! It cannot be possible."
"It is true. My mother was a Southern woman, one of the Glens of Halifax—"
"I knew her!" exclaimed Beauregard.
"She died when I was a child, and I was brought up by her sister. My father—I did not see much of him. He was a sailor, and after my mother's death he sought constantly to be in active service. When the war broke out he said he must stand by the old flag. I strove to persuade him differently. It was horrible to me, to think that a son of South Carolina, and my father, would fight against her. There was a quarrel between us. I told my father I would not acknowledge him any longer. I repudiated the Vernon name and came here and worked for the South, as you know. When I learned yesterday that you were going to blow up the Wabash—"
"But my dear child," interrupted the general, quickly, "we didn't blow up the Wabash."
"But you said that Major Lacy had succeeded!" said the girl in great bewilderment.
"He did. The Wabash and Housatonic exchanged places during the night, and the latter was sunk. The Wabash is all right. For your sake, my dear Miss Fanny, I say thank God for the mistake."
"Then my father is safe?"
"He is. Some Yankees we captured this morning say that he is to be relieved of his command and ordered North on a sick leave. He will no longer be in danger from us, you see."