"General Beauregard," she whispered at last, "I am the traitor. He was detained by me."
"That doesn't excuse him," said the general, severely. "Any man who fails in his duty because he succumbs to a woman's wiles, even though that woman loves him, has no plea to urge in justification. He is a soldier. His duty to obey orders is first of all."
"But—but—you don't understand. I—I—kept him there by force, sir. Major Lacy told me of the expedition—he and Mr. Sempland had called upon me in the afternoon. They—they had each of them asked me—in—marriage. We—we quarrelled. Mr. Sempland left me in anger, Major Lacy divined that I—I—cared for Mr. Sempland. He came back later in the evening and told me Mr. Sempland was going to blow up the Wabash, and he begged me to see Mr. Sempland again and bid him good-by. I had only two thoughts—that it meant certain death to my father and possibly Mr. Sempland—the man—I—What was I to do? I might have sacrificed myself by letting Mr. Sempland run the risk, but my father, sir—"
She stopped and looked at him in pitiful entreaty.
"Go on," said the general, inflexibly.
"I had Mr. Sempland ushered into the strong room of the house—the old Rennie house, you know, sir?"
The general nodded.
"The door was locked on him after he entered. My three negro boys kept watch outside. There was no escape for him. He beat and hammered on the door until his hands bled. He begged and implored to be released. It was agonizing to hear. I did not realize that he was telling the truth when he said he was being dishonored. I had no time to consider anything. I only thought of my father—helpless on that great ship—the sudden rush of that awful little boat."
"You were a traitor to the South!" said General Beauregard, coldly.