"What's the rest of it?"
"Fanny Glen Vernon."
"What! Is Admiral Vernon your father?"
"He is."
"How is that?"
"When the war broke out he stayed with the North, was true to his flag, he said. I had seen little of him since my mother's death, when I was ten years old. I was a Southern woman. It seemed monstrous to me. I begged and implored him, but uselessly, and finally our relations were broken off. So I dropped the name of Vernon, and came here to work for our cause, the rest you know. But I could not let him be blown up unsuspecting, could I? If he were killed in action, it would be terrible enough, but this was a dreadful ending. I thought—I don't know what I thought. I love the South, but—"
"I understand, my dearest," he said, in no condition to understand anything very clearly, and caring little for the moment for anything except that she loved him.
"And you forgive me?"
"Forgive you? With all my soul. This moment with you in my arms, with your arms around my neck, with your kisses upon my lips, with your words in my ear, with your love in my heart—this makes up for everything! I shall go to my death gladly."
"To your death!" she exclaimed, drawing away from him in surprise and alarm.