"Yes. Your confession to me makes no difference."
"But I will tell the general."
"I forbid it! Darling, you have committed an act of treason to the South, and while your love for your father—and for me—has explained it, you could not make such a plea as that before any court-martial composed of soldiers. You would only harm yourself, and you would not help me, and so I won't allow it."
"But I must tell the general!" she persisted.
"Dearest, no," said Sempland, smiling fondly at her. "We will anticipate what might have been. If all had gone well, you would have promised to obey me before the altar. Would you not?"
She nodded with astonishing docility.
"Well, then—"
"And if I will not?"
"Why, then, I shall have to discredit you, as I threatened, and my own situation will be more serious than before, for I shall brand myself as a coward, as well, and you would not like your lover to have that stigma on him."
"You will not let me save you, then?"