It was remarkable the unanimity with which they all supported their general's decisions on so serious a matter, and practically without deliberation.
"Captain Sempland, as a soldier, I am sure you will acquiesce in the views of your brother officers."
Sempland bit his lip. Fanny Glen nestled closer to him and looked up at him beseechingly.
"Oh, General!" he said at last. "Isn't there some way out of it?"
"There may be," said the general, solemnly. "Let me think a moment. Suppose—ah, suppose, Miss Fanny Glen were to disappear?"
"But where can I go, sir?" asked the girl, nervously. "All that I love—" she observed a smile flickering upon the general's lips as she glanced at Sempland. "I mean everybody and everything that I love is here." She stamped her foot impatiently. "You won't send me to the Union fleet? I know my father is safe—but I love the South. I will never do anything wrong again if you won't send me away!" she pleaded.
It was, indeed, a sweeping promise, one she could scarcely have kept.
"There are other ways by which Miss Fanny Glen might disappear," said Beauregard, gravely.
"How, sir?"
"You might change your name—again!"