She might do worse than to obey.
“You are on a dangerous errand, young woman,” were his first words.
She started with a low exclamation of fear.
“Do not be alarmed,” he hastened to say. “I will be more careful how I speak. You have nothing to fear from me. You are cleverly disguised. It is to warn you that I am here.”
“Pray who are you?”
“They call me Old Fatality. But that is only a name synonymous with my work, you know. All other names are misnomers, however, so away with them. You have been rash in coming here when your own home is in jeopardy. You are needed there, even now. Is the life of a stranger dearer to you than the loved ones at home?”
She was silent, perplexed, bewildered.
“I understand,” he went on. “You have come here in the cause of your state. By your heroic conduct you have averted the disaster that hangs over the army of Georgia. But its downfall is surely coming. You will live to regret that you lent your arm to its support. Your heart should be wholly with your patriot lover. But I am detaining you here when you should be on your homeward journey. Even now all that you hold dear on earth is under the bane. Within a week you will be alone—friendless and hopeless.”
“Sir, begone!” she exclaimed. “Who are you who dares to breathe the breath of treason?”
It was too dark for either to see the other’s face plainly, but both were greatly excited.