I took a step backward, reading the meaning of her eyes.
"And you intend to prevent--"
"Exactly," her voice as quiet as ever. "I am a Confederate still."
She had changed her position, standing now between me and the closed door, the expression upon her face sufficient evidence of her determination. Hers was no idle threat--this daughter of a soldier was ready for the struggle and the sacrifice. I recognized all this at a glance, bewildered by the swift change in attitude, unable to decide my own course of action. Argument was useless, a resort to force repugnant. Above all else the one overpowering feeling was admiration for the girl. She must have read all this in my eyes, yet her own never wavered, nor changed expression.
"Please do not make the mistake, Lieutenant Galesworth, of thinking me not sufficiently in earnest," she said firmly, "or that I am unprepared."
"I do not; if you were only a man I should know exactly what to do."
"Your courtesy is misplaced; at least I do not ask it. This is war, and you are upon one side, I on the other. You will remain in this room until I say you may go."
"What will hold me?--your eyes?--the mere threat of your lips?"
"Something rather more to the purpose than either," she answered coldly. Her right hand, concealed by the folds of her skirt, was uplifted, the fingers grasping the black butt of a Colt. Her lips smiled. "I suppose you know the efficacy of this weapon, Lieutenant, and that it is loaded."
My hand dropped instinctively to my belt--the revolver holster was empty! It was my own weapon the girl held.