“I would trust you gladly with my life or my honor,” I replied soberly. “If I had less faith in you I should not be here now.”
She started slightly at the words, and for an instant her eyes fell. “Your life?” she questioned, “do you mean that is in the balance?”
“I understand that I am condemned to be shot as a spy at daybreak.”
“Shot? On what authority? Who told you?”
“On the order of General Sheridan. My informant was Lieutenant Caton, of his staff.”
“Shot? As a spy? Why, it surely cannot be! Frank said—Captain Wayne, believe me, I knew absolutely nothing of all this. Do not think I should ever have rested if I had dreamed that you were held under so false a charge. I promised you I would see General Sheridan on your behalf.”
“Yes,” I assented hastily, for her agitation was so great I feared it might attract the attention of others. “I remember you said so at the time of my arrest, but supposed you had either forgotten or had found your intercession fruitless.”
“Why, how you must have despised me! Forgotten?”—her eyes filled instantly with tears. “Not for an hour, Captain Wayne, but Frank—” she bit her lip impatiently—“I was told, that is, I was led to believe that you were—had been sent North as a prisoner of war late last night. Otherwise I should have insisted upon seeing you—on pleading your cause with the General himself. The Major and I breakfasted with him this morning, but your name was not mentioned, for I believed you safe.”
She did not appear to realize, so deep was her present indignation and regret, that my hand had found a resting-place upon her own.
“You must believe me, Captain Wayne; I could not bear to have you feel that I could prove such an ingrate.”