guards were patrolling the hall without, yet we laughed and joked, with never a reference to the great conflict in which all present bore part.  Of course much of this was but veneer, and back of repartee and well-told story, we were intent upon our own problems.  With me, now that I had decided upon my plans, everything centred upon Miss Willifred.  I would search the house for Le Gaire, endeavor to have one word with her alone, and then retire to a place of greater safety with my men.  The quicker I might complete these arrangements the better, and I could trust those present with some knowledge of my intention.

“Gentlemen,” I said, as the party was preparing to rise, “just a moment.  I am going to ask you to respect your parole for only a very short time longer.  Of course this does not include Miss Hardy as she has refused all pledges to me.  So soon as my men complete their breakfast, and a few details are looked after, we shall withdraw in the direction of our own lines.  Naturally I have no desire to be captured by Chambers.  I am merely going to request that you remain within doors until we depart.  After that you may release the prisoners, and rejoin your commands.”

The eyes of the two men met, and the major replied: 

“Certainly, Lieutenant, we have no reason to complain.”

“And Miss Hardy?”

“Oh, I will answer for her.”

“That is hardly necessary, papa, as I will answer for myself,” and her eyes met mine across the table.  “I was angry last night, Lieutenant Galesworth, and unreasonable.  If you will accept my parole now I give it gladly.”

I bowed with a sudden choking of the throat, and Hardy chuckled.

“A very graceful surrender—­hey, Bell?  By Gad, this has been quite a night for adventure.  Fact of it is, Galesworth, I’m mighty grateful to you for the whole affair, and, I reckon, Billie is also.”

She arose to her feet, pausing an instant with her hand upon the back of the chair.

“Lieutenant Galesworth has merely made apparent to you what I had discovered some time ago,” she said quietly.  “I am sure he needs no thanks from me—­perhaps might not appreciate them.  I am going to my room, papa, until—­until the Yankees leave.”

“An unreconstructed Rebel,” he exclaimed, yet clearly surprised.  “Why, I thought you and Galesworth were great friends.”

“Has he made that claim?”

“Why—­eh—­no.  It was what Le Gaire said.”

“Oh!  I should suppose that by this time you would rather doubt the statements of that individual.  Lieutenant Galesworth probably understands that we are acquaintances, and—­enemies.”

She left the room, without so much as glancing at me, Hardy calling after her,

“I’ll come up as soon as I smoke a cigar with Bell.”

The door closed, and his eyes met mine.

“What the devil is the trouble, my boy?  That wasn’t like Billie; I never knew her to harbor an unkind thought in her life.  Have you done something to anger her?”