“Yes, or I certainly should not be here with you.  We have repulsed two assaults, but have lost heavily, and can scarcely hope to come safely through another.  Before it is made I must get you away.”

“Out of the house, you mean?”

“Yes, and at once.  We have made such a spirited defence that when we are finally overpowered there will be little mercy shown.  Not even your sex would protect you, even if you were fortunate enough to escape flying bullets.  Your father is with Chambers, and, no doubt, the Confederate commander out yonder will forward you to his care.  I will take you to him under a flag of truce.”

We were out where the light shown upon us dimly, yet sufficiently to reveal expressions.  Her face was colorless, but her eyes exhibited no fear.

“Wait, Lieutenant Galesworth,” she insisted, still clinging to my hand.  “I must understand better, and you must hear first what I have to tell.  Why did father leave the house without me?”

“We both believed you had already gone.”

“I?  That was a strange supposition.”

“Not at all; you had disappeared; we could discover no trace of you anywhere.  Your father reported that you had overheard all that occurred in the hall below—­the arrival of reinforcements, my orders to defend the house, the Federal plan of attack.  Major Hardy told you his parole prevented him from reporting this discovery, yet no pledge of honor bound you.  What else could I think, but that you had escaped into the Confederate lines with the news?”

She stared into my face, breathing heavily, yet without speaking.  Then she released the clasp of my hand, and leaned back against the wall, shading her eyes.

“Do not misunderstand me, Billie,” I urged anxiously.  “I could never have blamed you.  I sent that word to you through your father.  You are a daughter of the South, and I honored your loyalty.  There was no reason why you should not sacrifice me for the sake of the cause.”

“Are you sorry I did not?”

“No, far from it, and—­and, Billie, it is not the first time; does it mean—­”

“It means nothing,” she broke in, “except a strange combination of circumstances.  I did think of all this; it came to me in a flash.  I realized that it was undoubtedly my duty, and—­and, perhaps I should have found courage to attempt the task.  I went to my room tempted, my purpose swayed by the call of the South, and—­and my friendship for you.  I had to be disloyal somewhere, and—­and it was so hard to choose.  I am glad you do not blame me, but I believe I should have gone, just as you thought I did, except for what happened.”

A shell exploded near the corner of the house, shaking the whole structure, the fragments tearing into the wood.  She caught me by the arm, and I held her tightly, with face buried on my shoulder.

“We must be quick,” I urged.  “Those are Federal shells overshooting their mark, but one may strike the house at any moment.  Tell me what it was that happened.”