“Know what?” she almost gasped.

“That I’m a prisoner.”

She sprung to her feet and was about to utter some passionate exclamation; but he said, hastily, “Oh, hush, or I’m lost.  I believe that eyes are upon me all the time.”

“Heigho!” she exclaimed, walking to the edge of the veranda, “I wish I knew what General Lee was doing.  We are expecting to hear of another great battle every day;” and she swept the vicinity with a seemingly careless glance, detecting a dark outline behind some shrubbery not far away.  Instantly she sprung down the steps and confronted the rebel sergeant.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, indignantly.

“My duty,” was the stolid reply.

“Find duty elsewhere then,” she said, haughtily.

The man slunk away, and she returned to Lane, who remarked, significantly, “Now you understand me.”

It was evident that she was deeply excited, and immediately she began to speak in a voice that trembled with anger and other emotions.  “This is terrible.  I had not thought—­indeed it cannot be.  My father would not permit it.  The laws of war would apply, I suppose, to your enlisted men, but that you and Surgeon McAllister, who have been our guests and have sat at our table, should be taken from our hospitality into captivity is monstrous.  In permitting it, I seem to share in a mean, dishonorable thing.”

“How characteristic your words and actions are!” said Lane, gently.  “It would be easy to calculate your orbit.  I fear you cannot help yourself.  You forget, too, that I was the means of sending to prison even your Major Denham.”

“Major Denham is nothing—­” she began, impetuously, then hesitated, and he saw the rich color mantling her face even in the moonlight.  After a second or two she added:  “Our officers were captured in fair fight.  That is very different from taking a wounded man and a guest.”

“Not a guest in the ordinary sense of the word.  You see I can be fair to your people, unspeakably as I dread captivity.  It will not be so hard for McAllister, for surgeons are not treated like ordinary prisoners.  His remaining, however, was a brave, unselfish act;” and Lane spoke in tones of deep regret.

“It must not be,” she said, sternly.

“Miss Suwanee,”—­and his voice was scarcely audible,—­“do you think we can be overheard?”

“No,” she replied, in like tones.  “Roberta and mamma are incapable of listening.”

“I was not thinking of them.  I must speak quickly.  I don’t wish to involve you, but the surgeon and I must try to escape, for I would almost rather die than be taken prisoner.  Deep as is my longing for liberty I could not leave you without a word, and my trust in the chivalric feeling that you have just evinced is so deep as to convince me that I can speak to you safely.  I shall not tell you anything to compromise you.  You have only to be blind and deaf if you see or hear anything.”