"I shall endeavor to make it as little unpleasant as I can," she rejoined, "but will demand obedience. Right wheel; forward march. Yes, through the door; the surroundings are not unfamiliar."
It was the judge's library, where I had hidden before at the coming of Captain Le Gaire, and she paused in the doorway, glancing curiously about.
"Remember now, you are on parole, but restricted to this room."
"For how long?" She made an exceedingly pretty picture in that frame, and I was in no hurry to be deprived of it.
"Until--well, until I am pleased to release you. Don't scowl; I'm sure I'm trying to be nice, and I never was so polite to a Yankee before. Really this is the pleasantest room in the house; I have passed hours in here myself."
"Perhaps this afternoon--"
She shook her head violently, her eyes dancing with laughter.
"Certainly not; with all these Confederate officers here. Sometimes I think you are very conceited--I wonder if you are." And then before I could answer,--"What a handsome man Captain Bell is; and so delightful of him to remember having met you."
The witch was plainly enough laughing at me, but she chose a poor subject in Bell.
"And my sentence, then, is solitary confinement?"
"That is far better than you deserve. Those windows open on the porch, and there is a sentry there; the door leads to the rear of the house. I shall not even lock it, nor this. I leave you here upon your word of honor, Lieutenant Galesworth."
She was gone like the flutter of a bird, and I sank back upon the soft cushion of a library chair, still smiling, my eyes wandering curiously about the room. Then I got up, examined the windows and the rear door, and returned. Escape was dangerous, but possible, yet no serious thought of making such an attempt even occurred to me. For whatever unknown reason, the girl's quick wit had saved me from capture; I owed her every loyalty, and I had pledged her my word. That was enough. The more I turned the circumstances over in my mind the less I seemed to comprehend her motives, yet there could be no doubt she sought to serve me. A word from her to Le Gaire, or to Beauregard, would have ended my career instantly. Instead of speaking this word of betrayal she had deliberately placed herself in my defence, deceiving her own people. Why? Was there more than a mere impulse behind the action? Was she doing for me more than she would have done for another under similar circumstances? Was this act merely the result of womanly sympathy? For the life of me I could not determine. She was like two individuals, so swiftly did her moods change--one moment impressing me as a laughing girl, the next leaving me convinced she was a serious-minded woman. Just as I thought I knew, believed I understood, she would change into another personality, leaving me more bewildered than ever. Suddenly I thought again of Le Gaire, remembering his dark, handsome face, his manner of distinction, and there came to me mistily the words overheard during their unexpected meeting. She had called him "Gerald," and there had been other words exchanged--aye! he had even taunted her with their engagement, objecting to her being alone with me, and she had denied nothing. Somehow this suddenly recurring memory left me hot and angry. I disliked Le Gaire; from the very first moment of gazing into his dark, sneering eyes I had felt antagonism, a disposition to quarrel; but now something more potent rose between us--the girl. I was not blind to the man's attractions; I could easily understand how he could find way to a girl's heart. But a man can judge a man best, and every instinct of my nature warned me against this fellow. The very first sound of his voice had prejudiced me, and when I saw him I knew I was right--with him manliness was but veneer. And Billie! The name sounded soft, sweet, womanly now and I longed to speak it in her presence. Billie! I said it over and over again reverently, her face floating before me in memory, and then my lips closed in sudden determination: not without a fight, a hard fight, was this gray-jacket going to retain her, going to keep her from me.
It was a mad resolve; yet it was there, in my heart and upon my lips. I had come upon the field late, come in the wrong uniform, but I was sufficiently in earnest now. The girl liked me, served me, and she interested me as no other ever had. Her very moods, piquant, reserved, aroused my ambition, stimulated my purpose, and Le Gaire--the very thought of him was a thorn in the flesh. I have wondered since if I really loved her then; I do not know, but I dreamed of her, idealized her, my heart throbbing at every unusual sound without, hoping she might come again. I could hear the noise of the cavalry camp on the lawn, and the tramp of feet in the hall. Occasionally some voice sounded clear enough so I could distinguish the words. I opened the door leading into the dining-room, but that apartment was deserted. There was evidently nothing to do but wait, and I lay down on the couch between the windows, looking up at the green leaves shaking in the breeze. Fatigued with the labors of the previous night, before I realized the possibility I was fast asleep.
I must have remained there some hours, totally unconscious, for when I finally awoke it was nearly dark, the dusk so pronounced I could scarcely see across the room. Some noise without had aroused me, and I knew instantly what it was--the pounding of a horse's hoofs on gravel, the animal being furiously ridden. As I sat up, the horse was jerked to its haunches, and the rider swung from the saddle.
"Here, orderly, take the rein; quick now, damn you!" The words reached me clearly, but as I glanced out I saw only a dark form springing up the steps. Something familiar about the voice caused me to leap for the door, holding it sufficiently ajar so I could overhear what passed in the hall. There was a muttered word or two to the sentry, the newcomer insisting angrily on seeing Beauregard; then a woman's voice suddenly broke in with an exclamation of surprise.
"You back again! I am afraid you will have to wait to see the general unless your mission is of the utmost importance. He is lying down, and left orders he was not to be disturbed before nine o'clock."
"My mission is important enough," was the reply, "but perhaps, it can be attended to without him. Where can, we be alone, Billie?"
"Right in here," stepping through the doorway into the deeper dusk of the dining-room. "If you are hungry I can order a lunch."
"No," impatiently, "I have eaten twice to-day--what I want to know is what has become of that fellow who was here this morning?"
"Major Ather--"
"Oh, hell!" forgetting every pretence to gentility. "He was not Atherton at all, but a damned Yankee spy. Do you mean to say you didn't know it?"
I could see her straighten up, turning swiftly to face him. Whatever the shock of discovery may have been, indignation conquered, and her voice was cool, stinging.
"Captain Le Gaire, I am not in the habit of being sworn at, and will leave you to gain your information elsewhere."
She swept by him to the door, but, gasping with surprise, the man managed to call after her,
"Billie, don't go like that! I didn't mean to swear. It was jolted out of me, and I beg your pardon."
She halted on the threshold, glancing back evidently in hesitation.
"This is not the first time you have let your temper loose in my presence," she said slowly, "but it is the last. If you feel so little respect for me now, the future is not very encouraging."
"But, Billie, you don't understand!"
"I understand enough. However we will not discuss this matter any further at present. What was it you desired to know?"
"Where that fellow has gone!" instantly flaming up again. "He wasn't Atherton at all, but I'll swear he was the very picture of him; he would have fooled the devil."
"No doubt," almost indifferently. "How did you discover the deception?"
"By merest accident. Happened to mention meeting him to old Trevor, and he was up in arms in a minute. Seems Atherton married his niece, and the fellow here couldn't be the major, for he was shot in a skirmish three weeks ago, and has been in the hospital at Athens ever since. He's there now; rode over to Pemberton's headquarters to make sure, and met Gregory, Chief-of-Staff. He saw Atherton Saturday, and he wasn't able to sit up yet. The fellow here was a Yank--and you didn't know it?"
"I very naturally supposed he was what he represented himself to be," she replied, coming back into the room. "And when you recognized him as an old acquaintance I never gave the matter another thought."
"But he came through the lines with you," bewildered and doubtful.
"The best of reasons why I should never have suspected him of being a Yankee. He was very pleasant and gentlemanly."
"Oh, indeed! all a man has to do is smile and say nice things to get you women on his side."
"Then why don't you try it? You are certainly disagreeable enough to-day."
"Perhaps I am," endeavoring to laugh. "But if I could get my hands on that Yank I'd be in far better humor. Where is he?"
"The last time I saw him," with provoking coolness, "he was at dinner with General Beauregard and staff."
"At dinner! Here! Good God! he must have nerve. How did it happen?"
"Through my introduction originally, and then later he was recognized by Captain Bell."
Le Gaire sank down into a chair, glaring at the girl's dim, white-robed figure, his teeth savagely clicking in an effort to keep from swearing. As though to exasperate him yet more she laughed.
"I fail to see the fun," he snarled impatiently. "This is no joke, let me tell you, and we'll both find it out if Beauregard ever learns the truth. What did they talk about?"
"Army matters mostly. The general wished information regarding the movement of Johnston's and Chambers' forces, and Major Atherton--"
"Don't call the fellow that!"
"Then what shall I call him?"
He struck his fist on the table, almost devoid of the power of speech.
"I don't care, only not that. I tell you he's not Atherton, but a sneaking Yankee spy."
"Why, he was in full uniform!"
"He'll hang, just the same, if we get him. Now see here--did Beauregard let out any facts?"
She drew a quick breath, one hand on her breast, and it seemed to me her voice trembled.
"He talked as he would to one of his own officers. They discussed the plans of operation quite freely among themselves."
Le Gaire groaned, his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. She remained motionless, looking at him. Suddenly he glanced up.
"I'll be hanged if I understand you, Billie," he exclaimed. "Don't you care, or don't you realize what this means? That fellow has got all our plans, and he's got safely away with them too, I suppose."
She nodded, as he paused an instant.
"Before morning they'll be over there," with a wave of the hand, "and our move checkmated. Whose fault is it? Yours and mine. It's enough to drive a man crazy, and you stand there and laugh."
"I am not laughing."
"Well, you were a minute ago. Do you even suspect who the fellow is?"
"You said he was Major Ath--"
"Oh, hell!" springing to his feet, with sword rattling, and hands clinched. "I won't stand this, not even from you. You're hiding something; what is it? Is this Yank anything to you?"
"Absolutely nothing, Captain Le Gaire. Take your hand from my arm, please. Now I will trouble you to stop this controversy. I am not indifferent, but I refuse to be bullied, and sworn at. If you are so wild to capture this spy why don't you make the rounds of the pickets instead of remaining here and quarrelling with me? The man is not hiding behind my skirts. I will bid you good-night."
She was gone before he could even fling out a hand to stop her. A moment he raged between table and wall; then flung out the door and down the steps, calling for his horse.