I must know everything. How
and in what way have you betrayed me?"
She looked at him imploringly--reassured, yet awed by his gentleness.
"You won't believe me; you cannot believe me! for I do not even know.
I have taken and exchanged letters--whose contents I never saw--between
the Confederates and a spy who comes to this house, but who is far
away by this time. I did it because I thought you hated and despised me
because I thought it was my duty to help my cause--because you said it
was 'war' between us--but I never spied on you. I swear it."
"Then how do you know of this attack?" he said calmly.
She brightened, half timidly, half hopefully.
"There is a window in the wing of this house that overlooks the slope
near the Confederate lines. There was a signal placed in it--not by
me--but I know it meant that as long as it was there the plot, whatever
it was, was not ripe, and that no attack would be made on you as long as
it was visible. That much I know,--that much the spy had to tell me, for
we both had to guard that room in turns. I wanted to keep this dreadful
thing off--until"--her voice trembled, "until," she added hurriedly,
seeing his calm eyes were reading her very soul, "until I went away--and
for that purpose I withheld some of the letters that were given me.
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