THE CONFESSION THAT CLEARED
As the two men left the room the orderly entered it once more and
announced to the general that a lady was below who asked the privilege
of an interview with him.
"Lady? What lady?" demanded Beauregard, impatiently.
He was in no mood for feminine society after the difficult interview in
which he had just participated.
"I think it is Miss Glen, sir. She says she must see you and--"
"Ah!" interrupted the general, hastily, as he recollected the scene on
the wharf the night before, when Fanny Glen had fainted at the news
that the boat was gone and that Lacy had gone with it. "Show her in
here at once, orderly."
He had intended to seek her in her house in the course of the morning
and break the melancholy news to her that the torpedo boat was lost in
all probability with all on board, for from her agitation on the wharf
he inferred that her affections were bestowed upon Lacy. He was very
sorry for her, of course; but knowing Lacy as he had, and estimating
Fanny Glen as he did, there was a certain sense of relief that she
would not be condemned to a lifetime of misery which such a marriage
would inevitably have entailed. Still he pitied her profoundly, and he
pitied her more when she came into the private office in the wake of
the orderly and threw back her veil. Her beautiful face showed the
sorrow under which she labored. Suffering had thrown a blight upon it.
The freshness and youth seemed to have departed from it. She was a
piteous little spectacle indeed.
The general received her with the utmost cordiality and consideration.
He handed her to a chair, and bade the orderly see that they were not
disturbed on any account.
"Miss Fanny," he began gently--the war had brought the general and the
brave girl very close together--"I was coming over to see you in a
little while. You have shown yourself a brave little woman many times.
You need all your courage now."
"Yes, General," said the girl, faintly, "I know."
"You have sustained a terrible loss."
"Is--is--Mr. Sempland--?"
"He is well enough at present. I refer to your friend, Major Lacy."
"Is he--?"
"I am sorry to say that in all probability he has lost his life in the
torpedo boat. We can get no tidings of her or of any of her crew. She
must have sunk with the ship."
"Did they succeed, sir?" interrupted Fanny Glen with an anxiety and an
apprehension too great to be controlled.
"They did," returned Beauregard, somewhat surprised at her question,
"but the torpedo boat, I think, went down with the ship she blew up; at
any rate no one has seen her or any of her crew since the explosion. I
knew that it was almost certain death to them."
Fanny Glen sank back in the chair. She almost lost consciousness in her
agony. She murmured strange and incoherent words. The general did not
understand them, but he rose, came to her side, bent over her and took
her hand, patting it softly.
"I know, I know, my dear child," he said gently, "how you must suffer.
Many another woman has had to give up her heart's desire for our
beloved country. Think of the service he rendered, to you and to all of
us! Think of his noble sacrifice, his death! Cherish his memory and be
proud that he loved you and that you loved him. Few women have done
more for the South than you, and there is still much to do. Work will
assuage your grief," continued the general, laying his hand tenderly
upon the bowed head. "You will always have the deathless memory of his
heroism."
"Oh!" cried the woman, throwing back her head, "you are wrong. You do
not know, you do not understand. I honored Major Lacy, I rejoiced in
his courage, but I did not love him. It is not he that I think of. It
is my father."
"Your father? What do you mean?"
"Admiral Vernon."
"What!"
"Yes, he is my father. My name is Fanny Glen Vernon."
"Good heavens! It cannot be possible."
"It is true. My mother was a Southern woman, one of the Glens of
Halifax--"
"I knew her!" exclaimed Beauregard.
"She died when I was a child, and I was brought up by her sister. My
father--I did not see much of him. He was a sailor, and after my
mother's death he sought constantly to be in active service. When the
war broke out he said he must stand by the old flag. I strove to
persuade him differently. It was horrible to me, to think that a son of
South Carolina, and my father, would fight against her. There was a
quarrel between us. I told my father I would not acknowledge him any
longer. I repudiated the Vernon name and came here and worked for the
South, as you know. When I learned yesterday that you were going to
blow up the _Wabash_--"
"But my dear child," interrupted the general, quickly, "we didn't blow
up the _Wabash_."
"But you said that Major Lacy had succeeded!" said the girl in great
bewilderment.
"He did. The _Wabash_ and _Housatonic_ exchanged places during the
night, and the latter was sunk. The _Wabash_ is all right. For your
sake, my dear Miss Fanny, I say thank God for the mistake."
"Then my father is safe?"
"He is. Some Yankees we captured this morning say that he is to be
relieved of his command and ordered North on a sick leave. He will no
longer be in danger from us, you see."
"Thank God, thank God!" cried the girl, and the relief in her voice and
face seemed to make another woman of her. "It was wrong, I know. It was
treason to the South--I love the South--but I strove to prevent--"
"Ah!" exclaimed Beauregard. "I have it now! Sempland--"
"Oh, sir!" cried the girl, "where is he?"
"He is preparing," continued Beauregard, coolly--he had the clew to the
mystery and he determined to follow it to the end--"to be tried by a
court-martial--"
"By a court-martial, General Beauregard! For what, sir?"
"For disobedience of orders and neglect of duty, in the face of the
enemy. And I am in two minds whether to these charges should be added
cowardice and treason or not!"
"Impossible!" exclaimed Fanny Glen.
"Miss Glen, it is an absolute fact. He came to me yesterday afternoon
and volunteered for the command of the expedition. Begged for it, in
fact. Major Lacy reluctantly but generously yielded to him with my
consent."
"It was for me he sought it," said the girl, full of reproach for
herself. "I had mocked him for his lack of distinction, sir, before he
saw you. He hazarded his life for my approval and for the cause of the
South."
A fuller light broke upon the general's mind. He understood all now,
yet he went on pitilessly.
"After getting command in this peculiar way he failed to present
himself on the wharf at the appointed time. We waited ten minutes for
him, as long as we dared, in fact, and then as you know, sent the boat
out under Major Lacy."
"He was detained," said the girl, faintly.
"So he said when I arrested him last night, and he repeated the
statement this morning. I pressed him to tell me by whom and where he
had been detained, but he refused to tell. I plied him with every
argument at my command. I pointed out to him the consequences of his
action, his failure to justify himself, that is, showed him clearly the
penalty which the court-martial would undoubtedly inflict upon him--"
"That is?"
"Death, madam! He will probably be shot to-morrow, for his guilt is
clear."
The girl's head fell forward in her hands. There was a little silence
in the room. The general watched her narrowly, but said nothing
further. He was waiting, in full confidence that she would speak. He
could afford to be patient now.