THE AVOWAL
"We were goin' to hang a spy, ma'am."
"A spy! This man is no spy. Lieutenant Dunn, answer me; you are in command here—is this jest or earnest?"
Thus forced by her insistence, the fellow assumed a swagger of authority.
"This is a military matter," he began roughly, "and no affair of yours whatever, Jean. I will not brook your interference. This man has penetrated our lines. He has taken information derived as a spy to Federal headquarters. In ordering his execution I am doing no more than any other officer would."
She looked directly into his face, her clear eyes reading the truth behind his words. Suddenly she turned, grasped the rope, and lifted the noose over my head.
"That is my answer," she said quietly. "You shall not hang this man: he is not a spy: he is not here as a spy—he is my husband."
Whatever veneer of gentleness Calvert Dunn might assume on occasion was gone now. With reddened face, and blazing eyes, he sprang forward, grasped her arm, and flung her aside, so fiercely that she fell upon one knee.
"Your husband!" he shouted, fairly beside himself with rage, "yes, by a trick; a dirty, contemptible, Yankee trick. Now I'll play another, and divorce you."
I saw only the girl's face, as she staggered to her feet. It was white, the lips firm set, the eyes burning.
"I have not said I desired a divorce."
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