MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
escape from capture, was compelled to assume this uniform."
"A—Yankee?" the question barely audible, yet the low voice expressive of intense horror.
"Yes, as you use the term," I admitted, yet even then scarcely comprehending what the word signified to her. "I am from the West, but belong to the Federal army."
Her figure seemed to sink down into the saddle, her head drooping forward.
"Are you so bitterly prejudiced as to believe all Northerners are unworthy? Can you not forget the color of the uniform for a single hour, and trust me to act justly?"
She straightened up instantly, gripping the saddle pommel, and staring toward me through the night.
"But—but," she sobbed, the full bewildering horror of it echoing in her voice. "We have been married! O Father of mercy—married to a Yankee!"
I put my hand out upon the bit of her mare, leaning toward her in my eagerness to explain, determined to finish before she could again interrupt. Better a confession of the whole truth now, except that I durst not trust her with the news I hoped to bear across the river.
"I beg you listen to me; listen to all I have to say. If you fully comprehend the situation you may not condemn me so completely. I know I have done wrong have been guilty of a cowardly act—yet it is not beyond remedy, and I have been driven to it for the preservation of life. Believe me when I say that I respect you; that I will treat you with all honor; only hear what I have
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