Fighting Joe; Or, The Fortunes of a Staff Officer. A Story of the Great Rebellion
“You forget that I am a woman,” said she, in tones of alarm.

“I did not forget it until you had forgotten it yourself,” answered Somers. “You have abused and insulted me. Under the guise of friendship you are attempting to hand me over to death by my enemies. Did you think I would be dropped gently into the arms of the rebels, and be hung as a spy? If you insist on pursuing your plan to the end, it will be death to you or death to me. I am not quite willing to die for any rebel woman, and especially not for one who is seeking my life. It would grieve me to shoot one so fair and fascinating as Miss Hasbrouk; I should remember it with sorrow to the end of my days; but my duty to myself and my country requires the sacrifice, and I would shoot you if it broke my heart.”

“Are you in earnest, Captain Somers?” asked she, still struggling under the violence of her emotions.

“Maud,” said the major.

“Silence, sir!” added the captain, sternly. “Miss Hasbrouk, I am in earnest. The situation has changed. Would you like a photographer to preserve the scene for future inspection?”

“You would not kill me?”

“I would, as you would kill me.”

“But the soldiers are impatient outside, and they may come in without my call,” suggested she, glancing at the window, while every muscle in her frame shook with terror.

“If they do, it will cost you your life, unless they are more reasonable than you are.”

“Good Heaven! You mean to murder me?”

“Not if I can help it. When I fire, it will be from a solemn sense of duty; for your cutthroats would hang me to the nearest tree if they knew as much of me as you do.”

“What shall I do?” asked she, wildly, as she looked around the room.

“Now you are reasonable. Let your servant bring pen, ink, and paper.”

She ordered the man who had waited on the table to bring the required articles, and Somers gave him a charge to be discreet as he left the room. In a few moments he returned with the writing materials, and laid them on the table. The negro was even more terrified than the lady, and there was no fear that he would venture upon any bold enterprise.

“Now, Major Riggleston, sit down at the table,” said Somers. “You 
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