Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1892-12-07

| of the sort. We were about sending fol
you when he saved US from further trouble,
and uncertainty, too, by openly avowing
| that he gave you his parole with the delib-
crate design of breaking it, that he had
| used his eyes to advantage while at your
| camp, and had furnished valuable informa-
| tion to our enemy. You had sharp en-
gagement three days after his escape, did
| you not?'
"'Yes, indeed. Almost surprise
"It would have been complete sur
prise for any officer except you said the
Department Commander graciously. well,
he admitted that the tidings he brought
were the cause of it.
"Tmpossible! The villain'
"'Ah, you see. After this what could
we do but condemn him. Our findings have
been approved, and he dies tomorrow at
daybreak.
Here my friend the General paused
again and puffed as if his cigar was true
consoler.
''I don't like your Articles of War" I
protested. "They are Procrustean bed in
which one is either hewed or stretched l
can readily imagine how q needless young
man who broke his parole but gave no COM
fort nor assistance to the enemy might be
condemned Gnjustly."
"Had such been the case Macrane un-
doubtedly would have been reprieved, but
he pleaded guilty. And I believe even in
your civil tribunal the Judge dons the black
cap when this occurs. No, no; the Articles
of War are blameless; they could not pro-
vide against the agony of a bruised heart.
Despite my horror at his conduct, from
sudden impulse I asked the Commander
whether might see the condemned. He
acquiesced at once, and sent me to him
under direction of his orderly.
81 shall never forget the expression of
the young officers face as entered. He
was standing by small grated window
gazing up into the western skies all radiant
with the glories of sunset That look, so
ethereal, so exalted, was so pitiable in the
intensity of its yearning that the tears
coursed down my cheeks as I spoke.
"'Macrane, Macrane,' cried. What
have you done? Why have you destroyed
yourself?' He turned. He grasped my
hand He smiled. And my tears gushed
forth anew.
"tAgnes is dead, he said
"sYou never played the spy. You never
BETRAYED my post protested.
She is dead he repeated. MY fair
one, and we were so happy together. 1
sought death at the head of my command;
and it fed from me. Yet even through its
escape shall find it again.
"iIt shall not be-
"'Good-bye, General. I reiterate my
treachery to you. And remember, too, that
tomorrow 1 shall go to my death as blithely
as rode to my bride on the fiery black
stallion through the mazes of the woodland.
For there also she awaits me-
HE turned once more to the window,
and in the ruddy glow of the sunset. which
always seems pledge of returning day,
saw him for the last time. What could l
do7 had no proof Ny suspicious would
be laughed to scorn. After sleepless
night, an hour before dawn l mounted my
horse and rode rapidly from the fortress
Yet just as the east was repeating the glow
OF the west and announcing its bene6cent
promise fulfilled, heard the sharp crack
OF musketry, and knew that Macrane once
more had been faithful to his trust.
"''Twas the fortune of war quoth my
friend the General For love is the con-
fict in which the vanquished never breaks
his parole. '"-New York Times