Books: With Lee in Virginia; A Story Of The American Civil War

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A few hours after the receipt of this letter Vincent was on his way
home. It was a long journey. The distance was considerable, and
the train service greatly disordered and unpunctual. When within a
few hours of Richmond he telegraphed, giving the approximate
time at which he might be expected to arrive. The train, however,
did not reach Richmond until some hours later. The carriage was
waiting at the station, and the negro coachman shouted with
pleasure at the sight of his young master.

"Missis and the young ladies come, sah; but de station-master he
say do train no arrive for a long time, so dey wait for you at de
town house, sah."

Dan jumped up beside the coachman and Vincent leaped into the
carriage, and a few minutes later he was locked in the arms of his
mother and sisters.

"You grow bigger and bigger, Vincent," his mother said after the
first greeting was over. "I thought you must have done when you
went away last, but you are two or three inches taller and ever so
much wider."

"I think I have nearly done now, mother-anyhow as to height. I am
about six feet one."

"You are a dreadful trouble to us, Vincent," Annie said. "We have
awful anxiety whenever we hear of a battle being fought, and it
was almost a relief to us when we heard that you were in a Yankee
prison. We thought at least you were out of danger for some time;
but since the news came of your escape it has been worse than
ever, and as week passed after week without our hearing any' thing
of you we began to fear that something terrible had happened to
you."

"Nothing terrible has happened at all, Annie. The only mishap I
had was getting a pistol bullet in my shoulder which laid me up for
about six weeks. There was nothing very dreadful about it," he
continued, as exclamations of alarm and pity broke from his
mother and sister. "I was well looked after and nursed. And now I
will tell you my most important piece of news, and then I will give
you a full account of my adventures from the time when Dan got
me out of prison, for it is entirely to him that I owe my liberty."

"Well, what is the piece of news?" Annie asked.

"Guess!" Vincent replied smiling.

"You have got promoted?" his mother said. He shook his head.

"Is it about a lady?" Annie asked.

Vincent smiled.

"Oh, Vincent, you are not engaged to be married! That would be
too ridiculous!" Vincent laughed and nodded.

"Annie is right, mother; I am engaged to be married." Mrs.
Wingfield looked grave, Rosie laughed, and Annie threw her arms
round his neck and kissed him.

"You dear, silly old boy:" she said. "I am glad, though it seems so
ridiculous. Who is she, and what is she like?"

"We needn't ask where she lives," Rosie said. "Of course it is in
Antioch, though bow in the world you managed it all in the two or
three days you were there I can't make out."

Mrs. Wingfield's brow cleared. "At any rate, in that case, Vincent,
she is a Southerner. I was afraid at first it was some Yankee
woman who had perhaps sheltered you on your way."

"Is she older than you, Vincent? Annie asked suddenly. "I shouldn't
like her to be older than you are."

"She is between sixteen and seventeen," Vincent replied, "and she
is a Southern girl, mother, and I am sure you will love her, for she
saved my life at the risk of her own, besides nursing me all the
time I was ill."

"I have no doubt I shall love her, Vincent, for I think, my boy, that
you would not make a rash choice. I think you are young, much
too young, to be engaged; still, that is a secondary matter. Now
tell us all about it. We expected your story to be exciting, but did
not dream that love-making had any share in it."

Vincent accordingly told them the whole story of his adventures
from the time of his first meeting Dan in prison. When he related
the episode of Lucy's refusal to say whether he would return,
although threatened with instant death unless she did so, his
narrative was broken by the exclamations of his hearers.

"You need not say another word in praise of her," his mother said.
"She is indeed a noble girl, and I shall be proud of such a
daughter."

"She must be a darling!" Annie exclaimed. "Oh, Vincent, how
brave she must be! I don't think I ever could have done that, with a
pistol pointing straight at you, and all those dreadful men round,
and no hope of a rescue; it's awful even to think of."

"It was an awful moment, as you may imagine," Vincent replied.
"I shall never forget the scene, or Lucy's steadfast face as she faced
that man; and you see at that time I was a perfect stranger to her-
only a fugitive Confederate officer whom she shielded from his
pursuers."

Go on, Vincent; please go on, Annie said. " Tell us what happened
next."

Vincent continued his narrative to the end, with, however, many
interruptions and questions on the part of the girls. His mother
said little, but sat holding his hand in hers.

"It has been a wonderful escape, Vincent," she said when he had
finished. "Bring your Lucy here when you like, and I shall be
ready to receive her as my daughter, and to love her for her own
sake as well as yours. She must be not only a brave but a noble
girl, and you did perfectly right to lose not a single day after you
had taken her safely home in asking her to be your wife. I am glad
to think that some day the Orangery will have so worthy a
mistress.. I will write to her at once. You have not yet told us what
she is like, Vincent."

"I am not good at descriptions, but you shall see her photograph
when I get it."

"What, haven't you got one now?"

"She had not one to give me. You see, when the troubles began
she was little more than a child, and since that time she has
scarcely left home, but she promised to have one taken at once and
send it me, and then, if it is a good likeness, you will know all
about it."

"Mother, when you write to-night," Rosie said, "please send her
your photograph and ours, and say we all want one of our new
relative that is to be."

"I think, my dear, you can leave that until we have exchanged a
letter or two. You will see Vincent's copy, and can then wait
patiently for your own."

"And now, mother, I have told you all of my news; let us hear
about every one here. How are all the old house hands, and how is
Dinah? Tony is at Washington, I know, because I saw in the paper
that he had made a sudden attack upon Jackson."

Mrs. Wingfield's face fell.

"That is my one piece of bad news, Vincent. I wish you hadn't
asked the question until to-morrow, for I am sorry that anything
should disturb the pleasure of this first meeting; still as you have
asked the question I must answer it. About ten days ago a negro
came, as I afterward heard from Chloe, to the back entrance and
asked for Dinah. He said he had a message for her. She went and
spoke to him, and then ran back and caught up her child. She said
to Chloe, 'I have news of my husband. I think he is here. I will
soon be back again.' Then she ran out, and has never returned.
We have made every inquiry we could, but we have not liked to
advertise for her, for it may be that she has met her husband, and
that he persuaded her to make off at once with him to Yorktown or
Fortress Monroe."

"This is bad news indeed, mother," Vincent said. "No, I do not
think for a moment that she has gone off with Tony. There could
be no reason why she should have left so suddenly without telling
any one, for she knew well enough that you would let her go if she
wished it; and I feal sure that neither she nor Tony would act so
ungratefully as to leave us in this manner. No, mother, I feel sure
that this has been done by Jackson. You know I told you I felt
uneasy about her before I went. No doubt the old rascal has seen
in some Northern paper an account of his son having been attacked
in the streets of Washington, and recaptured by Tony, and he has
had Dinah carried off from a pure spirit of revenge. Well,
mother," he went on in answer to an appealing look from her, "I
will not put myself out this first evening of my return, and will say
no more about it. There will be plenty of time to take the matter
up to-morrow. And now about all our friends and acquaintances.
How are they getting on? Have you heard of any more of my old
chums being killed since I was taken prisoner at Antietam?"

It was late in the evening before Vincent heard all the news.
Fortunately, the list of casualties in the army of Virginia had been
slight since Antietam; but that battle had made many gaps among
the circle of their friends, and of these Vincent now heard for the
first time, and he learned too, that although no battle had been
fought since Antietam, on the 17th of September, there had been a
sharp skirmish near Fredericksburg, and that the Federal army,
now under General Burnside, who had succeeded McClellan, was
facing that of Lee, near that town, and that it was believed that
they would attempt to cross the Rappahannock in a few days.

It was not until he retired for the night that Vincent allowed his
thoughts to turn again to the missing woman. Her loss annoyed and
vexed him much more than he permitted his mother to see. In the
first place, the poor girl's eagerness to show her gratitude to him
upon all occasions, and her untiring watchfulness and care during
his illness from his wound, had touched him, and the thought that
she was now probably in the hands of brutal taskmasters was a real
pain to him. In the next place, he bad, as it were, given his pledge
to Tony that she should be well cared for until she could be sent to
join him. And what should he say now when the negro wrote to
claim her? Then, too, he felt a personal injury that the woman
should be carried cif when under his mother's protection, and he
was full of indignation and fury at the dastardly revenge taken by
Jackson. Upon hearing the news he had at once mentally
determined to devote himself for some time to a search for Dinah;
but the news that a great battle was expected at the front interfered
with his plan. Now that ho was back, capable of returning to duty,
his place was clearly with his regiment; but he determined that
while he would rejoin at once, he would as soon as the battle was
over, if he were unhurt, take up the search. His mother and sisters
were greatly distressed when at breakfast he told them that he must
at once report bimself as fit for duty, and ready to join his
regiment.

"I was afraid you would think so," Mrs. Wingfield said, while the
girls wept silently; "and much as I grieve at losing you again
directly you have returned, I can say nothing against it. You have
gone through many dangers, Vincent, and have been preserved to
us through them all. We will pray that you may be so to the end.
Still, whether or not, I as a Virginian woman cannot grudge my
son to the service of my country, when all other mothers are
making the same sacrifice; but it is hard to give you up when but
yesterday you returned to us."

CHAPTER XV. FREDERICKSBURG.

As soon as breakfast was over Vincent mounted Wi1dfire- which
had been sent back after he had been taken prisoner, and rode into
Richmond. There he reported himself at headquarters as having
returned after escaping from a Federal prison, and making his way
through the lines of the enemy.

"I had my shoulder-bone smashed in a fight with some Yankees,"
he said, "and was laid up in hiding for six weeks; but have now
fairly recovered. My shoulder, at times, gives me considerable
pain, and although I am desirous of returning to duty and rejoining
my regiment until the battle at Fredericksburg has taken place, I
must request that three months' leave be granted to me after that to
return home and complete my cure, promising of course to rejoin
my regiment at once should hostilities break out before the
spring."

"We saw the news that you had escaped," the general said, "but
feared, as so long a time elapsed without hearing from you, that
you had been shot in attempting to cross the lines. Your request
for leave is of course granted, and a note will be made of your zeal
in thus rejoining on the very day after your return. The vacancy in
the regiment has been filled up, but I will appoint you temporarily
to General Stuart's staff, and I shall have great pleasure in to-day
filling up your commission as captain. Now let me hear how you
made your escape. By the accounts published in the Northern
papers it seemed that you must have had a confederate outside the
walls."

Vincent gave a full account of his escape from prison and a brief
sketch of his subsequent proceedings, saying only that he was in
the house of some loyal people in Tennessee, when it was attacked
by a party of Yankee bushwhackers, that these were beaten off in
the fight, but that he himself had a pistol bullet in his shoulder. He
then made his way on until compelled by his wound to lay up for
six weeks in a lonely farmhouse near Mount Pleasant; that
afterward in the disguise of a young farmer he had made a long
detour across the Tennessee river and reached Georgia.

"When do you leave for the front, Captain Wingfield?"

"I shall be ready to start to-night, sir."

"In that case I will trouble you to come round here this evening.
There will be a fast train going through with ammunition for Lee
at ten o'clock, and I shall have a bag of despatches for him, which I
will trouble you to deliver. You will find me here up to the last
moment. I will give orders that a horse-box be put on to the train."

After expressing his thanks Vincent took his leave. As he left the
general's quarters, a young man, just alighting from his horse, gave
a shout of greeting.

"Why, Wingfield, it is good to see you! I thought you were pining
again in a Yankee dungeon, or had got knocked on the head
crossing the lines. Where have you sprung from, and when did
you arrive?"

"I only got in yesterday after sundry adventures which I will tell
you about presently. When did you arrive from the front?"

"I came down a few days ago on a week's leave on urgent family
business," the young man laughed, "and I am going back again this
afternoon by the four o'clock train."

"Stay till ten," Vincent said, "and we will go back together. There
is a special train going through with ammunition, and as
everything will make way for that it will not be long behind
the four o'clock, and likely enough may pass it on the way. There
is a horse-box attached to it, and as I only take one horse there will
be room for yours."

"I haven't brought my horse down," Harry Furniss said; "but I will
certainly go with you by the ten o'clock. Then we can have a long
talk. I don't think I have seen you since the day you asked me to
lend you my boat two years ago."

"Can you spare me two hours now?" Vincent asked. "You will do
me a very great favor if you will."

Harry Furniss looked at his watch. "It is eleven o'clock now; we
have a lot of people to lunch at half-past one, and I must be back
by then."

"You can manage that easy enough," Vincent replied; "in two
hours from the time we leave here you can be at home."

"I am your man, then, Vincent. Just wait five minutes I have to
see some one in here."

A few minutes later Harry Furniss came out again and mounted.

"Now which way, Vincent? and what is it you want me for?"

"The way is to Jackson's place at the Cedars, the why I will tell you
about as we ride."

Vincent then recounted his feud with the Jacksons, of which, up to
the date of the purchase of Dinah Morris, his friend was aware,
having been present at the sale. He now heard of the attack upon
young Jackson by Tony, and of the disappearance of Dinah Morris.

"I should not be at all surprised, Wingfield, if your surmises are
correct, and that old scoundrel has carried off the girl to avenge
himself upon Tony. Of course, if you could prove it, it would be a
very serious offense; for the stealing a slave, and by force too, is a
crime with a very heavy penalty, and has cost men their lives
before now. But I don't see that you have anything like a positive
proof, however strong a case of suspicion it may be. I don't see
what you are going to say when you get there."

"I am going to tell him that if he does not say what he has done
with the girl, I will have his son arrested for treachery as soon as
he sets foot in the Confederacy again."

"Treachery!" Furniss said in surprise; "what treachery has he been
guilty of? I saw that he was one of those who escaped with you,
and I rather wondered at the time at you two being mixed up
together in anything. I heard that he had been recaptured through
some black fellow that had been his slave, but I did not read the
account. Have you got proof of what you say?"

"Perhaps no proof that would hold in a court of law," Vincent
replied, "but proof enough to make it an absolute certainty to my
mind."

Vincent then gave an account of their escape, and of the
anonymous denunciation of himself and Dan.

"Now," he said, "no one but Dan knew of the intended escape, no
one knew what clothes he had purchased, no one could possibly
have known that I was to be disguised as a preacher and Dan as my
servant. Therefore the information must have been given by
Jackson."

"I have not the least doubt but that the blackguard did give it,
Wingfield; but there is no proof."

"I consider that there is a proof-an absolute and positive proof,"
Vincent asserted, "because no one else could have known it."

"Well, you see that as a matter of fact the other officer did know it,
and might possibly have given the information."

"But why should he? The idea is absurd. He had never had a
quarrel with me, and he owed his liberty to me."

"Just so, Wingfield. I am as certain that it was Jackson as you arc,
because I know the circumstances; but you see there is no more
absolute proof against one man than against the other. It is true
that you had had a quarrel with Jackson some two years before, but
you see you had made it up and had become friends in prison-so
much so that you selected him from among a score of others in the
same room to be the companion of your flight. You and I, who
know Jackson, can well believe him guilty of an act of gross
ingratitude-of ingratitude and treachery; but people who do not
know would hardly credit it as possible - that a man could be such
a villain. The defense he would set up would be that in the first
place there is no shadow of evidence that he more than the other
turned traitor. Tn the second place he would be sure to say that
such an accusation against a Confederate officer is too monstrous
and preposterous to be entertained for a moment; and that
doubtless your negro, although he denies the fact, really chattered
about his doings to the negroes he was lodging with, and that it
was through them that some one got to know of the disguise you
would wear. We know that it wasn't so, Wingfield; but ninety-nine
out of every hundred white men in the South would rather believe
that a negro bad chattered than that a Confederate officer had been
guilty of a gross act of treachery and ingratitude."

Vincent was silent. He felt that what his companion said was the
truth; and that a weapon by which he had hoped to force the elder
Jackson into saying what he had done with Dinah would probably
fail in its purpose. The old man was too astute not to perceive that
there was no real proof against his son, and would therefore be
unlikely at once to admit that he had committed a serious crime,
and to forego his revenge.

"I will try at any rate," he said at last; "and if he refuses I will
publish the story in the papers. When the fellow gets back from
Yankee-land he may either call me out or demand a court of
inquiry. I may not succeed in getting a verdict from twelve white
men, but I think I can convince every one of our own class that the
fellow did it; and when this battle that is expected is over I have
got three months' leave, and I will move heaven and earth to find
the woman; and if I do, Jackson will either have to bolt or stand a
trial, with the prospect of ten years' imprisonment if he is
convicted. In either case we are not likely to have his son about
here again; and if he did venture back and brought an action
against me, his chance of getting damages would be a small one."

Another half-hour's ride brought them to the Cedars. They
dismounted at the house, and fastening their horses to the portico
knocked at the door. It was opened by a negro.

"Tell your master," Vincent said, "that Mr. Wingfield wishes to
speak to him."

Andrew Jackson himself came to the door.

"To what do I owe the very great pleasure of this visit, Mr.
Wingfield?" he said grimly.

"I have come to ask you what you have done with Dinah Morris,
whom, I have every ground for believing, you have caused to be
kidnaped from my mother's house."

"This is a serious charge, young gentleman," Andrew Jackson said,
"and one that I shall call upon you to justify in the law-courts.
Men are not to be charged with criminal actions even by young
gentlemen of good Virginian families."

"I shall be quite ready to meet you there, Mr. Jackson, whenever
you choose; but my visit here is rather to give you an opportunity
of escaping the consequences that will follow your detection as the
author of the crime; for I warn you that I will bring the crime home
to you, whatever it costs me in time and money. My offer is this:
produce the woman and her child, and not only shall no
prosecution take place, but I will remain silent concerning a fact
which affects the honor of your son."

Andrew Jackson's face had been perfectly unmoved during this
conversation until he heard the allusion to his son. Then his face
changed visibly.

"I know nothing concerning which you can attack the honor of my
son, Mr. Wingfield," he said, with an effort to speak as
unconcernedly as before.

"My charge is as follows," Vincent said quietly: "I was imprisoned
at Elmira with a number of other officers, among them your son.
Thinking that it was time for the unpleasantness that had been
existing between us to come to an end, I offered him my hand.
This he accepted and we became friends. A short time afterward a
mode of escape offered itself to me, and I proved the sincerity of
my feelings toward him by offering to him and another officer the
means of sharing my escape. This they accepted. Once outside the
walls, I furnished them with disguises that had been prepared for
them, assuming myself that of a minister. We then separated,
going in different directions, I myself being accompanied by my
negro servant, to whose fidelity I owed our escape. Two days
afterward an anonymous writer communicated to the police the
fact that I had escaped in the disguise of a minister, and was
accompanied by my black servant. This fact was only known to
the negro, myself, and the two officers. My negro, who had
released me, was certainly not my betrayer; the other officer could
certainly have had no possible motive for betraying me. There
remains, therefore, only your son, whose hostility to me was
notorious, and who had expressed himself with bitterness agsinst
me on many occasions, and among others in the hearing of my
friend Mr. Furniss here. Such being the case, it is my intention to
charge him before the military authorities with this act of
treachery. But, as I have said, I am willing to forego this and to
keep silence as to your conduct with reference to my slave Dinah
Morris, if you will restore her and her child uninjured to the house
from which you caused her to be taken."

The sallow cheeks of the old planter had grown a shade paler as he
listened to Vincent's narrative, but he now burst out in angry tones:

"Hew dare you, sir, bring such an infamous accusation against my
son-an accusation, like that against myself, wholly unsupported by
a shred of evidence? Doubtless your negro had confided to some
of his associates his plans for assisting you to escape from prison,
and it is from one of these that the denunciation has come. Go, sir,
report where you will what lies and fables you have invented; but
be assured that I and my son will seek our compensation for such
gross libels in the courts."

"Very well, sir," Vincent said, as be prepared to mount his horse;
"if you will take the trouble to look in the papers to-morrow, you
will see that your threats of action for libel have no effect
whatever upon me."

"The man is as hard as a rock, Wingfleld," Furniss said, as they
rode off together. "He wilted a little when you were telling your
story, but the moment he saw you had no definite proofs he was, as
I expected he would be, ready to defy you. What shall you do
now?"

"I shall ride back into Richmond again and give a full account of
my escape from the jail, and state that I firmly believe that the
information as to my disguise was given by Jackson, and that it
was the result of a personal hostility which, as many young men in
Richmond are well aware, has existed for some time between us."

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