Books: My Lady of the North
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Randall Parrish >> My Lady of the North
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22 Produced by Michelle Shephard, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
My Lady of the North
The Love Story of a Gray Jacket
By RANDALL PARRISH
Contents
CHAPTER
I. A DESPATCH FOR LONGSTREET
II. THE NIGHT RIDE
III. AN UNWELCOME GUEST
IV. A WOMAN WITH A TEMPER
V. A DISASTER ON THE ROAD
VI. A STRUGGLE IN THE DARK
VII. A DISCIPLE OF SIR WALTER
VIII. MRS. BUNGAY DEFENDS HER HEARTHSTONE
IX. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY
X. A WOMAN'S TENDERNESS
XI. IN THE PRESENCE OF SHERIDAN
XII. UNDER SENTENCE OF DEATH
XIII. A STRANGE WAY OUT
XIV. I BECOME A COLONEL OF ARTILLERY
XV. AT THE STAFF OFFICERS' BALL
XVI. THE WOMAN I LOVED
XVII. THROUGH THE CAMP OF THE ENEMY
XVIII. THE REPUTATION OF A WOMAN
XIX. THE CAVALRY OUTPOST
XX. A DEMON ON HORSEBACK
XXI. REINFORCEMENTS FOR EARLY
XXII. THE BATTLE IN THE SHENANDOAH
XXIII. FIELD HOSPITAL, SIXTH CORPS
XXIV. A NIGHT RIDE OF THE WOUNDED
XXV. A LOST REGIMENT
XXVI. THE SCOUTING DETAIL
XXVII. AN EMBARRASSING SITUATION
XXVIII. WE CAPTURE A COURIER
XXIX. A MISSION FOR BEELZEBUB
XXX. A UNION OF YANK AND REB
XXXI. A CONVERSATION IN THE DARK
XXXII. HAND TO HAND
XXXIII. A BELLIGERENT GERMAN
XXXIV. THE WORDS OF LOVE
XXXV. A PLAN MISCARRIED
XXXVI. THE LAST RESORT OF GENTLEMEN
XXXVII. THE LAST GOOD-BYE
XXXVIII. THE FURLING OF THE FLAGS
XXXIX. MY LADY OF THE NORTH
My Lady of the North
The Love Story of a Gray-Jacket
CHAPTER I
A DESPATCH FOR LONGSTREET
It was a bare, plain interior,--the low table at which he sat an
unplaned board, his seat a box, made softer by a folded blanket. His
only companions were two aides, standing silent beside the closed
entrance, anxious to anticipate his slightest need.
He will abide in my memory forever as I saw him then,--although we were
destined to meet often afterwards,--that old gray hero, whose masterly
strategy held at bay for so long those mighty forces hurled on our
constantly thinning lines of defence. To me the history of war has
never contained his equal, and while I live I shall love and revere him
as I can love and revere no other man.
"General Lee," said one of the aides, as I passed the single sentry and
drew aside the flap to step within, "this is Captain Wayne."
He deliberately pushed aside the mass of papers which had been engaging
him, and for an embarrassing moment fixed upon me a glance that seemed
to read me through and through. Then, with simple dignity, far more
impressive than I can picture it in words, he arose slowly and extended
his hand.
"Captain Wayne," he said gravely, yet retaining his grasp, and with his
eyes full upon mine, "you are a much younger man than I expected to
see, yet I have selected you upon the special recommendation of your
brigade commander for services of the utmost importance. I certainly do
not hold your youth to be against your success, but I feel unwilling to
order you to the performance of this duty, which, besides being beyond
the regular requirements of the service, involves unusual risks."
"Without inquiring its nature," I said hastily, "I freely offer myself
a volunteer for any service which may be required either by the army or
yourself."
The kindly face brightened instantly, almost into a smile, and a new
look of confidence swept into the keen gray eyes.
"I felt, even as I spoke," he said, with a dignified courtesy I have
never marked in any one else, "that I must be doing wrong to question
the willingness of an officer of your regiment, Captain Wayne, to make
personal sacrifice. From our first day of battle until now the South
has never once called upon them in vain. You are from the ranks, I
believe?"
"I was a corporal at Manassas."
"Ah! then you have won your grade by hard service. You take with you
one man?"
"Sergeant Craig of my troop, sir, a good soldier, who knows the country
well."
He lowered his eyes to the numerous papers littering the table, and
then, leaning over, traced lightly with a colored pencil a line across
an outspread map.
"You speak of his knowing the country well; are you aware, then, of
your destination?"
"I merely inferred from what Colonel Carter said that it was your
desire to re-establish communication with General Longstreet."
"That is true; but do you know where Longstreet is?"
"Only that we of the line suppose him to be somewhere west of the
mountains, sir. It is camp gossip that his present base of supplies is
at Minersville."
"Your conjecture is partly correct, although I have more reason to
believe that the head of his column has reached Bear Fork, or will by
to-morrow morning. Kindly step this way, Captain Wayne, and make note
of the blue lines I have traced across this map. Here, you will
observe, is Minersville, directly beyond the high ridge. You will
notice that the Federal lines extend north and south directly between
us, with their heavier bodies of infantry along the Wharton pike, and
so disposed as to shut off all communication between us and our left
wing. Now, the message I must get into Longstreet's hands is
imperative; indeed, I will say to you, the very safety of this army
depends upon its reaching him before his advance passes Bear Fork.
There remains, therefore, no time for any long detour; the messenger
who bears it must take his life in his hands and ride straight westward
through the very lines of the enemy."
He spoke these words rapidly, earnestly; then suddenly he lifted his
eyes to mine, and said firmly: "I am perfectly frank with you. Are you
the man?"
I felt the hot blood leap into my face, but I met his stern gaze
without flinching.
"If I live, General Lee, I shall meet his advance at Bear Fork by
daybreak."
"God guide you; I believe you will."
His words seemed uttered unconsciously. He turned slightly, and glanced
toward the door. "Major Holmes, will you kindly hand me the draft of
that despatch?"
He took the paper from the outstretched hand of the aide, read it over
slowly and with great care, wrote a word of explanation upon the
margin, and then extended it to me.
"Commit that, word by word, to your memory; we must run no possible
risk of its ever falling into the enemy's hands."
I can see it now, that coarse yellow paper,--the clear, upright
penmanship, the words here and there misused and corrected, the
sentence scratched out, the heavy underlining of a command, and his own
strangely delicate signature at the bottom.
_"Headquarters, Army Northern Virginia,
"In the field, near Custer House,
"Sept. 22, 2 P.M.
"Lieut.-Gen'l Longstreet,
"Commanding Left Wing.
"Sir: You will advance your entire force by the Connelton and Sheffield
pikes, so as to reach Castle Rock with your full infantry command by
daybreak, September 26th. Let this supersede all other orders. I
propose to attack in force in the neighborhood of Sailor's Ford, and
shall expect you to advance promptly at the first sound of our
artillery. It is absolutely essential that we form prompt connection of
forces, and to accomplish this result will require a quick, persistent
attack upon your part. You are hereby ordered to throw your troops
forward without reserve, permitting them to be halted by no obstacle,
until they come into actual touch with my columns. The success or
failure of my plans will depend utterly upon your strict observance of
these orders. _
"R. E. LEE,
_"Gen'l Commanding"_
I handed back the paper, and lifted my hand in salute.
"You have memorized it?"
"Word for word, sir."
"Repeat it to me."
He held the paper before him as I did so, and at the close lifted his
eyes again to my face.
"Very good," he said quietly. "Now let there be no mistake; repeat it
over to your companion as you proceed until he also has memorized it,
and one of you must live long enough to reach Longstreet. I advise you
to take the Langley road,--it is the most protected,--and not try to
pass beyond the old Coulter plantation until after dark, or you will
run the risk of being observed by the enemy's pickets. Beyond this I
must leave all to your own discretion."
He paused, and I still lingered, thinking he might have something more
to add.
"Are you one of the Waynes of Charlottesville?" he asked gravely.
"Colonel Richard Wayne was my father, sir."
"Ah, indeed! I remember him well"; and his face lit up with a most
tender smile. "We were together in Mexico. A Virginia gentleman of the
old school. He is dead, I believe?"
"He was killed, sir, the first year of the war."
"I remember; it was at Antietam. And your mother? If my memory is not
at fault she was a Pierpont?"
"She is now in Richmond, sir, and the old plantation is but a ruin."
"War is indeed sad," he said slowly; "and I often feel that our
Southern women are compelled to bear the brunt of it. What heroines
they have proven! History records no equal to the daily sacrifices I
have witnessed in the past three years. God grant it may be soon
ended."
Then, as if suddenly moved by the impulse of the moment, he again
extended his hand.
"Well, lad," he said kindly, the same grave smile lighting his face,
"our country needs us. We must not waste time here in conversation. I
am very glad to have been permitted to meet the son of my old friend,
and trust you will remember me to your mother. But now good-bye,
Captain, and may He in whose hand we all are guide and guard you. I
know that a Wayne of Virginia will always do his duty."
Bareheaded and with proudly swelling heart I backed out of the tent as
I might have left the throne-room of an emperor, but as I grasped the
reins and swung up into saddle, I became conscious that he had followed
me. Craig flung up his hand in quick, soldierly salute, and then, with
a single rapid stride, the General stood at his horse's head.
"Sergeant," he said,--and I was struck by the incisive military tone of
his voice, so different from the gentleness shown within,--"I am
informed that you are intimately acquainted with the roads to the
westward."
"Every bridle-path, sir, either by night or day."
"Then possibly you can inform me whether the Big Hickory is fordable at
Deer Gap."
"Not for infantry at high water, sir; but there is another ford two
miles north where it is never over waist deep."
"That would be at Brixton's Mill?"
"No, sir; the other way."
Lee smiled, and rested his hand almost caressingly on the trooper's
knee.
"You are a valuable man for us to risk on such a ride," he said kindly.
"But I desire you to understand, Sergeant, how deeply I value the
service you are about to render, and that I shall never permit it to be
forgotten or go unrewarded. And now, good-night, Sergeant; good-night,
Captain Wayne."
As we turned into the main road, riding slowly, I glanced backward. The
General was yet standing there in front of his tent, gazing after us,
the rays of the westering sun gleaming on his gray hair.
CHAPTER II
THE NIGHT RIDE
By five o'clock we were safe at Colchester, and while our horses rested
and refreshed themselves on some confiscated grain, the two of us lay
lazily back on a grassy knoll, well within the shadow of a ruined wall,
and watched the round, red sun drop slowly down behind those western
hills we had to climb.
We scarcely spoke regarding the work we knew was ahead, except to
discuss briefly the better route to be selected for our hard night's
ride. We were both old campaigners, inured by years of discipline to
danger and obedience. This special duty, however arduous and desperate
it might prove to be, was silently accepted as part of the service we
owed the State. Reckless and hardened as I know Craig to have been, I
have no doubt he reflected upon Lee and his kindly words and was
touched and softened by their memory, as he lay there stretched at full
length on the grass, his pipe glowing cheerily between his lips. But if
so, his thoughts remained unuttered, nor did I feel inclined to dwell
upon the theme; and so, in the strength of a simple comradeship which
could remain silent, we waited patiently for the night to close us in.
As early as we deemed it safe to venture, we were again in saddle,
riding now straight to the westward, along the smooth-beaten pike,
until we caught sight of the black shadow of Colton Church in our
front; then we swerved to the left, and still moving rapidly but with
considerate care for the horses, headed directly across the more broken
country toward the foot-hills.
It proved to be a hard, toilsome climb up those long, steep slopes
rising before us; for we were extremely careful now to keep well away
from every known route of travel, and our horses, although selected
from among the best mounts of the cavalry brigade, had already been
thoroughly winded by their smart trot up the valley. The short grass
under foot, crisp from the hot sun of the long afternoon, caused many a
slip of the poorly shod hoofs, while the darkness had grown so close
and dense about us that we could barely creep through it, with only
faith and a doubtful memory as guides. Every road, we well knew, would
be patrolled by Federal pickets; only the broken country between could
yield us the faintest prospect of success. But at best it must largely
be guesswork,--Providence, luck, what you will,--and the slightest
swing of the pendulum could easily frustrate our best laid plans.
An hour of this work passed. Whether or not we were yet within the
enemy's lines was largely conjecture, for no human eye could pierce the
enveloping gloom, and no sound, either of warning or encouragement,
reached us as we strained our ears. The Sergeant rode slightly in
advance as we toiled up the higher terrace, for our sole dependence as
to direction and distance was upon his memory, and even that could
scarcely serve for much on such a night as this. I traced his passage
upward as best I might, and pressed close after him, guided not so much
by sight as by sound,--the occasional rolling of a loosened stone, the
rustling of leaves as he touched a bush in passage, the faint clinking
of his sabre, and the heavy breathing of his horse,--until at last his
long, slender figure rose sufficiently above the dark hill surface to
be faintly silhouetted in deeper shadow against the dim reflection of
the upper sky. Almost coincidently with this my horse ranged up beside
his, where he had drawn rein in evident perplexity.
"What is it, Dan?" I questioned cautiously; for all I could feel
reasonably assured of just then was that behind any rock or tree in our
front there might be crouching a Federal picket.
"It's nothing Cap," he answered quietly, turning his face toward me as
he spoke. "I'm just tryin' ter 'member some landmark yereabout ter
guide from. Blamed if ever I see such a dark night; it's like bein'
inside a pocket, sir, an' I reckon as how it must be nigh onter ten
year since I run loose in this yere country as a kid. Thet thar cut-off
we took a while back has sort o' confused me, that's a fac', and I
don't just know whar I am; but I reckon as how the main ridge road we
're a huntin' after oughter run somewhar out yonder." He pointed
forward into the night.
"I supposed from the map it would be found farther back and
considerably to the right of us," I ventured doubtfully.
"Never saw no map, Cap," he returned, with the easy familiarity of a
scout on service. "But if I recollect clear, it sure used ter run
mighty close ter the east edge. I reckon it ain't changed none to speak
of, an' so it'll have ter be somewhere just along thar."
He spoke with such an air of certainty that I felt any controversy
useless.
"Very well; hand me your rein, and see what you can discover out there
on foot. Sitting here isn't apt to mend matters, and we surely cannot
afford to cripple our horses among those rocks."
The Sergeant, a gaunt, tireless mountaineer, slipped silently from his
saddle, swung his light cavalry carbine from his back to the hollow of
his arm, and in another moment was lost to sight in the darkness. A
snake could not have slipped away more stealthily. I heard a stone
rattle under his foot, a half-suppressed oath, and then the night had
completely swallowed him.
How utterly alone I seemed; how intensely, painfully still everything
was! The silence felt almost like a weight, so greatly it oppressed me.
Even the accustomed voices of nature were hushed, as if war, with its
unspeakable cruelty, had cast a spell over all things animate and
inanimate. It was weird, uncanny. With every nerve strained I leaned
forward across the pommel of my saddle, listening for the slightest
sound out in that black void. My head burned and throbbed as with
fever, and I felt that strange, unnatural stillness as though it had
been a physical thing; surely others besides us were upon this hilltop!
For I knew well--my every soldier instinct told me--that somewhere out
in that impenetrable mystery were blazing the camp-fires of an enemy.
Vigilant eyes were peering everywhere in search for such as we. How far
away they might lurk I could not even conjecture,--perhaps merely
around some near projecting wall of rock,--and we might even now be
within the range of their ready rifles. I could hear the quickened
throbbing of my heart, and my hand fell heavily on a pistol butt in
nervous expectancy.
The soft night wind, heavy with pine odors, began suddenly to play amid
the leaves of a low tree beside me, and the pleasant rustling mingled
like strains of music with the slow breathing of the horses, but no
other sound broke a silence that had become a positive pain. Man at his
best is largely a creature of impulse, and I confess to a feeling
almost of terror as I sat there in utter loneliness. I glanced behind,
hoping that there at least I might discover some object on which my
gaze might settle, something that would relieve the intense nerve-
strain of the black nothingness. I swept with staring eyes the half
circle where I knew must lie the deep wide valley far beneath, but no
welcome gleam of light greeted me. Far out yonder, as I well knew, was
the cheery glow where our ragged, tired comrades rested around their
night fires, but the bend of the land between shut it all off as
completely as if I were already in another world, a denizen of those
cold and silent stars so far away.
I recall it now as one of the loneliest moments of my life, one of
those almost unaccountable conditions of mind and body when it seemed
to me that the thin, sinewy fingers of an inexorable fate were closing
down with a pressure which no strength of man might resist. I was worn
with fatigue in the saddle, but did not dream of sleep; my mind, in a
firm endeavor to cast aside the uncanny influences of the hour,
recalled in swift panorama those three years of civil strife which had
run their course since I, a slender, white-faced lad, had stolen forth
into the moonlight from the portals of the old home, to ride away into
the northward where the throbbing drums called me. In those days I
understood but little of the cause for which I was so eager to fight
and suffer. Possibly I cared even less; yet I had ever since blindly
followed the faded, tattered flag of my native State with the same
passionate devotion that possessed thousands of others, and with no
clearer thought than to remain beside it to the bitter end.
What strange, exciting years those had been; how filled with adventure!
Like pictures painted on a screen there flashed across my memory in
vivid colors the camps and marches, the long night vigils, the swift
sweep of the charging squadrons, the deadly shock of battle, the
scouting across unknown country, the hours of pain while the soft moon
smiled down upon a stricken field, the weary weeks in the low-roofed
hospital at Richmond. It seemed hardly possible that I could be that
same slender, untried lad who stole forth with quaking heart, fearful
of the very shadows of the oaks about the old home. What centuries of
experience lay between! The same boy, yet moulded now into a man; into
the leader of a troop of fighting men, hardened to steel by service,
trusted by one whom the South most revered and loved,--a veteran
soldier in the ranks of the hardest fighting legions our world has ever
known. Yet such had been the magic touch of war. So deeply had my every
thought become merged in these musings that Craig, slipping silently as
a ghost from out the engulfing darkness, laid hand upon my bridle-rein
before I became aware of his approach.
"I got 'er all right now, Cap," he announced quietly, peering up into
my face. "We uns are not more nor a hundred yards ter the right of the
road, but I reckon you'll find ther way a bit rough."
He led both horses forward, moving slowly and with that silent caution
so characteristic of his class. With scarcely the scraping of a hoof on
the flinty rocks we came forth in safety upon the defined, hard-beaten
track.
"The south is over yonder ter the left," he whispered, as he swung up
into saddle, "an' the trend of the road is mighty nigh due west."
"But in which direction does their main camp lie, Sergeant?"
He shook his head gravely.
"Durn it; thet's just what I can't quite figure out, sir--whether we
uns be to ther north or south of ther white church. Then, somehow or
other, it seems like to me as if this yere road lay a bit too close ter
the edge of ther plateau ter ever be the main pike what the Feds
marched over. I reckon from ther direction it runs that maybe it might
be a branch like, or a wood-road leadin' inter the other. If thet's the
way it is, then them fellers we uns is tryin' ter dodge ought ter be
down yonder ter the left somewhar."
I gazed vaguely out into the black vacancy to which he pointed.
"Well, if we should chance to run up against one of their picket posts
we shall be soon enlightened," I returned, urging my horse carefully
forward. "But we shall have to take the chances, for it would not prove
healthy for either of us to be caught here by daylight."
I heard Craig chuckle grimly to himself, as if he found humor in the
thought, but without other attempt to give utterance to his feelings he
ranged up close to my side.
Not daring to venture on any gait faster than a walk along this unknown
and ill-defined mountain trail, we slowly and cautiously worked our way
forward for more than an hour, meeting with no human obstacle to our
progress, yet feeling that each step forward was surrounded by imminent
peril. That we were now well within the guarded lines of the enemy we
were both assured, although where or how we had succeeded in
penetrating the cordon of picket posts unobserved we could only
conjecture. The darkness about us seemed intensified by the high,
overhanging bank of rock at our left; on the other side, and but dimly
revealed against the sky-line, I could perceive Craig's gaunt figure as
he leaned far over the high pommel of his cavalry saddle, his short
carbine well advanced, his trained eyes seeking vainly to pierce the
mystery in our front.
CHAPTER III
AN UNWELCOME GUEST
This was the sort of work I had long ago learned to love; it warmed the
blood, this constant certainty of imminent peril, this intense
probability that any moment might bring a flash of flame into our very
faces. Each step we took was now a stern, grim play with Fate, where
the stakes were life and death. I felt my pulses throb as I rode
steadily forward, fairly thrusting the darkness aside, my teeth hard
set, my left hand heavy on a revolver butt.
How, in such a situation, the nerves tingle and the heart bounds to
each strange sight and sound! Halt!--what was that? Pooh! no more than
the deeper shadow of a sharply projecting rock, around which we pick
careful way, our horses crowding against each other in the narrow
space. And that? Nothing but the faint moan of the night wind amid the
dead limbs of a tree. Ah! mark that sudden flash of light! The hand
that closes iron-like upon the loosened rein opens again, for it was
merely a star silently falling from out the black depths of the sky.
Then both of us halt at once, and peer anxiously forward. The figure
standing directly in the centre of our path, can it be a sentry at
last? A cautious step forward, a low laugh from the Sergeant, and we
circle the gaunt, blackened stump, as silent ourselves as the night
about us, but with fiercely beating, expectant hearts.
But hark! Surely that was no common sound, born of that drear
loneliness! No cavalryman can mistake the jingle of accoutrements or
the dull thud of horses' hoofs. The road here must have curved sharply,
for they were already so close upon us that, almost simultaneously with
the sound, we could distinguish the deeper shadow of a small, compact
body of horsemen directly in our front. To left of us there rose, sheer
and black, the precipitous rock; to right we might not even guess what
yawning void. It was either wit or sword-play now.
I know not how it may be with others in such emergencies, but with me
it always happens that the sense of fear departs with the presence of
actual danger. Before the gruesome fancies of imagination I may quake
and burn like any maiden alone upon a city street at night, until each
separate nerve becomes a very demon of mental agony; but when the real
and known once fairly confronts me, and there is work to do, I grow
instantly cool to think, resolute to act, and find a rare joy in it. It
was so now, and, revolver in hand but hidden beneath my holster flap, I
leaned over and touched Craig's arm.
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