Books: My Lady of the North
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Randall Parrish >> My Lady of the North
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She spoke no word, and I cautiously opened my eyes and glanced up into
her face. For a time she remained unaware of my awakening, and sat
there silently stroking my forehead, her gaze fixed musingly upon the
window at the farther end of the hall. Doubtless she had been sitting
thus for some time, and had become absorbed in her own reflections, for
I lay there drinking in her beauty for several moments before she
chanced to glance downward and observe that I was awake. The evidences
of past exposure and strain were not absent from her features, yet had
not robbed her of that delicate charm which to my mind separated her so
widely from all others,--her rounded cheek yet retained the fresh hue
of perfect health, her clear, thoughtful eyes were soft and earnest,
while the luxuriant hair, swept back from off the broad, low forehead,
had been tastefully arranged and exhibited no signs of neglect. It was
not a perfect face, for there was unmistakable pride in it, nor would I
venture to term it faultless in contour or regularity of outline, but
it was distinctly lovable, and the dearest face for ever in all this
world to me. How regally was the proud head poised upon the round,
swelling throat, and with what regularity her bosom rose and fell to
her soft breathing. I think the very intensity of my gaze awakened her
from reverie, for she turned almost with a start and looked down upon
me. As our eyes met, a warm wave of color dyed her throat and cheeks
crimson.
"Why," she exclaimed in momentary confusion, "I supposed I should know
before you awoke, and have ample time to escape unobserved."
"Possibly if you had been noting the symptoms of your patient with
greater care, you would."
"True, I was dreaming," she admitted, "and had almost forgotten where I
was."
"Could I purchase your dream? I was intently studying your face as you
sat there, yet was unable to determine whether your reflections were
pleasant or unpleasant."
"They were merely foolish," was the frank response, "but such as they
were they are certainly not for sale. You are better, Captain Wayne?"
"How could I fail to be better with so delightful a nurse? I confess I
am tempted to say no, so as to regain the soft touch of your palm upon
my temple; but it was really nothing more serious than fatigue that had
overcome me. I scarcely know how I chanced to fall asleep. I merely sat
down here for a rest; it was very quiet, and that was the last I
remember. Have I been lying here long?"
"There is a rule of evidence, I believe, which protects a suspected
person from incriminating himself, but I will acknowledge that I have
been here all of half an hour," she answered, too proud to deny her
part. "The people below were wondering where you could have gone, and I
undertook a search upon my own account. Yes, sir," somewhat archly, "I
was afraid lest your injuries were more serious than you believed them
to be. I discovered you lying here. You were resting very uncomfortably
when I first came, and I felt it my duty to render your position as
easy as possible. I did not forget that your fatigue came in our
defence."
"Could you not say in yours?" I corrected. "But I have already been
more than repaid. Your hand upon my brow was far more restful than I
can tell you--its soft stroking mingled in my dreams even before I
awoke. It brought back to me the thought of my mother. I do not think I
have had a woman's hand press back my hair since I was a child."
Her eyes fell slightly, and she moved uneasily.
"There was a look of pain upon your face as you lay sleeping, and I
thought it might ease you somewhat. I have had some experience as a
nurse, you know," she explained quietly. "You mentioned your mother; is
she yet living?"
"She is in Richmond, stopping with friends, but since my capture we
have lost all trace of each other. I was reported as having been killed
in action, and I doubt if she even yet knows the truth. Everything is
so confused in the capital that it is impossible to trace any one not
directly connected with the army, once you lose exact knowledge of
their whereabouts."
"Your father, then, is dead?"
"He yielded his life the first year of the war; and our plantation near
Charlottesville has been constantly in the track of the armies. One
rather important battle, indeed, was fought upon it, so you may realize
that it is now desolate, and utterly unfit for habitation."
"The house yet stands?"
"The chimney and one wall alone remained when I was last there," I
replied, glad of the interest she exhibited. "Fortunately two of the
negro cabins were yet standing. Doubtless these will form the nucleus
of our home when the war ceases; they will prove a trifle better than
the mere sky."
"The South is certainly paying a terrible price for rebellion," she
said soberly, her fine eyes filled with tears. "Only those of us who
have beheld some portion of the sacrifice can ever realize how complete
it is."
"The uselessness of it is what makes it seem now so unutterably sad."
"Yes," she assented, "and this the South is beginning to understand.
But I cannot help thinking of the joy awaiting your mother when she
learns that you are well, after she has mourned you as dead. It will
almost repay her for all the rest. How I should love to be the bearer
of such news."
As she spoke she quietly rose to her feet and smiled pleasantly as I
took advantage of the opportunity to sit up.
"I thought you must be tired, lying in that position so long; besides,
I am sure I have tarried here quite as long as I should, now that I can
be of no further service."
As she gathered her skirts in her hand preparatory to descending the
stairs, I yielded to temptation and stopped her. Right or wrong I must
yet have one word more.
"I beg of you do not desert me so soon. This may prove our final
meeting,--indeed, I fear it must be; surely, then, it need not be so
brief a one?"
She paused irresolute, one white hand resting upon the dark stair-rail,
her face turned partially aside so I could only guess at its
expression.
"Our final meeting?"
She echoed my words as though scarcely comprehending their meaning.
"Yes," I said, rising and standing before her. "How can we well hope it
shall be otherwise? I am not free to remain here, even were it best for
other reasons, for I am a soldier under orders. You undoubtedly will
proceed North at the earliest possible moment. There is scarcely a
probability that in the great wide world we shall meet again."
"The war will soon be over; perhaps then you may come North also."
"I scarcely expect to do so. My work then will be to join with my
comrades in an effort to rebuild the shattered fortunes of Virginia.
When the lines of lives diverge so widely as ours must, the chances are
indeed few that they ever meet again."
"Yes; yet we are free agents."
"Not always, nor under all circumstances--there are outside influences
which cannot be ignored."
Her head was bowed slightly, but she lifted it now, and I dreamed I saw
unshed tears in her eyes.
"But surely you can remain here until we leave?" she questioned,
evidently striving not to reveal the depth of interest she felt in the
decision. "It will not be until to-morrow that all details are arranged
so as to permit of our departure. I had supposed you would certainly be
with us until then."
"Mrs. Brennan!" I exclaimed almost passionately, "do not tempt me! Your
wish is a temptation most difficult to resist."
"Why resist, then?"
She did not look at me, but stood twisting a handkerchief nervously
through her fingers. The abrupt question startled me almost into full
confession, but fortunately my eyes chanced to fall upon her wedding-
ring, and instantly I crushed the mad words back into my throat.
"Because it is right," I replied slowly, feeling each sentence as a
death-blow. "For me to remain can mean only one thing. For that I am
ready enough, if I thought you desired it, but I dare not choose such a
course myself."
"You speak in riddles. What is the one thing?"
"A personal meeting with Major Brennan."
The high color deserted her cheeks, and her eyes met mine in sudden
inquiry. "Oh, no, no!" she exclaimed with energy. "You and Frank must
never meet in that way. You mean a duel?"
I bowed gravely. "I can assure you I earnestly desire to avoid it for
your sake, but am aware of no possibility of escape except through my
immediate departure."
"There has been no challenge then?"
"Not formally, yet almost an equivalent--I was permitted to aid in
defence of this house only by pledging myself to Major Brennan
afterwards."
"But why need it be--at least now that you have stood together as
comrades?"
"I fear," I said quietly, "that fact will not count for much. We both
fought inspired by your presence."
"Mine!" I hardly knew how to interpret her tone.
"Certainly; you cannot be ignorant that Major Brennan's dislike is
based upon your friendship for me."
"But there is no reason," she stammered. "He has no cause--"
"His reason I must leave him to explain," I interrupted, to relieve her
evident embarrassment. "His words, however, were extremely explicit;
and to ignore them by departure is to imperil my own reputation in both
armies. I would do so for no one else in the world but you."
Her reception of this almost open avowal surprised me. For an instant
she remained motionless, her eyes lowered upon the carpet, a flush on
either cheek; then they were frankly lifted to mine, and she extended
both hands.
"How can I ever thank you?" she asked gravely. "Captain Wayne, you make
me trust you utterly, and place me constantly in your debt."
Her words and manner combined to make me realize the depth of her
feeling. But what did they really betoken? Was it merely thankfulness
at her husband's escape from peril, or a personal devotion toward
myself? I could not determine, but might only venture to believe the
first more probable.
"Then you realize that I am right?"
"Yes," slowly, but making no effort to release her hands. "Yet is no
other escape possible?"
"None within my knowledge."
"And you must go?"
"I must go--unless you bid me stay."
"Oh, I cannot; I cannot at such a cost!" she cried, and I could feel
her body tremble with the intensity of her emotion. "But, Captain
Wayne, our friendship surely need not be severed now for ever? I cannot
bear to think that it should be. I am no cold, heartless ingrate, and
shall never forget what you have done to serve me. I value every
sacrifice you have made on my behalf. Let us indeed part now if, as you
say, it must be so; yet surely there are happier days in store for both
of us--days when the men of this nation will not wear different
uniforms and deem it manly to fight and kill each other."
"The great struggle will certainly cease, possibly within a very few
weeks," I answered, greatly moved by her earnestness, "but I fear the
men engaged in it will remain much the same in their natures however
they may dress. I can only say this: Were the path clear I would surely
find you, no matter where you were hidden."
She bowed her head against the post of the stair-rail and sobbed
silently. I stood without speaking, knowing nothing I could hope to say
which would in the least comfort her, for in my own heart abode the
same dull despair. At last she looked up, making not the slightest
attempt to disguise her emotion.
"How terrible it is that a woman must ever choose between such evils,"
she said almost bitterly. "The heart says one thing and duty another
all through life, it seems to me. I have seen so much of suffering in
these last few months, so much of heartless cruelty, that I cannot bear
to be the cause of any more. You and Major Brennan must not meet; but,
Captain Wayne, I will not believe that we are to part thus for ever."
"Do you mean that I am to seek you when the war closes?"
"There will be no time when I shall not most gladly welcome you."
"Your home?" I asked, wondering still if she could mean all that her
words implied. "I have never known where you resided in the North."
"Stonington, Connecticut." She smiled at me through the tears yet
clinging to her long lashes. "You may never come, of course, yet I
shall always feel now that perhaps you will; and that is not like a
final good-bye, is it?"
I bowed above the hands I held, and pressed my lips upon them. For the
moment I durst not speak, and then--a voice suddenly sounded in the
hall below:
"I am greatly obliged to you, Miss Minor; she is probably lying down. I
will run up and call her."
We started as if rudely awakened from a dream, while a sudden
expression of fright swept across her face.
"Oh, do not meet him," she begged piteously. "For my sake do not remain
here."
"I will go down the back stairway," I returned hastily, "but do you
indeed mean it? may I come to you?"
"Yes, yes; but pray go now!"
Unable longer to restrain myself, I clasped her to me, held her for one
brief instant strained to my breast, kissed her twice upon lips which
had no opportunity for refusal.
"This world is not so wide but that somewhere in it I shall again find
the one woman of my heart," I whispered passionately, and was gone.
CHAPTER XXXV
A PLAN MISCARRIED
I remembered as I hurried down the back stairway her flushed face, but
could recall no look of indignant pride in those clear eyes whose
pleasant memory haunted me. She loved me; of this I now felt doubly
assured, and the knowledge made my heart light, even while I dreaded
the consequences to us both. To have won was much, even although hope
of possession did not accompany the winning. Neither of us might ever
again blot out those passionate words of love, nor forget the glad
meeting of our lips.
I stepped out into the kitchen and came to a sudden pause, facing a
table laden with such a variety and abundance of food as had been
strange to me for many a long day. Directly opposite, a napkin tucked
beneath his double chin, his plate piled high with good things, sat
Ebers, while at either end I beheld Mr. and Mrs. Bungay similarly
situated. The astonishment of our meeting seemed mutual. The Sergeant,
apparently feeling the necessity of explanation, wiped his mouth
soberly.
"I vos yoost goin' to fill me op mit der dings like a good soldier,
Captain," he said in anxiety.
"So I perceive," I answered, my own spirits high. "The long night of
fasting must have left quite a vacancy."
"I vos like a cistern in mein insides, by Chiminy."
"No doubt; well, I am rather hungry myself. Mrs. Bungay, in memory of
old times cannot you spare me a plate? If so, I will take pleasure in
joining your happy company. Thank you. I see you have found your man."
She glared down the table, and the little fellow visibly shrank.
"I have thet, sir," she answered grimly, "an' I reckon as how he's
likely ter stay et hum arter this."
"But you forget he is my guide," I protested, not disinclined to test
her temper. "Surely, Mrs. Bungay, you would not deprive the South of
his valuable service?"
"An' wouldn't I, now? An' didn't thet little whiffit promise me long
afore he ever did you uns? Ain't he my nat'ral pertecter? Whut's a lone
female a goin' ter dew yere in ther mountings wi'out no man?" Her eyes
flashed angrily at me. "Suah, an' if it's jist fightin' as he wants so
bad I reckon as how he kin git it et hum wi'out goin' ter no war--
anyhow ye kin bet I don't give him up, now I got my hand on him agin,
fer ther whole kit an' caboodle of ye. He bean't much ter look et,
likely, but he 's my man, an' I reckon as how ther Lord giv' him ter me
ter take keer of."
"Really, Mrs. Bungay," I insisted, "of course it will prove exceedingly
disagreeable to me, and I shall greatly regret being compelled to do
anything of the kind, but it is undoubtedly my duty to place Jed under
guard and carry him back to camp with me."
"But suah, an' ye won't, Captain dear?" she pleaded, entirely changing
her tone. "Whut good is thet little whiffit ter you uns? There's never
so much as a decent fight in him thet I've found in twenty years. Maybe
ye think as how I'm jist a bit hard on him; but he's thet gay at times
thet he drives me fair crazy. Every lick I ever give him wus fer his
own good. Suah now, an' ye never would run off with my man?"
"Come, Jed, what do you say? Are you tired fighting the battles of the
Confederacy, and prefer those of home?"
"'Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart,
Ellen and I will seek, apart,
The refuge of some forest cell,
There like the hunted quarry dwell,
Till on the mountain and the moor,
The stern pursuit be passed and o'er,'"
he quoted humbly. "I like ter read all 'bout fightin' well 'nough, but
durn it, Cap, it kinder hurts whin they hits ye on ther head with a
gun." His face lit up suddenly. "'Sides, I sorter wanter hev Mariar git
'quainted with thet thar muel o' mine, Beelzebub."
"But you've lost him."
"Nary a durn loss; ye jist can't lose thet muel, he's too blame ornary.
He's out thar now, hitched ter a tree, an' a eatin' fit ter bust his
biler--never a durn mark on his hide fer all he wint through."
"Well, I suppose I shall be compelled to let you and Beelzebub go, but
it will prove a serious loss to the cause of the South," I said, my
thoughts instantly turned by mention of the mule to matters of more
importance. "I expect there will be lively times up your way."
"Ye kin jist bet thar will," enthusiastically. "It'll be nip an' tuck,
I reckon, but I 'm mighty hopeful o' Mariar. Thet dern muel he needs
ter be took down a peg."
Ebers was eating all this time with an eagerness which plainly
exhibited his fear lest I should call him to halt before he had
entirely filled the aching void in his interior department. I could not
fail to note the deep anxiety in his eyes as he watched me furtively.
"Sergeant," I said, and he started perceptibly.
"I vos not yet done, Captain," he implored. "Mein Gott, but I vos so
hongry as never vos."
"Oh, eat all you please; I merely wished to question you a little. Did
you send out a party to bring in our horses and the sabres?"
"It vos all done already; der horses vos found und der swords. Yaw, I
see to all dot; but I vos hongry, und vaited here to fill me op."
"How many men have we lost?"
He checked them off on the tines of his fork, occasionally pausing to
take a bite from the meat held in his other hand.
"Der vos five kilt, Captain; dot vos it. I vos hit mit der ear off, und
vos hongry as never vos; Sands is goin' to die, und maybe Elliott vill
not get some better; some odders vos hurted, und der guide vos took
brisoner."
"Taken prisoner?"
"Dot is it, Captain; by Chiminy, he vos took by der ear by his voman
und led in der house. Vot you calls dot, if he vos not brisoner, hay?"
"Why, she is his wife."
"Veil, dot may be, too," he insisted stoutly. "His frau, yaw, dot is
it, but by Chiminy, he fights mit her yoost der same, und vos brisoner;
und I vos vounded mit der ear off, und vos hongry as never vos."
"How many men does that leave us fit for duty?" I asked decisively,
pushing back my plate and rising from the table.
He counted them up with painful slowness, speaking each name
deliberately, as if calling the roll.
"Dere vos twelve, Captain, mit me, but I am not fit for duty widout I
eat somedings first."
"That will do," I said peremptorily. "You can have fifteen minutes more
to complete filling up. In half an hour from now have the men ready for
the road."
"But, Captain," he protested, "I vould rattle so mit my insides, by
Chiminy, dot der horse vould scare."
"Do exactly as I say, and no more words, Sergeant," and I turned and
left the room.
We must depart, and at once. More than ever now I realized the
necessity for haste. I hoped to meet the officer commanding the Federal
detachment who had come to our aid, pay him the customary marks of
respect, and get away without again coming in contact with Major
Brennan. I felt myself pledged to this course of action.
A sentry stationed in the lower hallway informed me the officers were
messing together in the front parlor, and I at once headed that way. I
paused, however, to visit the wounded for a moment, spoke cheerily to
my own men, and then, opening the door quietly, entered the room which
I had last left in possession of the guerillas. With the exception of
broken windows and bullet-scarred walls little evidence remained of
that contest which had raged here with such fury but a few hours
previously. There were numerous dark stains upon the carpet, but much
of the furniture had been restored to place, while a cheerful wood fire
crackled in the open grate. Before it three men were sitting smoking,
while upon a small table close at their elbows rested a flat bottle,
flanked by several glasses. A single glance sufficed to tell me they
were Federal cavalrymen, one being the red-faced lieutenant whom I had
already met.
"I am seeking the commander of this detachment," I explained, as they
glanced up in surprise at my entrance unannounced. "I am Captain Wayne,
in charge of the Confederate troop which was engaged in defence of this
house."
A portly man with a strong face, and wearing a closely clipped gray
beard, arose from a comfortable armchair and advanced with hand
extended.
"I am Captain Moorehouse, in command," he answered cordially, "and am
very glad to meet you. Will you not join with us? My second lieutenant,
who has positive genius in that line, has unearthed a few bottles of
rather choice whiskey which we will divide most gladly."
"I thank you," I replied, anxious to meet him as pleasantly as
possible, "but I am eager to get away upon my duty as early as may be,
and have merely intruded upon you to explain my purpose."
"Nonsense," he insisted. "Duty is never quite so urgent as to require a
waste of good liquor. Captain Wayne, permit me to present my officers--
Lieutenants Warren and Starr, Second New Hampshire Cavalry. If by any
luck you were at Gettysburg, you have met before."
I smiled and accepted the glass held out to me.
"I was certainly there," I replied in the same spirit with which he had
spoken, "and now you recall it, retain a most vivid recollection of
meeting several Federal cavalrymen on that occasion, but believe I did
not linger to ascertain the number of their regiment. My curiosity was
completely satisfied before I reached that point. However, I am far
better pleased to renew the acquaintance in this manner."
The ice broken, we continued to converse freely for several minutes
regarding incidents of the war, and I described the peculiar conditions
which had brought me to the relief of Brennan's party. Under other
circumstances I should have greatly enjoyed this exchange of
reminiscences, but the constant haunting fear of the Major's possible
entrance at any moment rendered me extremely uneasy, and anxious to be
away. Undoubtedly this feeling exhibited itself in my manner, for
Captain Moorehouse said finally:
"I realize your natural anxiety to be off, Captain Wayne, and while we
should be very glad to keep you with us indefinitely, yet I trust you
will feel perfectly free in the matter."
"I thank you greatly," I answered, rising as I spoke. "My duty is of
such a nature, and has already been so long neglected, that I feel
every moment of unnecessary delay to be a crime. I wish you a pleasant
return within your own lines, and an early cessation of hostilities."
I had shaken hands with them all, and turned toward the door,
congratulating myself on escaping thus easily, when a new voice broke
suddenly in upon my self-satisfaction:
"I trust Captain Wayne is not intending to depart without at least a
word with me?"
It was Brennan. He had entered unobserved from the second parlor, and
now stood leaning with an almost insolent assumption of languor against
the sliding door, his eyes fastened upon me.
"Frankly," I responded, "I had hoped I might."
His brows contracted into a frown of anger that seemed to darken his
entire face.
"Have you forgotten, then, our compact, or do you simply elect to
ignore it?"
I saw the others exchange quick glances of amazement, but I answered
coolly:
"The latter supposition is more nearly the truth, Major Brennan. I felt
that after what we have just passed through together we could both
afford to ignore the past, and consequently was hoping to escape
without again encountering you."
"Indeed!" he exclaimed sarcastically. "But I might have expected it.
Gentlemen," and he turned toward the expectant group, "this man and I
have a personal grievance of long standing unsettled. I have sought him
for months in vain. When he came last night to our assistance, before I
even consented to accept his services I insisted that no occurrence of
the defence should prevent our meeting if we both survived. Now he
endeavors to sneak away like a whipped cur. I demand satisfaction at
his hands, and if it is refused I shall denounce him in both armies."
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