It was shortly before noon on the fairest of autumn days when Mr. Smiles
rode into the quiet village of Newberg, and the first sight that
attracted his attention was a squad of some 200 recruits who were
performing military evolutions in the vacant square adjoining the small
church and school-house. The fact that these smooth-faced boys were
being trained to kill and be killed, did not interest him in the least,
for his mind was preoccupied with the expected meeting with Captain
Leigh, and more particularly with the anticipation of seeing the young
officer’s wife, who, he had no doubt, was formerly an intimate
acquaintance of his own.
“She will not know me,” he reflected as he slowly approached the square,
“for I saw her last in ’54, and am greatly changed—but, if she should,
she dare not speak.”
Philip had recognized the parson as he drew near, and stepped out to
greet him. They shook hands and Mr. Smiles said in his pleasant style:
“As I was passing this way I thought I would give myself the pleasure of
a call at your house, Captain Leigh; but I fear you are too much
occupied?”
“No, not at all,” replied Philip, cordially, “these are two companies
that have been raised by private enterprise, and I have been inspecting
them before sending them forward for enrollment in the Federal armies.
If you will wait one moment I’ll show you where I live.”
Smiles dismounted and stood stroking the arched neck of his horse while
the Captain gave his final directions to the volunteer officers who
presently formed their companies in marching order and took the road
back to Cleveland. Philip then rejoined him, and they walked together
down a grassy lane to the left of the school-house.
“How did you leave the invalid?” asked Captain Leigh.
“He is getting along very well indeed.”
“And is all this drama in the newspapers quite true, then? I have been
curious to ask James about it.”
“Yes, I believe so,” replied Mr. Smiles. “We now have the young Mormon
at Chestnut Grove, and a prejudiced observer might be pardoned for
expressing his opinion that in this case Heaven had selected a curious
instrument for its miracles.” The minister spoke satirically, and Philip
smiled at the conceit. “It now appears that he wants to marry Miss
Hagar,” he added.
“It is said that there is another aspirant for Hagar’s hand. Of course
you have heard that also?” asked Philip.
“No, I can’t say that I have; but I should pity any Christian who
entered such a contest against a Mormon and came off second best.”
“Well,” replied Captain Leigh, rather pensively, “I think Miss Taine a
fine young woman, and I hope a bright and happy future is in store for
her—such a future as could not be found in a Mormon harem.”
They had now reached a gate in a whitewashed picket fence and Mr. Smiles
made mental observation of the salient features of the locality for
future use. The house was a one story frame cottage built in a neat
style, and like most residences in the village, was ensconced amidst an
orchard of fruit trees well back from the street. A few hardy flowers
were still in blossom in the beds beside the gravel walk, and a portion
of the porch was festooned by a graceful creeper trained upon a wicker
trellis. Mr. Smiles also noted, with satisfaction that there was not a
house on the opposite side of the street, and that the nearest neighbor
was distant a good stone’s throw. The Captain’s boy was seen hurrying
towards them from the barn-yard gate which was a little further along,
and they paused until he came and took charge of Mr. Smiles’s horse.
They were discussing the Mormon as they approached the house, but
dropped the subject instanter when they met Mrs. Leigh face to face at
the cottage door. Josephine was surprised to see the fashionable
stranger. Philip introduced Mr. Smiles as the gentleman he had met the
other evening at Dr. Taine’s, and she received him with that frank and
gracious courtesy so characteristic of Western women, which places the
stranger at once in a comfortable and easy frame of mind. Mr. Smiles was
not less self-possessed, and while indulging in such polite common-
places as he thought suitable from a young and handsome bachelor
minister, he recognized Mrs. Leigh as the former Miss Josephine La Salle
whose acquaintance he had made in the South many years before.
She was beautiful when he had first met her, but he was amazed by the
spell which her present charms threw over him. With a quick glance he
surveyed her: Her exquisite form was lithe as a leopard’s; her
complexion ideally fair and enhanced by a sentiment of rose-tint like a
blush on a lily, if such could be. Her wavy tresses clustered about a
brow and head as perfect as a Greek statue.
“She was then the bud not fully blown,” thought Mr. Smiles,—“She is now
the perfect flower.”
For a time he let the conversation drift along as it would, all the
while keeping a secret watch on Josephine to note if she betrayed the
faintest sign of recognition. Puzzled and interested by her sweet
unconsciousness as she worked away at her embroidery, he finally
mentioned the intended visit of Mrs. Taine and Hagar, and turned a neat
compliment regarding the latter.
“I have always been very fond of Hagar and used to see her quite
frequently in Cleveland; but she has only called once since we moved
from the city,” said Mrs. Leigh.
“Mrs. Taine, has, I believe,” said Mr. Smiles, judiciously, “kept in
force a system of restraint (with only kind intentions I am sure, but
not the less erroneously), which I have advised her to abandon. She is a
kind and good woman, but is very sensitive and somewhat wanting in tact.
This visit, I hope, may prove the beginning of a series, for I am sure
she will relish social intercourse if she will only take the trouble to
acquire a taste for it. And to her adopted daughter, as I have strongly
represented, it is indispensable. Too much seclusion I believe to be
detrimental to the young.”
“You might say fatal, I think,” replied Captain Leigh. “Boys and girls
who are educated in walled convents do not as a rule develop anything
like the independence and individuality which characterize those who
receive their early training in public schools and colleges. This is a
well known fact and I consider that it is entirely due to the innate
viciousness of the former system. Still, some people are silly enough to
adopt it in their own homes, and its effects are usually disastrous.
Speaking of Miss Taine: she seems to be a decidedly bright young girl.”
“She is intelligent,” replied the minister. “I believe she would learn
anything under favorable conditions. I find her unusually quick. For
instance, the other evening I undertook to show her the moves in chess,
and she not only mastered them in a few minutes, but was enabled to play
them correctly in a trial game the same evening. She shows facility in
whatever she attempts, even in music, and she really deserves better
opportunities than she enjoys here.”
Mr. Smiles was talking principally for effect. But his conversation was
none the less interesting on that account for the simple reason that his
auditors had not the least suspicion that such was the case. To them he
was only what he appeared. Philip indeed, had long harbored a lurking
prejudice against parsons in general, but had tacitly exempted his
present visitor on account of having met him at the house of Dr. Taine,
whom he held in the highest esteem.
“Are you making a long stay in Ohio, Mr. Smiles?” asked Captain Leigh.
“No—that is, I think not. I am a kind of courier in my profession, of
inferior rank and therefore subject to orders. As you remarked the other
evening, ‘I only know the alphabet.’ But I like this field of labor
much, and only wish my stay here might be regulated by my own will. If I
could get a furlough from this duty I should enlist as a chaplain,” he
concluded, with the innocent air of a young priest in the first stage
above his novitiate.
“I should think this the more pleasant post,” replied Philip. “You would
find army work a very different matter.”
“I am aware of it, my dear sir; but do you suppose that the soldier of
the Cross only studies his ease?” Mr. Smiles spoke in a tone of mild,
courteous reprimand. “I might say the same to you, Captain Leigh,” he
continued with a friendly smile. “A place by this bright and peaceful
fireside is far more desirable than in the front of battle where the
earth and all upon it is rent by shot and shell; and yet, I’ll warrant,
you would choose the latter. Why then should not I? Simply because I
have no power to choose, since, like any other soldier, I must either
obey orders or dishonor myself by desertion.” He then proceeded to
express his opinion of the singular display of inconsistency in
religious matters which was the inevitable result of war: the prayers of
each blood-drenched contestant imploring victory from the same God; the
irony of men’s creeds and pretended beliefs, which were supposed to
unite them in strong bonds of fellowship, and proved to be but ropes of
sand the moment the sword was drawn; the young and brave flying to the
ranks of both sides to battle for the right!
“It is,” he said, with almost tearful solemnity, “a sad and awful
spectacle that we have presented to us this moment, the death conflict
of Cain and Abel spreading its blight upon a million hearthstones! I
often cry in agony of spirit: Where and how will it all end?”
He spoke with such well-feigned emotion that the tears came to Mrs.
Leigh’s eyes, and a strange flush passed across Philip’s cheek leaving
him pale and serious. There was a brief pause, which Philip interrupted
by saying quietly, though with a flash in his dark eyes that did not
escape the minister:—
“There should be no doubt in our minds as to that! It can only end by
the utter collapse of the Rebel cause. No true American can think of any
other end than this!”
“Of course, we all hope for that result,” said Mr. Smiles, thoughtfully,
“but we cannot lose sight of the dreadful carnage and suffering, and the
almost fatal blow to Morality which must intervene. I did not mean,
where would the political contest cease, for I am as certain as to that
as a man can be of anything. But I mean, where will end these shocking
evils? For their effects will be felt long after the roar of cannon and
the rattle of musketry have ceased, and after the fields and valleys
that have drunk the blood of thousands have outgrown the marks of the
fray, and returned to more than their pristine beauty.”
Mr. Smiles had easily accomplished his purpose: he was now regarded by
Captain Leigh and his wife as a good young parson of no mean ability,
whose heart and sympathy were obviously in the right place. The young
officer thought that his abstinence from the offensive sanctimoniousness
that was then too common among minor theologians, was to be ascribed to
his experience of the world and his evident intelligence; and he found
himself taking a decided interest in Mr. Smiles despite his trade.
“Do you expect soon to be ordered to the front, Captain Leigh?” asked
the minister.
“Yes—but the time is uncertain.” He laid his finger on his lips as a
signal to drop the subject, but it was too late: Josephine raised her
eyes to his with a look of pain, and found it necessary to withdraw to
hide her tears from the stranger. She already felt the vivid
apprehension that oppresses the loving wife of a soldier in time of war;
but it was well for her that she had no foretaste of the bitter draught
that her fate held in reserve for her.
“You must excuse my wife, Mr. Smiles,” said Philip, rather sadly—“she is
like most women, very skeptical about the honor to be won at the
cannon’s mouth when her husband is concerned. As to your question: I
have requested to be relieved from my present duties and ordered to the
front, but of course, I cannot say when my wish will be gratified. If it
depends on political influence I am afraid I shall have to remain here.”
“Yes we have become so habituated to appointing men to office because of
political influence, and the custom has thus far played so important a
part in the appointments of officers for the present army that I should
not be surprised if a successful manipulator of ward politics with
qualifications for a commissary clerk, will become a general in the
Union army while, West Pointers who have no ‘political influence,’
remain lieutenants and captains. I have sometimes thought that if the
question of appointing some worthy gentleman to the post of archangel
were brought before the Senate, the first and last difficulty would be
the candidate’s ‘political influence.’” Smiles said this with enough
facetiousness to make Philip laugh, and then turning to him asked rather
abruptly if he played chess. Captain Leigh replied that he knew the
rudiments of the game but could hardly be called a player.
“It is the only game I care for,” answered Mr. Smiles, “I wish we might
find an opportunity to have a bout. It should be a favorite with those
of the military profession, for besides being a genial and engrossing
pleasure in the camp, it suggests endless tactical and strategical
problems, and in its miniature ramifications may contain the outlines of
a great battle.”
“I am myself a tolerably enthusiastic amateur whose love for the game is
far greater than his skill. I have not played for some time, but perhaps
we can have a quiet contest on the mimic field when you come here with
the Taines.”
“Nothing could gratify me more,” said Mr. Smiles, rising. “Of course you
will give me some advantage—a castle, for instance?”
“We shall see about that after the first game,” replied Philip. “But you
are not going? It is our dinner-time—you must stay and dine with us,
unless you have a prior engagement with some of your flock.”
Smiles made an excuse, saying that although he had no special engagement
he must make a number of calls during the afternoon and could scarcely
spare the time. While he was hesitating, Mrs. Leigh came back, and he
yielded readily to her cordial invitation. As they were passing to the
dining room he eased his tender conscience by remarking with a slight
shrug of the shoulders, which he often employed to indicate a pleasant
resignation to the inevitable:
“Well, I must confess, that the charm of Western hospitality is
irresistible!”
In spite of studied precautions on Philip’s part, the conversation,
which ran along on minor topics for a while, was brought back to the
subject of the war by his own comment on an item of news contained in
the morning’s paper. For a time, the conduct of battles and the merits
of officers both at Washington and in the field, were freely discussed,
and Mr. Smiles seized the opportunity to praise the vast ability shown
by some of the Southern generals and to lament that such talent should
have taken the wrong side. He was well aware that Philip was not the man
to like flattery, but could not resist the temptation to strike a chord
which he knew would thrill the military heart—
“By the way, Captain Leigh,” he said, “there is no doubt in my mind that
if you had cast your lot with your native section you would have been in
the command of a division now instead of a company.”
“Mr. Smiles, I would rather be a private for my country, than a general
against her!”
Soon after dinner Mr. Smiles took his leave, and promised to come next
day with his friends at Chestnut Grove if he could possibly allow
himself the leisure. As he rode slowly along through the village, his
thoughts were occupied with Mrs. Leigh:—
“She did not know me—but that’s no wonder, since it is more than seven
years, and I have undergone a complete metamorphosis; she has,
meanwhile, become a paragon. I must see her again after Leigh’s exit.”
As he proceeded to the eastward for the purpose of making a careful
survey of the town, he was alternately hilarious and downcast, his
philosophical spirit and sang-froid, having for the moment deserted him.
While he felt assured of gaining the desperate game he was playing by a
trifling ruse he had planned, it seemed, at the moment to call for none
of the finer work of which he knew himself capable. This was the only
fault he found with his attitude toward Captain Leigh. He felt no qualm
of conscience for the plot he was laying, but only a conceited notion
that the enterprise was not worthy of his subtle mind. He soon cajoled
his pride into taking a better view of his task, however, when he
reviewed the situation. Was not the object of his quest deep in the
enemy’s country, surrounded by troops, and possibly, well on his guard?
The chances which these reflections suggested heightened the flavor of
his undertaking, and he remembered that one of his present duties was to
ascertain if a guard was stationed at night either in the town or the
Captain’s house. He must visit the camp of his accomplices at once to
inform them of the favorable state of their project, and return that
very night to reconnoitre Newberg. He stopped and made a hurried entry
in his note-book, then taking the first turning to the southward trotted
away at a lively pace. The lane in which he found himself was grass-
grown from fence to fence and it was evident that very little traffic
passed that way. But it was a pleasant route along which the farm-houses
were far apart, and he was well aware that it led into a road by which
he could reach Delmy’s rendezvous.
He had gone probably two miles when he saw a horseman coming in the
opposite direction, and was amazed as he approached to find that it was
Delmy himself dressed precisely like an Ohio farmer. The outlaw was
scarcely less surprised than his chief.
“Well Cap, what’s the meaning of this?” asked Smiles, impatiently.
“Don’t give me any of yer airs, parson, if yer please,” replied Delmy,
insolently, “I’m under yer orders, I know, and I obeyed ye better’n any
man I ever see, but I reckon I’ve got something to say, yer know, and
I’ve made up my mind to git the lay of the land.”
“Very well, there’s my hand,” said Smiles, in a conciliatory tone, “it’s
good luck that has brought us together at this moment, so we won’t
quarrel.”
“Good luck! well, I’m glad to hear it, fur I was gittin’ rather down at
the mouth. But what do you mean, parson?” He spoke in a surly manner,
and gave Smiles’s hand a languid shake.
“Why, I’ve caught our man already—I dined with him at noon. As No. 9
would say, ‘the ’possum’s treed.’”
“Come now, parson, what yer givin’ us?” asked Delmy, opening his bleared
eyes as wide as he could, and biting a chunk from a black plug of
tobacco.
“The simple truth,” said Smiles, bringing his hand down on Delmy’s back
with smarting emphasis. He gave him a full account of what he had done,
and of his plans so far as developed, and then ordered him back to camp
with all speed and caution to cheer up his men and get them in
readiness.
“If I find that armed guards are stationed in the town we may have to
wait a few days; but I now think we are all right for to-morrow night.”
“Well, look yer, parson,—there’s one thing I want to mention before this
business goes any further; I don’t see no use in tryin’ to tote a live
man into Kentucky when we kin just as well kill him off and save our
bacon—besides the swag bein’ jest the same.”
“I’m sorry to hear you talk that way, Delmy; if you had seen old man
Leigh when he was talking of how his son went back on him you wouldn’t
think of killing the boy; why he’s his only child, and what he wants is
to put him under lock and key to keep him from fighting for the North.
But that’s not all: we think when we once get him where proper
influences can be brought to bear, he will change his mind and take a
command in our army. Those who know him best say he’ll make as good a
general as Jackson; so you see he’s too valuable a man to kill, and we
are not a band of assassins, anyhow.”
Delmy assented doggedly, but when Smiles had sent him to camp and turned
back himself to the eastward, he reflected that his accomplice was a man
who would not scruple to despatch his prisoner if his own safety seemed
to require it.
The night was dark and chilly; but neither of these conditions seemed to
make any impression upon him. The stars gave sufficient light to enable
him to find his way, and nature had treated him so kindly with gifts of
vitality as well as temper, that he might pride himself on being equally
indifferent to either heat or cold. He trotted leisurely along, to all
appearance no more ruffled, anxious or vigilant than some innocent
circuit-rider on his home stretch. He struck the road passing through
the central part of Newberg and continued into the village at the same
pace he had been traveling. Now and then a snarling cur would fly from
under a fence, and dashing into the middle of the road, tear its throat
with shrill barking; and a few persons more owlish than the rest of the
village were met and passed with a friendly “good night.” When he
reached the square, he heard the village singing class chanting their
closing anthem in the school-house, only a stone’s throw from Captain
Leigh’s. But there was nothing to indicate the presence of a military
guard, or even of civil police. However, to make assurance doubly sure,
he checked his horse to a slow walk and passed along the street in front
of the Leigh cottage. It was probable, he thought, that the young
southerner might have a body guard there at night as a precaution. A
careful survey soon convinced him that such was not the case. Nobody was
there except Leigh and his wife whom he saw through a half open shutter,
sitting at a table reading.
Entirely satisfied with the result of his investigations, he took his
bearings for Chestnut Grove, and reached the cross-roads where he had
instructed Delmy to meet him for final orders. Delmy was pleased with
the plainness and simplicity of his directions and said he had no doubt
of their complete success in capturing Leigh the next night, provided a
guard was not placed in the meantime. Before dismissing him, Smiles
handed the desperado a diagram he had drawn of the Leigh cottage and
vicinity, and ordered him to ride through the town early next day in his
farmer’s suit to make himself familiar with the place. Everything being
arranged so far as was possible until the decisive moment, the
accomplished rebel agent parted from his lieutenant with the following
injunction:—
“You must ignore me entirely; for, if I can remain here for a time
unsuspected, I will be able to help you in your flight, and to reward
you hereafter.”
Delmy listened attentively to his chief’s words, and signified his
assent. His hard visage betrayed no sign of interest or enthusiasm, but
his small, sharp eyes, set deep amid crow-feet, and seared wrinkles that
were born of vice rather than age, had a determined, and ferocious look
in them.
A few moments later, the Rev. Mr. Smiles was seated in the cosy dining
room at Chestnut Grove in company with Mrs. Taine, who had waited up to
see that he should not go to bed hungry after an entire day spent in
arduous missionary labor. It is a strange fact that Mrs. Taine had never
thought any other man worthy of such indulgence.