OVERHEARD CONVERSATION
It was a little gully, hardly more than a tramped footpath, leading down
the bank up which we crept until we attained the level. With eyes
sharpened by the long night vigil we could perceive the dim outlines of
buildings, and a glow or two of distant lights. I felt of the face of my
watch, deciding the time to be not far from half-past twelve. Our tramp
had seemed longer than a trifle over three hours, and it was a relief to
know we still had so much of darkness left in which to operate. I
touched the man lying next me, unable to tell one dark form
from another.
"Who are you?"
"Wilson, sir."
"Where is the guide?"
"Right yere, sah," and the speaker wriggled toward me on his face. "Dis
yere is de place."
"I supposed so, but it is all a mere blur out there to me. What are
these buildings just ahead of us?"
"De slave quarters, sah; dey's all deserted, 'cept maybe dat first one
yonder," pointing. "I reckon Aunt Mandy an' her ol' man are dar yet,
but de field hands dey all done cleared out long time ago. De stable was
ober dar toward de right, whar dat lantern was dodgin' 'round. Yo' creep
'long yere, an' I'll point out de house--see, it's back o' de bunch o'
trees, whar de yaller light shows in de winder. I reckon dar's some of
'em up yet."
From his description I received a fair impression of the surroundings,
questioning briefly as I stared out at the inanimate objects faintly
revealed, and endeavoring to plan some feasible course of action. The
stable was a hundred yards to the rear of the house, a fenced-off garden
between, the driveway circling to the right. Between the slave quarters
and the mansion extended an orchard, the trees of good size and
affording ample cover. We were to the left of the house, and the light
seen evidently streamed through one of the windows of the front room.
Where the guard was stationed no one of us could guess, yet this had to
be determined first of all. I called for Miles, and the sergeant, still
holding his position at the rear, crept forward.
"I am going in closer to discover what I can," I said quietly. "I may be
gone for half an hour. Advance your men carefully into the shadow of
that cabin there, and wait orders. Don't let them straggle, for I want
to know where they are." I bent lower and whispered in his ear, "Don't
let that negro out of your sight; but no shooting--rap him with a butt
if necessary. You understand?"
"Sure; I'll keep a grip on his leg."
I paused an instant thinking.
"If luck helps me to get inside, and I find the way clear, I'll draw
that shade up and down twice--this way--and you can come on. Move
quickly, but without noise, and wait outside for orders, unless you are
certain I am in trouble."
"Yes, sir; we'll be there."
"Have one man watch that light all the time; don't let him take his eyes
off it. Be careful no prowling trooper stumbles on you; keep the
men still."
I saw the dim movement as he saluted and felt no doubt of obedience,--he
was too old and tried a soldier to fail. I crept forward, scouted about
the cabin to make sure it was unoccupied, and then advanced into the
shadows of the orchard. I was all nerves now, all alertness, every
instinct awake, seeing the slightest movement, hearing the faintest
noise. There were voices--just a mumble--in the direction of the stable,
and, as I drew in closer toward the house I could distinguish sounds as
though a considerable party were at table--yet even the tinkle of knife
and plate was muffled; probably the dining-room was on the opposite
side. However, this would seem to indicate the presence of the one we
sought, although so late a supper would render our task more difficult
of execution. I was tempted to try the other side first, but the open
window with the light burning inside was nearer, and I wished first to
assure myself as to that. I could see no sentries, but the embers of a
fire were visible on the front driveway. Whatever guard might be about
the steps, none patrolled this side; I must have waited several minutes,
lying concealed in the dense shrubbery, peering and listening, before
becoming fully convinced. The omission brought a vague suspicion that
Johnston might not be present after all--that this was instead a mere
party of convivial officers. If so, the sooner I could convince myself
the better, to make good our safe return. The thought urged me forward.
A small clump of low bushes--gooseberries, I judged from the thorns--was
within a few yards of the house, the balance of the distance a closely
trimmed turf. The bottom of the window through which the light shone was
even with my eyes when standing erect, but I could perceive no movement
of any occupants, a small wooden balcony, more for ornament than for
practical use, shutting off the view. I grasped the rail of this with my
hands and drew my body slowly up, endeavoring to keep to one side out of
the direct range of light. This effort yielded but a glimpse of one
corner of the seemingly deserted interior, and I crouched down within
the rail, cautiously seeking to discover more. Fortunately the wooden
support did not creak under my weight. The apartment was apparently
parlor and sitting-room combined, some of the furniture massive and
handsome, especially the centre-table and a sofa of black walnut, but
there was also a light sewing-table and a cane-seated rocker, more
suggestive of comfort. At first glance I thought the place empty,
although I could plainly hear the murmuring sound of voices from beyond;
then I perceived some one--a woman--seated on a low stool before the
open fire-place. She sat with back toward me, her head bent upon one
hand. I was still studying the figure in uncertainty when a door,
evidently leading into the hall, opened and a man entered. He was in
Confederate field uniform, the insignia on his collar that of a
major,--a tall, broad-shouldered man, with abundant hair and an
aggressive expression. The woman glanced up, but he closed the door,
shutting out a jangle of voices, before speaking.
"What was it? You sent for me?"
She rose to her feet, and came a step forward,--my heart leapt into my
throat, my fingers gripped the rail.
"Yes," she said quietly, looking into his face, "I have decided I cannot
do it."
"Decided! What now?" and his surprise was beyond question. "Why, what
does all this mean? No one has sought to coerce or drive you; this was
your own choice. Surely you have had ample time in which to consider!"
"Oh, yes," wearily, her hand pressing back her hair, "but--but I really
never understood myself until to-night; I am not sure I do even now."
"A girlish whim," he broke in impatiently. "Why, daughter, this is
foolish, impossible; all arrangements are made, and even now they are
toasting the captain in the dining-room. Under no other conditions could
he have got leave of absence, for his injuries are trivial. Johnston
told me as much before he left, and I know we shall need every man
to-morrow if we force the fighting."
"Why does he accept leave then, if he is needed here?" she asked
quickly.
"For your sake and mine, not fear of battle, I am sure. There will be no
heavy action at this end of our line, as we shall fall back to protect
the centre. But the movement as contemplated will leave all this ground
to be occupied by the Yankees; they'll be here by to-morrow night beyond
doubt; even now we retain only a skeleton force west of the pike. I
cannot leave you here alone, unprotected."
"Is that why you have pressed me so to assent to this hurried
arrangement?"
"Yes, Billie," and he took her hands tenderly. "Captain Le Gaire
suggested it as soon as we learned this region was to be left unguarded,
and when he succeeded in getting leave to go south it seemed to me the
very best thing possible for you. Why, daughter, I do not understand
your action--by having the ceremony to-night we merely advance it a
few months."
"But--father," her voice trembling, "I--I am not so sure that I wish to
marry Captain Le Gaire at--at all."
"Not marry him! Why, I supposed that was settled--you seemed very
happy--"
"Yes, once," she broke in. "I thought I loved him--perhaps I did--but he
has not appeared the same man to me of late. I cannot explain; I cannot
even tell what it is I mean, but I am afraid to go on. I want more time
to decide, to learn my own heart."
"You poor little girl, you are nervous, excited."
"No, it is not that, papa. I simply doubt myself, my future happiness
with this man. Surely you will not urge me to marry one I do not love?"
"No, girlie; but this decision comes so suddenly. I had believed you
very happy together, and even to-night, when this plan was first
broached, there was no word of protest uttered. I thought you
were glad."
"Not glad! I was stunned, too completely surprised to object. You all
took my willingness so for granted that I could find no words to express
my real feelings. Indeed I do not believe I knew what they were--not
until I sat here alone thinking, and then there came to me a perfect
horror of it all. I tried to fight my doubts, tried to convince myself
that it was right to proceed, but only to find it impossible. I loathe
the very thought; if I consent I know I shall regret the act as long as
I live." "But, Billie," he urged earnestly, "what can have occurred to
make this sudden change in you? Captain Le Gaire belongs to one of the
most distinguished families of the South; is wealthy, educated, a
polished gentleman. He will give you everything to make life attractive.
Surely this is but a mere whim!"
"Have you found me to be a nervous girl, full of whims?"
"No, certainly not, but--"
"And this is no whim, no mood. I cannot tell, cannot explain all that
has of late caused me to distrust Captain Le Gaire, only I do not feel
toward him as I once did. I never can again, and if you insist on this
marriage, it will mean to me unhappiness--I am, sure of that."
"But what can we do at this late hour! Everything is prepared, arranged
for; even the minister has arrived, and is waiting."
She stood before him, her hands clasped, trembling from head to foot,
yet with eyes determined.
"Will you delay action a few moments, and send Captain Le Gaire to me?
I--I must see him alone."
He hesitated, avoiding her eyes and permitting his glance to wander
about the room.
"Please do this for me."
"But in your present mood--"
"I am perfectly sane," and she stood straight before him, insistent,
resolute. "Indeed I think I know myself better than for months past. I
shall say nothing wrong to Captain Le Gaire, and if he is a gentleman he
will honor me more for my frankness. Either you will send him here to
me, or else I shall go to him."
The major bowed with all the ceremony of the old school, convinced of
the utter futility of further argument.
"You will have you own way; you always have," regretfully. "I shall
request the captain to join you here."