THE DUELLISTS VANQUISHED
Zany's tidings brought the spur of a great necessity to Miss Lou's
jaded spirit, and as her waking thoughts dwelt on the proposed
encounter, a slow, deep anger was kindled in her mind. "What right have
they to do such a thing?" she asked herself over and over again. Even
more than at, the barbarism of the act she revolted at its injustice.
"I never wronged either of them," she repeated, "and here they are
recklessly bent on what would imbitter my life. The idea of being
fought about! Two animals couldn't do worse."
And so the long night was passed in bitter, painful thoughts. With the
dawning the bird's innocent songs jarred on her overwrought senses. She
looked out of the window by which she had kept her vigil, inhaled the
dewy freshness of the air and then bathed her tired, hot eyes.
"To think that men would disturb the peace of such a morning by their
miserable, causeless hate! Where is Madison's love for his mother? Why
don't they remember the distress and horror that would follow their mad
act? Zany, wake up. It is time we were on the watch."
Even as she spoke there was a heavy step in the outer hall, that of the
sergeant coming to wake Lieutenant Whately. Miss Lou glanced from her
window in time to see Captain Maynard striding from his tent toward the
grove which would screen the combatants from observation. Waiting a few
moments for the sergeant to retire she and Zany slipped down and out
before Whately left his room. They reached the grove from the back
entrance of the house, and concealing themselves in some copse-wood,
watched for Whately's coming. He soon appeared, walking rapidly as if
fearing to be behind time. He was in fact some moments late, having
stopped to advise Perkins of the affair on hand. He passed so near his
cousin's leafy screen that she could look into his flushed, troubled
face and could hear him mutter, "Curse it all! I'm forever getting into
scrapes."
For the first time since Zany's news, pity overcame her anger and she
murmured, "Poor spoiled boy! It's well for you and your mother that I'm
here."
Swiftly she followed him through the still dusky grove, keeping the
boles of trees between herself and his form. Beyond the grove was an
open grassy field, facing the east, where the light was distinct.
Clearly outlined against the rose-tinted horizon was the figure of
Maynard standing with his arms folded and his back toward them,
apparently lost in deep thought.
"Well, sir," said Whately sternly, "I suppose I should asked your
pardon for keeping you waiting."
"I reckon there's plenty of time for the purpose of our meeting,"
replied Maynard coolly. "Since you are the challenged party and we have
no seconds, arrange the matter to suit yourself."
Whately was about to pace off the ground when a girl's voice rang out
clearly, "Stop that!"
"Miss Baron!" cried Maynard, taking off his hat.
Whately threw back his head proudly. This was better than he had
dreamed, for now his cousin would be compelled to recognize his high
and haughty spirit. A glance at the girl's pale, stern face as she
stepped out between them was not altogether reassuring. She glanced
coldly from one to the other for a moment and then said firmly, "I have
something to say about this affair."
"Pardon me, Miss Baron," Maynard began, bowing, "if I am compelled to
disabuse your mind. This is a little matter between Lieutenant Whately
and myself. I am surprised beyond measure that he has invited you to be
present."
"That's a lie," thundered Whately, drawing his weapon from his belt.
"Stop, both of you," cried the girl. "Captain Maynard, my cousin has
not invited me. Your purpose of meeting was discovered by accident and
revealed to me late last night--too late for me to do anything then.
All the long night I have sat at my window that I might be in time to
keep you from disgracing yourselves and me."
"Great heavens! Miss Baron, you do me injustice," cried Maynard. "I
have been insulted. I never thought of wronging you. Perish such a
thought!"
"Evidently neither of you has thought of me, nor cared for me or
others. Yourselves, your own vindictive feelings have engrossed you
wholly, yet I know I'm the innocent cause of this brutal encounter, and
the world would know me to be the cause whether it believed me innocent
or not. I tell you plainly that if you fight I shall brand you both
unworthy the name of gentlemen and I shall proclaim to all your outrage
to me."
"Outrage to you, Miss Baron?" said Maynard, with a bitter, incredulous
laugh.
"Yes," she replied, turning upon him fiercely. "What can you think of
me when you fight about me like a wild beast?"
"I am prepared to fight Lieutenant Whately on entirely different
grounds," he replied, his face flushing hotly at her words.
"You cannot do it, sir. I would know, and so would all, that I was the
cause. What right, sir, have you to imbitter my life, to fill my days
and nights with horror? I never wronged you."
"But, Miss Baron, in all ages such encounters have been common enough
when a man received ample provocation, as I have."
"So much the worse for the ages then. I say that you both were about to
commit a selfish, cowardly, unmanly act that would have been an outrage
in its cruelty to an innocent girl, to whom you had been making false
professions of regard."
"Now, by the God who made me, that's not true, Miss Baron."
"Cousin Lou, you are beside yourself," cried Whately.
"Miss Baron," said Maynard, coming to her side and speaking with great
earnestness, "I can endure any charge better than your last. No man
ever declared truer love than I to you."
"I can tell you of a man who has declared truer love," she replied,
looking him steadily in the eyes.
"Who in God's name?" he asked savagely.
"Any man who thought more of the girl than of himself," she answered
with passionate pathos in her tones, "any man who considered her before
his own reckless, ungovernable feelings, who would save her heart from
sorrow rather than gratify his anger. Any man who asks, What is best
for the woman I love? instead of What's my humor? what will please me?
Suppose you both had carried out your savage impulses, and lay on this
ground, wounded or dead, what would be said at the house there about
me? What would be your mother's fate, Madison, that you might gratify a
causeless spite? Have you no home, Captain Maynard, no kindred who
would always curse my name? If you had died like the brave men who lie
in yonder graves your friends would ever speak your name proudly; but
even I, all inexperienced, know the world well enough to be only too
sure, they would hang their heads and say you flung away your life for
a heartless girl who was amusing herself at your expense. Fight if you
will, but if you do, I pledge you my word that I will never willingly
look upon either of you again, living or dead!"
She was about to turn away when Maynard rushed before her exclaiming,
"Miss Baron, I beg your pardon, I ask your forgiveness. I never saw
this act in the light you place it."
"There, cousin," added Whately with a sort of shamefaced laugh, "I'm
hanged if you aren't in the right and I in the wrong again. As you say,
the bullet that killed me might do worse by mother, and I should have
thought of that. As for you, we didn't think you'd look at it this way.
There's plenty of girls who'd think it a big feather in their caps to
have men fight about 'em."
"I can't believe it."
"It's true, nevertheless," said Maynard earnestly. "What can I do to
right myself in your eyes?"
"If you wish to be men whose friendship I can value, shake hands and
use your weapons for your country. If you truly care for my good
opinion, forget yourselves long enough to find out what DOES please me
and not rush headlong into action I detest. Consider the rights,
feelings and happiness of others."
"Well, Whately, what do you say?" asked Maynard with a grim laugh. "I
am ready to obey Miss Baron as I would my superior officer," and he
held out his hand.
Whately took it with an answering laugh, saying, "There's nothing else
left us to do. After her words, we could no more fight each other than
shoot her."
"Thank you. I--I--Zany," she faltered, turning deathly white. She would
have fallen had not her cousin sprung to her aid, supporting her to a
seat on a moss-grown log lying near.
For a few moments the long strain and reaction proved too much for her,
and she sat, pale and panting, her head resting against Zany, who had
rushed from her covert. The young men were overwhelmed with compunction
and alarm, but she retained and silenced them by a gesture. "I'll
be--better--in a moment," she gasped.
It proved but a partial giving way of her nervous force. In a few
moments she added, "Please go back to the house by different ways. No
one need know anything about this. No, don't call any one. I'll get
better faster if left with Zany. I beg you do as I ask and then my mind
will be at rest."
"There, Miss Baron," said the remorseful Maynard, "I pledge you my word
I'll never fight a duel. I can prove my courage sufficiently against
the enemy."
She smiled, held out her hand, which he carried to his lips and
reluctantly departed.
"See here, Cousin Lou," said Whately impulsively, "I'm going to give
you an honest, cousinly kiss. I'm not so feather-headed as not to know
you've got us both out of a devil of a scrape."
He suited the action to his words, and strode off in time to intercept
Perkins, who had the scent of a vulture for a battle. "We have arranged
the affair for the present," said the young officer curtly, "and won't
need any graves to-day. Keep mum about this."
"I'll keep my mouth close enough till I kin begin ter bite on my own
account," muttered the overseer as he sullenly followed.