WHAT HAPPENED IN THE STRONG ROOM
As she heard his departing footstep on the porch the poor girl threw
herself down upon her knees and lifted her hands.
"The South and--and--he, mistaken, but still--ah, where is my duty? The
ship and Rhett Sempland! I love him. I cannot let him go! It would be
wicked. God pity me! But how, how to prevent it? If I can only delay
him until to-morrow, I can tell the general everything, and--is there a
way, is there a way, O God?"
She thought deeply, every atom in her being concentrated on the problem
which tore her between love and duty, devotion to the cause of the
South and those other appeals, which, finding lodgment in her heart,
moved her so profoundly. She wrestled with the question as to where her
duty lay as Jacob wrestled with the angel of old, and if she did not
conquer, at least she decided.
Determining on a desperate course of action, she rose to her feet and
sharply struck a bell by her side on the table. The house was an
ancient mansion when it had been rented by her aunt and herself three
years before. It dated back to Colonial times. There was a strong room
in it, the windows of which were barred. It would make a safe prison
for any one. He should be put in there and be kept there until morning.
He would be safe there. No harm would come to the ship, and when the
general knew, he would forgive her. She would tell him the first thing
in the morning.
It would cause her lover pain and grief, this summary action of hers,
but she could explain it to him, too; and he would forgive her also and
she would reward him with herself! There was compensation in that, she
thought proudly and tenderly.
"Cæsar," she said, as the aged butler made his appearance in response
to the bell, "send Joe and Sam and Cato to me. Boys," she continued, as
three stalwart young negroes presented themselves before her soon
after, "Mr. Sempland is coming here to-night to see me. I--he--" she
found it somewhat difficult to explain. "General Beauregard wants him
detained here. I cannot let him get away. Show him into the strong room
on the other side of the house when he asks for me, and then lock the
door on him. Don't let him get out under any circumstances until
to-morrow, but on no account are you to do him any hurt. You hear? You
understand?"
"Ya-as, Miss Fanny, I specs we does," answered Cato, the oldest and
most intelligent of the three.
"Cæsar, you lead him into the strong room. Say I will meet him there in
a moment. He won't suspect anything, I reckon. The rest of you stay in
the passage, and as soon as he enters lock the door upon him. Don't
neglect that! He'll try to get out. He may break the door down. But you
must keep him there, even if he attempts to kill you--unless I say for
you to release him."
The three slaves were devoted to their young mistress and, accepting
her orders without a question, they at once began their preparations to
carry them out. As they were talking together a light step sounded on
the porch. There was a ring at the door. The men hurried to their
places of concealment. Miss Fanny Glen hid in the dark drawing-room, as
Cæsar shuffled along the hall to the front door.
"Your mistress has sent for me," said Sempland. And from where she
stood in the drawing-room, Fanny Glen's heart leaped at the tones of
his voice.
"Yas, suh," returned the darky, obsequiously ushering him through the
hall. "Step right dis way, suh, Mass' Sempland. Miss Fanny done axes
you to go in dis room at de end ob de passage, suh. An' she tol' me she
gwine be wid you in a minute, suh."
The room was one which Sempland had never entered before. It was small,
furnished like a library or office, with several large closets and an
old iron safe, and had two grated windows and one heavy mahogany door.
It had formerly been used as an office and as a treasure room. Seeing
the visitor safe within, Cæsar calmly withdrew, and as he adroitly
coughed violently in the passage Sempland did not hear the ponderous
key turning in the old-fashioned lock. He waited a few minutes, and
then, as time was precious, he looked around for a bell. Seeing none he
walked to the door, laid his hand upon the knob, and tried to open it.
It did not give.
"Locked!" he muttered in surprise.
Raising his hand he struck a light blow on the panels, but there was no
reply. Then he called out and received no answer. He struck and called
again and again, his voice rising to a shout while his hands were
bleeding from the blows he had rained on the hard surface. Finally a
voice came to him faintly through the door.
"Wat's de matta, suh?"
"Open this door instantly, you black dog! Where is Miss Glen?"
"She's a-comin', suh."
"I wish to see her immediately!" he cried imperiously, kicking and
battering again upon the door in furious rage, which was stilled the
instant he heard her voice outside.
"Mr. Sempland?"
"What is the meaning of this action, this outrage, Miss Glen?" he
cried. "You sent for me. I came. Why am I locked in here? Open the
door! I must leave immediately!"
"You are locked in here by my orders, Mr. Sempland," said Fanny Glen,
nervously.
"Impossible! For what reason?"
"Because I--I--"
"By heavens, this is maddening! You don't know what you do! I am
ordered to-night on a hazardous expedition. I must be at my post in ten
minutes. Let me out instantly!"
"I know," returned the girl.
"Well, then, why don't you open this door? I will say nothing of
this--"
"I cannot."
"Why not?"
"I--I--do not wish you to go out on the _David_."
"What is it to you? How dare you interfere? You said I had done nothing
but lie in prison," he replied. "I will show you to-night."
"Not to-night."
"This is madness! Think what you are doing!"
"I can't help it."
"Why not?"
"Because I--I--"
"In God's name, what do you mean?"
"I will not have you take the risk. It is certain death to you, and the
admiral's ship--" said the girl, so softly that he could scarce hear
her. "You will forgive me when you understand. I shall release you
to-morrow. Mercy! Have pity on me, I am almost crazy!"
"Do you know that you will dishonor me? If you care, let me go."
"There is another reason. I will not have the _Wabash_ blown up. There
is a--a--"
"Another man?" shouted Sempland. "You are a coquette! Let me out, I
say! I will get out! My God, was ever a man in such a situation?"
He beat and hammered on the massive door until his bruised hands bled
again. He shook it in its frame like a madman. He was exhausted by the
violence of his efforts and of his passion. Through it all the girl
stood in the hall frightened nearly to death. What mad scheme had she
entered upon? Had she strength enough to carry it through? The three
servants were terrified also, their eyes rolling in their sockets,
their hands nervously fingering their weapons. Suddenly another voice,
Cæsar's, broke through the turmoil, reaching even the ear of the
desperate man on the other side of the heavy mahogany door. He stopped
to listen.
"Miss Fanny," said the butler, "dah's a sojah man at de do', an' he
wants to know if Mass' Semplan' is heah."
"Tell him, no," said Fanny Glen, resolutely. "Say he left a half-hour
ago."
"My God!" groaned Sempland. "I am a disgraced and ruined man! Listen to
me, Fanny Glen! I swear to you, on my honor as a gentleman, if you do
not instantly open this door I'll blow my brains out in this room!"
"Oh, you wouldn't do that?"
"I will, so help me God!"
There was conviction in his voice. The girl listening in the passage
heard the click of a raised revolver hammer.
"Don't!" she cried in greater terror than ever, "I will open!"
He heard a brief whispered consultation, the key was turned in the
lock, and the door was suddenly flung open. Sempland darted toward it
on the instant and recoiled from the terrible figure of the little
woman barring him with outstretched arms. If he had suffered within,
she had suffered without the room. Such a look of mortal agony and
anguish he had never seen on any human face. She trembled violently
before him. Yet she was resolute not to give way, determined to keep
the door. Clustered at her back were the three trembling negroes armed
one with a knife, another with a pistol, another with a stout club. He
would have swept them out of his path in an instant had it not been for
the girl. She stood before him with outstretched arms, her attitude a
mixture of defiance and appeal.
[Illustration: "The door was suddenly flung open."]
"It is too late," she said, "you were to go at seven. It is past that
now. Saved, saved!"
He could do her no violence, that was certain. He stood silent before
her, his head bent toward the floor, thinking deeply. Her heart went
out to him then, her soul yearned to him. She had hurt him, he must
hate her--and she loved him.
"Will you not come in and speak to me for a moment?" he asked her
quietly enough at last.
She signed to the men, stepped forward, the door was closed, and locked
behind her, and they were alone.
"Did you think to be of service to me?" he burst out, as she drew near
and then paused irresolute, miserable. "You have ruined me for life! I
begged that detail. I volunteered. I must get out! They may wait for
me. It may not be too late. For God's sake unlock that door!"
She shook her head, she could not trust herself to speak.
"I don't understand you. If it is--love--for me--"
She stared at him beseechingly, mute appeal for mercy, for help, in her
lovely eyes.
"You are condemning me to death, to worse than death. I am going!"
"You cannot!"
She came nearer as she spoke. Suddenly he seized her, drew her close to
him, held her with his left arm, and there was happiness for her in his
touch. She was as a child before his strength. With his right hand he
presented his pistol to her temple. He took advantage of her weakness,
but only in the service of a higher cause than love of woman, in answer
to a greater demand than even she could make. She offered no resistance
either. What was the use?
"Boys!" he called out sharply. "Are you there?"
"Yas, suh," answered Cato.
"I have your mistress in my arms, my pistol is at her head. If you do
not instantly open the door, I shall kill her where I stand!"
"Cato, I forbid you to open!" cried Fanny Glen, in a ringing voice,
still making no effort to struggle and looking up into the infuriated
man's face with the expression of a martyr and an angel. He saw and
recognized, but persisted; it was his only way.
"Open instantly!" he said again, "unless you would see your mistress
die!"
That was a threat the men could not resist. In a second the door was
opened. The awe-struck faces of the blacks peered into the room.
"Throw down your arms, here at my feet, you black hounds!" shouted
Sempland. "Quick! Or I fire!"
Instantly knife, pistol, and bludgeon clattered on the floor at his
feet.
"Out of the way now! Leave the hall! I want a clear passage!"
"Kill me! Kill me!" cried the girl, "and have done!"
He released her in a moment.
"You have dishonored me," he cried. "I fear it is too late. I wouldn't
hurt a hair of your head. But I love you, I love you!"
He strained her to his breast, pressing a passionate, burning kiss upon
her lips. He wasted a few precious seconds, but he could not help it.
She threw her arms about his neck and returned his kiss. He could feel
her heart beating against his own.
"I cannot let you go!" she cried. "Stay with me and I am yours!"
"I must go!"
He tore himself from her and ran down the passage into the street. She
thought she would have fainted at that instant, but something--suspense,
the faint possibility of success, doubt--nerved her to action. After a
few moments of awful uncertainty she followed Sempland along the
hallway, out through the door, and into the night. He was not to be
seen. She knew where he had gone, however, and she bent her steps
toward the government wharf. She went slowly at first, but finally ran
at her greatest speed.