A COWARD'S DEED.
Mr. Ray was hobbling about his room blithe as a lark. He had slept
soundly, awaked refreshed, enjoyed his breakfast and the music of the
band at guard-mounting; was rejoicing in the arrival of Dandy, who had
been sent down from Laramie, and was now in a little paddock in the
back-yard of the quarters he and Blake occupied in company. He had spent
an hour delightfully at Mrs. Truscott's, where the ladies were out
taking the morning air, and finally had come home to write to "the
mother" at Lexington, who, with all her pride in her boy's achievements,
was still vastly worried. She had written to the commanding officer, in
fact, and begged particulars from him, as her son was so averse to
writing. The colonel had shown the letter to Gleason, who happened, as
usual, to be on hand, and Gleason had remarked, "Well! That's what I
always told you. You'll get to know him after a while." Ray had written
a joyous letter to her and a few jolly lines to sister Nell, whose last
letter had perplexed him somewhat, and then, his work finished, he had
risen, and was limping around with the aid of a stick singing lustily
the old darkey camp-meeting lines,--
"Oh, de elder's on de road, mos' done trabbelin',
De elder's on de road, mos' done trabbelin',
De elder's on de road, mos' done er trabbelin';
I'se gwine to carry my soul to de Lawd,"
when the door opened, and in came Blake.
"What ho! Mercutio. _Your_ bosom's lord sits lightly on his throne,
anyhow! What you been drinking, Billy? Getting shot seems to agree with
you. Faith! lad, I've had a joyous morn, chaffing Gleason and
supervising his packing. What a damned sneak that fellow is, anyhow!" he
broke off, in sudden disgust.
"What's he been doing now?"
"Oh!--I can't tell you; just hinting and insinuating as usual. He's no
end grumpy at being sent off; seemed to think he had the inside track
with the Jersey bluebell. (Look out, William, or you'll be moth to that
candle next. She's the winningest thing I ever saw,--winning as four
aces, i' faith!) Gad! Did you hear the K. O. W.'s[A] speech about her?
Hullo! There they go now. She and Mrs. Stannard driving to town.
Wouldn't wonder if they were going just to get rid of having to say
good-by to Gleason. Come, Billy; let's limp over to the store and have a
cup of sack."
[Footnote A: Army _argot_ for commanding officer's wife.]
"B'lieve not, Blakie, I've--well, let up on it, so to speak."
"_What?_ Billy? Oh, come now, that's too--why, angels and ministers of
grace! Ray, is it love? delirious, delicious, delusive love, again?
Sweet William! Billy Doux! bless my throbbing heart! Odds boddikins!
man,--nay, think,--
''Tis best to freeze on to the old love
Till you're solid as wheat with the new.'
Don't throw off on Hebe when Shebe, maybe, only fooling thee. Peace, say
you? Nay, then, I mean no harm, sweet Will. Here's me hand on't. But
for me, no dalliance with Venus,--
'Her and her blind boy's scandalled company
I have forsworn.'
You have my blessing, Billy, but--
'Dost thou think because thou art virtuous
There shall be no more cakes and ale?'
Avaunt! I'll hie me to metheglin and Muldoon's." And off he went,
leaving Ray half vexed, half shaken with laughter.
It must have been one o'clock when, looking up the row as he sat basking
in the sunshine, he saw Gleason come out of Captain Truscott's quarters
and rapidly nearing him along the walk. He had been idly looking over a
newspaper and thinking intently over matters which he was beginning to
find vastly interesting; but something in Gleason's appearance changed
Mr. Ray's expression from that of the mingled contempt and indifference
with which he generally met him into one of more active interest. The
big and bulky lieutenant lurched unmistakably as he walked; his face was
flushed, his eyes red. He was muttering angrily to himself, and shot a
quick but far from intelligent glance at Ray as he passed.
"Now, what on earth could have prompted him to go to Truscott's looking
like that?" thought Ray. "I wonder if Mrs. Truscott saw him. She did not
go driving."
Presently there came a little knot of ladies down the row. They stopped
to speak to Ray, and he rose, answering with smiling welcome, and they
on the sidewalk and he, leaning against one of the pillars of the low
wooden portico, were in the midst of a lively chat when his own door
opened and there came from within his quarters Mrs. Truscott's soldier
servant, an old cavalryman whose infirmities had made him glad, long
since, to exchange the functions of a trooper for those of general
messenger, bootblack, and scullion on better pay and rations. He had
come in from the rear. He held out a note.
"Mrs. Truscott said I was to find you at once, sir."
"Pardon me, ladies, I will see what this is," he said, opening it
leisurely with pleasant anticipations of an invitation for tea. He read
two lines: the color left his face. Amaze, consternation, distress, were
all pictured there in an instant.
"Excuse me! I must go to Mrs. Truscott at once," he said, and went
limping eagerly, rapidly up the walk.
"Why, what can she want?" asked one of the astonished ladies.
"I cannot imagine. Don't you think we--some of us ought to go and see if
anything is the matter?"
"Nonsense! It is nothing where we would be of any service. What makes me
wonder is what she can want of Mr. Ray; what made _him_ look so
startled?" (A pause.)
"Didn't Mrs. Turner say he was very attentive to her in Arizona, and
that she threw him over for Captain Truscott?" (Tentatively.)
"It wasn't that at _all!_" promptly interrupted another, with the
positive conviction of womankind. "Mrs. Wilkins told me all about it,
and I _know_. It was another girl Mr. Ray was in love with, and--no, it
was Mrs.--somebody--Tanner, whose husband was killed, and Mrs. Truscott
_did_ break an engagement with somebody----"
"I didn't know about _that_. What I say is that Mr. Ray was desperately
in love with Mrs. Truscott, because----"
And by this time all four were talking at once, and the thread of
conversation became involved.
But Ray had hurried on. What he read had indeed startled him.
"Come to me the moment you get this. I am in fearful trouble.
"G. P. T."
He knocked at the door, and she herself opened it and led him into the
parlor. She was pale as death, her eyes distended with misery, every
feature quivering, every nerve trembling with fright and violent
emotion. She began madly walking up and down the little room wringing
her hands, shivering, gasping for breath.
"In heaven's name, what has happened?"
"Oh! I cannot tell you! I cannot tell you! It is too fearful! Oh, Mr.
Ray! Mr. Ray!"
"But you must tell me, Mrs. Truscott. Try and control yourself. Is
anything wrong with Jack?"
"Oh, no--no!"
"Good God! Has there been an accident? Has anything happened to Miss
Sanford?"
"No--no--no! It's only me!" she answered, hysterically inaccurate in her
wild wretchedness. "I'll tell you.--It is that awful man, Mr. Gleason.
He has been here and----"
Ray's face set like stone. The words came through clinched teeth now. He
seized her hand--released it as suddenly.
"Tell me instantly. There's no time to lose. He goes at three."
And then at last, half sobbing, half raging with indignation, she
managed to tell her story.
Gleason had come in half an hour before, and walking at once into the
parlor, had sent up word that he wished to see her. She asked to be
excused, but he called up that it was a matter of the utmost importance,
and she came down. He closed the parlor door, stood between her and
escape, and then proceeded to accuse her of slights and wrongs to him,
and of interfering with his rights as a gentleman to pay his addresses
to Miss Sanford,--of prejudicing her against him. He accused her husband
of treating him with disdain, and then--she saw he had been drinking
heavily--he with wild triumph told her she was in his power; he had long
suspected her. She strove to check him and to call her servants (for a
wonder they weren't at the keyhole), but she was powerless against him.
Then he went on to denounce her as a faithless wife, and to accuse her
of a vile correspondence with a soldier,--an enlisted man, a sergeant
formerly of her husband's troop. He drew a letter from his pocket, and
with sneering emphasis read it aloud. It was an ardent love-letter from
Wolf, in which he raved of his love for her, spoke of other letters he
had written, and reminded her of his happiness in past meetings, and
begged to be told when he could see her alone. She was horror-stricken;
indignantly denied any knowledge of him whatever. He simply sneered, and
told her he meant to take that letter "to crush her husband with" the
first time he asserted any authority over him, and to hold as a menace
over her. Then she implored him as an officer, as a gentleman, to give
it to her, but he only added sneering insult.
Ray could hardly wait till she had finished. At first he blazed with
wrath, then that odd preternatural coolness and _sang-froid_ seemed to
steal over him. He looked at his watch--One thirty: time enough--then
asked a quiet question or two. Had any one heard? Did any one else know?
Not a soul. Whom could she tell? Whom could she call but him,--Mrs.
Stannard and Marion being away?
"Don't worry a particle. I'll have him here on his knees if need be. You
say Wolf was the signature. Do you know any----Why! does he mean that
good-looking German?"
And to his amaze she was blushing painfully.
"Yes, Mr. Ray, and he was with us at the Point, and always coming to
borrow books of Jack, but indeed he never wrote me, nor I----"
"Hush! Who but a blackguard would think it? Just sit here quietly ten
minutes or so. You shall have that letter. If any one comes, I think it
would be best to keep quiet about this until later."
With that he went hobbling down the row. There were the ladies and they
accosted him to know if anything were wrong,--if they had not better go
to Mrs. Truscott? et cætera, et cætera; but he answered with
unaccustomed brilliancy and mendacity that he had a scare for nothing
because he could not read her fine Italian hand. She was only getting
some things ready to send to Captain Truscott by the stage to Fetterman.
All the same he slipped into his room, got his revolver, gave a quiet
twirl to the cylinder to see that all was working smoothly, and the next
minute, without knocking, banged into the front room of Gleason's
quarters, finding that worthy sluicing his head and face with cold water
at the washstand.
"Who's that?" he shouted, turning half round to find Ray standing less
than ten feet away with a cocked six-shooter gleaming in his hand. There
was dead silence a moment, then Ray's placid tones were heard,--
"Sit down, Gleason."
Gleason stood glaring at him an instant, a ghastly pallor stealing over
his face, his rickety legs trembling beneath him.
"Do you hear? _Sit down!_"
And though the words were slow, deliberate, clean-cut, there was a
hissing prolongation of the one sibillant that gave the impression of
the 'scape-valve of some pent-up power that bore a ton to the square
inch. There was a blaze, a glitter, in the dark, snapping eyes; there
was a pitiless, contemptuous, murderous set to the lips and jaw; a
fearful significance in the slowly-raising pistol hand and the pointing
finger of the other. Limp as a wet rag, cowering like a lashed cur,
terrified into speechlessness, Gleason dropped into the indicated
chair.
"If you attempt to move except at my bidding I'll shoot you like a dog.
I want that letter."
"What letter?" he whimpered, in his effort to dodge.
"The letter you were blackguard enough to steal and coward enough to
threaten Mrs. Truscott with. Where is it?"
"Ray, I swear I meant no harm! It was all a--a joke. I didn't dream
she'd take it so seriously. I picked it up in her yard, and meant to
give it----"
"Shut up! Where is it?"
"I--I haven't got it now."
"You lie! Bring it out, or I'll----" And again the rising pistol hand
with dread suggestiveness supplied the ellipsis.
Gleason began fumbling in the pocket of his waistcoat. It was evident
that he was on the verge of maudlin tears; he shook and trembled and
began protesting.
"Bah!" said Ray. "The idea of showing a pistol to such a whelp of
cowardice! Hand me the letter!" And with an impatient step forward, he
stood towering over the cringing, shrinking, pitiful object in the
chair. The nerveless hands presently drew forth a letter from an inner
pocket. This Ray quickly seized; glanced hurriedly over it, stowed it in
his blouse, then walked to the door.
Fancying him going, Gleason's drunken wits began to rally. He half rose,
and with a face distorted with rage, shook his fist, and his high,
reedy, querulous tenor could have been heard all over the house.
"You think you've downed me, but, by God! you'll pay for this! You'll
see if in one month's time you don't bemoan every insult you put upon
me, and if she don't wish----"
"_Silence!_ you whelp, you drivelling cur! Don't you dare utter her
name! Just what I'll do about this infamous business I don't know--yet.
A woman's name is too sacred to be dragged into court, even to rid the
service of such a foul blot as you; but, now mark me: by the God of
heaven, if you ever dare bring up this matter again to a single soul,
I'll kill you as I would a mad dog."
And with one long look of concentrated wrath, contempt, and menace, Ray
turned his back upon his abject enemy and left him. Gleason's orderly
entering the room a minute after was told to hand him a tumbler and the
whiskey-bottle, and with shaking hand the big subaltern tossed off a
bumper, while the man went on strapping and roping his trunks and
field-kit. Half an hour afterwards, half sobered and partially restored,
he was able to say a brief word of farewell to the post commander,--a
venomous word.
Meantime, stopping at his quarters a moment to return his revolver and
wash his hands, Ray went up the row to Truscott's. He had not time to
knock. Grace was waiting for his coming with an intensity of eagerness
and anxiety, and the moment she heard his step flew to the door and
admitted him, leading, as before, the way to the parlor.
Mrs. Turner had, meantime, been apprised by some of her infantry friends
that Mrs. Truscott had sent a note to Mr. Ray, and also that there must
be something queer going on. Mr. Ray had been much agitated at first and
had hurried thither, and heaven only knows the variety of conjectures
propounded. By the time Ray was seen coming up the row again there were
four ladies on Mrs. Turner's piazza, who were vehemently interested in
his next move. They watched his going to Truscott's; but, of course,
watching was perfectly justifiable in view of their anxiety about her.
"Did you see?" said Mrs. Turner. "He didn't even knock. She was waiting
to let him in."
It was by no means an unfrequent thing for any one of the ladies of the
garrison to receive a visit from some old and tried friend of hers and
her husband's while the latter was in the field. Mrs. Turner never
thought anything of having officers call day or evening, though, as a
rule, there was a sentiment against it, and the majority of the
ladies--especially the elders--thought it wrong for the young matrons to
receive the visits of young officers at any time when the head of the
house was far away. Now that there were only four young officers in
garrison and more than a dozen ladies, the feeling had strengthened to
the extent of considerable talk. It was therefore the unanimous view of
the ladies on Mrs. Turner's piazza that in Mrs. Truscott's receiving two
visits from Mr. Ray in one morning, under circumstances provokingly
mysterious, there was something indecorous, to say the least, and unless
they knew the why and the wherefore, it was their intention to so
declare. "Indeed!" said Mrs. Turner, "I think Mrs. Truscott ought to be
spoken to."
Utterly oblivious of this most proper and virtuous espionage, Ray had
returned to Mrs. Truscott. She looked at him with imploring eyes as they
entered the parlor.
"There is the letter," he said; "do you want it or shall I burn it?"
She shrank back as though recoiling from a loathsome touch.
"Oh, no, no! Burn it! Here is a match," she cried, springing to the
mantel, and then her overcharged heart gave way. She threw herself upon
the sofa, burying her face in her hands, sobbing like a child with
relief and exhaustion. Ray touched the match to the paper; had just
fairly started the flame, when laughing voices and quick footsteps were
heard on the piazza. The door flew open, and all in a burst of sunshine
and balmy air, Marion Sanford, saying, "Oh, come right in. You haven't a
moment to spare, and she'll be so glad to see you!" whisked into the
room followed by Captain Webb.
Tableau!