ANOTHER TRIAL FOR ELFIE.
All unknown and unsuspected by the good Lutheran minister, his house
became the headquarters of consultation, and he became involved in a
network of circumstantial evidence that at a later period might have
brought him before a military commission, or placed him on the scaffold.
He had discovered that Mr. Goldsborough was a Secessionist; and for that
reason he was very glad to get rid of that gentleman’s presence; but he
knew that Farmer Fielding was a good Union man, and he believed that
Colonel Eastworth was as loyal as himself—Ernest Rosenthal.
Colonel Eastworth, over and above his strong love for the Lutheran
minister’s beautiful child, had another great motive for remaining the
guest of Dr. Rosenthal; it was this: That under the cover of one who was
so well known to be a stanch and loyal man, he might, with less
suspicion and more safety, perfect certain plans. Under this roof he
daily and nightly received many visitors with whom he held long
interviews in his own rooms.
Dr. Rosenthal never dreamed of inquiring into the motives, conduct or
character of his guest’s visitors. They would come at almost any hour of
the twenty-four, ring the bell, inquire for Colonel Eastworth, and be
shown up to his rooms, either to see him, if he should be in, or to wait
for him, if he should be out.
And Colonel Eastworth was out a great deal, especially in the evening.
At length, so well were his plans organized that his co-conspirators
knew very well at what hour to call and find him in; and he would be in
his rooms all day busily writing and sending off letters, or receiving
visitors; and half the night he would be out. Erminie saw but little of
him at this period.
One evening, when he came into the drawing-room, before going out, she
gently rallied him on what she gayly called his “going on.”
“Where are you off to now?” she inquired, with affectionate freedom.
“Dear love, the lodge,” he answered, after some little hesitation.
“I don’t believe the lodge meets every night! And you are away every
night!” she gayly remonstrated.
“Dear love, this lodge does meet every night,” he answered, seriously.
“I declare, one would think, to see and hear you, that you nightly met
conspirators who were darkly plotting ‘the ruin of themselves and
land!’” laughed Erminie.
But how little she dreamed how much truth she had spoken!
Colonel Eastworth also laughed—a strange, unnatural laugh—that chilled
Erminie’s blood; and then he kissed her and went away.
Most of Colonel Eastworth’s visitors were strangers to the old
minister’s family, and even to the rest of his staying guests.
But one morning Elfie had a great surprise. She was running downstairs,
singing, “Gay and happy,” when suddenly she met, face to face on the
stairs, her lover, Albert Goldsborough, who had just been admitted and
was on his way up to Colonel Eastworth’s rooms.
“Elfie!” he cried, stopping short and staring at her.
“Well, I do think! Where did you come from?” she exclaimed, stopping and
gazing at him.
“I had no idea that you were in this house,” he said, meaningly.
“And I had no notion that you were coming to it. So you don’t follow me
here?”
“No, I came to see Colonel Eastworth.”
“It appears to me that there are a great many people coming to see
Colonel Eastworth. I don’t know anybody that sees so many people, except
it is that old door-keeper at the White House! But you won’t see Colonel
Eastworth this morning. He is generally in, holding a levee in his rooms
all day long; but this morning the queerest-looking fellow that ever I
saw came after him and carried him away.”
“What sort of a looking fellow, Elfie?”
“A great, tall, broad-shouldered man, with little, tiny head. They got
in a carriage together. I heard him tell the coachman to drive to
Benning’s Bridge. Now, that is four miles from this, and, if they are
going any distance over that bridge, they won’t be back till evening.”
“Humph! humph! humph!” muttered Albert, reflectively.
“However, as this house is certainly Liberty Hall, you can stop and wait
for him,” suggested Elfie.
“I am not altogether sorry to miss him, just now that I have met you,
dear Elfie. My business with him can wait till evening. And I wish so
much to talk with you, Elfie. Oh, I am so glad to see you! It is such an
unexpected pleasure. Are you glad to see me, love?”
“I had a little rather see you than not, perhaps.”
“No more than that?”
“No—no more than that.”
“But I am happy—so happy to meet you.”
“Happy, are you? Well, you don’t look so; and, indeed, I haven’t seen
anybody look happy for the last six months. Of all the glum wretches
that ever existed, all my fellow creatures are getting to be the
glummest. Happy! if that is your happy look, I wonder what your dismal
one is like.”
“Nonsense, Elfie dear, this is no time for raillery. ‘Great events are
on the wing.’ Men have heavy responsibilities just now, as you must
know, living in this house. I cannot talk to you on the stairs, dear. Is
there no place where you can take me for a quiet _tête-à-tête_?”
inquired Albert.
“Yes; there is the library and the drawing-room, both unoccupied at this
hour.”
“Take me to the place where we shall be least liable to interruption.”
“Come to the library, then,” said Elfie, leading the way thither.
When they were seated before the fire, Albert inquired:
“How long have you been here, Elfie?”
“For several weeks. Ever since our house was burned over our heads.”
“Your house burned over your heads!” exclaimed Albert, in astonishment.
“Yes, and we would have been lynched if we had not made our escape.”
“Well, the violence of these Unionists in Virginia is certainly as
horrible as anything in the Reign of Terror!”
At the word “Unionists” Elfie stared. Then, as it dawned upon her mind
that Albert was a Secessionist, that he took her for one, and that he
supposed her house to have been burned by the Unionists, she grew very
pale; but in the interests of her country she kept silent, and
involuntarily she played the spy. Elfie, with her bitter experiences of
secession persecutions, and with her keen perceptions, had begun to
suspect the loyalty of Colonel Eastworth, and of all those strange
visitors who came to see him in his rooms. But up to this time her
suspicion was not strong enough to justify her interference in any way.
Now, however, by certain words and tones of her lover, her suspicions
were strengthened; and, in the interest of her host, as well as of her
country, she instinctively kept silent, and involuntarily played the
spy.
“Yes,” continued Albert, “the outrages of the Unionists are really
beyond belief, though, as yet, I have never heard of their burning any
house except yours.”
Still Elfie kept silent. She would let him betray himself if he wished
to do so, but she would say nothing, not even for the sake of her
country, to invite a confidence which she did not intend to keep. If
Albert was a Secessionist, and mistook her for one, and under that
mistake volunteered certain communications, the revelation of which
would be important to the interests of her country, Elfrida would listen
to him, but she would say nothing to draw him out.
“Why did the Unionists burn your house?” indignantly demanded Albert.
“The men who burned our house did so because we differed with them in
the matter of States’ rights,” diplomatically answered Elfie.
“Oh! of course! that is understood as the remote cause; but what was the
proximate cause, the immediate provocation to such an outrage?”
“We raised a flag that was obnoxious to their feelings!”
“Exactly! In my neighborhood they have torn down every secession flag
that has been raised, and sometimes tarred and feathered the owners! But
I tell you what, Elfie, their day is nearly over! But you must know
that, living in this house. We can never be sufficiently grateful to Dr.
Rosenthal. His services to the good cause are so important that I have
no doubt he will be rewarded with a high position in the administration
of the government in the rising young Confederacy!”
Elfie listened, but said nothing.
“Ah!” she thought, “he knows that Dr. Rosenthal’s house is made the
rendezvous of revolutionists, and he believes that Dr. Rosenthal is
cognizant of the fact. Colonel Eastworth could enlighten him on that
subject; but then, Colonel Eastworth is absent.”
“And now, Elfie—dear Elfie—knowing what a true-hearted and
brave-spirited little heroine you are, I am going to tell you something.
It is not quite a secret, Elfie, else I would not confide it even to
you. It is known to all the leaders of our party; it is well known to
Eastworth, and to the gentlemen that visit him; it is known to your
host; and very likely it is known to you also. If it is, you can speak
and save me the trouble of telling you.”
“No,” said Elfie, “I know nothing; I suspect a great deal.”
“Then I will tell you. Indeed, your sufferings in the good cause entitle
you to the same sort of confidence that would be given to a man; and
your presence in this house is a sufficient indorsement of your
reliability. Besides, you can be of the greatest use to us. You can be,
and I am sure you will be.”
“I would lay down my life if it were required of me in the good cause,”
said Elfie, compressing her lips and growing deadly white; for in
Elfie’s bosom there was a terrible conflict going on between her love
and her loyalty.
“They are making great preparations for the pageantry of the
inauguration of their President, Elfie,” he continued, with a laugh.
“Yes,” said Elfie.
“Ha! ha! ha! there will be a pageantry of another sort, my dear! Do you
notice how many Southern men are quietly sending their women and
children out of the city?”
“Yes.”
“It is to get them out of the way of this other pageantry of which I
spoke. My Elfie, Washington is a Southern city; it belongs to us; and a
mere sectional President-elect will never be permitted to take his seat
here!”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Elfie.
“Never!”
“But how can he be prevented from doing so?”
“By force of arms!”
“By force of arms!” echoed Elfie.
“Yes. Listen; all over Virginia—all over Maryland—there are bands of
devoted and desperate men, organized and sworn to prevent Lincoln from
taking his seat. Our people in Washington know this, and are ready to
cooperate with us. I bear a captain’s commission in one of these bands.
Colonel Eastworth is my superior officer. We have three branch and one
main rendezvous. And they are near the bridges crossing the Potomac and
the Anacostia. Our plan is, on or before the fourth of March, to muster
at our several rendezvous, in the darkness of night; to march at the
same time over the three bridges; to surprise Washington, and so take
the city by assault,” said Albert, warming into enthusiasm with his
narrative.
“Oh, Heaven!” muttered Elfie, between her clenched teeth.
He heard her mutter something, but failed to catch the word; and he
utterly mistook the cause of her paleness and sternness of aspect. He
was, indeed, absorbed in his own subject; and so he continued to reveal
his plans:
“Yes; the streets of Washington may run with blood; the houses of
Washington smoke in ruins; but on the fourth of March, when Lincoln is
expected to take his seat, the Confederate flag shall wave above the
Capitol!” he exclaimed, rising in his excitement and pacing the library
floor.
“God forbid!” panted Elfie.
Still he was too absorbed in his own subject to hear her. After walking
up and down the floor a few times, he came and seated himself by her
side, and asked the question:
“Where is your father, Elfie?”
“He went back to Virginia, a few days ago, to look after his interests
there.”
“When is he expected to return, my dear?”
“Not until the inauguration day. He wishes to be here then.”
“Do you suppose he knows what is really to take place before that day?”
“I do not suppose he does,” said Elfie.
“No; probably he does not! Certainly he does not! or he would not have
left you here exposed to the coming danger! Elfie, my darling! you must
not be left here! As soon as I shall have seen Colonel Eastworth, and
delivered the dispatches intrusted to me for him, I shall go back to
Virginia. And, Elfie, my own girl, you must go with me!”
He had taken her hands in his own, and his face was beaming with love,
and his voice was melting with tenderness as he spoke to her, and tried
to meet her eyes.
But she withdrew her hand and turned away her face; she loved him and
hated him at the same moment; her heart was breaking, and she wished for
death. But she never dreamed of flinching from her duty! He continued:
“This is no time, my own love, for false delicacy or womanish etiquette!
I cannot possibly leave you here exposed to the terrible dangers that
are impending over the city! In revolutions, my Elfie, the innocent are
sacrificed with the guilty! I cannot leave you here, exposed to the
horrors of the coming days! I must make you my wife; take you with me to
Virginia, and leave you under the protection of my widowed mother! She
is alone, Elfie! She has no other son but myself, and no daughter at
all! She will receive my beloved wife as a dear daughter, my Elfie!
Come! what say you, my own? Do not avert your head! Let me see your
sweet face! Turn toward me! smile on me. Oh, my Elfie! make me happy!”
“Oh! Leave me! Leave me! Leave me!” she exclaimed, in a passion of
indignation, as she started up, flung off his hand, and walked across
the room.
This time he heard her, understood her, and gazed upon her in
astonishment, incredulity and agitation.
“Elfrida! is this acting? Or is it real madness? What do you mean?” he
exclaimed, going toward her.
“Keep off!” she said, so shortly, so curtly, so sternly, that he stopped
suddenly, like a man on the brink of a precipice.
“Tell me what you mean by this, Elfie!” he cried.
“What I mean by this! I mean to be true to my country! Next to my duty
to God, I rank my duty to my country! And I will be faithful to her;
though my heart should break in its fidelity?!” passionately exclaimed
Elfie.
“Your native State is your country! To her alone is your allegiance due.
She is about to secede from the Union; and she has a right to do so. And
it is your duty to go with your State!”
“I deny that a State has any right to secede from the Union! Set up that
doctrine, and see where it would end!—in the utter dissolution and death
of our country; for if a State has a right to secede from the Union, a
country has the same right to secede from a State; and a township to
secede from a county; and a farm from a township; and the barn from the
farm; and the husband from the wife, and the child from the father!—and
there you have disintegration and anarchy! Bosh! preach State’s Rights
not to me!”
“Elfie!” answered the Secessionist, hotly, “I am willing to admit your
capacity for understanding the construction of a dress or a dinner; but
I doubt your ability for comprehending the Constitution of the United
States.”
“Gammon! The Constitution of the United States is written in just about
the plainest English that I have ever read, and I claim to understand my
mother tongue!”
“Elfie, you cannot mean to turn traitor to your native State!” exclaimed
Albert Goldsborough.
“No! I do not mean to turn traitor to my native State, or native
country, or native farm! or to my pap or to my two unks. In being true
to the whole Union, I am true to every part of the Union, and to every
citizen thereof.”
“But Virginia is only nominally in the Union. In a very few weeks she
will be out of it, by the unanimous voice of her people, heard through
their representatives in the Assembly.”
“Fiddle! Virginia go out of the Union by the unanimous voice of her
people, indeed! I am one of her people! and I would die before I would
utter one syllable in favor of secession! My pap and two unks and a host
of our friends are loyal Virginians who would shed the last drop of
their blood in defense of this glorious Union of States that makes us
one of the mightiest powers among the nations of the earth! And if
Virginia is ever voted out of the Union, it will never be by the
unanimous voice of her people, or even by the will of the majority of
her people!”
“I tell you you are mistaken! Virginia and Maryland, too, will follow
the glorious example of their chivalric sister, South Carolina, who——”
“Albert Goldsborough, I am not going to stand here all day long,
listening to you; I warn you that Dr. Rosenthal is loyal to his heart’s
core; so loyal that he does not suspect and could not understand
disloyalty in any man! He is as innocent now as I was an hour ago of the
plots going on under his own roof. If he knew of them he would denounce
them instantly!”
“What! is not Dr. Rosenthal a Secessionist?” demanded Albert, in
consternation.
“No, sir!”
“Nor your father, nor your uncles?”
“No.”
“Elfrida, you have played a very treacherous part with me. You have
pretended to be one of us; you have made false statements in regard to
your persecutions in the cause of secession, and you have drawn out my
confidence, only to turn upon me,” said Albert, bitterly.
“Anything more?” inquired Elfie.
“Is not that enough?” demanded Albert.
“Yes, but I would like to hear the whole charge before replying to it.
Is that the whole charge?”
“Yes.”
“Then I deny it _in toto_. I have played no treacherous part by you. I
never pretended to be one of you. It was yourself who took it for
granted that I must be a Secessionist. I made no false statements about
my persecutions in the cause of secession. I told you that our house was
burned over our heads, and we had to escape for our lives. And you
jumped to the conclusion that the outrage was perpetrated by the
Unionists of our neighborhood. I did not seek to draw your confidence
out. You bestowed it upon me freely. If I turn upon you now, it is as a
loyal heart turns upon a rebel.”
“Elfrida, I won’t stand this!” hotly exclaimed her lover.
“Then if you won’t ‘stand’ it, you had better walk it. Marry you,
indeed! Not if I know it. Gammon! If I were fool enough to marry you
this week, why, next week, or next month you might secede from me!”
“Elfrida, I will not bear this!” exclaimed Albert, stamping.
“Then don’t. There is no reason why you should. You know the way out of
the house into the street, and you are at liberty to take it. I strongly
advise you to do so,” said Elfrida.
He glared at her, and then striding toward her, took her roughly by the
arm, and hissed in her ear:
“You have become possessed of our secrets. But beware how you betray
them. For if you should, woman as you are, the vengeance of the Banded
Brothers will surely find you out.”
“Bosh!” exclaimed Elfie, “what do you think I care for the vengeance of
the Banded Brothers? I care not for them, Albert Goldsborough, even
though they may track and kill me for what I am about to do. The hardest
part of my trial, Albert, you will never know, and perhaps could never
understand!” said Elfie, and she set the library door wide open, and
then went to the corner of the mantelpiece, and rang the bell.
“What is that for?” uneasily inquired Albert.
“It is for a servant to show you the way to the front door, Mr.
Goldsborough, since you don’t seem to know it. Go! I will give you a few
hours to get out of the city and hide yourself. Then I will go to the
President and denounce your plan, that immediate measures may be taken
to defeat it.”
“To the President!” sneered Albert Goldsborough, with a laugh that
seemed to say: “Why, he is one of us!”
“Yes, I will go to the President and denounce this plot; and if he won’t
listen to me, I will go to General Scott, and he will save the city. But
in the meantime, Albert Goldsborough, I will give you a few hours to
escape in. I believe there is a train leaves for Baltimore and
Philadelphia in an hour from this; and there is another leaves for
Alexandria and Richmond in an hour and a half. May the Lord bring you to
reason! Go!” she said, pointing to the open door.
“Elfrida!” he exclaimed, again advancing toward her. “If you suppose
that I am going to submit to the humiliation you have put upon me, you
are quite mistaken! I insist——”
At that moment a servant, summoned by Elfie’s bell, entered the room,
and Albert broke off in his speech.
“Go!” said Elfrida, in a low, stern voice, as she still pointed to the
door. “Go! there is no time to be lost, either by you or me! If you do
not obey me at once, I will summon Dr. Rosenthal and his two brothers,
who are in the house, and have you arrested as you stand!”
“You are a young demon!” hissed Albert Goldsborough, grinding his teeth,
as he flung himself out of the room.
“Attend that gentleman to the door, Catherine; and then step round to
the livery stable and tell them that I shall want a carriage to be here
by two o’clock,” said Elfie.
The girl bowed her head and went out of the room, closing the door after
her.
And little Elfie, left alone, paced up and down the library floor, as a
chafed young lioness might pace her den.
“It is all over between us now,” she sobbed; “all over between us
forever and ever! And, oh! I did love him! I did love him so dearly! And
with all his faults he did love me so truly! And he confided all his
plans to me so trustingly. And now I must turn on him and denounce him
and expose him to capture and death! or else I must hide his secrets in
my bosom and let him go on planning the capture of Washington and the
destruction of the Union. Oh, my goodness! was ever a poor girl in such
a fix as I am!” added Elfie, as she left the library with the intention
of seeking her own room, to prepare for her visit to the President.
For in all the ebbs and flows of contending passions Elfie was as true
to the country as is a politician to his own interests.
“I never can trust myself to tell the story. I should become agitated
and talk slang perhaps, and get myself and my information discredited.
Take the city by assault! Turn the streets into rivers of blood and the
houses into smoking ruins! Capture the President-elect and plant the
Confederate flag on the dome of the capitol! Heaven and Earth and the
other Place! what a plot!” exclaimed Elfie, as she sat down to her
writing desk and began to write a short, condensed account of the plan
divulged to her by Albert Goldsborough.
When it was finished she put it in a blank envelope, saying to herself:
“I will not direct it to any particular individual; for if I do not find
one high official dignitary at leisure to see me I must seek another.”
Then she put on her outer garments and sat down to wait for the carriage
she had ordered.
It came at the hour, and she went downstairs and took her place in it.
She gave the order to the President’s house and drove thither.
Ah! with what a beating heart she got out of the carriage, ascended the
broad stairs and presented herself to the porter. It was almost a relief
to her to be told that the President could not receive any one that day.
“After all, I doubt if it would have been of any use to call on him,”
said Elfie to herself, as she returned to the carriage and gave the
order:
“To the War Department.”
Arrived at that building, Elfie once more left her carriage, entered the
house and inquired her way to the office of a certain “high official
dignitary,” who must be nameless in this story.
Elfie was shown into an ante-room, where she found herself in company
with about half a dozen other persons of both sexes, who were waiting to
see the great man.
As she was the last arrival, she had to wait until each of these had
been singly received and dismissed.
At last her turn also came, and she was ushered into the audience
chamber of the “high official.”
And with grim satisfaction Elfie noticed how his countenance changed as
he read her letter.
Presently, with his eyes still following the lines, he put out his hand,
and rang the bell that stood upon his table.
A messenger answered it.
Then he—the “high”—wrote a few lines at the end of that paper, placed it
in another envelope, directed it, and put it in the hands of the
messenger, saying:
“Take this to its address.”
When the messenger had bowed low and left the room, the great man turned
to Elfie.
“You have rendered good service, and I thank you for your zeal. You can
withdraw.”