Three months after this order of arrest came another of release,--as
brief and as peremptory.
Deane's patriotism, that really had endangered the church with a mob and
the organ with demolishment, was the cause of the first despatch.
Colonel Von Gelhorn, who had routed General Edgar and driven him and his
forces at the point of the bayonet from an "impregnable position," was
in the secret of the second.
Close following this order of release, so closely that one must believe
he but waited for it before he again presented himself to his mistress,
came Julius, the bearer of a message in whose persuasive power he
himself had little hope. Defeated, wounded, dying, her husband called
this second time to her.
The slave, this day a freeman by all writs and rights, ascended again to
her apartment when the order of release had been received.
Surprise awaited him. Alas, what it says for us! our heroes, who have
surely the right of unlimited expectations, are as likely to be
surprised by heroic demonstrations as the dullest soul that never strove
for aught except its paltry starving self. But the hero surprised is not
surprised into uncomprehending wonder, but rather into smiles, or tears,
or heartrending, out of which comes thankfulness.
Yet a bitter word escaped him; he could deem even Liberty guilty of an
injustice, when she was involved in the judgment that awaits the guilty.
As if never before under the government of God it was known that the
overthrow of evil involved sorrow, aye, and temporal ruin, aye, and
sometimes death, to God's very angels! But to that word she answered,--
"Hush! I have been among friends,--even though some believed I was their
enemy in disguise. I have nothing to complain of. Duties must be done.
But, Julius, you have come to tell me of your master. Tell me, then."
"Such news, Madam, as you will not like to hear, though I have travelled
with it night and day. Colonel Von Gelhorn sent me. He said I would be
in time. I didn't wait to hear him say that twice."
"_He_ sent you? Where, then, is my husband?"
"He is a prisoner, Madam."
"A prisoner! Whose?"
"Colonel Von Gelhorn's."
Was it satisfaction that filled the silence following this question?
"But safe? but well, Julius?"
"No, Madam, not safe nor well."
"Wounded? Julius, speak! Why must I ask these dreadful questions? Tell
what you came to tell."
"He is wounded, Madam. He has never been taken away from the church
where I carried him first after he fell. He had three horses shot under
him. Oh, Madam, if it hadn't been for him, his whole army would have
been lost! He wants you now."
"Let us go, then. Guide me. The shortest way. You're a free man, Julius.
Act like one, freely. Wounded,--Von Gelhorn's prisoner. Then at last
he's mine again!"
* * * * *
Hers again! In the church she found him. In her arms he died.
And he said,--nor let us think it was with coward weakness blenching
before the presence of Death, shaming the day he died by a late
repentance,--
"I have been deceived. But I deceived others. Who will forgive that? It
is so hard for me to forgive! You have fought your fight like a hero,
loyal to the core, but I"----
Nevertheless, her kiss was on his dying lips. _She_ forgave him. Must
he, then, go out from her presence into everlasting darkness?