LUCIA'S FAREWELL
Prescott has never forgotten that night, the long ride, the relief from
danger, the silent woman by his side; and there was in all a keen
enjoyment, of a kind deeper and more holy than he had ever known before.
He had saved a woman, a woman whom he could admire, from a great danger;
it was hers rather than his own that appealed to him, and he was
thankful. In her heart, too, was a devout gratitude and something more.
The worthy Elias Gardner, slumbering so peacefully under his crates, was
completely forgotten, and they two were alone with the universe. The
clouds by and by passed away and the heavens shone blue and cold; a good
moon came out, and the white hills and forests, touched by it, flashed
now and then with the gleam of silver. All the world was at peace; there
was no sign of war in the night nor in those snowy solitudes. Before
them stretched the road, indicated by a long line of wheel tracks in the
snow, and behind them was nothing. Prescott, by and by, let the lines
drop on the edge of the wagon-bed, and the horses chose their own way,
following with mere instinct the better path.
He began now to see himself as he was, to understand the impulse that
had driven him on. Here by his side, her warm breath almost on his face,
was the girl he had saved, but he took no advantage of time and place,
infringing in no degree upon the respect due to every woman. He had come
even this night believing her a spy, but now he held her as something
holy.
She spoke by and by of the gratitude she owed him, not in many words,
but strong ones, showing how deeply she felt all she said, and he did
not seek to silence her, knowing the relief it would give her to speak.
Presently she told him of herself. She came from that borderland between
North and South which is of both though not wholly of either, but her
sympathies from the first had turned to the North, not so much through
personal feeling, but because of a belief that it would be better for
the North to triumph. The armies had come, her uncle with whom she had
lived had fallen in battle, and their home was destroyed, by which army
she did not know. Then she turned involuntarily to her nearest relative,
Miss Grayson, in whose home she knew she would receive protection, and
who, she knew, too, would share her sympathies. So she had come to
Richmond.
She said nothing of the accusation, the affair of the papers, and
Prescott longed to ask her again if she were guilty, and to hear her say
that she was not. He was not willing to believe her a spy, that she
could ever stoop to such an act; and here in the darkness with her by
his side, with only purity and truth in her eyes, he could not believe
her one. But when she was away he knew that his doubts would return.
Then he would ask himself if he had not been tricked and used by a woman
as beautiful and clever as she was ruthless. Now he saw only her beauty
and what seemed to him the truth of her eyes, and he swore again
silently and for the twentieth time that he would not leave her until he
saw her safe within the Northern lines. So little thought he then of his
own risks, and so willing a traitor was he, for a moment, and for the
sake of one woman's eyes, to the cause that he served. But a traitor
only in seeming, and not in reality, he would have said of himself with
truth.
"What do you intend to do now?" asked Prescott at last.
"There is much in the trail of our army that I can do," she said. "There
will be many wounded soon."
"Yes, when the snow goes," said Prescott. "Doesn't it seem strange that
the dead cold of winter alone should mean peace nowadays?"
Both spoke solemnly. For the time the thought of war inspired Prescott
with the most poignant repulsion, since he was taking this girl to the
army which he expected to fight.
"There is one question which I should like to ask you," he said after
awhile.
"What is it?"
"Where were you hidden that day my friend Talbot searched for you and I
looked on?"
She glanced quickly up into his face, and her lips curved in the
slightest smile. There was, too, a faint twinkle in her eye.
"You have asked me for the second time the one question that I cannot
answer," she replied. "I am sorry to disappoint you, Captain Prescott,
but ask me anything else and I think I can promise a reply. This one is
a secret not mine to tell."
Silence fell once more over them and the world about them. There was no
noise save the soft crush of the horses' feet in the snow and the crunch
of the wagon wheels. The silvery glow of the moon still fell across the
hills, and the trees stood motionless like white but kindly sentinels.
Prescott by and by took his flask from his pocket.
"Drink some of this," he said; "you must. The cold is insidious and you
should fend it off."
So urged she drank a little, and then Prescott, stopping the horses,
climbed back in the wagon-bed.
"It would be strange," he said, "if our good farmer prepared for a
twenty-mile drive without taking along something to eat."
"And please see that he is comfortable," she said. "I know these are war
times, but we are treating him hardly."
Prescott laughed.
"You shouldn't feel any remorse," he said. "Our worthy Elias was never
more snug in his life. He's still sleeping as sweetly as a baby, and is
as warm as a rabbit in its nest. Ah, here we are! Cold ham, light bread,
and cold boiled eggs. I'll requisition them, but I'll pay him for them.
It's a pity we can't feed the horses, too."
He took a coin from his pocket and thrust it into that of the sleeping
farmer. Then he spread the food upon the seat of the wagon, and the two
ate with hearty appetites due to the cold, their exertions and the
freedom from apprehension.
Prescott had often eaten of more luxurious fare, but none that he
enjoyed more than that frugal repast, in a lonely wagon on a cold and
dark winter morning. Thrilled with a strange exhilaration, he jested and
found entertainment in everything, and the girl beside him began to
share his high spirits, though she said little, but laughed often at his
speeches. Prescott never before had seen in her so much of feminine
gentleness, and it appealed to him, knowing how strong and masculine her
character could be at times. Now she left the initiative wholly to him,
as if she had put herself in his hands and trusted him fully, obeying
him, too, with a sweet humility that stirred the deeps of his nature.
At last they finished the crumbs of the farmer's food and Prescott
regretfully drove on.
"The horses have had a good rest, too," he said, "and I've no doubt they
needed it."
The character of the night did not change, still the same splendid white
silence, and just they two alone in the world.
"We must be at least twenty miles from Richmond," said the girl.
"I haven't measured the time," Prescott replied, "but it's an easy
progress. I am quite sure that if we keep on going long enough we'll
arrive somewhere at last."
"I think it likely," she said, smiling. "I wonder that we don't see any
houses."
"Virginia isn't the most densely peopled country in the world, and we
are coming to a pretty sterile region that won't support much life in
the best of times."
"Are we on doubtful ground?"
"That or very near it."
They passed at least one or two houses by the roadside, but they were
lone and dark. No lean Virginia dogs howled at them and the solitary
and desolate character of the country did not abate.
"Are you cold?" asked Prescott.
"Not at all," she replied. "I have never in my life taken an easier
journey. It seems that fortune has been with us."
"Fortune favours the good or ought to do so."
"How long do you think it is until daylight?"
"I don't know; an hour, I suppose; why bother about it?"
Certainly Prescott was not troubling his head by trying to determine the
exact distance to daylight, but he began to think for the first time of
his journey's end. He must leave Miss Catherwood somewhere in
comparative safety, and he must get back to Richmond, his absence
unnoted. These were problems which might well become vexing, and the
exaltation of the moment could not prevent their recurrence. He stopped
the wagon and took a look at the worthy Elias, who was slumbering as
peacefully as ever. "A sound conscience makes a sound sleeper," he
quoted, and then he inspected the country.
It was a little wilderness of hills and scrub forest, all lying under
the deep snow, and without sign of either human or animal life.
"There is nothing to do but drive on," he said. "If I only dared to wake
our friend, the farmer, we might find out from him which way the nearest
Northern pickets lie."
"You should let me go now, Captain Prescott, I beg you again."
"Abandon you in this snowy waste! I claim to be an American gentleman,
Miss Catherwood. But if we don't strike a promising lead soon I shall
waken our friend Elias, and he will have to point a way, whether he will
or no."
But that threat was saved as a last resort, and he drove quietly around
the curve of a hill. When they reached the other side, there was the
rapid crunch of hoofs in the snow, an abrupt command to halt, and they
found themselves surrounded by a dozen troopers. Prescott recognized the
faded blue uniform and knew at once that he was in the midst of Yankee
horsemen. The girl beside him gave one start at the sudden apparition
and then became calm and impassive.
"Who are you?" asked the leader of the horsemen, a lieutenant.
"Elias Gardner of Wellsville," replied Prescott in a drawling, rural
voice.
"That tells nothing," said the Lieutenant.
"It's my name, anyhow," replied Prescott coolly, "and if you don't
believe it, here's a pass they gave me when I went into Richmond with a
load of produce."
The Lieutenant read the paper by the moonlight and then handed it back
to its temporary owner.
"It's all right," he said; "but I want to know, Mr. Elias Gardner and
Mrs. Elias Gardner, what you mean by feeding the enemy."
"I'd sell to you at the same price," replied Prescott.
Some of the troopers were looking at the barrels and crates in the
wagons to see if they were really empty, and Prescott was in dread lest
they come upon the sleeping farmer; but they desisted soon, satisfied
that there was nothing left to eat.
The Lieutenant cocked a shrewd eye on Prescott.
"So you've been in Richmond, Mr. Farmer; how long were you there?" he
asked.
"Only a day."
"Don't you think it funny, Mr. Farmer, that you should go so easily into
a town that armies of a hundred thousand men have been trying for more
than two years to enter and have failed?"
"Maybe I showed better judgment," Prescott replied, unable to restrain a
gibe.
The Lieutenant laughed.
"Perhaps you are right," he said; "but we'll have Grant soon. Now, Mr.
Gardner, you've been in Richmond, and I've no doubt you used your eyes
while you were there, for you look to me like a keen, observant man. I
suspect that you could tell some interesting things about their
earthworks, forts and so forth."
Prescott held up his hands in mock consternation.
"I ain't no soldier," he replied in his drawling tone. "I wouldn't know
a fort if I saw one, and I never get near such things if I know it."
"Then perhaps Mrs. Gardner took notice," continued the Lieutenant in a
wheedling tone. "Women are always observant."
Miss Catherwood shook her head.
"See here, you two," said the Lieutenant, "if you'll only tell me about
those fortifications I'll pay you more than you got for that load of
produce."
"We don't know anything," said Prescott; "ain't sure there are any
fortifications at all."
"Confound it!" exclaimed the Lieutenant in a vexed tone, "a Northern man
can never get anything out of these Virginia farmers!"
Prescott stared at him and grinned a little.
"Go on!" said the Lieutenant, waving his hand in anger. "There's a camp
of ours a mile farther ahead. They'll stop you, and I only hope they'll
get as much out of you as I have."
Prescott gladly obeyed the command and the Northern horsemen galloped
off, their hoof-beats making little noise in the snow. But as he drove
on he turned his head slightly and watched them until they were out of
sight. When he was sure they were far away he stopped his own horses.
"Will you wait here a moment in the wagon, Miss Catherwood, until I go
to the top of the hill?" he asked.
She nodded, and springing out, Prescott ran to the crest. There looking
over into the valley, he saw the camp of which the Lieutenant had
spoken, a cluster of tents and a ring of smoking fires with horses
tethered beyond, the brief stopping place of perhaps five hundred men,
as Prescott, with a practised eye, could quickly tell.
He saw now the end of the difficulty, but he did not rejoice as he had
hoped.
"Beyond this hill in the valley, and within plain view from the crest,
is the camp of your friends, Miss Catherwood," he said. "Our journey is
over. We need not take the wagon any farther, as it belongs to our
sleeping friend, the farmer, but you can go on now to this Northern
detachment--a raiding party, I presume, but sure to treat you well. I
thank God that the time is not yet when a woman is not safe in the camp
of either North or South. Come!"
She dismounted from the wagon and slowly they walked together to the top
of the hill. Prescott pointed to the valley, where the fires glowed
redly across the snow.
"Here I leave you," he said.
She looked up at him and the glow of the fires below was reflected in
her eyes.
"Shall we ever see each other again?" she asked.
"That I cannot tell," he replied.
She did not go on just yet, lingering there a little.
"Captain Prescott," she asked, "why have you done so much for me?"
"Upon my soul I do not know," he replied.
She looked up in his face again, and he saw the red blood rising in her
cheeks. Borne away by a mighty impulse, he bent over and kissed her, but
she, uttering a little cry, ran down the hill toward the Northern camp.
He watched her until he saw her draw near the fires and men come forward
to meet her. Then he went back to the wagon and drove it into a side
path among some trees, where he exchanged outer clothing again with the
farmer, awakening the amazed man directly afterward from his slumbers.
Prescott offered no explanations, but soothed the honest man's natural
anger with a gold eagle, and, leaving him there, not three miles from
his home, went back on foot.
He slipped easily into Richmond the next night, and before morning was
sleeping soundly in his own bed.