THE BOOT ON ONE LEG.
“WHAT can have happened?” said Maud, apparently musing on the event
which had just transpired. “The major is not often moved so deeply as he
appeared to be just now.”
“Something of importance, evidently,” said Somers. “He has dropped the
letter on the floor.”
“So he has,” said she, glancing at the document. “Thus far I have
resisted the propensity of Mother Eve to know more than the law allows;
and I think I will not yield to it now. It would hardly be honorable for
me to read the letter after the major has declined to inform me what has
occurred. But, whatever it may be, we will have some dinner.”
Whatever opinions Somers may have entertained on some of the other
points suggested by the fair hostess, he had none in regard to the last
proposition. He was absolutely and heartily in favor of the dinner,
without regard to Mother Eve’s curiosity, or her favored representative
then before him. The dinner was a good one, though the rebels had so
recently gathered up all the provision which the country appeared to
contain. With every mouthful that he ate Somers’s strength seemed
mysteriously to return to him.
The dinner was not so formal as might have been expected in the house of
a Maryland grandee, and did not occupy over half an hour; but in that
half hour he had grown strong and vigorous again, and felt equal to any
emergency which might occur. However agreeable the society of the
fascinating Maud had proved, he began to be very impatient for the
moment when he could, without outraging the laws of propriety, break the
spell which bound him. He had faithfully discharged his duty to the
inner man, and he bethought him that he owed another and higher
obligation to his country; that the commanding general of the first army
corps was expecting to hear from him, though the time given him to
complete his mission had not yet expired.
While he was considering some fit excuse with which to tear himself away
from his interesting companion,—for it was not prudent to inform an
avowed rebel lady that he had been engaged in collecting information for
the use of a Union general, and must return to report the result of his
mission,—while he was thinking what he should say to her, he heard
something which sounded marvellously like the tramp of horses’ feet on
the walks which surrounded the mansion. These sounds might have been
sufficient to create a tempest of alarm in his mind if he had not
believed that he was far enough from the camps of the rebels to insure
the estate from a visit of their cavalry. He did not know exactly where
he was in relation to the line of either army; but he felt a reasonable
assurance that he was out of the reach of danger from the enemy.
He listened, therefore, with tolerable coolness, to the clatter of the
horses’ feet, and finally concluded that the animals belonged to the
estate. This conclusion, however, was soon unpleasantly disturbed by
other and more suspicious sounds than the tramp of horses—sounds like
the clatter and clang of cavalry equipments. More than this, Maud looked
anxious and excited, when there appeared to be not the least reason for
anxiety and excitement on her part.
“Won’t you take another peach, captain?” said she glancing uneasily at
the window, and then at the door.
“No more, I thank you, Miss Hasbrouk,” replied Somers. “You seem to be
having more visitors.”
“No, I think not,” answered she, with assumed carelessness.
“What is the meaning of those sounds, then?”
“They are nothing; perhaps some of the servants leading the horses down
to the meadow.”
“Do your horses wear cavalry trappings, Miss Hasbrouk?”
“Not that I am aware of. Do you think there is any cavalry around the
house?”
“I am decidedly of that opinion; and, with your permission, I will step
out and learn the occasion of this visit,” said he, rising from the
table, and making sure that the two revolvers he wore in his belt were
in working order.
“I beg you will not leave me, Captain Somers,” remonstrated Maud.
“I only wish to ascertain what the cavalry are.”
“I depend upon you for protection, captain,” said she, as she rose from
her seat at the table. “Ah, here comes some one, who will explain it all
to you,” she added, as the front door was heard to open rather
violently.
“I think it won’t need much explanation,” replied Somers, as through the
window he discovered two gray-back cavalrymen. “It is quite evident that
the house is surrounded by rebel cavalry.”
At this moment the door of the dining-room opened, and Major Riggleston
stalked into the apartment. He looked at Somers, and then at the lady.
The troubled, astonished expression on his face when he went away had
disappeared, and he wore what the staff officer could not help
interpreting as a smile of triumph.
“Well, Maud, how is it now?” asked the major, as for the sixth time, at
least, he glanced from Somers to her.
The brilliant beauty made no reply to this indefinite question. Instead
of speaking as a civilized lady should when addressed by her accepted
lover, she threw herself into a chair with an _abandon_ which would have
been creditable in a first lady in a first-class comedy, but which was
highly discreditable in a first-class lady discharging only the duties
of the social amenities in refined society. She threw herself into a
chair, and laughed as though she had been suddenly seized with a fit of
that playful species of hysterics which manifests itself in the
cachinnatory tendency of the patient.
Somers was surprised. A less susceptible person than himself would have
been surprised to see an elegant and accomplished lady laugh so
violently, when there was apparently nothing in the world to laugh at.
He could not understand it; a wiser and more experienced person than
Somers could not understand it. He knew about Œdipus, and the Sphinx’s
riddle which he solved; but if Œdipus had been there, in that mansion of
a Maryland grandee, Somers would have defied him to solve the riddle of
Miss Maud Hasbrouk’s inordinate, excessive, hysterical laughter. If
Major Riggleston, from the great depository of unborn humor in his
subtle brain, had launched forth one of the most tremendous of his
thunderbolts of wit, the mystery would have solved itself. If the major
had uttered anything but the most commonplace and easily interpreted
remark, Somers might have believed that he had perpetrated a joke which
he was not keen enough to perceive.
The house was surrounded by rebel cavalry; that was no joke to him; it
could be no joke to the major, for he was an officer in the Maryland
Home Brigade, “on detached service,” and what proved dangerous or fatal
to one must prove dangerous or fatal to the other. But Riggleston did
not seem to be in the least disturbed by the circumstance that the house
was environed by Confederate cavalry. He stood looking at his lady-love,
as though he was waiting her next move in the development of the game.
“What are you laughing at, Maud?” asked he, when he had watched her
until his own patience was somewhat tried, and that of Somers had become
decidedly shaky.
“Isn’t it funny?” gasped she, struggling for utterance between the
spasms of laughter.
“Yes, it is, very funny,” replied he, obediently, though it was quite
plain that he did not regard the scene as so excruciatingly amusing as
the lady did.
“Why don’t you laugh, then?”
“I would if I had time; but I must proceed to business.”
“Don’t spoil the scene yet,” said she, with difficulty.
“Hurry it up, then, Maud.”
“Captain Somers,” added she, repressing her laughter to a more
reasonable limit, “I am your most obedient servant.”
“Thank you, Miss Hasbrouk,” replied he, beginning to apprehend, for the
first time, that he was individually and personally responsible for the
joke which had so excited the lady’s risibles. “If you are, you will
oblige me by informing me what you are laughing at.”
The lady broke forth anew, and peal on peal of laughter rang through the
room. Somers tried to think what he had said or done that was so
astoundingly funny, satisfied that his humor would certainly make his
fortune when given a wider field of operations. It was evident that it
would not do for him to be as funny as he could thereafter in the
presence of ladies, or one of them might yet die of hysterics.
“Do you really wish to know what I am laughing at, Captain Somers?”
asked she, at another brief interval of apparent sanity.
“That is what I particularly desire.”
“I am laughing at the situation. Do you know that there is something
irresistibly ludicrous in situations, captain? I delight in
situations—funny situations I mean.”
“Really, I don’t see anything very amusing in the present situation,”
replied the puzzled staff officer.
“Don’t you, indeed? Well, I’m afraid you won’t appreciate the situation
from your stand-point. What a pity we haven’t a photographer to give us
the scene for future inspection!”
“Well, Miss Hasbrouk, you seem to be making yourself very merry at my
expense. I am happy to have afforded you so much amusement; but I fear I
am still your debtor for the bountiful hospitality of your house.”
“Don’t mention it, captain; and you won’t wish to mention it a few hours
hence.”
“I assure you I shall ever gratefully remember your kindness to me.”
“Perhaps not,” laughed the maiden.
“Captain Somers,” interposed the major, “I think we have carried the
joke far enough; and we will now proceed to the serious part of the
business. In one word, you—”
“Stop, Major Riggleston, if you please,” interrupted Maud. “This is my
affair.”
“Hurry it along a little faster, then, if you will, Maud. The people
outside will get tired of waiting.”
“Don’t you interfere, major. You forget that you are a Union officer,
belonging to the Maryland Home Brigade. Captain Somers insists that you
are; and of course you are.”
“Of course I am; I had almost forgotten that little circumstance,”
laughed the major.
“Well, Miss Hasbrouk, since you are to manage the affair, I will thank
you to inform me what it all means,” demanded Somers, with the least
evidence of impatience in his tones.
“With the greatest pleasure; with a pleasure which you cannot yet
appreciate, I will inform you all about it. But, my dear Captain Somers,
in deference to a lady who has admired you, _fêted_ you, dined you, you
will answer a few questions which I shall propose to you, before I
proceed to the explanation.”
“Be in haste, Maud,” said the major.
“Major Riggleston, if you hurry me, I shall be obliged to ask you to
leave the room,” answered she, with a resumption of the imperial dignity
she had partially abandoned.
“I’m dumb, Maud.”
“Keep so, then. Now, Captain Somers, you are one of the heroes of the
Yankee army; a down-east pink of chivalry. At Petersburg you were within
the Confederate lines doing duty as a spy. First question: Is this so?”
“That would be for a rebel court-martial to prove, if I should happen to
be captured.”
“First question evaded. Taking advantage of the hospitality and kindness
of Dr. Scoville, who had pledged his honor that you should be delivered
up to the proper authorities as soon as you were able to be moved, you
escaped from his custody. Second question: Is this true?”
“I was under no pledge, and was not paroled.”
“Second question evaded. You are on the staff of the general of the
first army corps, and you have been sent out to procure information.
Third question: Is this true?”
“You have said it; not I.”
“Third question evaded. By your own confession, made to me yesterday,
within the Federal lines, you are a spy. You have resorted to certain
Yankee tricks to escape the penalty of your misdeeds. Now—fourth
question: Would it not be fair to capture you by resorting to a trick
such as those you have practised?”
“It would depend on the trick.”
“Fourth question evaded. You have abused the sacred rites of hospitality
at the mansion of Dr. Scoville, in Virginia. Should you regard it as
anything more—fifth question—than diamond cut diamond, if you should be
captured in Maryland by a similar abuse of the sacred rites of
hospitality?”
“That would depend on circumstances.”
“Fifth question evaded. All of them evaded, as I supposed all of them
would be; for a Yankee can no more avoid prevarication than he can avoid
talking through his nose.”
“Thank you for the handsome compliment. I cannot forget that I am
speaking to a lady, and therefore I can make no answer,” replied Somers,
with gentle dignity, as he bowed to the tormentor.
“That is more than I expected of a Yankee,” said Maud, a slight flush
upon her fair cheek assuring her victim that his rebuke had been felt.
“I am a lady; but before the lady, I am the Confederate woman, having a
cause dearer to my heart than anything save only a woman’s honor.”
She spoke proudly, and her head rested with imperial grandeur on her
neck as she uttered her impressive words.
“Now, Captain Somers, you understand my position, and you understand
your own position,” she continued. “I invited you to dine with me for a
purpose. That purpose is now reached. The house is surrounded by
Confederate cavalry. Captain Somers, you are a prisoner!”
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