All that day the tongues of the little ones at Holly Hill had been
chattering unceasingly of the expected visit of Santa Claus that
night. Mrs. Stafford had tried to explain to Charlie and Evelyn that
it would be impossible for him to bring them their presents this year;
but she was met with the undeniable and unanswerable statement that
their father had promised them. Before going to bed they had hung their
stockings on the mantelpiece right in front of the chimney, so that
Santa Claus would be sure to see them.
The mother had broken down over Evelyn’s prayer, “not to forget my
papa, and not to forget my dolly,” and her tears fell silently after
the little ones were asleep, as she put the finishing touches to
the tiny gray uniform for Charlie. She was thinking not only of the
children’s disappointment, but of the absence of him on whose promise
they had so securely relied. He had been away now for a year, and she
had had no word of him for many weeks. Where was he? Was he dead or
alive? Mrs. Stafford sank on her knees by the bedside.
“O God, give me faith like this little child!” she prayed again and
again. She was startled by hearing a step on the front portico and a
knock at the door. Bob, who was working in front of the hall fire,
went to the door. His mother heard him answer doubtfully some question.
She opened the door and went out. A stranger with a large bundle or
pack stood on the threshold. His hat, which was still on his head, was
pulled down over his eyes, and he wore a beard.
“An’, leddy, wad ye bay so koind as to shelter a poor sthranger for a
noight at this blissid toim of pace and goodwill?” he said, in a strong
Irish brogue.
“Certainly,” said Mrs. Stafford with her eyes fixed on him. She moved
slowly up to him. Then, by an instinct, quickly lifting her hand, she
pushed his hat back from his eyes. Her husband clasped her in his arms.
“My darling!”
When the pack was opened, such a treasure-house of toys and things was
displayed as surely never greeted any other eyes. The smaller children,
including Ran, were not awaked, at their father’s request, though Mrs.
Stafford wished to wake them to see him; but Bob was let into the
secrets, except that he was not permitted to see a small package which
bore his name. Mrs. Stafford and the Colonel were like two children
themselves as they “tipped” about stuffing the long stockings with
candy and toys of all kinds. The beautiful doll with flaxen hair, all
arrayed in silk and lace, was seated, last of all, securely on top
of Evelyn’s stocking, with her wardrobe just below her, where she
would greet her young mistress when she should first open her eyes,
and Charlie’s little blue uniform was pinned beside the gray one his
mother had made, with his sword buckled around the waist.
Bob was at last dismissed to his room, and the Colonel and Mrs.
Stafford settled themselves before the fire, hand in hand, to talk over
all the past. They had hardly started, when Bob rushed down the stairs
and dashed into their room.
“Papa! papa! the yard’s full of Yankees!”
Both the Colonel and Mrs. Stafford sprang to their feet.
“Through the back door!” cried Mrs. Stafford, seizing her husband.
“He cannot get out that way--they are everywhere; I saw them from my
window,” gasped Bob, just as the sound of trampling without became
audible.
“Oh! what will you do? Those clothes! If they catch you in those
clothes!” began Mrs. Stafford, and then stopped, her face growing
ashy pale. Bob also turned even whiter than he had been before. He
remembered the young man who was found in citizen’s clothes in the
autumn, and knew his dreadful fate. He burst out crying. “Oh, papa!
will they hang you?” he sobbed.
“I hope not, my son,” said the Colonel, gravely. “Certainly not, if I
can prevent it.” A gleam of amusement stole into his eyes. “It’s an
awkward fix, certainly,” he added.
“You must conceal yourself,” cried Mrs. Stafford, as a number of
footsteps sounded on the porch, and a thundering knock shook the door.
“Come here.” She pulled him almost by main force into a closet or
entry, and locked the door, just as the knocking was renewed. As the
door was apparently about to be broken down, she went out into the
hall. Her face was deadly white, and her lips were moving in prayer.
“Who’s there?” she called, tremblingly, trying to gain time.
“Open the door immediately, or it will be broken down,” replied a stern
voice.
She turned the great iron key in the heavy old brass lock, and a dozen
men rushed into the hall. They all waited for one, a tall elderly man
in a general’s fatigue uniform, and with a stern face and a grizzled
beard. He addressed her.
“Madam, I have come to take possession of this house as my
headquarters.”
Mrs. Stafford bowed, unable to speak. She was sensible of a feeling
of relief; there was a gleam of hope. If they did not know of her
husband’s presence--But the next word destroyed it.
“We have not interfered with you up to the present time, but you have
been harboring a spy here, and he is here now.”
“There is no spy here, and has never been,” said Mrs. Stafford, with
dignity; “but if there were, you should not know it from me.” She spoke
with much spirit. “It is not the custom of our people to deliver up
those who have sought their protection.”
The officer removed his hat. His keen eye was fixed on her white face.
“We shall search the premises,” he said sternly, but more respectfully
than he had yet spoken. “Major, have the house thoroughly searched.”
The men went striding off, opening doors and looking through the rooms.
The General took a turn up and down the hall. He walked up to a door.
“That is my chamber,” said Mrs. Stafford, quickly.
The officer fell back. “It must be searched,” he said.
“My little children are asleep in there,” said Mrs. Stafford, her face
quite white.
“It must be searched,” repeated the General. “Either they must do it,
or I. You can take your choice.”
Mrs. Stafford made a gesture of assent. He opened the door and stepped
across the threshold. There he stopped. His eye took in the scene.
Charlie was lying in the little trundle-bed in the corner, calm and
peaceful, and by his side was Evelyn, her little face looking like a
flower lying in the tangle of golden hair which fell over her pillow.
The noise disturbed her slightly, for she smiled suddenly, and muttered
something about “Santa Tlaus” and a “dolly.” The officer’s gaze swept
the room, and fell on the overcrowded stockings hanging from the
mantel. He advanced to the fireplace and examined the doll and trousers
closely. With a curious expression on his face, he turned and walked
out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.
“Major,” he said to the officer in charge of the searching party, who
descended the steps just then, “take the men back to camp, except the
sentinels. There is no spy here.” In a moment Mrs. Stafford came out of
her chamber. The old officer was walking up and down in deep thought.
Suddenly he turned to her: “Madam, be so kind as to go and tell Colonel
Stafford that General Denby desires him to surrender himself.” Mrs.
Stafford was struck dumb. She was unable to move or to articulate. “I
shall wait for him,” said the General, quietly, throwing himself into
an arm-chair, and looking steadily into the fire.