FOR THE CAUSE
Captain Gurley pushed open the rickety gate impatiently, and strode up
the walk to "Page Hall" with jingling spurs and clanking saber. The
rambling old house, with shutters askew, bore mute testimony to the
fallen fortunes of its owner. The paint was peeling off the tall
pillars, and the boards of the gallery shook ominously under Gurley's
weight.
"Miss Page done say yo' was ter walk inter de pawler, Marse Cap'in,"
said the old darky, bowing and scraping on the threshold of the open
door, "an' Miss Nancy'll be down d'reckly."
Gurley followed the old man in to the big, square room, and waited with
what patience he could muster for Nancy's appearance. When she finally
entered the room she was dressed for walking.
"Do you think the authorities would allow me to send a telegram, John?"
she asked, after a few words of greeting.
"I don't know, Nancy; Colonel Smith is very strict. But I can ask him.
Is it important?"
"Aunt Metoaca has just received a letter from our cousin, Mrs. Green,
saying that her house was burned to the ground, and she is homeless. So
Aunty wants to telegraph her to go to our house, and that we will
return to Washington at once."
Gurley's face fell. "Oh, don't say you are going away. I am sorry about
Mrs. Green's misfortune; but surely your servants can take care of her
in your absence?"
"Mrs. Green is a cripple, and we fear the shock and exposure at the
time of the fire may make her ill. Aunt Metoaca also feels that she
should be with her cousin in case she is financially embarrassed by her
loss."
"I will escort you to the telegraph office, Nancy, and try and arrange
to have your despatch sent at once. But I call it beastly hard luck,"
grumbled Gurley, as they sauntered through Miss Page's garden and into
the main street of the town. "I have hardly seen a thing of you; you
spend your entire time with Bob Goddard...."
"Reading to him," supplemented Nancy calmly. "It is the least I can do,
John, when you think that he was injured in trying to protect me."
"I wish to gracious my eyes had been blinded by the explosion of that
pistol," exclaimed Gurley bitterly. "Then perhaps I might have enjoyed
some of your society."
"For shame!" Nancy stopped and glared indignantly at her companion. "Do
you think my society compensates for a ruined career? Think of being
doomed to a life of dependence upon others--in darkness for the rest of
your days!"
"It must be horrible," agreed Gurley contritely. "I spoke hastily,
Nancy, and without thought. Doesn't the surgeon hold out any hope that
Bob may recover his sight?"
"He has advised Major Goddard to consult Doctor Boyd, and I think he
expects to return to Washington soon to be under the latter's care."
"I sincerely hope he recovers. Goddard is too fine a fellow to have his
life blasted by such a fate," said Gurley earnestly, ashamed of his
churlishness. "I did hope, Nancy, that you would remain in Winchester
for the fox-hunt on the 28th. Colonel Young has secured three red
foxes, and a large pack of hounds from the people in the neighborhood.
It promises to be great sport. Do postpone going away until March."
"I wish I could, John, but I fear it is out of the question. Is this
the place?"
"Yes; this way."
The sentry in front of the house paused and inspected them carefully,
then, recognizing Gurley, allowed them to pass. Gurley held the door
open for Nancy, and stepped after her into the room. She glanced with
interest at her surroundings; the bare walls, worn pine furniture, the
operators' tables with their telegraph equipments, the shelves of
batteries, and at the half dozen men who filled the room. Seeing a
woman in their midst all conversation ceased, and the officers rose and
hurriedly pulled on coats and removed hats. Considerably embarrassed,
Nancy hesitated, and Gurley came to her rescue.
"Colonel Smith," he said, saluting a tall gray-haired officer who stood
by the stove, "this is Miss Newton. She has a pass from President
Lincoln to Winchester, and is visiting her relative, Miss Lindsay Page.
Miss Newton desires to send a telegram to Washington for her aunt, Miss
Metoaca Newton, who is also visiting Miss Page."
"I already know your aunt, Miss Newton." The colonel advanced and shook
hands warmly. "What is the message you wish to send?" He listened
attentively to Nancy's explanation. "If that is all, Miss Newton, I
will have the despatch sent to Washington as soon as the wires are
free. Wilson, will you clear that table and give Miss Newton some paper
and ink. Now, if you will sit here," pushing a chair before the table,
"you can write your despatch at your leisure."
"Thank you, Colonel!" Nancy bowed gravely to the officers who made way
for her, and, seating herself, she toyed with the pen a moment.
The officers reseated themselves and resumed their interrupted chat,
glancing covertly at Nancy as often as they could. Colonel Smith and
Gurley were standing by the window so deep in conversation that neither
noticed the flight of time.
Nancy wrote down Mrs. Green's temporary address in Washington; then
paused to compose her message. The telegraph instruments kept up an
incessant clicking. Almost subconsciously she listened to the
instrument nearest her; apparently the sender was having trouble in
getting his message over the wire. A dash--two dots--another dash--then
quickly the instrument woke to full life, and Nancy realized with fast
beating heart that she was reading off a despatch of vital importance
with the same ease as the Union operator who was receiving it. Her
lessons in the War Department in Richmond were not wasted.
With a desperate effort Nancy controlled herself, and sat with
impassive face as she dallied with her pen. The instrument stopped
sounding, the despatch was given to a waiting orderly, and Nancy wrote
a few words on a fresh piece of paper and signed her aunt's name. Then
she rose.
"I hope this message is not too long," she said, handing the paper to
Colonel Smith. "It took me some time to condense my aunt's message."
"It is all right. I will see that it is sent myself. Please give my
compliments to your aunt," and the gallant colonel escorted her to the
door.
"I have to see Colonel Edwards a moment, Nancy," said Gurley, as they
started to retrace their steps to Miss Page's. "Do you mind going to
his house with me?"
"Oh, no."
"This way, then. Do you see much of Captain Lloyd?"
"No," Nancy was devoutly thankful for the fact. "Why do you ask?"
"His face puzzles me--an elusive likeness to some one I have known
formerly, and whose name I cannot for the life of me recollect. I have
an idea the fellow avoids me."
"Perhaps ..." A man in nondescript clothes slouched along the sidewalk
just ahead of Nancy. As he stepped back to allow her room to pass he
straightened up and looked her squarely in the face. Nancy's voice died
in her throat.
"What did you say, Nancy?" asked Gurley, whose attention had been
diverted by the bolting of a horse down the crowded street.
Nancy's lips were dry and she moistened them with her tongue before
answering. "Perhaps Major Goddard can tell you something about Captain
Lloyd. They seem to be warm friends."
"That's a good idea. I will ask Bob the next time I see him alone."
They stopped before an old mansion which Colonel Edwards had taken for
his quarters, and Gurley led the way inside the broad hall. "Now,
Nancy, if you will wait in this side room," conducting her across the
hall, "no one will disturb you here."
"Don't be long, John."
"I won't," and Gurley carefully shut the door behind him as he went
out.
Nancy walked over to the window, raised the curtain and looked out into
the street. The stranger in nondescript clothes was standing in front
of the house talking to the corporal of the guard. He produced a soiled
paper, at sight of which the corporal signed to him to enter. Nancy,
sure that she had been seen by him, dropped the curtain into place and
returned to the mantel. She drew out a piece of paper and a small
pencil and, leaning on the mantel, wrote rapidly. She had just finished
when the hall door was cautiously opened. Quickly she crumpled the
paper in her hand; then, seeing the intruder's face, she stepped into
the center of the room. The man entered and closed the door gently
behind him.
"George!" Nancy's voice was no more than a whisper. Are you mad?
Suppose you are recognized?"
"It is not likely to happen. Don't be so worried, Nancy," the
Confederate moved swiftly to her side and caught her outstretched hand
in both of his. "One of Young's spies was captured inside our lines. I
am using his pass and his clothes. Believe me, I am running no
unnecessary risks. Tucker told me you were here. I laid my plans
carefully, so as not to involve you if my disguise is penetrated. Have
you any news for us?"
"This despatch has just come for Sheridan; it is of vital importance,"
Nancy unrolled the paper. "It is in cipher. I have not had time to
translate it, so just jotted down the words and put the key at the
bottom."
"Good." The Confederate took the paper and concealed it about his
person. "General Lee has recommended arming the blacks."
"What!"
"It has become a military necessity," briefly. "Columbia has surrendered
to Sherman; we have evacuated Charleston, and the Yanks under General
Gilmore are occupying the city. All the ammunition and provisions
stored there and in the vicinity were destroyed." Nancy uttered an
exclamation. "We are in such straits we cannot find money to replace
the loss," went on Pegram bitterly. "Our currency," he shrugged his
shoulders expressively, "in Richmond gold is 4,400 per cent, premium;
the women and children are suffering daily privations there which----"
"George, can't you take me with you to Richmond?" broke in Nancy
passionately. "I will gladly endure all and every privation; for I am
sick, _sick_ of worming secrets from trusting friends, and spying upon
those who shelter me."
George Pegram looked at her aghast. "Nancy, Nancy, what are you saying?"
Then, glancing more keenly at her, "You are over-wrought, child. You
won't feel the same after a good night's rest."
"_Rest_, did you say? I feel as if I could never rest in peace again. I
tell you, George, I am living under the shadow of the gallows. At night
I dream the noose is fastened about my throat, and wake myself feeling
for the rope."
"Poor child!" He stroked Nancy's hair soothingly. "You have done us
inestimable service. Lee told me that he had the greatest admiration
for your ability and pluck."
Nancy smiled wanly. "Thanks, George, for telling me that. But I fear my
days of usefulness are over; I am already suspected. Captain Lloyd, of
the Secret Service, is dogging my footsteps, waiting and watching for a
fatal slip on my part, so far without success. But you know the fate of
the pitcher that went too often to the well."
"I will back your quick wits against any man's. But I never thought to
find you lacking in courage, Nancy."
Stung by his tone, she drew back. "How dare you say such a thing! I am
not afraid to face danger. It's--it's--this life of deceit that is
killing me."
"The end justifies the means, Nancy. Remember your oath to a dying
man."
"I have remembered," proudly, "and in keeping it have forgotten sex,
and played the part of a man. But," more calmly, "I can be of little
use now that I am suspected."
"You are wrong, Nancy. We are fighting against time now. Soon, very
soon, the Confederate States of America will be recognized by the
foreign powers. Lee has come to the conclusion that Petersburg and
Richmond must be abandoned; that only in the mountainous regions upon
the borders of Virginia and North Carolina can the war be protracted.
He wishes to get his army safely out of Petersburg. Therefore, it is
imperative that we know Grant's plans so that we can checkmate them.
Your place is in Washington, Nancy. Your father gave his life for the
Cause, would you do less?"
"He died an honorable death--while I----" Nancy's voice broke; then in
a different tone: "You must go, George, every moment may increase your
danger. Tell General Lee I am still fighting for the Cause."
"For the Cause!" echoed her companion. "It claims us all! God bless
you, Nancy."
He threw his arms about her and, stooping, pressed his lips to her
white cheek; then stood transfixed as the hall door swung slowly open,
disclosing a Union officer facing them on the threshold. Nancy's lips
moved, but no sound escaped her. Her terrified eyes stared unblinkingly
at the newcomer.
"Is any one here?" asked Goddard slowly.
Nancy's muscles relaxed and she leaned limply against the Confederate.
She had forgotten that Goddard was blind. A slight pause--then she
spoke.
"It is I, Nancy Newton. I was so surprised to see you without your
bandages that it quite took my breath away. Nor did I realize you were
strong enough to leave your quarters."
Goddard's sad face had brightened, and he made a hesitating step
forward. "My orderly brought me over here, as I wished to say good-bye
to Colonel Edwards. I am practicing finding my way about alone." He
turned directly toward the Confederate, who, watching with breathless
interest, was waiting to take his cue from Nancy.
"Won't you sit by me over here?" Nancy went forward, and gently piloted
Goddard to the sofa by the window. She turned and nodded her head
toward the open door, and with catlike quickness the Confederate stole
from the room, closing the door behind him. Nancy's knees shook under
her, and she sank on the sofa by Goddard, trembling in every limb.
"I have waited in my rooms all day long, hoping you would come."
Goddard reached over, and felt about for Nancy's hand, and she placed
her cold fingers reluctantly in his. "Are you having a chill?" he
asked, alarmed.
"Oh, no; my hands are always cold," with well-simulated lightness; then
she hastened to change the subject. "I am glad you are so much better."
"Thanks. Doctor Scott is very much encouraged by my improvement, and
insists on my going to Washington to-morrow. He says I must see Doctor
Boyd."
"And he is right."
"I know." Goddard hesitated. "I should have gone last week, but--but--I
could not bear to leave you."
Nancy flushed warmly. "Aunt Metoaca and I return to Washington on the
same train with you. So you see we will not be separated--yet."
"God! how I wish it could be never, my darling!" The words seemed wrung
from Goddard. His face laid bare his secret. Then pulling himself up
abruptly: "I--I--ask your pardon--Miss Nancy--pay no heed. For the
moment I forgot--my blindness. What I would ask in happier
circumstances cannot be spoken now."
Nancy's answer was drowned in the sudden rush of feet outside, and the
shout: "Corporal of the guard, this way!"
The door was dashed open, and Lloyd, followed by a file of soldiers,
strode into the room.
"Arrest----" He stopped short and gazed blankly at Nancy and Goddard.
One searching look around showed him they were the only occupants of
the room.
"What is the matter?" demanded Goddard, much startled.
"We are searching for a rebel spy who entered Winchester with a false
pass. The corporal thinks he saw him enter this room thirty minutes
ago."
"I beg pardon, Captain; it might have been Major Goddard that I saw. It
is dark in the hall, and I did not see clearly," interrupted the
bewildered corporal.
"How long have you been in this room, Bob?" asked Lloyd sternly.
Nancy's fingers closed convulsively over the edge of the sofa.
Goddard's sightless eyes were turned for an instant in her direction.
"Nearly three-quarters of an hour, Lloyd," was the tranquil answer.