THE VICTOR
Socola hurried into Richmond three days after its fall in the desperate
hope that he might be of service to Jennie.
He was two days finding her. She had offered her services to Mrs.
Hopkins in the Alabama hospital. He sent in his card and she refused to
see him. He asked an interview with Mrs. Hopkins and begged her to help.
Her motherly heart went out to him in sympathy. His utter misery was so
plainly written in his drawn face.
"You're so like my own mother, madame," he pleaded. "I'm an orphan
to-day. Our army has conquered, but I have lost. I find myself repeating
the old question, what shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world
and forfeit his life? She is my life--I can't--I won't give her up. Tell
her she must see me. I will not leave Richmond until I see her. If she
leaves, I'll follow her to the ends of the world. Tell her this."
The gentle hand pressed his.
"I'll tell her."
"And try to help me?" he begged.
"All the world loves a lover," the fine thin lips slowly repeated--"yes,
I'll try."
At the end of ten minutes she returned alone. Her face gave no hope.
"I'm afraid it's useless. She positively refuses."
"You gave her my message?"
"Yes."
"I'll wait a day and try again--"
"You knew of Captain Welford's death, I suppose?"
Socola started and turned pale.
"No--"
"He died and was buried two days ago near the spot where General Stuart
sleeps."
The lover was stunned for a moment. The hidden thought flashed through
his mind that she might have married Welford in the reaction over her
discovery of his deception. He opened his lips to ask the question and
held his peace. It was impossible. She couldn't have done such a thing.
He put the idea out of his heart.
"Thank you for the information, dear madame," he answered gravely,
turned and left the building.
He walked quickly to his hotel, hired a negro to get him a wreath of
roses and meet him at the cemetery gate. He had just placed them on
Welford's grave as Jennie suddenly appeared.
She stopped, transfixed in astonishment--her eyes wide with excitement.
He walked slowly to meet her and stood looking into her soul, searching
its depths.
"You here?" she gasped--
"Yes. I brought my tribute to a brave and generous foe. He hated me,
perhaps--but for your sake he gave me my life--I never hated him--"
"With his last breath he told me that he no longer hated you," she
answered dreamily.
"And you cannot forgive?"
"No. Our lives are far apart now. The gulf between us can never be
passed."
He smiled tenderly and spoke with vibrant passion.
"I'm going to show you that it can be passed. I'm going to love you
with such devotion I'll draw you at last with resistless power--"
"Never--"
She turned quickly and left him gazing wistfully at her slender figure
silhouetted against the glow of the sunset.