THE ATTACK.
That summer day was so holy in its beauty, so bright, so clear, so cool;
that rural scene was so soothing in its influences, so calm, so fresh,
so harmonious; it was almost impossible to associate with that lovely
day and scene thoughts of wrong and violence and cruelty. So felt Edith
as she sometimes lifted her eyes from her work to the beauty and glory
of nature around her. And if now her heart ached it was more with grief
for Fanny's fate than dread of her own. There comes, borne upon the
breeze that lifts her dark tresses, and fans her pearly cheeks, the
music of many rural voices--of rippling streams and rustling leaves and
twittering birds and humming bees.
But mingled with these, at length, there comes to her attentive ear a
sound, or the suspicion of a sound, of distant horse hoofs falling upon
the forest leaves--it draws nearer--it becomes distinct--she knows it
now--it is--it is a troop of British soldiers approaching the house!
They rode in a totally undisciplined and disorderly manner; reeling in
their saddles, drunken with debauchery, red-hot, reeking from some scene
of fire and blood!
And in no condition to be operated upon by Edith's beautiful and holy
influences.
They galloped into the yard--they galloped up to the house--their leader
threw himself heavily from his horse and advanced to the door.
It was the terrible and remorseless Thorg! No one could doubt the
identity for a single instant. The low, square-built, thick-set body,
the huge head, the bull neck, heavy jowl, coarse, sensual lips,
bloodshot eyes, and fiery visage surrounded with coarse red hair--the
whole brutalized, demonized aspect could belong to no monster in the
universe but that cross between the fiend and the beast called Thorg!
And now he came, intoxicated, inflamed, burning with fierce passions
from some fell scene of recent violence!
Pale as death, and nearly as calm, Edith awaited his coming. She could
not hope to influence this man or his associates. She knew her fate
now--it was death!--death by her own hand, before that man's foot should
profane her threshold! She knew her fate, and knowing it, grew calm and
strong. There were no more hopes or fears or doubts or trepidations.
Over the weakness of the flesh the spirit ruled victorious, and Edith
stood revealed to herself richly endowed with that heroism she had so
worshiped in others--in that supreme moment mistress of herself and of
her fate. To die by her own hand! but not rashly--not till a trial
should be made--not till the last moment. And how beautiful in this
last fateful moment she looked! The death pallor had passed from her
countenance--the summer breeze was lifting the light black curls--soft
shadows were playing upon the pearly brow--a strange elevation
irradiated her face, and it "shone as it had been the face of an angel."
"By George! boys, what a pretty wench! Keep back, you d----d rascals!"
(for the men had dismounted and were pressing behind him) "keep back, I
say, you drunken ----! Let rank have precedence in love as in other
things! Your turn may come afterward! Ho! pretty mistress, has your
larder the material to supply my men with a meal?"
Edith glanced around for her attendants. Jenny lay upon the hall floor,
fallen forward upon her face, in a deep swoon. Oliver stood out upon the
lawn, his teeth chattering, and his knees knocking together with terror,
yet faintly meditating a desperate onslaught to the rescue with his
wooden rake.
"No matter! for first of all we must have a taste of those dainty lips;
stand back, bl--t you," he vociferated with a volley of appalling oaths,
that sent the disorderly men, who were again crowding behind him, back
into the rear; "we would be alone, d---- you; do you hear?"
The drunken soldiers fell back, and he advanced toward Edith, who stood
calm in desperate resolution. She raised her hand to supplicate or wave
him off, he did not care which--her other hand, hanging down by her
side, grasped the pistol, which she concealed in the folds of her dress.
"Hear me," she said, "one moment, I beseech you!"
The miscreant paused.
"Proceed, my beauty! Only don't let the grace before meat be too long."
"I am a soldier's child," said Edith; her sweet, clear voice slightly
quavering like the strings of a lute over which the wind has passed; "I
am a soldier's child--my father died gallantly on the field of battle.
You are soldiers, and will not hurt a soldier's orphan daughter."
"Not for the universe, my angel; bl----t 'em! let any of 'em hurt a hair
of your head! I only want to love you a little, my beauty! that's
all!--only want to pet you to your heart's content;" and the brute made
a step toward her.
"Hear me!" exclaimed Edith, raising her hand.
"Well, well, go on, my dear, only don't be too long!--for my men want
something to eat and drink, and I have sworn not to break my fast until
I know the flavor of those ripe lips."
Edith's fingers closed convulsively upon the pistol still held bidden.
"I am alone and defenseless," she said; "I remained here, voluntarily,
to protect our home, because I had faith in the better feelings of men
when they should be appealed to. I had heard dreadful tales of the
ravages of the enemy through neighboring sections of the country. I did
not fully believe them. I thought them the exaggerations of terror, and
knew how such stories grow in the telling. I could not credit the worst,
believing, as I did, the British nation to be an upright and honorable
enemy--British soldiers to be men--and British officers gentlemen. Sir,
have I trusted in vain? Will you not let me and my servants retire in
peace? All that the cellars and storehouses of Luckenough contain is at
your disposal. You will leave myself and attendants unmolested. I have
not trusted in the honor of British soldiers to my own destruction!"
"A pretty speech, my dear, and prettily spoken--but not half so
persuasive as the sweet wench that uttered it," said Thorg, springing
toward her.
Edith suddenly raised the pistol--an expression of deadly determination
upon her face.
Thorg as suddenly fell back. He was an abominable coward in addition to
his other qualities.
"Seize that girl! Seize and disarm her! What mean you, rascals? Are you
to be foiled by a girl? Seize and disarm her, I say! Are you men?"
Yes, they were men, and therefore, drunken and brutal as they were, they
hesitated to close upon one helpless girl.
"H--l fire and furies! surround! disarm her, I say!" vociferated Thorg.
Edith stood, her hand still grasping the pistol--her other one raised in
desperate entreaty.
"Oh! one moment! for heaven's sake, one moment! Still hear me! I would
not have fired upon your captain! Nor would I fire upon one of you, who
close upon me only at your captain's order. There is something within me
that shrinks from taking life! even the life of an enemy--any life but
my own, and that only in such a desperate strait as this. Oh! by the
mercy that is in my own heart, show mercy to me! You are men! You have
mothers, or sisters, or wives at home, whom you hope to meet again, when
war and its insanities are over. Oh! for their sakes, show mercy to the
defenseless girl who stands here in your power! Do not compel her to
shed her own blood! for, sure as you advance one step toward me, I pull
this trigger, and fall dead at your feet." And Edith raised the pistol
and placed the muzzle to her own temple--her finger against the trigger.
The men stood still--the captain swore.
"H--l fire and flames! Do you intend to stand there all day, to hear the
wench declaim? Seize her, curse you! Wrench that weapon from her hand."
"Not so quick as I can pull the trigger!" said Edith--her eyes blazing
with the sense of having fate--the worst of fate in her own hands; it
was but a pressure of the finger, to be made quick as lightning, and she
was beyond their power! Her finger was on the trigger--the muzzle of the
pistol, a cold ring of steel, pressed her burning temple! She felt it
kindly--protective as a friend's kiss!
"Seize her! Seize her, curse you!" cried the brutal Thorg, "what care I
whether she pull the trigger or not? Before the blood cools in her body,
I will have had my satisfaction! Seize her, you infernal--"
"Captain, countermand your order! I beg, I entreat you, countermand your
order! You yourself will greatly regret having given it, when you are
calmer," said a young officer, riding hastily forward, and now, for the
first time, taking a part in the scene.
An honorable youth in a band of licensed military marauders.
"'Sdeath, sir! Don't interfere with me! Seize her, rascals!"
"One step more, and I pull the trigger!" said Edith.
"Captain Thorg! This must not be!" persisted the young officer.
"D--n, sir! Do you oppose me? Do you dare? Fall back, sir, I command
you! Scoundrels! close upon that wench and bind her!"
"Captain Thorg! This shall not be! Do you hear? Do you understand? I say
this violence shall not be perpetrated!" said the young officer, firmly.
"D--n, sir! Are you drunk, or mad? You are under arrest, sir! Corporal
Truman, take Ensign Shields' sword!"
The young man was quickly disarmed, and once more the captain
vociferated:
"Knock down and disarm that vixen! Obey your orders, villains! Or by
h--l, and all its fiends, I'll have you all court-martialed, and shot
before to-morrow noon!"
The soldiers closed around the unprotected girl.
"Lord, all merciful! forgive my sins," she prayed, and with a firm hand
pulled the trigger!
It did not respond to her touch--it failed! it failed!
Casting the traitorous weapon from her, she sunk upon her knees,
murmuring:
"Lost--lost--all is lost!" remained crushed, overwhelmed, awaiting her
fate!
"Ha! ha! ha! as pretty a little make-believe as ever I saw!" laughed the
brutal Thorg, now perfectly at his ease, and gloating over her beauty,
and helplessness, and, deadly terror. "As pretty a little sham as ever I
saw!"
"It was no sham! She couldn't sham! I drawed out the shot unbeknownst to
her! I wish, I does, my fingers had shriveled and dropped off afore they
ever did it!" exclaimed Oliver, in a passion of remorse, as he ran
forward, rake in hand.
He was quickly thrown down and disarmed--no one had any hesitation in
dealing with him.
"Now then, my fair!" said Thorg, moving toward his victim.
Edith was now wild with desperation--her eyes flew wildly around in
search of help, where help there seemed none. Then she turned with the
frenzied impulse of flying.
But the men surrounded to cut off her retreat.
"Nay, nay, let her run! Let her run! Give her a fair start, and do you
give chase! It will be the rarest sport! Fox-hunting is a good thing,
but girl-chasing must be the very h--l of sport, when I tell you--mind,
I tell you, men--she shall be the exclusive prize of him who catches
her!" swore the remorseless Thorg.
Edith had gained the back door.
They started in pursuit.
"Now, by the living Lord that made me, the first man that lays hands on
her shall die!" suddenly exclaimed the young ensign, wresting his sword
from the hand of the corporal, springing between Edith and her pursuers,
flashing out the blade, and brandishing it in the faces of the foremost.
He was but a stripling, scarcely older than Edith's self--the arm that
wielded that slender blade scarcely stronger than Edith's own--but the
fire that flashed from the eagle eye showed a spirit to rescue or die in
her defense.
Thorg threw himself into the most frantic fury--a volley of the most
horrible oaths was discharged from his lips.
"Upon that villain, men! Beat him down! Slay him! Pin him to the ground
with your bayonets! And then! do your will with the girl!"
But before this fiendish order could be executed, ay, before it was half
spoken, whirled into the yard a body or about thirty horsemen, galloping
fiercely to the rescue with drawn swords and shouting voices.
They were nearly three times the number of the foraging soldiers.