rose immediately, and went to the window, where she stood looking out,
and tapping gently on the pane with her fingers. She stood there only a
short time. "You may imagine that I am nervous," she said, turning away
from the window, "but I am not." She held out her hand to illustrate. It
was frail, but firm. "No," she went on, "I am not nervous; I am simply
furious. I know what you came for, my friends, and it is very kind of
you; but it is useless. I love you both well, and I know what you would
say. I have said such things to my friends, and thought I was performing
a duty."
"Well, you know the old saying, Lucy," said Meriwether Clopton. "Misery
loves company. We are all in the same boat, and it seems to be a leaky
one. I have heard it said that a woman's wit is sometimes better than a
man's wisdom, and, for my part, I have not come to see if you needed to
be consoled, but to find out your views."
"I have none," she said somewhat curtly. "Show me a piece of blue cloth,
and I'll tear it to pieces. That is the only thought or idea I have."
"Well, that doesn't help us much," Meriwether Clopton remarked.
At that moment, Mr. Sanders was announced, and word was sent to him to
come right in. "Howdy, everybody," he said in his informal way, as he
entered the room. He was warm, and instead of leaving his hat on the
hall-rack, he had kept it in his hand, and was using it as a fan. "Miss
Lucy," he said, "I won't take up two minutes of your time----"
"Mr. Sanders, you may take up two hours of my time. Time!" Mrs. Lumsden
exclaimed bitterly--"why, time is about all I have left."
"Oh, it ain't nigh as bad as you think," remarked Mr. Sanders, as
cheerfully as he could. "But I want to settle a p'int or two. Do you
remember what time it was when Gabriel come home the night Hotchkiss was
killed?"
Mrs. Lumsden reflected a moment. "Why, he went out directly after
supper, and came in--well, I don't remember when he came in. I must have
been asleep."
"Um-m," grunted Mr. Sanders.
"Is it important?" Mrs. Lumsden asked.
"It may turn out to be right down important," replied Mr. Sanders, and
then he said no more, but sat looking at the floor, and wondering how
Gabriel could be released from the tangled web that the spider,
Circumstance, had woven about him.
As Mr. Sanders went out, he met Nan at the door, and he was amazed at
the change that had come over her. Perplexity and trouble looked forth
from her eyes, and there was that in her face that Mr. Sanders had never
seen there before. "Why, honey!" he exclaimed, "you look like you've
lost your best friend."
"Well, perhaps I have. Who is in there?" And when Mr. Sanders told her,
she cried out, "Oh, why don't they leave her alone?"
"Well, they ain't pesterin' her much, honey. Go right in. Lucy Lumsden
has got as much grit as a major gener'l, an' she'll be glad to see
you."
But Nan stood staring at Mr. Sanders, as if she wanted to ask him a
question, and couldn't find words for it. Her face was pale, and she had
the appearance of one who is utterly forspent.
"Why, honey, what ails you? I never seed you lookin' like this before."
"You've never seen me ill before," answered Nan. "I thought the walk
would do me good, but the sun--oh, Mr. Sanders! please don't ask me
anything else."
With that, she ran up the steps very rapidly for an ill person, and
stood a moment in the hallway.
"Be jigged ef she ain't wuss hit than any on us!" declared Mr. Sanders,
to himself, as he turned away. "What a pity that she had to go an' git
grown!"
Following the sound of voices, Nan went into the library. Mrs. Lumsden,
who was still walking about restlessly, paused and tried to smile when
she saw Nan; but it was only a make-believe smile. Nan went directly to
her, and stood looking in the old gentlewoman's eyes. Then she kissed
her quite suddenly and impulsively.
"Nan, you must be ill," Miss Fanny Tomlin declared.
"I am, Aunt Fanny; I am not feeling well at all."
"Lie there on the sofa, child," Mrs. Lumsden insisted. Taking Nan by the
arm, she almost forced her to lie down.
"If you-all are talking secrets, I'll go away," said Nan.
"No, child," remarked Mrs. Lumsden; "we are talking about trouble, and
trouble is too common to be much of a secret in this world." She seated
herself on the edge of the sofa, and held Nan's hand, caressing it
softly.
"This is the way I used to cure Gabriel, when he was ill or weary," she
said in a tone too low for the others to hear.
"Did you?" whispered Nan, closing her eyes with a sigh of satisfaction.
"This is the second time I have been able to sit down since breakfast,"
remarked Mrs. Lumsden.
"I have walked miles and miles," replied Nan, wearily.
There was a noise in the hall, and presently Tasma Tid peeped cautiously
into the room. "Wey you done wit Honey Nan?" she asked. "She in dis
house; you ain' kin fool we."
"Come in, and behave yourself if you know how," said Mrs. Lumsden. "Come
in, Tid."
"How come we name Tid? How come we ain't name Tasma Tid?"
No one thought it worth while to make any reply to this, and the African
came into the room, acting as if she were afraid some one would jump at
her. "Sit in the corner there at the foot of the sofa," said Mrs.
Lumsden. Tasma Tid complied very readily with this command, since it
enabled her to be near Nan. The African squatted on the floor, and sat
there motionless.
Meriwether Clopton and Miss Fanny went away after awhile, but Mrs.
Lumsden continued to sit by Nan, caressing her hand. Not a word was said
for a long time, but the silence was finally broken by Nan, who spoke to
the African.
"Tasma Tid, I want you to go home and tell Miss Johnny that I will spend
the rest of the day and the night with Grandmother Lumsden."
"Don't keer; we comin' back," said Tasma Tid.
"Yes, come back," said Mrs. Lumsden; whereupon, the African whisked out
of the room as quick as a flash.
After Tasma Tid had gone, a silence fell on the house--a silence so
profound that Nan could hear the great clock ticking in the front hall,
and the bookshelves cracked just as they do in the middle of the night.
"If I had known what was going to happen when Gabriel came and kissed me
good-bye," said Mrs. Lumsden, after awhile, "I would have gone out there
where those men were, and--well, I don't know what I wouldn't have
done!"
"Didn't Gabriel tell you? Why----" Nan paused.
"Not he! Not Gabriel!" cried Mrs. Lumsden in a voice full of pride. "He
wanted to spare his grandmother one night's worry, and he did."
"Didn't you know when he kissed you good-night that something was
wrong?" Nan inquired.
"How should I? Why, he sometimes comes and kisses me in the middle of
the night, even after he has gone to bed. He says he sleeps better
afterwards."
What was there in this simple statement to cause Nan to catch her
breath, and seize the hand that was caressing her. For one thing, it
presented the tender side of Gabriel's nature in a new light; and for
the rest--well, who shall pretend to fathom a young woman's heart?
"Yes, he was always doing something of that kind," remarked the
grandmother proudly; "and I have often thought that he should have been
a girl."
"A girl!" cried Nan.
"Yes; he will marry some woman who doesn't appreciate his finer
qualities--the tenderness and affection that he tries to hide from
everybody but his grandmother; and he will go about with a hungry heart,
and his wife will never suspect it. I am afraid I dislike her already."
"Oh, don't say that!" Nan implored.
"But if he was a girl," the grandmother went on, "he would be better
prepared to endure coldness and neglect. This is partly what we were
born for, my dear, as you will find out one day for yourself."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
_Captain Falconer Makes Suggestions_
It was not often that Mr. Sanders had a surprise, but he found one
awaiting him when he left the Lumsden Place, and started in the
direction of home. He had not taken twenty steps before he met the young
Captain who had charge of the detachment of Federal troops stationed at
Shady Dale.
"This is Mr. Sanders, I believe," he said without ceremony. "My name is
Falconer. I have just been to call on Mr. Clopton, but they tell me
there that he is at Mrs. Lumsden's."
"Well, I wouldn't advise you to go there," said Mr. Sanders, bluntly.
"The lady is in a considerbul state of mind about her gran'son."
"It is a miserable piece of business all the way through," remarked
Captain Falconer. There was a note of sympathy in his voice, which Mr.
Sanders could not fail to catch, and it interested him.
"I called upon my cousin, Mrs. Claiborne, for the first time to-day,"
the Captain went on. "She has invited me to tea often, but I have
refused the invitation on account of the state of feeling here. I know
how high it is. It is natural, of course, but it is not justifiable.
Take my case, for instance: I am a Democrat, and I come from a family of
Democrats, who have never voted anything else but the Democratic ticket,
except when Henry Clay was a candidate, and when Lincoln was running for
a second term."
"You don't tell me!" cried Mr. Sanders, with genuine astonishment.
"It is a fact," said Captain Falconer, with emphasis. "If you think that
I, or any of the men under me, or any of the men who fought at all,
intended to bring about such a condition as now exists in this part of
the country, you are doing us a great wrong. Don't mistake me! I am not
apologising for the part I took. I would do it all over again a hundred
times if necessary. Yet I do not believe in negro suffrage, and I abhor
and detest every exaction that the politicians in Washington have placed
upon the people of the South."
Mr. Sanders was too much astonished to make appropriate comment. He
could only stare at the young man. And Captain Falconer was very good to
look upon. He was of the Kentucky type, tall, broad-shouldered and
handsome. His undress uniform became him well, and he had the
distinctive and pleasing marks that West Point leaves on all young men
who graduate at the academy there.
"Well, as I told you, I called on my cousin to-day for the first time,
and after we had talked of various matters, especially the unfortunate
events that have recently occurred, she insisted that I make it my
business to see you or Mr. Clopton. She told me," the Captain said,
with a pleasant smile, "that you are the man that kidnapped Mr.
Lincoln."
"She's wrong about that," replied Mr. Sanders; "I'm the man that didn't
kidnap him. But I want to ask you: ain't you some kin to John Barbour
Falconer?"
"He was my father," the Captain replied.
"Well, I've heard Meriwether Clopton talk about him hundreds of times.
They ripped around in Congress together before the war."
"Now, that is very interesting to me," said the Captain, his face
brightening.
He was silent for some time, as they walked slowly along, and during
this period of silence, Meriwether Clopton came up behind them. He would
have passed on, with a polite inclination of his head, but Mr. Sanders
drew his attention.
"Mr. Clopton," he said, "here's a gentleman I reckon you'd like to
know--Captain Falconer. He's a son of John Barbour Falconer."
"Is that so?" exclaimed Meriwether Clopton, a wonderful change passing
over his face. "Well, I am glad to see a son of my dear old friend,
anywhere and at any time." He shook hands very cordially with the
Captain. "Let me see--let me see: if I am not mistaken, your first name
is Garnett; you were named after your maternal grandfather."
"That is true, sir," replied the Captain, with a boyish laugh that was
pleasing to the ear--he was not more than thirty. "But I am surprised
that you should remember these things so well."
"Why, my dear sir, it is not surprising at all. I have dandled you on my
knee many and many a time; I know the very house, yes, the very room, in
which you were born. Some of the happiest hours of my manhood were spent
with your father and mother in Washington. Your father is dead, I
believe. Well, he was a good man; among the best I ever knew. What of
your mother?"
"She has broken greatly," responded the Captain. "The war was a great
burden to her. She was a Virginian, you know."
"Yes--yes!" said Meriwether Clopton. "The war has been a dreadful
nightmare to the people on both sides; and it seems to be still going on
disguised as politics. Only last night, as you perhaps know, a posse of
soldiers arrested and carried off four of our worthiest young men."
"Yes, sir, I know of it and regret it," responded Captain Falconer. "And
I have no doubt that a majority of the people here are incensed at the
soldiers, forgetting that they are the mere instruments of their
superiors, and that their superiors themselves take their orders from
other superiors who are engaged in the game of politics. It is the duty
of a soldier to blindly obey orders. To pause to ask a question would be
charged to a spirit of insubordination. The army is at the beck and call
of what is called the Government, and to-day the Government happens to
be the radical contingent of the Republican Party. A soldier may detest
the service he is called on to perform, but he is bound to obey orders.
I can answer for the officer who was sent to arrest these young men. He
was boiling over with rage because he had been sent here on such an
errand."
"I am glad to hear that," declared Meriwether Clopton, with great
heartiness.
"His feelings were perfectly natural, sir," said Captain Falconer. "Take
the army as it stands to-day, and it would be hard, if not impossible,
to find a man in it who does not shrink from doing the dirty work of the
politicians. Can you imagine that my mission here is pleasant to me? I
can assure you, sir, it is the most disagreeable duty that ever fell to
my lot. I am glad you spoke of these arrests. At your convenience, I
should like to have a little conversation with you and Mr. Sanders on
this subject."
"There is no time like the present," replied Meriwether Clopton. "Will
you come with me to my house?"
"Certainly, sir; and with the more pleasure because I called on my
cousin Mrs. Claiborne to-day. I have forborne to call on her heretofore
on account of the prejudice against us. But these arrests made it
necessary for me to communicate with some of the influential friends of
the young men. I was afraid my visit to-day would prove to be
embarrassing to her. If I visit you at your invitation, the probability
is she will have no social penalty to pay. I know what the feeling is."
Indeed, he knew too well. He had passed along the streets apparently
perfectly oblivious to the attitude and movements of those whom he
chanced to meet, but all his faculties had been awake, for he was a man
of the keenest sensibilities. He had seen women and young girls curl
their lips in a sneer, and toss their heads in scorn, as he passed them
by; and some of them pulled their skirts aside, lest his touch should
pollute them. He had observed all this, and he was wounded by it; and
yet he had no resentment. Being a Southerner himself, he knew that the
feelings which prompted such actions were perfectly natural, the fitting
accompaniment of the humiliation which the radical element compelled the
whites to endure.
In the course of his long and frequent walks in the countryside, Captain
Falconer had made the acquaintance of Gabriel Tolliver, in whose nature
the spirit of a gypsy vagrant seemed to have full sway; and Gabriel was
the only person native to Shady Dale, except the ancient postmaster,
with whom the young officer had held communication. He seemed to be cut
off not only from all social intercourse, but even from
acquaintanceship.
"You may rest assured," declared Meriwether Clopton, "that if I had
known you were the son of my old friend, I would have sought you out,
much as I detest the motives and purposes of those who have inaugurated
this era of bayonet rule. And you may be sure, too, that in my house you
will be a welcome guest."
"I appreciate your kindness, sir, and I shall remember it," said Captain
Falconer.
That portion of Shady Dale which was moving about the streets with its
eyes open was surprised and shocked--nay, wellnigh paralysed--to see the
"Yankee Captain" on parade, as it were, with Meriwether Clopton on one
side of him, and Mr. Sanders on the other. Yes, and the hand of the son
of the First Settler (could their eyes deceive them?) was resting
familiarly on the shoulder of the "Yankee!" Surely, here was food for
thought. Were Meriwether Clopton and Mr. Sanders about to join the
radicals? Well, well, well! At last one of the loungers, a man of middle
age, who had seen service, raised his voice and put an end to comment.
"You can bet your sweet life," he declared, "that Billy Sanders knows
what he's up to. He may not git the game he's after, but he'll fetch
back a handful of feathers or hair. Mr. Clopton I don't know so well,
but I was in the war wi' Billy Sanders, and I wish you'd wake me up and
let me know when somebody fools him. There ain't a living man on the
continent, nor under it neither, that can git on his blind side."
"Now you are whistlin'!" exclaimed one of his companions, and this
seemed to settle the matter. If Mr. Sanders didn't know what he was
about, why, then, everybody else in that neighbourhood might as well
give up, "and let natur' cut her caper."
"I understand now why Mrs. Claiborne referred me to you," said Captain
Falconer, when Mr. Sanders had related the nature and extent of the
information which he had been able to gather during the morning.
"The lady is kinder partial," remarked Mr. Sanders, "but she's as bright
as a new dollar, somethin' I ain't seed sence I cut my wisdom teeth."
"You already know what I intended to tell you," said the Captain. But
it turned out, nevertheless, that he was able to give them some very
startling information. It was the general understanding in Shady Dale
that the prisoners were to be sent to Atlanta; but the military
authorities, fearing an attempt at rescue, perhaps, had ordered them to
be sent to Fort Pulaski, below Savannah. There were other reasons, the
Captain explained, for sending the young men there. They would be
isolated from their friends, and, so placed, might be induced to
confess; and if the circumstances surrounding them were not sufficient
to produce such a result then other measures were to be taken.
Meanwhile, the circumstantial evidence against Gabriel was very
strong--stronger even than Mr. Sanders had imagined. Bridalbin, whom
Captain Falconer knew as Boring, had informed that officer of his own
supposed discoveries with respect to Gabriel's movements; and the
evidence he was prepared to give, coupled with the fact that Hotchkiss
had pronounced the lad's name with his last breath, made out a case of
exceptional strength. Urged on by the vindictiveness of the radical
leaders in Congress, it was more than probable that the military court
before which the young men were to be tried, would convict any or all of
them on much slighter evidence than that which had accumulated against
Gabriel. It was all circumstantial evidence of course, but even in the
civil courts, and before juries made up of their peers, men accused of
crime have frequently been convicted on circumstantial evidence
alone--that is to say, on probability.
"Now, this is what I wanted to say," remarked Captain Falconer, as they
sat in the library at the Clopton Place, and after he had gone over the
evidence, item by item: "I was given to understand by the officer who
made the arrests that I would shortly be transferred to Savannah, or,
rather, to Fort Pulaski, and placed in charge of the prisoners, the idea
being that I, knowing something of the young men, would be able to
extract a confession from them by fair means. This failing, there are
others who could be depended on to employ foul. The officer, who is a
very fine soldier, and thoroughly in love with his profession, dropped a
hint that, all other means failing, the young men are to be put through
a course of sprouts in order to extort a confession."
Mr. Sanders looked hard at the Captain; he was taking the young man's
measure. What he saw or divined must have been satisfactory, for his
face, which had been in a somewhat puckered condition, as he himself
would have expressed it, suddenly cleared up, and he rose from his chair
with a laugh.
"Do you-all know what I've gone an' done?" he asked.
"You do so many clever things, William, that we cannot possibly imagine
what the newest is," said Meriwether Clopton.
"Well, sir, this is the cleverest yit. I've come off from Lucy Lumsden's
an' clean forgot my hoss. It's a wonder I didn't forgit my head. Now,
you might 'a' said, an' said truly, that I'd forgit a man, or a 'oman,
but when William H. Sanders, Esquire, walks off in the broad light of
day, an' forgits his hoss, an' that hoss the Rackin' Roan, you may know
that his thinkin' machine has slipped a cog. Ef you'll excuse me, I'll
go right arter that creetur. I'm mighty glad he can't talk--it's about
the only thing he can't do--bekaze he'd gi' me a long an' warm piece of
his mind."
Captain Falconer rose also, but Meriwether Clopton protested. "I should
be glad if you would stay to dinner," he said. "I have several things to
show you--some interesting letters from your father, for instance."
"But the ladies?" suggested the Captain, with a comically doubtful lift
of the eyebrows. He had no notion of bearding any of the Confederate
lionesses in their dens. "You know how they regard us here."
"Only my daughter Sarah is here. She knew your father well, and has a
very lively remembrance of him. She was fifteen when you were three, and
many a day she was your volunteer nurse."
So it was arranged that the Captain should remain to dinner, and it may
be said that he spent a very pleasant time, after his long period of
social isolation. "I shall call you Garnett, to begin with," said Sarah
Clopton, as she shook his hand, "but you must not expect me to be very
cordial to-day. It was only last night, you must remember, that some of
the people you associate with arrested and carried off a young man who
is very dear to me."
"You may be very sure, Miss Clopton, that the officer who did that piece
of work had no relish for it. He simply obeyed orders. He had no
discretion in the matter whatever."
"Well, I shall be very glad to think that, Garnett, for your sake. But
that fact doesn't restore our young men," she said with a sigh. "Oh, I
wonder when we'll all be at peace and happy again?"
"In God's own time, and not before," declared Meriwether Clopton
solemnly.
"Well, we'll try an' help that time to come," said Mr. Sanders, entering
the room at that moment. He was followed by Cephas, who was one of
Gabriel's favourites among the small boys. Cephas was bashful enough,
but he always felt at ease at the Clopton Place, where everything moved
along the lines of simplicity and perfect openness. The small boy had a
sort of chilly feeling when he saw the officer, but he soon got over
that.
"I went an' got my hoss," said Mr. Sanders, "an' he paid me back for my
forgitfulness by purty nigh bitin' a piece out'n my arm; an' whilst I
was a-rubbin' the place, up comes Cephas for to find out somethin' about
the boys. When I got through makin' a few remarks sech as you don't hear
at church, a kinder blind idee popped in my head, an' so I tuck Cephas
up behind me, an' fetched him here."
"Sit on the sofa, Cephas. Have a chair, William, and tell us about your
blind idea."
"Ef you'll promise not to laugh," Mr. Sanders stipulated. "You know Mrs.
Ab's sayin' that ef the old sow knowed she was swallerin' a tree ev'ry
time she crunched an acorn, she'd grunt a heap louder'n she does: well,
I know what I'm fixin' for to swaller, and you won't hear much loud
gruntin' from me."
"Well, we are ready to hear from you," said Meriwether Clopton.
Whereupon, Mr. Sanders threw his head back and laughed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
_Mr. Sanders's Riddle_
"I tell you how it is," said Mr. Sanders: "The riddle is how to git a
message to Gabriel; I could git the Captain thar to take it, but the
Captain will have as much as he can attend to, an' for that matter, so
have I. Wi' this riddle I'm overcrapped. Sence I left here, I've gone
over the whole matter in my mind, ef you can call it a mind. I could go
down thar myself, an' I'd be glad to, but could I git to have a private
talk wi' Gabriel? I reckon not."
The remark was really interrogative, and was addressed to Captain
Falconer, who made a prompt reply--"I hardly think the scheme would
work. My impression is that orders have been issued from Atlanta for
these young men to be isolated. If that is so they can hold
communication with no one but the sentinel on duty, or the officer who
has charge of them. They are to be treated as felons, though nothing has
been proved against them. I am not sure, but I think that is the
programme."