A DEBT TO BE PAID
Two days later Hal showed such marked improvement that Dr. Hardesty
rubbed his hands with satisfaction and declared his patient would soon
be out of the woods and that all danger was practically past. At which
news Mrs. May quietly fainted away, and April faced the double burden of
an exhausted mother and a wounded brother. Then it was that Dorothea
slipped into the breach.
“I can take care of Hal,” she told April. “If he needs anything that I
cannot attend to, I promise to call you; so you can stay with Aunt
Parthenia.” April thanked her cousin gratefully.
“I knew I could count on you,” she said, with something of her old
warmth of manner. “I don’t dare to trust Harriot. She would be stuffing
him with dried persimmons, like as not, the minute my back was turned.
And the servants are no good with sick people.”
So Dorothea, feeling glad to be of use, sat down beside the bed where
Hal seemed to be lightly sleeping.
She waved a fan gently to and fro to keep away stray flies, thinking
over the months she had been in Georgia and all that had happened in
that time. After all, in spite of the fact that she had lived near to
the battle-fields, she had not seen very much to teach her the horrors
of war. The few crippled soldiers that wandered along the road had not
come fresh from the conflict as had Hal. The talk of thousands fallen in
this or that battle had not come close to her before this. Now, all at
once, she realized that those thousands had each a home, just as Hal May
had, and that in each was a sorrowing mother or sister whose heart ached
at the pain or death she could do naught to prevent.
“Except Val Tracy,” she said to herself. “He says he has no kin to
bother about him, and—and poor Lee Hendon too. He hasn’t anybody, since
his mother died.”
And, as if she had spoken aloud, a voice beside her seemed to answer.
“Where did he go? Lee Hendon, I mean.”
Dorothea came up straight in her chair, hardly able to believe her ears,
for it was Hal who spoke. He was looking at her with inquiring eyes and
she returned his gaze with an expression of bewildered amazement.
“What happened to Lee?” Hal demanded after a moment.
Dorothea was confused. She remembered that sick people needed to be
humored but she had also heard that they should not be allowed to talk.
“Hadn’t I better call April?” she asked gently, half rising from her
chair.
“By no means,” Hal answered positively. “I don’t want her, above all
people, to know of this. Tell me, what happened to Lee? Was he captured,
after all?”
“You forget,” Dorothea answered patiently, “that we haven’t heard of him
since his mother died, long ago.”
Hal considered this for a moment, turning his bandaged head restlessly
from side to side.
“But you know Lee brought me home,” he remarked a moment later. “I’d
have died if it hadn’t been for him.”
This convinced Dorothea that Hal by no means knew what he was talking
about.
“It’s all right, Hal,” she said soothingly. “Don’t bother about it.” She
meant to calm him, feeling that this babbling about Lee Hendon would be
most distressing to April and not wishing to summon her if she could
avoid it.
“But he brought me home,” Hal persisted. “I don’t want any of the family
to hear about it. April least of all. She’s down on Lee, you know, and
this would make it all the worse. Can’t you tell me what has happened to
him?”
“Hal, dear,” Dorothea said firmly, thinking that he must be quieted,
“you mustn’t talk, must you? Please go to sleep and don’t bother.”
This seemed to have the reverse of a soothing effect on the patient.
“I believe he’s captured,” Hal cried, excitedly, “and you’re all hiding
it from me. And it will go hard with him, too. I must see about it. How
long have I been here?” He started to raise himself from the bed. “Send
for Big Jim,” he ordered. Dorothea was now half desperate.
“Hal,” she insisted sternly, “listen to me and try to understand what I
tell you. Lee Hendon did not bring you home. Your Big Jim brought you.
He told us so himself. He put you in a mule cart with a lop-eared mule
and drove you here. You just dreamed it was Lee Hendon. And you will
make yourself ill if you go on like this. He isn’t captured, that we
know of, and besides the Yankees wouldn’t harm him if he is. He’ll be
safe enough till after the war anyway. Don’t fret about him and go to
sleep.”
The ghost of a smile appeared on Hal’s drawn and haggard face. Then he
lay down quietly, evidently striving to gather strength against another
encounter with this stubborn girl beside him, so that the next time he
spoke Dorothea was impressed that what he said was not the result of
delirium.
“You’re a good sort, Dee,” he began, “and I know I can trust you to keep
a secret. Now please don’t think I’m out of my head because I’m not now,
whatever I may have been. Listen, I owe Lee Hendon my life. Do you
understand that?”
“Yes,” Dorothea answered.
“Good,” replied Hal. “Lee saved my life and brought me in here, no
matter what that rascal Big Jim had to say about it. He saw Big Jim and
recognized him, knowing that he was my body-servant. Well, it was Lee
paid for the cart and saw to it that I landed safely here. Big Jim
couldn’t possibly have managed it alone.”
“Are you sure, Hal?” Dorothea asked.
“Positive,” he replied firmly. “And he’s in a tight place, so I must see
that he gets out of it. If he’s captured nothing can save him. He is in
the Coulter Woods this minute waiting for word from me, and here I’ve
been, lying on my back, doing nothing.”
“You can’t do anything now, Hal,” Dorothea interrupted, seeing the
certain drift of his talk. “You haven’t the strength.”
“But something must be done for him,” Hal insisted.
“Very well, I’ll help him,” Dorothea answered.
He looked up at her a moment, his eyes growing moist.
“I think you’re the only one who would, Dee,” he replied, lapsing into
weakness again when he felt the responsibility lifted from his
shoulders. “If you will pay my debt to him, I shall be easier in my
mind.”
“Of course, Hal,” she assured him. “You can count on me.”
He nodded his head slightly and then with a sigh dropped off to sleep,
utterly exhausted.
It was easy enough for Hal to say, “Pay my debt,” but Dorothea had no
idea how that was to be accomplished. All she knew was that Lee Hendon
was in Coulter Woods or at least that Hal thought so. As she speculated
upon the matter she concluded that Lee and Hal had parted on the
understanding that the former would remain there to receive the help he
was in need of. But it was in no wise clear to Dorothea. Why should
Hendon need help? In what danger did he stand? Washington was his home,
and although he was not particularly popular with the more fanatical
people of the town, there were many who understood something of his
position and were entirely sympathetic with him. The more she pondered
the matter the more she began again to believe that Hal was not quite
himself, and that his illness and fever had been the cause of his
curious state of mind in regard to Lee Hendon.
She sat beside the bed, gently fanning the tranquil patient when Harriot
came in on tiptoe.
“How is he?” she asked in a whisper, settling herself on the floor
beside Dorothea.
“He’s better, I think,” Dorothea whispered in answer.
“What he needs,” Harriot remarked judicially, “is food. I’d be as weak
as a kitten on the mushy stuff they feed him. I wish his mammy was here.
She lives down on our plantation at Magnolia. She understands about sick
people. She always gives you good things to eat.”
April came in shortly and relieved Dorothea, but Harriot had plans for
the afternoon and spoke of them as soon as they came out of the sick
room.
“I say, Dee,” she said, “let’s go over and see Corinne. I think it would
be fun to drive over ourselves and—and Corinne was in, asking after Hal,
and she says their cook has just made some rice-flour cookies.”
Dorothea hailed the suggestion promptly. She thought she saw a way of
getting to Coulter Woods with no one the wiser, if it was important that
the rest of the family should not know that Lee Hendon was lurking
there. She did not understand why this should be so, but Hal’s evident
concern pointed to that conclusion. There was, of course, the
possibility that Hal had been half delirious, but she dared not take
that for granted. She must go to the woods alone and see if she could
And Lee Hendon. So she acquiesced in Harriot’s plans, and the two were
shortly on the road for the Stewart house.
Mrs. Stewart, as usual, was busy packing. Piles of clothing, shoes,
curtains, blankets, baskets of silver, packages of groceries, a
confusion of all sorts of things blocked the doorway; but Mrs. Stewart
greeted them as calmly as if she were in her reception room receiving
the neighborhood.
“I sent for you to come up, my dears,” she explained, “because I thought
it would be a most valuable lesson to see how a person with real
foresight and executive ability arranges for all the eventualities of
travel.”
With elaborate care she took a huge muff from its cedar box, examined it
for moths and put it into one of the open trunks.
“That is my Brazilian trunk,” she remarked. “I am taking my furs there,
because I am sure they will be quite unusual in Brazil, and a newcomer,
you know, must make an impression at once.”
“So you’ve decided to go to Brazil, Aunt Cora,” Harriot said. “I wonder
what kind of things they have to eat in Brazil,” she added dreamily.
“I don’t really know,” her aunt replied quite seriously, “but I am quite
sure they must be delicious, or we would have heard of it. Haven’t you
often noticed how people like to tell you about the awful things they
have to put up with on their travels? I have, and yet never have I heard
a complaint about Brazil; so I have concluded it must be a most ideal
spot.”
Dorothea chuckled.
“Yes, that’s so,” she said; “People are always telling you about the
garlic in Italy and the smelly cheese in Norway, and—”
“And the rats in China,” Harriot put in, not to be outdone.
“Exactly,” Mrs. Stewart responded; “so, in my Mexican trunks, I am
putting a few simple necessities in the food line.” She selected some
packages of groceries and settled them in another of the trunks. “Of
course you know I can’t live on the beans and peppery things that
Mexicans eat.”
“But you aren’t going to _both_ Mexico and Brazil?” Dorothea asked, her
eyes opening in surprise.
“Of course not,” Mrs. Stewart replied with considerable pride. “That’s
where my foresight comes in. I don’t know which place I may finally
decide to select, so I am packing for _both_.”
At this announcement the girls exchanged amused glances, but Mrs.
Stewart was diving into another trunk and did not see.
Harriot stayed long enough to secure the refreshments that sooner or
later were always forthcoming, and then she suddenly discovered a good
reason why they should be getting home again.
“Are you really going this time, Aunt Cora?” Harriot asked as they were
taking their departure.
“Almost any day now, my love,” her aunt answered, “but I sha’n’t go
without seeing you-all once more.”
“I wasn’t thinking of that,” Harriot answered frankly, though without
the slightest intention of being rude. “I was just wondering who would
get the peaches. You know, Dee,” she went on, turning to Dorothea, “the
Crosslands peaches are the best in the state.”
“My dear child,” Aunt Cora replied with gracious generosity, “you may
have as many as you like when we are gone. Only I am afraid that the
Yankees will take them all before you can get a chance at them.”
“Huh!” grunted Harriot, bristling. “If those peaches are _mine_, it’ll
take a mighty smart Yankee to get them away from me. And besides, I can
eat them greener than any upstart Northerner that ever was born. I’ve
had practice.”
“They’re yours, honey, if we are away,” her aunt replied with a laugh.
“Only don’t make yourself sick.”
“Nothing ever makes me sick,” Harriot replied proudly. “The more I eat
the weller and weller I get.”
“I know,” sighed her aunt. “I’d give my small emerald ring for such a
digestion as you have, Harriot. By the way, there’s a raspberry tart
somewhere. You might just as well eat it up. It disagreed with me
horribly.”
“I have!” Harriot replied with a triumphant grin, and they went down
stairs after saying good-by.
“As sure as you’re born, Dee,” Harriot said as they started to get into
the carriage, “Aunt Cora won’t go away now any more than she did the
other times she started.”
“I don’t believe she will, either,” Dorothea agreed absently, for her
mind was upon the matter that had brought her there so willingly. She
wanted to go through the Coulter Woods alone and she was now alert to
seize the first opportunity that offered to try her plan.
Harriot, driving the old horse, chattered on, seemingly unmindful of
Dorothea’s indifferent answers, and presently they neared the place
where the path entered the woods.
“My, but this is a slow horse,” Dorothea suddenly remarked out of a
clear sky; which was doing the animal something of an injustice, and
Harriot immediately rushed to its defense, as Dorothea hoped she would.
“It’s not so slow at all,” Harriot contradicted promptly. “Mose isn’t
very young any more, but he’s not so slow either.”
“I could walk home quicker than we’ll get there this way,” Dorothea
answered with exaggerated scorn.
“You could not,” Harriot answered. “You couldn’t possibly, even if you
ran through the woods.”
“Oh, pshaw,” remarked Dorothea. “I could crawl through the woods and
beat you home.”
“I’ll bet you our dessert for supper you can’t!” Harriot challenged
promptly and pulled up the horse at the path.
“All right,” cried Dorothea, jumping down into the road. “We’ll see who
eats two desserts,” and with a wave of her hand she plunged out of sight
while Harriot chirped old Mose into a good trot.
Once safe from observation Dorothea slowed her walk to a saunter. Before
she had attained her object she had pictured Lee Hendon as popping out
from behind every bush; but now that she was actually among the trees
she realized that if he was in hiding he would scarcely wish to be seen
by a stranger wandering that way. Yet, if he was there, she must find
him, for she did not know when another such chance would present itself.
She dared not call his name. It was possible, of course, that, save for
him, she was the only person within miles; but she could not be certain
of this. And how could she show him that she was a person to be trusted?
That seemed a difficult thing to accomplish.
Then, of a sudden, she remembered her coming to the South under a flag
of truce, honored alike by the Confederacy and the Union. She would show
a white flag and if Lee Hendon saw her he would at least know that she
was not an enemy.
Her handkerchief, she decided, was too small, but she had a large white
veil and this she tied to the handle of her parasol. Then she talked
slowly on, waving her improvised flag in the air.
But for a time she saw nothing of the man she sought. Now and then she
would halt and look about her; but everything was silent and still, and,
though she could imagine that the bushes hid all sorts of wild
creatures, there was no movement to show of their existence.
She set off again, a little discouraged, but after a moment or two a
sharp cracking of a twig off to her right, brought her to a stop. Again
she looked back, peering into the closely growing underbrush and
straining her ears, but there was no further sound and once more she
walked slowly on.
For several minutes she continued on her way, when a low whistle halted
her in her tracks. She was certain now that she was followed. She had
felt it vaguely before, and the cracking of the twig had confirmed this
sensation. Now the whistle was sure evidence, and she stood still and
waited.
In a moment or two she heard the rustling sound of something moving
through the bushes toward her, but could see nothing until a voice
addressed her out of the thicket ten yards or so away.
“Are you looking for any one in particular?” came the low-toned inquiry.
“Yes,” she answered, boldly, but her heart was beating a little faster
than was its wont.
“Who sent you?” was the next challenge.
“Hal May,” she returned. The bushes parted and the man whose face she
had seen at the window the night of her first party at the Mays’ stood
before her.
But at the sight of him she drew back with a little cry of surprise and
fear.
“You’re not Lee Hendon?” she faltered. “You can’t be!”
“Of course I am,” he replied gravely, and then Dorothea understood
something in Hal’s talk that had puzzled her, for Lee Hendon was dressed
in the uniform of a Union officer.