A REMARKABLE REVELATION.
Alarming news reached the Ruthven plantation that night. A large force
of Federal soldiers had loomed up in the vicinity, and the Confederate
army had been compelled to fall back to the mountains and to the valley
beyond.
"Our victory is swallowed up in defeat," said Marion, but even as she
spoke a soft look came into her eyes. Perhaps, if the Yankees were
coming again, she would see Harry Powell once more. Even though she did
not wish to acknowledge it to herself, Marion thought much of her
dashing cousin.
"What a man he is, compared with cowardly St. John!" she said to
herself. And then she prayed to Heaven that Harry might come out of the
war unharmed.
Marion's wish was gratified so far as seeing Harry Powell was concerned,
for the young surgeon dashed up on horseback early in the morning.
"I could not keep away," he said, after shaking hands with Mrs. Ruthven
and his cousin. "I heard that the fight was fierce in this neighborhood,
and I wanted to learn if you had suffered."
"We had a cannon ball go through the sitting room," answered Mrs.
Ruthven.
"And was anybody hurt?"
"One of the wounded soldiers was hit. He has now a high fever in
consequence."
"Thank God the cannon ball did not hit you or Marion!" ejaculated Harry
Powell, and gave Marion a look that made the girl blush deeply.
"Somebody said the Ruthven place had been on fire."
"That was at St. John's place," answered Marion. "But the fire was put
out before great damage was done."
"I am happy to see that you were not hurt, Harry," said Mrs. Ruthven.
"You must have been in peril many times."
"I was in peril, aunt, and I did not escape wholly. I was wounded in the
shoulder, although the hurt is of small consequence."
"I am glad that you escaped," cried Marion. And she gave him a look that
meant a good deal.
"Poor Colonel Stanton was not so fortunate," went on the young surgeon.
"He was shot through the breast, and now lies between life and death."
"Jack saw him shot, from a distance," said Mrs. Ruthven.
"Did he? And where is Jack now?"
"He has disappeared," and the lady of the plantation gave her nephew
some of the particulars.
Harry was invited into the house, and he remained to lunch, in the
meantime telling of the general progress of the war.
"Frankly, I wish it was at an end," he said. "I hate to see one section
of our glorious country fighting the other. It is not right."
During the talk it developed that Colonel Stanton was lying at a house
about half a mile distant, up the bay road.
"He acts very queerly," said Harry Powell, "just as if his wound had
affected his mind."
"Can we do anything for him?" asked Mrs. Ruthven.
"I do not know of anything now. But perhaps I'll think of something
later, aunt. I do not wish the colonel to suffer any more than is
necessary. He is a thorough gentleman."
"I feel you are right, Harry. He has given me an entirely different idea
of Yankees from what I had before," returned Mrs. Ruthven warmly.
The lady of the plantation became deeply interested in the wounded
colonel's case, and when the young surgeon went away she had one of the
negroes of the place hitch up a horse to the carriage and drive her over
to where the wounded officer lay.
The colonel was in something of a fever, and hardly recognized her. For
a long time he kept muttering to himself, but she could not catch his
words.
"The ship is doomed!" he cried suddenly. "We are going to pieces on the
rocks!" And then he began to speak of the army and of the terrible
battle through which he had gone.
"What can he mean by saying the ship is doomed?" was the question which
Mrs. Ruthven asked herself. "Can it be that he was once in a shipwreck?"
For a long while after this the colonel lay silent. Then he opened his
eyes and stared around wildly.
"All drowned, you say?" he exclaimed. "No! no! Laura must be saved! Save
my wife--never mind me! How high the waves are running! Where is the
child? Captain, why don't you put out to sea? Don't you see the rebels?
They are luring us to the coast! See, that rebel is stealing my child,
my darling Jack! Ha! we have struck, and I am drifting. Laura, where are
you? Save Jack! Look, look, they are retreating! The battle is won! Oh,
what a storm--can nothing be saved?" And then the poor man sank back,
completely exhausted.
Mrs. Ruthven drank in the spoken words like one in a dream. What was
this the wounded officer was saying? Something about a storm, about a
wife Laura, and a child named Jack!
"Can it be possible that he is speaking of our boy Jack?" she asked
herself, and then looked at the colonel's face more closely than ever.
The resemblance was more than striking, it was perfect. Give Jack that
heavy mustache and those wrinkles, and the faces would be exactly alike.
"He must be Jack's father!" she went on. "How wonderful! But what does
this mean? Why did he not claim Jack long ago?"
For over an hour she sat by the colonel's side, but he made no further
efforts to speak. In the meantime a surgeon came in to attend to the
officer's wound.
"If you can have him taken to my house, I will see to it that he has the
best of care," said Mrs. Ruthven.
"Why, are you not a Southern woman, madam?" questioned the surgeon, in
pardonable surprise.
"I am, but I know Colonel Stanton, and do not wish to see him suffer any
more than is necessary."
"He is a friend?"
"Something of a friend, yes."
"And who are you, if I may ask?"
"I am Mrs. Alice Ruthven, owner of the plantation half a mile from here.
Dr. Harry Powell, whom you may know, is my nephew."
"I know Dr. Powell well, and if he says it is all right, I'll have
Colonel Stanton removed to your home without delay."
"When will you see Dr. Powell?"
"To-day. This is not a nice place, and I would like to see the colonel
have better quarters."
A little later Mrs. Ruthven left and drove home with all speed.
"Marion, I have wonderful news!" she exclaimed, on entering the room
where the girl sat making bandages for the wounded soldiers.
"What is it, mamma; is Jack found?"
"No, but I am almost sure that I have found Jack's father?"
"Oh, mamma! Of course you don't mean that horrid Dr. Mackey?"
"No, I mean Colonel Stanton."
"Mamma!" And Marion leaped up, scattering the bandages in all
directions.
"Did you ever notice how much Jack and the colonel resembled each
other?"
"I did."
"The colonel is in a fever, and while I was there he cried out about a
shipwreck, and asked that his wife Laura and his son Jack be saved."
"Didn't you always think Jack's mother was named Laura?"
"I did--although I wasn't sure."
"But why didn't he come to claim Jack?"
"That's the mystery. I have asked that the colonel be brought here, and
as soon as he is well enough to stand being questioned I am going to
learn the truth of the matter."
"I hope he is Jack's father," murmured Marion. "But if so, what of Dr.
Mackey?"
"That's another mystery."
"He must know something of the colonel's past."
"Undoubtedly."
"I wonder if the two ever met in this vicinity?"
"There is no telling. I am impatient to question the colonel. But of
course nothing can be done until he is better and in his right mind."
That evening there was the rattle of wagon-wheels on the gravel road
leading up to the Ruthven mansion, and, looking out, Marion and her
mother saw an ambulance approaching. The colonel was inside, and they
hastened to prepare a bedroom for his accommodation.
"Is he better?" asked Mrs. Ruthven of the surgeon in charge.
"A trifle," was the answer. "What he needs is rest and quiet. He has a
strong constitution, and that is in his favor."
It did not take long to transfer Colonel Stanton to the bedchamber
prepared for his reception, and once he was in the house Mrs. Ruthven
did all in her power to make him comfortable. The ride had somewhat
exhausted the officer, and he slept heavily until far into the next
morning.