ELLEN
Our forces passed up the valley of Virginia and rolled through the old
Rockfish Gap--where once the Knights of the Golden Horn paused and took
possession, in the name of King Charles, of all the land thence to the
South Sea. We overspread all the Piedmont Valley and passed down to the
old town of Charlottesville. It was nearly deserted now. The gay
Southern boys who in the past rode there with their negro servants, and
set at naught good Thomas Jefferson's intent of simplicity in the narrow
little chambers of the old University of Virginia, now were gone with
their horses and their servants. To-day you may see their names in
bronze on the tablets at the University doors.
I quartered my men about the quiet old place, and myself hunted up an
office-room on one of the rambling streets that wandered beneath the
trees. I was well toward the finish of my morning's work when I heard
the voice of my sentry challenge, and caught an answering word of
indignation in a woman's voice. I stepped to the door.
A low, single-seated cart was halted near the curb, and one of its
occupants was apparently much angered. I saw heir clutch the long brown
rifle barrel which extended out at the rear over the top of the seat.
"You git out'n the road, man," repeated she, "or I'll take a shot at you
for luck! We done come this fur, and I reckon we c'n go the rest the
way."
That could be no one but old Mandy McGovern! For the sake of amusement I
should have left her to make her own argument with the guard, had I not
in the same glance caught sight of her companion, a trim figure in close
fitting corduroy of golden brown, a wide hat of russet straw shading her
face, wide gauntlet gloves drawn over her little hands.
Women were not usual within the Army lines. Women such as this were not
usual anywhere. It was Ellen!
Her face went rosy red as I hastened to the side of the cart and put
down Mandy's arm. She stammered, unable to speak more connectedly than I
myself. Mandy could not forget her anger, and insisted that she wanted
to see the "boss."
"I am the Colonel in command right here, Aunt Mandy," I said. "Won't I
do?"
"You a kunnel?" she retorted. "Looks to me like kunnels is mighty easy
made if you'll do. No, we're atter Ginral Meriwether, who's comin' here
to be the real boss of all you folks. Say, man, you taken away my man
and my boy. Where they at?"
"With me here," I was glad to answer, "safe, and somewhere not far away.
The boy is wounded, but his arm is nearly well."
"Ain't got his bellyful o' fightin' yit?"
"No, both he and Auberry seem to be just beginning."
"Humph! Reackon they're happy, then. If a man's gettin' three squares a
day and plenty o' fightin', don't see whut more he kin ask."
"Corporal," I called to my sentry, who was now pacing back and forth
before the door, hiding his mouth behind his hand, "put this woman under
arrest, and hold her until I return. She's looking for privates Auberry
and McGovern, G Company, First Virginia Volunteers. Keep her in my
office while they're sent for. Bring me my bag from the table."
It was really a pretty fight, that between Mandy and the corporal. The
latter was obliged to call out the guard for aid. "Sick 'em, Pete!"
cried Mandy, when she found her arms pinioned; and at once there darted
out from under the cart a hairy little demon of a dog, mute, mongrelish,
pink-eared, which began silent havoc with the corporal's legs.
I looked again at that dog. I was ready to take it in my arms and cry
out that it was my friend! It was the little Indian dog that Ellen and I
had tamed! Why, then, had she kept it, why had she brought it home with
her? I doubt which way the contest would have gone, had not Mandy seen
me climb into her vacated seat and take up the reins. "Pete" then
stolidly took up his place under the cart.
We turned and drove back up the shady street, Ellen and I. I saw her
fingers twisting together in her lap, but as yet she had not spoken. The
flush on her cheek was deeper now. She beat her hands together softly,
confused, half frightened; but she did not beg me to leave her.
"If you could get away," she began at last, "I would ask you to drive me
back home. Aunt Mandy and I are living there together. Kitty Stevenson's
visiting me--you'll--you'll want to call on Kitty. My father has been in
East Kentucky, but I understand he's ordered here this week. Major
Stevenson is with him. We thought we might get word, and so came on
through the lines."
"You had no right to do so. The pickets should have stopped you," I
said. "At the same time, I am very glad they didn't."
"So you are a Colonel," she said after a time, with an Army girl's nice
reading of insignia.
"Yes," I answered, "I am an officer. Now if I could only be a
gentleman!"
"Don't!" she whispered. "Don't talk in that way, please."
"Do you think I could be?"
"I think you have been," she whispered, all her face rosy now.
We were now near the line of our own pickets on this edge of the town.
Making myself known, I passed through and drove out into the country
roads, along the edge of the hills, now glorious in their autumn hues.
It was a scene fair as Paradise to me. Presently Ellen pointed to a
mansion house on a far off hill--such a house as can be found nowhere in
America but in this very valley; an old family seat, lying, reserved and
full of dignity, at a hilltop shielded with great oaks. I bethought me
again of the cities of peace I had seen on the far horizons of another
land than this.
"That is our home," she said. "We have not often been here since
grandfather died, and then my mother. But this is the place that we
Meriwethers all call home."
Then I saw again what appeal the profession of arms makes to a man--how
strong is its fascination. It had taken the master of a home like this
from a life like this, and plunged him into the hardships and dangers of
frontier war, again into the still more difficult and dangerous
conflicts between great armies. Not for months, for years, had he set
foot on his own sod--sod like ours in Loudoun, never broken by a plow.
As we approached the gate I heard behind us the sound of galloping
horses. There came up the road a mounted officer, with his personal
escort, an orderly, several troopers, and a grinning body servant.
"Look--there he comes--it is my father!" exclaimed Ellen; and in a
moment she was out of the cart and running down the road to meet him,
taking his hand, resting her cheek against his dusty thigh, as he sat in
saddle.
The officer saluted me sharply. "You are outside the lines," said he.
"Have you leave?"
I saluted also, and caught the twinkle in his eye as I looked into his
face.
"On detached service this morning, General," I said. "If you please, I
shall report to you within the hour."
He wheeled his horse and spurred on up along his own grounds, fit master
for their stateliness. But he entered, leaving the gate wide open for us
to pass.
"Shut the gate, Benjie," said Ellen as I tossed down a coin to the
grinning black. And then to me, "You don't know Benjie? Yes, he's
married again to Kitty's old cook, Annie. They're both here."
An orderly took our horse when finally we drove up; but at the time I
did not go into the house. I did not ask for Mrs. Kitty Stevenson. A
wide seat lay beneath one of the oaks. We wandered thither, Ellen and I.
The little dog, mute, watchful, kept close at her side.
"Ellen," said I to her, "the time has come now. I am not going to wait
any longer. Read this." I put into her hand Gordon Orme's confession.
She read, with horror starting on her face. "What a scoundrel--what a
criminal!" she said. "The man was a demon. He killed your father!"
"Yes, and in turn I killed him," I said, slowly. Her eyes flashed. She
was savage again, as I had seen her. My soul leaped out to see her
fierce, relentless, exulting that I had fought and won, careless that I
had slain.
"Orme did all he could to ruin me in every way," I added. "Read on."
Then I saw her face change to pity as she came to the next clause. So
now she knew the truth about Grace Sheraton, and, I hoped, the truth
about John Cowles.
"Can you forgive me?" she said, brokenly, her dark eyes swimming in
tears, as she turned toward me.
"That is not the question," I answered, slowly. "It is, can _you_
forgive _me_?" Her hand fell on my arm imploringly.
"I have no doubt that I was much to blame for that poor girl's act," I
continued. "The question only is, has my punishment been enough, or can
it be enough? Do you forgive me? We all make mistakes. Am I good enough
for you, Ellen? answer me."
But she would not yet answer. So I went on.
"I killed Gordon Orme myself, in fair fight; but he wrote this of his
own free will. He himself told me it would be proof. Is it proof?"
She put the paper gently to one side of her on the long seat. "I do not
need it," she said. "If it came to question of proof, we have learned
much of these matters, my father and I, since we last met you. But I
have never needed it; not even that night we said good-by. Ah! how I
wanted you back after you had gone!"
"And your father?" I asked of her, my hand falling on hers.
"He knows as much as I. Lately he has heard from your friend, Doctor
Bond--we have both learned a great many things. We are sorry. I am
sorry. I have _always_ been sorry."
"But what more?" I asked. "Ellen!"
She put out her hands in a sort of terror. "Don't," she said. "I have
put all this away for so long that now--I can't begin again. I can't! I
can't! I am afraid. Do not ask me. Do not. No--no!"
She started from the seat as though she would have fled in a swift
panic. But now I caught her.
"Stop!" I exclaimed, rage in all my heart. "I've been a fool long
enough, and now I will have no more of foolishness. I will try no more
to figure niceties. I'll not try to understand a woman. But gentleman or
not, I swear by God! if we were alone again, we two, out there--then I'd
not use you the same the second time whatever you said, or asked, or
pleaded, or argued, I would not listen--not a word would I listen
to--you should do as I said, as I desired. And I say now you _must_, you
_shall_!"
Anger may have been in my face--I do not know. I crushed her back into
the seat.
And she--Ellen--the girl I had seen and loved in the desert silences?
She sank back against the rail with a little sigh as of content, a
little smile as of a child caught in mischief and barred from escape.
Oh, though I lived a thousand years, never would I say I understood a
woman!
"Now we will end all this," I said, frowning. I caught her by the arm
and led her to the gallery, where I picked up the bag I had left at the
driveway. I myself rang at the door, not allowing her to lead me in. The
orderly came.
"My compliments to General Meriwether," I said, "and Colonel Cowles
would like to speak with him."
He came, that tall man, master of the mansion, dusty with his travel,
stern of face, maned like a gray bear of the hills; but he smiled and
reached out his hand. "Come in, sir," he said. And now we entered.
"It seems you have brought back my girl again. I hope my welcome will be
warmer than it was at Laramie!" He looked at us, from one to the other,
the brown skin about his keen eyes wrinkling.
"I have certain things to say, General," I began. We were walking into
the hall. As soon as I might, I handed to him the confession of Gordon
Orme. He read it with shut lips.
"Part of this I knew already," he said, finally, "but not this as to
your father. You have my sympathy--and, sir, my congratulations on your
accounting for such a fiend. There, at least, justice has been served."
He hesitated before continuing.
"As to some details, I regret that my daughter has been brought into
such matters," he said, slowly. "I regret also that I have made many
other matters worse; but I am very glad that they have now been made
plain. Dr. Samuel Bond, of Wallingford, your father's friend, has
cleared up much of all this. I infer that he has advised you of the
condition of our joint business matters?"
"Our estate is in your debt General," I said, "but I can now adjust
that. We shall pay our share. After that, the lands shall be divided, or
held jointly as yourself shall say."
"Why could they not remain as they are?" He smiled at me. "Let me hope
so."
I turned to Ellen. "Please," I said, "bring me the other half of this."
I flung open my bag and spread upon the nearest table my half of the
record of our covenant, done, as it had seemed to me, long years ago.
Colonel Meriwether and I bent over the half rigid parchment. I saw that
Ellen had gone; but presently she came again, hesitating, flushing red,
and put into my hands the other half of our indenture. She carried Pete,
the little dog, under her arm, his legs projecting stiffly; and now a
wail of protest broke from Pete, squeezed too tightly in her unconscious
clasp.
I placed the pieces edge to edge upon the table. The old familiar words
looked up at me again, solemnly. Again I felt my heart choke my throat
as I read: "_I, John Cowles--I, Ellen Meriwether--take thee--take
thee--until death do us part_."
I handed her a pencil. She wrote slowly, freakishly, having her maiden
will; and it seemed to me still a week to a letter as she signed. But at
last her name stood in full--_E-l-l-e-n M-e-r-i-w-e-t-h-e-r_.
"General," I said, "this indenture witnesseth! We two are bound by it.
We have 'consented together in holy wedlock.' We have 'witnessed the
same before God.' We have 'pledged our faith, either to other.'"
He dashed his hand across his eyes; then, with a swift motion, he placed
our hands together. "My boy," said he, "I've always wanted my girl to be
taken by an Army man--an officer and a gentleman. Damn it, sir! I beg
your pardon, Ellen--give me that pencil. I'll sign my own name--I'll
witness this myself! There's a regimental chaplain with our command--if
we can't find a preacher left in Charlottesville."
"Orderly!" I called, with a gesture asking permission of my superior.
"Yes, orderly," he finished for me, "get ready to ride to town. We have
an errand there." He turned to us and motioned us as though to
ownership, bowing with grave courtesy as he himself left the room. I
heard the chatter of Mrs. Kitty greet him. I was conscious of a grinning
black face peering in at a window--Annie, perhaps. They all loved Ellen.
But Ellen and I, as though by instinct, stepped toward the open door, so
that we might again see the mountain tops.
I admit I kissed her!