My lady of the South. Randall Parrish
figure seemed to sink down into the saddle, her head drooping forward.
"Are you so bitterly prejudiced as to believe all Northerners are unworthy? Can you not forget the color of the uniform for a single hour, and trust me to act justly?"
She straightened up instantly, gripping the saddle pommel, and staring toward me through the night.
"But—but," she sobbed, the full bewildering horror of it echoing in her voice. "We have been married! O Father of mercy—married to a Yankee!"
I put my hand out upon the bit of her mare, leaning toward her in my eagerness to explain, determined to finish before she could again interrupt. Better a confession of the whole truth now, except that I durst not trust her with the news I hoped to bear across the river.
"I beg you listen to me; listen to all I have to say. If you fully comprehend the situation you may not condemn me so completely. I know I have done wrong have been guilty of a cowardly act—yet it is not beyond remedy, and I have been driven to it for the preservation of life. Believe me when I say that I respect you; that I will treat you with all honor; only hear what I have to say in my own defence. To be a Federal soldier is not a crime, nor evidence of a debased manhood. That we should differ in time of war does not mean that all which is gentlemanly should be enrolled upon the one side. There are true, honest, upright men wearing both uniforms—the difference between us is political. I am in the Northern army because I am a Northerner, because I have been educated in the principles of that section of the country, and have been called upon to fight to sustain them. Surely you cannot despise me for that alone. That would not be just, nor womanly. I am going to appeal to you simply as a man, not as a partisan. Forget that I was born north, and you south of Mason and Dixon's line, and judge my actions from a fairer standard. Can you do this?"
She did not move nor answer, yet her very silence gave me renewed courage.
"I know you can and will. You have the face and eyes of a woman to be trusted, to be confided in—"
"How do you know that?"
"Because I saw you yesterday, while you were talking with the negro Joe, in the tool-shed."
"You—you were there?—you overheard?"
"Yes," I confessed unwillingly, for her tone was a rebuke. "But I was not an eavesdropper from choice. I was there in concealment, and had fallen asleep. Your voices awoke me."
I knew she was staring toward me, still dazed by the discovery of who I was, unable to decide what to do or say, although her feature, were utterly indistinguishable. At last she seemed to gain sufficient control of her breath to falter,
"You may go on; I—I will listen."
"It is only a short story. I was a member of Reynolds's battery, having enlisted from Illinois. I have been in the service nearly two years. During that last battle yonder, your soldiers charged and captured our guns. In the struggle I was struck in the side by a splinter, and rendered unconscious by a blow on the head. I chanced to fall beneath the cannon, which had been so demolished as to be rendered useless, and lay there like one dead until late at night. When consciousness returned I realized the horrors of my situation, as well as the certainty of capture and imprisonment if I remained there until daylight. Finding myself able to move, I crawled to a near-by stream, attended as best I could to my wounds, and, remembering a vague glimpse of your house down the valley, caught as our battery went forward into action, I naturally turned in that direction, seeking for some place of concealment until another night-fall."
She did not change her posture, yet as I paused I could plainly hear her rapid breathing.
"It was a hard journey, yet I finally crept into your tool-shed just before daybreak, and fell asleep. Your conversation with the negro aroused me, and after you had both gone, and the night came to hide my movements, I succeeded in procuring some food. Before starting to find my way into the Federal lines, I chanced to overhear some conversation on the front veranda, and learned that an orderly was expected to arrive at any moment from the west. Realizing the advantage of possessing his horse and uniform, I resolved to waylay the rider. To accomplish this I made my way back as far as the creek crossing, and lay in wait there. It was not long before a mounted man came down the opposite bank, and stopped to water his horse in the stream. Ten minutes later he was lying there helpless, securely gagged and bound, and I was leading his horse forward, hoping to steal past your plantation unobserved in the darkness."
"But—but it was not the orderly you attacked," she exclaimed. "It was Calvert Dunn."
"Yes, it was Lieutenant Dunn, but I assure you he was left unhurt. What followed I think you already know: how I was discovered by Joe and your brother; how in the gloom they very naturally mistook me for Dunn; how they insisted upon my coming up to the house. I was compelled to yield to their insistence, or else fight them; I never thought at that moment of Dunn's special mission. It merely seemed as if the mistake in identity gave me an opportunity for escape. You realize how all the rest was forced upon me; there appeared no possible way to avoid what happened. When I first arose to my feet at the request of the Chaplain, it was with the intention of knocking your father and brother down, and making a mad rush for the horses. But I hesitated a moment too long. Even as I stood there, bracing myself for the struggle, the Chaplain began, and you took my hand. Then do you comprehend what induced me to remain silent?"
I paused in vain; there was no sound, no movement.
"It was because I knew how you dreaded that marriage with Calvert Dunn."
"And," she burst forth, "did you imagine I would prefer one with you?"
"Certainly not, but it saved you from him and from what might have proven a life-time of misery. You need never see me again, and any court would immediately grant you a divorce on the ground of fraud. I even doubt if such a marriage would be held legal."
"But—but, you do not understand," her words almost sobs. "I have ridden away with you. I am here alone with you now."
"My purpose is to leave you at Fairview. It will require no more than two hours from the time we left your people before we arrive there. No one need ever know the truth, excepting those anxious to protect your good name. You may trust me implicitly."
"Trust you—you! What, after all this? After your lies, your eavesdropping, your spying, your tricking of me into this awful situation? God forgive me! Married to a Yankee! Release my rein!"
I hesitated, the fierce flaming up of her anger so suddenly paralyzing my senses. There was a swift uplifting of her arm to a level with my head.
"I mean it! You thought me helpless, and—and in your power, but I am not. You drop that rein, or I'll fire. Oh, I can do it, you—you miserable Yankee spy! I hate and despise you!"
She drew back her horse, wheeling the animal about, yet turning in the saddle herself so as to keep me in view.
"I do not know why I do not kill you," she exclaimed, her voice growing bitter with anger. "It is what I should do; you deserve it by your own confession, and the one shot would release me. Married to a Yankee!" every syllable hissing from her lips. "The very thought crazes me and puts murder in my heart. I am going to Fairview alone—alone! Do you hear that? If you dare attempt to follow me I will shoot you in your tracks as I would a dog, you low-down, Yankee cur."
With a single swift leap forward, both horse and rider disappeared in the gloom.
CHAPTER VI THE ACCIDENT
SURPRISED I certainly was by this unexpected outburst. Scarcely realizing previously the indomitable spirit of the girl, before the sound of her mare's flying hoofs had ceased to echo along the hard road, I had given my roan the rein, and was spurring speedily after. I intended to keep within sound at