Cyrus Townsend Brady

“ Instantly Thorne shrank back behind the portières of the window he was guarding, not completely concealing himself but sufficiently hid as to be unobserved except by careful scrutiny in the dim light. Once more he clutched the butt of his revolver swinging at his waist. He bent his body slightly, and even the thought of Edith Varney passed from his mind. He stood ready, powerful, concentrated, determined, confronting an almost certain enemy with the fierce heart and envenomed glance of the fighter at bay. ”

“ Urgent messengers from General Lee called every reserve out of the garrison at Richmond, and the quiet streets and country highways awoke instantly to life. Such troops as could be spared moved to the front at the double-quick. Every car of the dilapidated railroad was pressed into service. Those who could not be transported by train went on horseback or afoot. The youngest boy and the oldest man alike shouldered their muskets, and with motley clothes, but with hearts aflame, marched to the sound of the cannon. The women, the sick, the wounded and invalid men and the children waited. ”

“ But Henry Dumont was past speaking. He simply smiled at his brother, and closed his eyes. The next instant the room was filled with light and sound. From every window and door people poured in; the soldiers from the porches, from the hall, Mrs. Varney, Arrelsford and Edith; from the other side of the hall a hubbub of screams and cries rose from behind the locked door where the sewing women sat. Martha brought up the rear with lights, which Arrelsford took from her and set on the table. ”

“ THE TUMULT IN HUMAN HEARTS
Of the many frightful nights in Richmond during the siege, that night was one of the worst. The comparative calmness of the earlier hours of repose of the quiet April evening gave way to pandemonium. The works at Petersburg, desperately held by the Confederates, were miles away from the city to the southward, but such was the tremendous nature of the cannonading that the shocking sounds seemed to be close at hand. Children cowered, women shuddered, and old men prayed as they thought of the furious onslaughts in the battle raging. ”

“ Mrs. Varney watched him with fascinated awe. In spite of herself there still lingered a hope that Arrelsford might be mistaken. Thorne had enlisted her interest, and he might under other conditions have aroused her matronly affections, and she was hoping against hope that he might yet prove himself innocent, not only because of his personality but as well because the thought that she might have entertained a spy was repugnant to her, and because of the honour of the Dumont family, which was one of the oldest and most important ones in the western hills of the Old Dominion. ”

“ It so happened that the soldiers who had thrust old Jonas back in his closet, whence they had taken him a short time before, in their haste, had failed to lock the door upon him. The negro, who had listened for the click of the key in the lock, had at once known of their carelessness. So soon as they had withdrawn from the room, and their search took them to other parts of the house, he had opened the door cautiously and had made his way toward the hall by the drawing-room, which he felt instinctively was the place where the exciting events of the night would soon culminate. ”

“ It was a short half hour again to Edith because she might see him no more, and it might be possible that she could not even allow herself to dream upon him in his absence in the future. The recollection of the woman would ever be sweet and sacred to the man, but it might be necessary for the woman to blot out utterly the remembrance of the man.
It was a short half hour to young Wilfred in his own room, waiting impatiently for old Martha to bring him the altered uniform, over which Caroline was busily working in the large old-fashioned kitchen. ”

“ Mrs. Varney lifted her head from her hands. Wilfred came nearer to her and dropped on his knees by her side. One hand she laid upon his shoulder, the other on his head. She stared down into his up-turned face.
“I know—I know, my boy—what you want.”
“I can’t stay here any longer,” said the youth; “it is worse than being shot to pieces. I just have to chain myself to the floor whenever I hear a cannon-shot or see a soldier. When can I go?”
The woman stared at him. In him she saw faintly the face of the boy dying upstairs. ”

“ Yet the newcomer was pretty enough and young enough and sweet enough to give any man pause for the sheer pleasure of looking at her, to say nothing of speaking to her.
The resources of an ancient wardrobe, that looked as though it had belonged to her great-grandmother, had been called upon for a costume which was quaint and old-fashioned and altogether lovely. She was evidently much younger than Edith Varney, perhaps just sixteen, Wilfred’s age. With outstretched arms she barred the door completely, and Thorne, of course, came to an abrupt stop. ”

“ The windows were instantly filled with men, and an order would have called them into the room. He was an old man, and the two soldiers that seized him were young. He was too surprised to fight, and stood as helpless as a lamb about to be slaughtered, his face fairly grey with sudden terror. The Corporal flung open the butler’s faded livery coat, and for the moment Jonas, menaced now by a search, and knowing what the result would be, struggled furiously, but the men soon mastered him, and the Corporal, continuing his search, presently drew from an inside pocket a small folded paper. ”

“ He turned from the window and faced the girl, scarcely less wretched than he, and laughed shortly.
“They are on the scent, you see,” he said; “they’ll get me in a minute; and when they do, it won’t take them long to finish me off. And as that’ll be the last of me, Miss Varney, maybe you’ll listen to one thing. We can’t all die a soldier’s death, in the roar and glory of battle, our friends about us, under the flag we love. No, not all! Some of us have orders for another kind of work, dare-devil, desperate work, the hazardous schemes of the Secret Service. ”

“ Love and hate, confidence and jealousy, faithfulness and disloyalty, self-sacrifice and revenge, were still in human hearts. And these feelings would put to shame even the passions engendered in the bloody battles of the fearful warfare.
Edith Varney, for instance, had gone out of the telegraph office assured that the sacrifice she had made for her lover had resulted in the betrayal of her country; that Thorne had had not even the common gratitude to accede to her request, although she had saved his life, and, for the time being, his honour. ”

“ Arrelsford still stood by the window, glancing out on the square but keeping Thorne under close observation. The evil look in his eyes and the malicious sneer on his lips well seconded the expression of triumph in his face. He had the man he hated where he wanted him. ”

“ WILFRED PLAYS THE MAN
A sharp contrast to the noise outside was presented by the quiet of the Varney house inside. The sewing women, in view of the attack and the movements of the boys and the old men, had separated sooner than they had intended and had gone their several ways. Old Jonas, frightened to death, remained locked up in the closet where he had been left by Arrelsford’s men. Martha was upstairs in Howard’s room, making ready to watch over him during the night.
Caroline Mitford had not gone home. She had sent word that she intended to pass the night at the Varney house. ”

“ Lean, gaunt horses were ridden and driven by leaner and gaunter men in dusty, worn, ragged, tattered uniforms. Only the highly polished brass guns—twelve-pounder Napoleons—gleamed bright in the moonlight.
The sewing women came out on the porch and the blind of the window above was lifted and a white-haired woman stood framed in the light.
No, those watchers did not cheer as the battery swept by on its way to the front. For one thing, a soldier lay upstairs dying ”

“ He stepped to the back window. “Corporal!” he said softly. The long porch window was open on account of the balmy air of the night, and a soldier, tattered and dusty, instantly appeared and saluted. “How are things now?” asked Arrelsford.
“All quiet now, sir.”
“Very good,” said Arrelsford. “I was afraid he would get away. We’ve got to get the paper. If we have the paper, perhaps we can get the man. It is the key to the game they are trying to play against us, and without it the man is helpless.”
“No, no,” urged Mrs. Varney. “The man he is going to give it to, get him.” ”

“ The boy went to the window again and stared into the night. In his preoccupation he did not catch the sound of a gentler footfall upon the stairs, nor did he notice the opening of the door and the silent approach of a woman, the woman with white hair who had stood at the window. The mother of a son dead, a son dying, and a son living. No distinctive thing that in the Confederacy. Almost any mother who had more than one boy could have been justly so characterised. ”

“ Most of those who entered had eyes only for the man lying upon the floor, blood welling darkly through his grey shirt exposed by the opening of his coat which had been torn apart in the struggle. Three people had eyes only for Thorne, the man who hated him, the girl who loved him, and the woman who suspected him. Between the soldiers and these three stood the Corporal of the Guard, representing as it were, the impartial law.
Thorne did not glance once at the girl who loved him, or at the man who hated him, or at the woman who suspected him. He fixed his eyes upon the Corporal of the Guard. ”

“ Varney followed Lieutenant Maxwell into the hall.
“Now remember, you are to come some time when duty doesn’t call you away so soon,” she said, as he bowed himself out.
“Trust me not to forget that, Mrs. Varney,” said the Lieutenant, as he disappeared on the porch.
Captain Thorne and Edith were left alone. The girl stepped over to a small table on which stood a vase of roses, and, with somewhat nervous hands, she busied herself arranging them. The young officer watched her in silence for a little while, the moments tense with emotion.
“Shall I see Mrs. Varney again?” he began at last. ”

“ Of course, any direct interposition was out of the question. He was still only a slave. His open interference would have been fruitless of any consequences except bad ones for himself, and he was already more than compromised by the events of the night. What he was to do he must do by stealth.
As he stared at the pyramids of guns, listening to the hum of conversation from the room across the hall—the door had been fortunately closed—a thought came to him. He pushed aside the portières with which he had concealed himself, and entered the room by the back door. ”

“ MR. ARRELSFORD AGAIN INTERPOSES
Nobody had any time to devote to Miss Mitford just then, for a perfect rain of messages came and went as she slowly composed her own despatch. Messengers constantly came in while others went out. The lines were evidently busy that night. Finally there came a pause in the despatches coming and going, and Foray remembering her, looked over toward the other end of the table where she sat.
“Is that message of yours ready yet, Miss Mitford?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Caroline, rising and folding it. “Of course you have got to take it.” ”

“ He unrolled his package and seized the trousers by the waistband and dangled them before her eyes. “Cut those off,” he said; “they are twice too long. All you have to do is to cut them here and sew up the ends, so that they don’t ravel out.”
Caroline stared at him in great bewilderment. She had expected something quite different.
“Why, they are uniform trousers,” she said finally. “You are going to join the army?” She clapped her hands gleefully. “Give them to me.”
“Hush! don’t talk so loud, for Heaven’s sake,” said Wilfred. “I’ve got a jacket here, too.” ”

“ He had trembled before the woman in the garden a moment since; the stone walls of the house were no more rigidly composed than he in the drawing-room now. It came to him that there was nothing left but one great battle in that room unless they shot him from behind door or window or portière, giving him no chance. If they did confront him openly he would show them that if he had chosen the Secret Service and the life of a spy he could fight and die like a man and a soldier. He held some lives within the chamber of his revolver, and they should pay did they give him but a chance. ”

“ The girl broke off as the deep tones of the city bells clanged sharply above the diapason of artillery.
“It’s the alarm bell,” said Mrs. Varney.
“Yes,” said Caroline, “they are calling out the last reserves.”
“Yes; hark to the cannonading. Isn’t it awful?” returned Mrs. Varney. “They must be making a terrible attack to-night. Lieutenant Maxwell was right; that quiet spell was a signal.”
“There goes another battery of artillery,” said Caroline, staring through the window. “A man told us that they were sending them all over to Cemetery Hill. That’s where the fighting is, Cemetery Hill.” ”

“ His long illness had sapped his strength.
“Don’t, don’t, for God’s sake!” he whispered, and then shouted desperately, “Here’s your man, Corporal, what’s the matter with you?”
“Give me that gun,” said Dumont, and in spite of himself his voice rose again. There was nothing suspicious in the words, it was what he might have said had the battle been a real one; as he spoke by a more violent effort he wrenched the weapon from the holster and away from Thorne’s detaining hand. The latter sought desperately to repossess himself of it.
“Look out, Harry!” he implored
“Look out, Harry! ”

“ He drew himself erect to meet his fate like a man, and waited. The wait was a long one. Edith Varney was having her own troubles. She knew as well as any one the importance of her testimony. She had come from the Commissary General’s vacant office and had been back at the window long enough to have heard the conversation between General Randolph and the two men. She was an unusually keen-witted girl and she realised the situation to the full. ”

“ Not one man in a thousand would have done it. Perhaps if he went to his death in some quixotic way, he might redeem himself in her eyes, had flashed into Thorne’s mind, as he turned to the guard.
“Sergeant,” he said, saluting. He spoke in a clear, cool, most indifferent way. “You had better take a look at the rifles of your command. I understand they have been tampered with.”
“What the hell!” cried the Sergeant, seizing a piece from the nearest man. He snapped open the breech-plug and drew out the cartridge and examined it. Some one had bitten off the bullet! He saw everything clearly. ”

“ Varney. “A man we have trusted as a friend has shown himself a conspirator, a spy, a traitor.”
“Who is it?” cried the girl, at the same time instinctively divining—how or why she could not tell, and that thought smote her afterward—to whom the reference was being made.
Mrs. Varney naturally hesitated to say the name. Arrelsford, carried away by his passion for the girl and his hatred for Thorne, was not so reticent. He stepped toward her. ”

“ We may watch the dying and pray for death to end anguish, and know that it is coming, but when the last low breath has gone, it is as much of a shock to us as if it had not been expected, or even dreamed of. ”