Love under Fire Part 4

"Certainly; there are none of your people on that side of the river.

Beauregard is out yonder in those hills. Let's drive on, the town looks quiet."

She leaned forward, holding to the edge of the carriage cover to keep her balance, her glance turning toward the southwest.

"If those are your people they mustn't see me," she said quietly, a little accent of pleading in her voice. "You promise that first?"

"Of course," although surprised at her asking. "I know it is our orders to intercept everything which can aid the enemy, but I don't feel inclined to prevent your taking quinine to the poor fellows in the hospital. War hasn't made me as inhuman as that. We can easily reach the town ahead of that squad of cavalry, and if you have some safe place there to go, and will only keep indoors, there is no danger of discovery."

"I have," eagerly, "Judge Moran's house; you can see its gable there among the trees. He is so old he has not even been conscripted." She laughed, flas.h.i.+ng a look aside at me as she shook the reins and applied the whip. "I wonder what he will think when he sees me driving up alongside a Yankee. It will be like the end of the world. No, don't talk to me any more; I've got to conjure up a nice, respectable story to tell him."

She remained very quiet as we rattled down the hill, her forehead puckered, her gaze straight ahead. Suddenly she asked,

"Do you sometimes tell falsehoods?"

"Guilty."

"Are they ever justified?"

"Well, really I don't know; from the standpoint of the strict moralist I presume not; but it is my judgment the strict moralist wouldn't last long in time of war."

I was amused at the earnestness with which she looked at me, apparently weighing my words as soberly as though they had important meaning.

"What's the trouble? If there is any prevaricating to be done, turn it over to me--I have become an expert."

"No doubt," her face brightening, "but I must attend to this case myself. Judge Moran will have to suppose you a Confederate spy. No, not a word of protest will I listen to. If you go along with me, it must be exactly as I say; there is no other way, for otherwise he would never receive you into the house."

"Oh, very well," I replied indifferently, my eyes marking the swift approach of that distant squad of cavalry. "The masquerade will be short, and well worth while if it only earns me a breakfast with you."

The toss of her head was hardly complimentary. We were in the tree-lined streets by this time, and suddenly she wheeled the pony in through an open gate-way. The house was large, painted white, of distinctly Southern architecture, the broad stone steps surmounted by rounded pillars. On the porch a man sat smoking. He arose instantly, hat in hand, and came down to meet us. His was a tall, slender, slightly stooped figure, a finely chiselled face, the hair and beard white. His eyes, apparently as keen as ever, instantly recognized the girl, his stern features relaxing into a smile of welcome.

"I am surprised and pleased to greet you, Miss Willifred," cordially bowing over her extended hand. "'Tis a long while since we have seen you here."

"Not from any doubt of your hospitality, Judge, but the armies have made travelling unsafe."

"True; we live in constant peril. The Yankees have driven off my negroes, and also robbed me of every horse on the place. Your father, the major, is well?"

"In most excellent health, thank you. He was wounded at Chattanooga, but soon recovered. We had him at home with us for a month."

"So I heard. A young Louisiana officer, a Captain Le Gaire, gave me news of your family. He was through Jonesboro with a scouting party two days ago. He seemed very glad to talk about you, my dear."

The girl's face flushed, as she withdrew her hand, attempting a laugh.

"We are excellent friends, yet really it does not require any deep interest to induce Captain Le Gaire to talk. That is one of his specialties."

"I suspected as much, yet I found his conversation highly interesting.

He is intelligent, and has travelled widely. But come, my dear, let me help you down. I am such an early bird I have breakfasted already, yet there will be something ready for you, and your companion."

His gaze surveyed me for the first time, and he stepped back, his eyes darkening suspiciously.

"But what have you here--a Yankee?"

"So far as uniform goes, yes," she answered lightly, descending over the wheel, and adroitly dodging a direct reply. "But all things are not as they seem, outwardly. Surely, Judge, you do not suppose I would ever harbor one of the enemy? If I vouch for the gentleman it should be sufficient."

He took my hand cordially enough, yet with a question still in his keen old eyes.

"I am glad to know you, sir. Any friend of Miss Willifred's is a friend of mine, but I'm d.a.m.ned if I like that color."

"The nature of my mission makes it necessary," I explained.

"Exactly, sir, exactly; I understand perfectly. Alight, and come in, but you wear the first Yankee uniform ever welcomed to my house. Come right along, both of you. I've got one servant left, who will attend the pony."

Twenty minutes later we were breakfasting together in a cool, s.p.a.cious room the windows of which opened upon the porch. The judge, after satisfying himself that we were being well served, had disappeared, leaving us alone. It was a beautiful morning, the birds singing outside, the sunlight sifting through the branches of the great oaks shading the windows. Not a sound, other than the rustling of leaves, broke the silence. My companion appeared disinclined to talk, her eyes turned away from me. The constraint became so marked I endeavored to start conversation, but with poor result.

"Our meeting has been an odd one," I began, "romantic enough to form a basis for fiction."

Her glance s.h.i.+fted to my face.

"Do you think so? I merely find it extremely embarra.s.sing."

"Then I will withdraw at once," I insisted, hurt by the indifference of her voice. "I had supposed you wished me to remain until now--surely your words implied this."

"Oh, yes! I did, and you are in no way to blame. It was an impulse, and I failed to realize that it would involve deceit to an old friend.

Perhaps I am too easily hurt, but I am afraid Judge Moran half suspects the truth. Anyway you must go immediately."

"We shall part as friends?"

She hesitated, as though considering the full intent of my request.

"Hardly that, Lieutenant Galesworth. The word 'friend' should mean much, and we are merely chance acquaintances--politically enemies."

"I had hoped that difference--merely the accident of war--might have been swept aside. It has no personal weight with me, and I supposed you were of broader mind."

"I am," she responded earnestly. "Some of my best friends are Northerners, wearing that uniform, but, as it chances, we have met in war, playing at cross-purposes. You are a Federal scout whom I have unwittingly helped through the Confederate lines. Surely I have done enough already to help you--perhaps to injure the cause I love--without being asked for more. Under other conditions we might continue friends, but not as matters stand."

"Yet later--when the war ends?"

"It is useless to discuss what may occur then. There is little likelihood we shall ever meet after to-day. Indeed, I have no wish that we should."

It was a dismissal so clearly expressed I could only bow, wondering what it was I saw in the depths of her eyes which seemed almost to contradict the utterance of the lips.

"You leave me no choice."

"There is none. I have no desire to be considered an enemy, and there is no possibility for us to become friends. We are but the acquaintances of a chance meeting." She held out her hand across the table, the impulsive movement robbing her words of their sting. "You understand this is not indifference, but necessity."

I clasped closely the white fingers extended toward me, my heart throbbing, but my lips held prisoners by her eyes.

"Yes, I understand perfectly, but I make no promise."

"No promise! What do you mean?"