The Bondwoman Part 41

"Well, well! Since luck has sent you into our lines I'm glad it has done us a good turn and sent you to our home," said McVeigh, though he still looked mystified at the situation. "I've no doubt satisfactory explanations can be made, and a parole arranged."

"That's good of you, Colonel," said the prisoner, appreciatively; "you are a good sort of friend to meet when in trouble--brother Fred used to think so up at the Point; but in this case it really isn't necessary--as I have one parole."

He drew a paper from an inner pocket and pa.s.sed it to McVeigh, who looked relieved.

"Yes, certainly, this is all right," and he looked inquiringly at Masterson, "I don't understand--"

Neither did that officer, who turned in some chagrin to the prisoner, who glanced from one to the other in evident indifference.

"May I ask," said Masterson, with cold courtesy, "why you did not state when taken prisoner that you were paroled?"

"Certainly," and the easy nonchalance of the other was almost insolent; evidently Masterson had not picked up an affinity. "I was coming your way; had been riding alone for several hours, and feared I should be deprived of the pleasure of your society if I allowed you to know how harmless I was."

He paused for a moment--smiled in a quizzical way at McVeigh, and continued: "Then I heard your orderly mention Colonel McVeigh, whose place you were bound for, and I did not object in the least to being brought to him for judgment. But since you see I am paroled, as well as crippled," and he motioned to the arm which he moved carefully, "incapable in any way of doing harm to your cause, I trust that a flag of truce will be recognized by you," and he extended his hand in smiling unconcern.

But to Captain Masterson there was something irritating in the smile, and he only bowed coldly, ignoring the flag of truce, upon which Captain Monroe seemed quietly amused as he turned to McVeigh and explained that he was wounded and taken prisoner a month before over in Tennessee by Morgan's cavalry, who had gathered in Johnson's brigade so effectively that General Johnson, his staff, and somewhere between two and three hundred others had been taken prisoners. He, Monroe, had found a Carolina relative badly wounded among Morgan's boys, had secured a parole, and brought the young fellow home to die, and when his own wound was in a fair way to take care of itself he had left the place--a plantation south of Allendale, and headed for the coast to connect with the blockading fleet instead of making the journey north through Richmond.

It was a very clear statement, but Masterson listened to it suspiciously, without appearing to listen at all. McVeigh, who had known both Monroe and his family in the North, and was also acquainted with the Carolina family mentioned, accepted the Federal's story without question, and invited him to remain at the Terrace so long as it suited him to be their guest.

"I have only two days at home until I leave for my regiment," he explained; "but my mother has enough pleasant people here to make your visit interesting, I hope. She will be delighted to welcome you, and some Beaufort acquaintances of yours are here--the Lorings."

Captain Monroe showed interest in this information, and declared it would give him pleasure to stop over until McVeigh left for the front.

"Good! and you, Captain Masterson?"

Masterson glanced coldly towards Monroe, evidently desirous of a private interview with McVeigh. But seeing little chance of it without a pointed request, he took two packets from a case carefully fastened in his pocket, and presented them.

"I am detailed to convey to you some important papers, and I congratulate you on your promotion to Brigadier-General," he said, with a bow.

"Brigadier? Well, well; they are giving me a pleasant reception," and his face showed his pleasure as he looked at the papers. "Thank you, Captain Masterson. By the way, how much time have you?"

"Until tomorrow night; I meant to ride over to the plantation after delivering this."

"The ladies won't hear to that when they get sight of you. They are giving a party tonight and need all the uniforms we can muster; a squad of your men on their way to the forts below have stopped over for breakfast, and they've even captured them, and you'll be welcome as the flowers of May."

Masterson glanced at Monroe and hesitated. "Those men are needed at one of the fortifications," he said guardedly; "they had better take some other time for a party. With your permission I'll send them on, and remain in their place with one orderly, if convenient."

"Certainly; glad to have you; give your own orders about the men. I do not know that they have accepted the invitation to linger, I only know that the ladies wanted them to."

He rang for Pluto, who was given orders concerning rooms for Captain Monroe, and for Captain Masterson, who left to speak with the men waiting orders without. He made a gesture towards the packet in McVeigh's hand and remarked: "I have reason apart from the commission to think the contents are important. Our regiment is to be merged in your brigade, and all pressed to the front. Towards what point I could not learn at Columbia, but your information will doubtless cover all that, General."

"Colonel will answer until I find my brigade," said McVeigh, with a smile. "You stay over until I learn, since we are to go together, and I will look them over soon as possible."

He himself showed Monroe the room he was to occupy, to the chagrin of Pluto, who was hanging about in a fever of curiosity and dread at sight of a Northern soldier--the first he had ever seen, and the rumor that he was brought there a prisoner suggested calamities to the army through which, alone, his own race dared hope for freedom; and to hear the two men chat and laugh over West Point memories was an aggravation to him, listening, as he was, for the news of today, and the serious questions involved. Only once had there been allusion to the horrors of war--when McVeigh inquired concerning his former cla.s.smate, Monroe's brother, Fred, and was told he had been numbered with the dead at s.h.i.+loh. The door was open and Pluto could hear all that was said--could see the bronzed face of the Northerner, a face he liked instinctively though it was not exactly handsome--an older face than McVeigh's. He was leaving West Point as the young Southerner entered--a man of thirty years, possibly--five of them, the hard years of the frontier range. A smile lit up his face, changing it wonderfully. His manner was neither diffident nor overconfident--there was a certain admirable poise to it. His cool, irritating att.i.tude towards the zealous Masterson had been drawn out by the innate antagonism of the two natures, but with McVeigh only the cordial side was appealed to, and he responded with frank good will.

Pluto watched them leave the room and enter the apartments of Mr.

Loring, where Mrs. McVeigh, Miss Gertrude and Delaven were at that time, and the latter was entertained by seeing one of the Northern wolves welcomed most cordially by the Southern household. Fred Monroe had been Kenneth's alter-ego during the West Point days. Mrs. McVeigh had photographs of them together, which she brought out for inspection, and Kenneth had pleasant memories of the Monroe home where he had been a guest for a brief season after graduation; altogether it was an interesting incident of the war to Delaven, who was the one outsider. He was sorry the Marquise was not there to observe.

The Marquise was, however, making observations on her own account, but not particularly to her satisfaction. She walked from one window to another watching the road, and the only comforting view she obtained was the departure of the squad of soldiers who had breakfasted in the arbor. They turned south along the river, and when they pa.s.sed through the Terrace gates she drew a breath of relief at the sight. They would not meet Pierson, who was to come over the road to the east, and they would leave on the place only the orderlies of Colonel McVeigh and Captain Masterson, and the colored men whose quarters were almost a half mile in the rear of the Terrace. She was glad they were at that distance, though she scarcely knew why.

Pierson's delay made her fear all sorts of bungling and extreme measures--men were such fools!

Evilena had flitted away again to look up a dress for the party, and did not return, so she was left alone. She heard considerable walking about and talking in the rooms below and on the veranda. No one came along her corridor, however, so she could ask no questions as to the latest arrivals. For reasons of her own she had dispensed with a personal attendant after the departure of Louise; there was no maid to make inquiries of.

An hour pa.s.sed in this feverish suspense, when she went to the mirror with an air of decision, arranged her hair becomingly, added a coral brooch to the lace at her throat, slipped some glimmering rings on her white fingers, and added those little exquisite touches to the toilet which certain women would naturally linger over though it be the last hour on earth.

Then she opened the door and descended the stairs, a picture of beauty and serenity--a trifle of extra color in the cheeks, perhaps, but it would be a captious critic who would object to the added l.u.s.tre.

Captain Monroe certainly did not, as he halted in the library at sight of her, and waited to see if she pa.s.sed out on the veranda, or--

She looked out on the veranda; no one was there; with an impatient sigh she turned, pushed the partly opened door of the library back, and was inside the room before she perceived him. Involuntarily she shut the door back of her.

"Oh--h!" and she held out her hand with a quick, pretty gesture of surprise and pleasure--"well met, Captain Jack!"

He took the hand she offered and looked at her with a certain questioning directness.

"I hope so, Madame Caron," and the gaze was so steady, his grasp so firm, that she drew her hand away with a little laugh that was a trifle nervous.

"Your voice and face rea.s.sure me! I dare breathe again!" she said, with a mock sigh of relief; "my first glimpse of your uniform made me fear a descent of the enemy."

"Have you need to fear any special enemy here?" he asked, bluntly. She put her hand out with a little gesture of protest as she sank back into the chair he offered.

"Why should you be so curious on a first meeting?" she asked, with a quizzical smile. "But I will tell you, Monsieur, for all that; I am, of course, very much afraid of the Northern armies. I left Orleans rather than live under the Federal government, if you please! I have bought a very handsome estate a few miles from here which, of course, binds my interests more closely to the South," and she flashed a meaning, mocking glance up at him. "Do not look so serious, my friend, it is all very beautifully arranged; I had my will made as soon as the deed was signed, of course; no matter what accidents should happen to me, all my Southern properties will be held intact to carry on the plans for which they were purchased. I am already building my monuments," and she unfurled a silken fan the color of her corals and smiled across it at him.

Their backs were towards the window. She was seated in the deep chair, while he stood near her, leaning on the back of another one and looking down in her face. Pluto, who was still hovering around with the hope of getting speech with a "sure enough Linc.u.m man," had come noiselessly to the open window and only halted an instant when he saw the stranger so pleasantly occupied, and heard the musical voice of Madame Caron say "My friend." It was to him the sweetest voice in the world now, and he would gladly have lingered while she spoke, but the rest of the words were very soft and low, and Miss Loring was moving towards him coming slowly up the steps, looking at him as though the veranda was no place for a n.i.g.g.e.r to lounge when unemployed--a fact he was well enough aware of to walk briskly away around the corner of the house, when he found her eye on him.

She had reached the top of the steps and was thinking the colored folks at the Terrace were allowed a great many privileges, when she heard the low tones of a man's voice. Supposing it was Kenneth and possibly his mother, she stepped softly towards the window. Before she reached it she perceived her mistake--the man wore a blue uniform, and though she could not see Madame Caron, she could see the soft folds of her dress, and the white hand moving the coral fan.

Disappointed, and not being desirous of joining the woman whose charm evidently enthralled every one but herself, she stepped quietly back out of range, and pa.s.sed on along the veranda to the sitting room, where Evilena was deeply engaged over the problem of a dress to be draped and trimmed for the party. And the two talked on within the closed doors of the library, the man's voice troubled, earnest; the woman's, careless and amused.

"I shall tell you what I wish, Captain Jack," she said, tapping the fan slowly on the palm of her hand and looking up at him, "I am most pleased to see you, but for all that I wish you had not come to this particular house, and I wish you would go away."

"Which means," he said, after a pause, "that you are in some danger?"

"Oh, no! if it were that," and her glance was almost coquettish, "I should ask you to remain as my champion."

"Pardon, Madame," and he shook his head, doubtfully, "but I remember days in New Orleans, and I know you better than that."

She only raised her brows and smiled. He watched her for a moment and then said: "Colonel McVeigh is a friend; I should not like to think that your presence means danger to him."

"What an idea!" and she laughed heartily; "am I grown such a thing of terror that I dare not enter a door lest danger follow? Who could be oppressed with political schemes in this delightful life of the plantation? It is really Eden-like; that is why I have purchased one of the places for my own; it is worth seeing. If you remain I shall invite you over; shall you?"

"For some reason you wish I would not; if I only knew what the reason is!"

"A few months ago you did not question my motives," she said, reprovingly; then in a lower tone, "Your commander has never questioned, why should you? Your President has sent me messages of commendation for my independent work. One, received before I left Mobile, I should like you to see," and she rose from the chair. He put out his hand to stop her.

"Not if it has connection with any plot or plan of work against the people on this side of the line; remember, I am on parole."

"Oh, I shall respect your scruples," she said, lightly. "But you need have no dread of that sort. I would not keep by me anything dangerous; it is not compromising to the Marquise de Caron in any way." She halted at the door and added, "Will you wait?"