Before the Dawn: A Story of the Fall of Richmond. Altsheler Joseph Alexander

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СКАЧАТЬ she was really the spy and had stolen the papers returned. She had made a fool of him by that pathetic appeal to his mercy and by a simulated appearance of truth. Now in the cold air of the morning he felt a deep chagrin. But the deed was past and could not be undone, and seeking to dismiss it from his mind he went to breakfast.

      His mother, as he had expected, asked him nothing about his late absence the night before, but spoke of the reception to General Morgan and the golden haze that it cast over Richmond.

      "Have you noticed, Robert," she asked, "that we see complete victory for the South again? I ask you once more how many men did General Morgan bring with him?"

      "I don't know exactly, mother. Ten, perhaps."

      "And they say that General Grant will have a hundred thousand new troops."

      Prescott laughed.

      "At that rate, mother," he replied, "the ten will have to whip the hundred thousand, which is a heavier proportion than the old one, of one Southern gentleman to five Yankees. But, seriously, a war is not won by mere mathematics. It is courage, enthusiasm and enterprise that count."

      She did not answer, but poured him another cup of coffee. Prescott read her thoughts with ease. He knew that though hers had been a Southern husband and hers were a Southern son and a Southern home, her heart was loyal to the North, and to the cause that she considered the cause of the whole Union and of civilization.

      "Mother," he said, the breakfast being finished, "I've found it pleasant here with you and in Richmond, but I'm afraid I can't stay much longer. My shoulder is almost cured now."

      He swung his arm back and forth to show how well it was.

      "But isn't there some pain yet?" she asked.

      Prescott smiled a little. He saw the pathos in the question, but he shook his head.

      "No, mother," he replied, "there is no pain. I don't mean to be sententious, but this is the death-grapple that is coming. They will need me and every one out there."

      He waved his hand toward the north and his mother hid a little sigh.

      Prescott remained at home all the morning, but in the afternoon he went to Winthrop's newspaper office, having a direct question in mind.

      "Has anything more been heard of the stolen papers?" he asked of Winthrop.

      "So far as I can learn, nothing," replied the editor; "but it's altogether likely that whoever took them has been unable to escape from the city. Besides, I understand that these plans were not final and the matter may not be so serious after all."

      It seemed to Prescott in a moment of cold reason that the affair might well end now, but his desire would not have it so. He was seized with a wish to know more about that house and the woman in it. Who was she, why was she here, and what would be her fate?

      The afternoon passed slowly, and when the night was advanced he set out upon his errand, resolved that he would not do it, and yet knowing that he would.

      The little house was as silent and dark as ever, doors and shutters tightly closed. He watched it more than an hour and saw no sign of life. She must have gone from the city, he thought, and so concluding, he was about to turn away, when a hand was laid lightly upon his arm. It was the woman in brown, and the look upon her face was not all of surprise. It occurred suddenly to Prescott that she had expected him, and he wondered why. But his first question was rough.

      "What are you doing here?" he asked.

      "Nothing that I wish," she replied, the faintest trace of humour showing in her tone; "much that I do not wish. The reproof that your voice conveys is unwarranted. I have tried again to leave Richmond, but I cannot get past the outer lines of defenses. I am the involuntary guest of the rebel capital."

      "Hardly that," replied Prescott, still somewhat roughly. He did not relish her jaunty tone, although he was much relieved to know that she could not escape. "You came uninvited, and you have no right to complain because you cannot leave when you wish."

      "I see that I am in the presence of a sincere rebel patriot," she said with irony, "and I did not know before that the words 'rebel' and 'patriot' could go together so easily."

      "I think that I should surrender you to the authorities," said Prescott.

      "But you will not," she said with conviction. "Your conscience would reproach you too much."

      Prescott was silent, uncertain what to say or to do. The woman annoyed him, and yet he did not conceal from himself that the slight protecting feeling, born of the fact that she was a woman and, it seemed, helpless, remained in his mind.

      "Are you alone in that house?" he asked, still speaking curtly and pointing toward the wooden cottage.

      "No," she replied.

      Prescott looked at her inquiringly. He thought that he detected the faintest twinkle in her eyes. Could it be that a woman in such a position was laughing at the man who had helped her? He felt his face grow red.

      "You wish to know who is there?" she said.

      "I do not wish to know anything of the kind."

      "You do, and I shall tell you. It is merely a woman, an old maid, perhaps as friendless as myself, Miss Charlotte Grayson. I need not add that she is a woman of right mind and sympathies."

      "What do you mean by that?"

      "She wishes to see the quick end of this hateful rebellion. Oh, I tell you there are many who think as she does, born and bred within the limits of this Confederacy. They are far more numerous than you rebels suspect."

      She spoke with sudden fire and energy, and Prescott noticed again that abrupt stiffening of the figure. He saw, too, another curious effect—her eyes suddenly turned from dark-blue to black, an invariable change when she was moved by a passion.

      "It is always safe for a woman to abuse a man," replied Prescott calmly.

      "I am not attacking you, but the cause you serve—a hateful cause. How can honest men fight for it?" she said.

      Prescott heard footsteps in the main street—it was not many yards from there to the point in the little side street where he stood—and he shrank back in the shadow of the fence.

      "You do not wish to be seen with me," she said.

      "Naturally," replied Prescott. "I might have to answer inquiries about you, and I do not wish to compromise myself."

      "Nor me?" she said.

      "Perhaps it is too late for that," replied Prescott.

      Her face flushed scarlet, and again he saw that sudden change of the eyes from dark-blue to threatening black. It occurred to him then that she was handsome in a singular, challenging way.

      "Why do you insult me?" she asked.

      "I was not aware that I had done so," he replied coolly. "Your pursuits are of such a singular nature that I merely made some slight comment thereon."

      She changed again and under drooping eyelids gave him that old imploring look, like the appeal of a child for protection.

      "I am ungrateful," she said, "and I give your words a meaning that you do not intend. But I am СКАЧАТЬ