CHAPTER XIV
PRESCOTT'S ORDEAL
Prescott was awakened from his sleep by his mother, who came to him insuppressed anxiety, telling him that a soldier was in the outer roomwith a message demanding his instant presence at headquarters. At oncethere flitted through his mind a dream of that long night, now passed,the flight together, the ride, the warm and luminous presence beside himand the last sight of her as she passed over the hill to the fires thatburned in the Northern camp. A dream it was, vague and misty as thedarkness through which they had passed, but it left a delight, vague andmisty like itself, that refused to be dispelled by the belief that thismessage was from Mr. Sefton, who intended to strike where his armour wasweakest.
With the power of repression inherited from his Puritan mother he hidfrom her pleasure and apprehension alike, saying:
"Some garrison duty, mother. You know in such a time of war I can'texpect to live here forever in ease and luxury."
The letter handed to him by the messenger, an impassive Confederatesoldier in butternut gray, was from the commandant of the forces inRichmond, ordering him to report to Mr. Sefton for instructions. Herewere all his apprehensions justified. The search had been made, thesoldiers had gone to the cottage of Miss Grayson, the girl was notthere, and the Secretary now turned to him, Robert Prescott, as if hewere her custodian, demanding her, or determined to know what he haddone with her. Well, his own position was uncertain, but she at leastwas safe--far beyond the lines of Richmond, now with her own people,and neither the hand of Sefton nor of any other could touch her. Thatthought shed a pleasant glow, all the more grateful because it was hewho had helped her. But toward the Secretary he felt only defiance.
As he went forth to obey the summons the city was bright, all white andsilver and gold in its sheet of ice, with a wintry but golden sun above;but something was missing from Richmond, nevertheless. It suddenlyoccurred to him that Miss Grayson must be very lonely in her bleaklittle cottage.
He went undisturbed by guards to the Secretary's room--the ConfederateGovernment was never immediately surrounded with bayonets--and knockedupon the door. A complete absence of state and formality prevailed.
The Secretary was not alone, and Prescott was not surprised. ThePresident of the Confederacy himself sat near the window, and justbeyond him was Wood, in a great armchair, looking bored. There werepresent, too, General Winder, the commander of the forces in the city,another General or two and members of the Cabinet.
"An inquisition," thought Prescott. "This disappointed Secretary wouldruin me."
The saving thought occurred to him that if he had known of MissCatherwood's presence in Richmond Mr. Sefton also had known of it. Thewily Secretary must have in view some other purpose than to betray him,when by so doing he would also betray himself. Prescott gatheredcourage, and saluting, stood respectfully, though in the attitude of onewho sought no favour.
All the men in the room looked at him, some with admiration of thestrong young figure and the open, manly face, others with inquiry. Hewondered that Wood, a man who belonged essentially to the field ofbattle, should be there; but the cavalry leader, for his greatachievements, was high in the esteem of the Confederate Government.
It was the Secretary, Mr. Sefton, who spoke, for the others seemedinvoluntarily to leave to him subjects requiring craft and guile--atribute or not as one chooses to take it.
"The subject upon which we have called you is not new to us nor to you,"said the Secretary in expressionless tones. "We revert to the questionof a spy--a woman. It is now known that it was a woman who stole theimportant papers from the office of the President. The secret service ofGeneral Winder has learned that she has been in this city all thewhile--that is, until the last night or two."
He paused here a few moments as if he would mark the effect of hiswords, and his eyes and those of Prescott met. Prescott tried to readwhat he saw there--to pierce the subconscious depths, and he felt as ifhe perceived the soul of this man--a mighty ambition under a silkyexterior, and a character in which a dual nature struggled. Then hiseyes wandered a moment to Wood. Both he and Sefton were mountaineers inthe beginning, and what a contrast now! But he stood waiting for theSecretary to proceed.
"It has become known to us," continued the Secretary, "that thisdangerous spy--dangerous because of the example she has set, and becauseof the connections that she may have here--has just escaped from thecity. She was concealed in the house of Miss Charlotte Grayson, awell-known Northern sympathizer--a house which you are now known,Captain Prescott, to have visited more than once."
Prescott looked again into the Secretary's eyes and a flash ofintelligence passed between them. He read once more in their depths thedesire of this man to torture him--to drag him to the edge of the abyss,but not to push him over.
"There is a suspicion--or perhaps I ought to say a fear--that you havegiven aid and comfort to the enemy, this spy, Captain Prescott," saidthe Secretary.
Prescott's eyes flashed with indignant fire.
"I have been wounded five times in the service of the Confederacy," hereplied, "and I have here an arm not fully recovered from the impact ofa Northern bullet." He turned his left arm as he spoke. "If that wasgiving aid and comfort to the enemy, then I am guilty."
A murmur of approval arose. He had made an impression.
"It was by my side at Chancellorsville that he received one of hiswounds," said Wood in his peculiar slow, drawling tones.
Prescott shot him a swift and grateful glance.
But the Secretary persisted. He was not to be turned aside, not even bythe great men of the Confederacy who sat in the room about him.
"No one doubts the courage of Captain Prescott," he said, "because thathas been proved too often--you see, Captain, we are familiar with yourrecord--but even the best of men may become exposed to influences thatcause an unconscious change of motive. I repeat that none of us issuperior to it."
Prescott saw at once the hidden meaning in the words, and despitehimself a flush rose to his face. Perhaps it was true.
The Secretary looked away toward the window, his glance seeming to reston the white world of winter outside, across which the yellow streaks ofsunlight fell like a golden tracery. He interlaced his fingersthoughtfully upon his knees while he waited for an answer. But Prescotthad recovered his self-possession.
"I do not know what you mean," he said. "I am not accustomed, perhaps,to close and delicate analysis of my own motives, but this I will say,that I have never knowingly done anything that I thought would cause theConfederacy harm; while, on the contrary, I have done all I could--sofar as my knowledge went--that would do it good."
As he spoke he glanced away from the Secretary toward the others, and hethought he saw the shadow of a smile on the face of the President. Whatdid it mean? He was conscious again of the blood flushing to his face.It was the President himself who next spoke.
"Do you know where this woman is, Captain Prescott?" he asked.
"No, I do not know where she is," he replied, thankful that the questionhad come in such a form.
Wood, the mountaineer, moved impatiently. He was of an impetuousdisposition, untrammeled by rule, and he stood in awe of nobody.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I can't exactly see the drift of all this talk.I'd as soon believe that any of us would be a traitor as CaptainPrescott, an' I don't think we've got much time to waste on matters likethis. Grant's a-comin'. I tell you, gentlemen, we've got to think ofmeetin' him and not of huntin' for a woman spy."
He spoke with emphasis, and again Prescott shot him another swift andgrateful glance.
"There is no question of treason, General Wood," said Mr. Seftonplacidly. "None of us would wrong Captain Prescott by imputing to himsuch a crime. I merely suggested an unconscious motive that might havemade him deflect for a moment, and for a moment only, from the straightand narrow path of duty."
Prescott saw a cruel light in the Secretary's eyes and behind it asuggestion of enjoyment in the power to make
men laugh or quiver as hewished; but he did not flinch, merely repeating:
"I have done my duty to the Confederacy as best I could, and I am readyto do it again. Even the children among us know that a great battle iscoming, and I ask that I be permitted again to show my loyalty at thefront."
"Good words from a good man," exclaimed Wood.
"General," said the President quietly, "comments either for or againstare not conducive to the progress of an examination."
Wood took the rebuke in good part, lifted a ruler from the table andwith an imaginary pocket-knife began to trim long shavings from it.
Prescott, despite his feeling that he had done no moral wrong--thoughtechnically and in a military sense he had sinned--could not escape thesensation of being on trial as a criminal, and his heart rose up inindignant wrath. Those five wounds were ample reply to such a charge.He felt these questions to be an insult, and cold anger against theSecretary who was seeking to entrap or torture him rose in his heart.There came with it a resolve not to betray his part in the escape of thegirl; but they never asked him whether or not he had helped her in herflight. When he noticed this his feeling of apprehension departed, andhe faced the Secretary, convinced that the duel was with him alone andthat these others were but seconds to whom Mr. Sefton had confided onlya part of what he knew.
The Secretary asked more questions, but again they were of a generalnature and did not come to the point, as he made no mention of MissGrayson or her cottage.
Wood said nothing, but he was growing more impatient than ever, and theimaginary shavings whittled by his imaginary knife were increasing inlength.
"Gentlemen," he exclaimed, "it still 'pears to me that we are wastin'time. I know Prescott an' he's all right. I don't care two cents whetheror not he helped a woman to escape. S'pose she was young and pretty."
All smiled saved Sefton and Prescott.
"General, would you let gallantry override patriotism?" asked thePresident.
"There ain't no woman in the world that can batter down theConfederacy," replied the other stoutly. "If that is ever done, it'lltake armies to do it, and I move that we adjourn."
The President looked at his watch.
"Yes," he said, "we must go. Mr. Sefton, you may continue theexamination as you will and report to me. Captain Prescott, I bid yougood-day, and express my wish that you may come clear from this ordeal."
Prescott bowed his thanks, but to Wood, whose active intervention in hisbehalf had carried much weight, he felt deeper gratitude, though he saidnothing, and still stood in silence as the others went out, leaving himalone with the Secretary.
Mr. Sefton, too, was silent for a time, still interlacing his fingersthoughtfully and glancing now and then through the window. Then helooked at Prescott and his face changed. The cruelty which had lurked inhis eyes disappeared and in its place came a trace of admiration, evenliking.
"Captain Prescott," he said, "you have borne yourself very well for aman who knew he was wholly in the power of another, made bycircumstances his enemy for the time being."
"I am not wholly in the power of anybody," replied Prescott proudly. "Irepeat that I have done nothing at any time of which I am ashamed or forwhich my conscience reproaches me."
"That is irrelevant. It is not any question of shame or conscience,which are abstract things. It is merely one of fact--that is, whetheryou did or did not help Miss Catherwood, the spy, to escape. I amconvinced that you helped her--not that I condemn you for it or that Iam sorry you did so. Perhaps it is for my interest that you have actedthus. You were absent from your usual haunts yesterday and the nightbefore, and it was within that time that the spy disappeared from MissGrayson's. I have no doubt that you were with her. You see, I did notpress the question when the others were here. I halted at the criticalpoint. I had that much consideration for you."
He stopped again and the glances of these two strong men met once more;Prescott's open and defiant, Sefton's cunning and indirect.
"I hear that she is young and very beautiful," said the Secretarythoughtfully.
Prescott flushed.
"Yes, young and very beautiful," continued the Secretary. "One mighteven think that she was more beautiful than Helen Harley."
Prescott said nothing, but the deep flush remained on his face.
"Therefore," continued the Secretary, "I should imagine that your staywith her was not unpleasant."
"Mr. Sefton," exclaimed Prescott, taking an angry step forward, "yourintimation is an insult and one that I do not propose to endure."
"You mistake my meaning," said the Secretary calmly. "I intended no suchintimation as you thought, but I wonder what Helen Harley would think ofthe long period that you have spent with one as young and beautiful asherself."
He smiled a little, showing his white teeth, and Prescott, thrown offhis guard, replied:
"She would think it a just deed."
"Then you admit that it is true?"
"I admit nothing," replied Prescott firmly. "I merely stated what Ithought would be the opinion of Helen Harley concerning an act ofmercy."
The Secretary smiled.
"Captain Prescott," he said, "I am not sorry that this has happened, butbe assured that I am not disposed to make war upon you now. Shall we letit be an armed peace for the present?"
He showed a sudden warmth of manner and an easy agreeableness thatPrescott found hard to resist. Rising from the chair, he placed his handlightly upon Robert's arm, saying:
"I shall go with you to the street, Captain, if you will let me."
Together they left the room, the Secretary indicating the way, which wasnot that by which Prescott had come. They passed through a large officeand here Prescott saw many clerks at work at little desks, four womenamong them. Helen Harley was one of the four. She was copying papers,her head bent down, her brown hair low on her forehead, unconscious ofher observers.
In her simple gray dress she looked not less beautiful than on that daywhen, in lilac and rose, drawing every eye, she received General Morgan.She did not see them as they entered, for her head remained low and thewintry sunshine from the window gleamed across her brown hair.
The Secretary glanced at her casually, as it were, but Prescott saw apassing look on his face that he could translate into nothing buttriumphant proprietorship. Mr. Sefton was feeling more confident sincethe examination in the room above.
"She works well," he said laconically.
"I expected as much," said Prescott.
"It is not true that people of families used to an easy life cannotbecome efficient when hardship arrives," continued the Secretary. "Oftenthey bring great zeal to their new duties."
Evidently he was a man who demanded rigid service, as the clerks who sawhim bent lower to their task, but Helen did not notice the two untilthey were about to pass through a far door. Her cheeks reddened as theywent out, for it hurt her pride that Prescott should see her there--amere clerk, honest and ennobling though she knew work to be.
The press of Richmond was not without enterprise even in those days ofwar and want, and it was seldom lacking in interest. If not news, thenthe pungent comment and criticism of Raymond and Winthrop were sure tofind attentive readers, and on the day following Prescott's interviewwith the Secretary they furnished to their readers an uncommonlyattractive story.
It had been discovered that the spy who stole the papers was a beautifulwoman--a young Amazon of wonderful charms. She had been concealed inRichmond all the while--perhaps she might be in the city yet--and it wasreported that a young Confederate officer, yielding to her fascinations,had hidden and helped her at the risk of his own ruin.
Here, indeed, was a story full of mystery and attraction; the citythrobbed with it, and all voices were by no means condemnatory. It is asingular fact that in war people develop an extremely sentimental side,as if to atone for the harsher impulses that carry them into battle.Throughout the Civil War the Southerners wrote much so-called poetry andtheir newspapers were filled with it
. This story of the man and the maidappealed to them. If the man had fallen--well, he had fallen in a goodcause. He was not the first who had been led astray by the tender, andtherefore pardonable, emotion. What did it matter if she was a Northerngirl and a spy? These were merely added elements to variety and charm.If he had made a sacrifice of himself, either voluntarily orinvoluntarily, it was for a woman, and women understood and forgave.
They wondered what this young officer's name might be--made deftsurmises, and by piecing circumstance to circumstance proved beyond adoubt that sixteen men were certainly he. It was somewhat tantalizingthat at least half of these men, when accused of the crime, openlyavowed their guilt and said they would do it again. Prescott, who wasleft out of all these calculations, owing to the gravity and sobernessof his nature, read the accounts with mingled amusement and vexation.There was nothing in any of them by which he could be identified, and hedecided not to inquire how the story reached the newspapers, beingsatisfied in his own mind that he knew already. The first to speak tohim of the matter was his friend Talbot.
"Bob," he said, "I wonder if this is true. I tried to get Raymond totell me where he got the story, but he wouldn't, and as all thenewspapers have it in the same way, I suppose they got it from the samesource. But if there is such a girl, and if she has been here, I hopeshe has escaped and that she'll stay escaped."
It was pleasant for Prescott to hear Talbot talk thus, and this opinionwas shared by many others as he soon learned, and his conscienceremained at ease, although he was troubled about Miss Grayson. But hemet her casually on the street about a week afterward and she said:
"I have had a message from some one. She is safe and well and she isgrateful." She would add no more, and Prescott did not dare visit herhouse, watched now with a vigilance that he knew he could not escape;but he wondered often if Lucia Catherwood and he in the heave and driftof the mighty war should ever meet again.
The gossip of Richmond was not allowed to dwell long on the story of thespy, with all its alluring mystery of the man and the maid. Greaterevents were at hand. A soft wind blew from the South one day. The icebroke up, the snow melted, the wind continued to blow, the earthdried--winter was gone and spring in its green robe was coming. The timeof play was over. The armies rose from their sleep in the snows andbegan to brush the rust from the cannon. Horses stretched themselves andgenerals studied their maps anew. Three years of tremendous war wasgone, but they were prepared for a struggle yet more gigantic.
To those in Richmond able to bear arms was sent an order--"Come at onceto the front"--and among them was Prescott, nothing loath. His motherkissed him a tearless good-by, hiding her grief and fear under herPuritan face.
"I feel that this is the end, one way or the other," she said.
"I hope so, mother."
"But it may be long delayed," she added.
To Helen he said a farewell like that of a boy to the girl who has beenhis playmate. Although she flushed a little, causing him to flush, too,deep tenderness was absent from their parting, and there was a slightconstraint that neither could fail to notice.
Talbot was going with him, Wood and Colonel Harley were gone already,and Winthrop and Raymond said they should be at the front to see. ThenPrescott bade farewell to Richmond, where in the interval of war he hadspent what he now knew to be a golden month or two.