CHAPTER XXXVII
THE MYSTERY SOLVED
It was impossible for me to speak. Twice I endeavored, but no sound camefrom my parched lips, and I think my eyes must have filled with tears,her dear face was so blurred and indistinct. She must have understood,for she drew my head down upon her shoulder, pressing back the mattedhair with one hand.
"My poor boy!" she whispered sobbingly. "My poor boy!"
"And you--you are injured?" I managed to ask with supreme effort.
"No, not physically--but the horror of it; the thought of you in midstof that awful fighting! Oh, I never knew before what fiends men canbecome. This has taught me to hate war," and she hid her face against mycheek. "I was in that dark corner against the wall; I saw nothing, yetcould not stop my ears. But this sight sickens me. I--I stood thereholding onto the rail staring at all those dead bodies, believing youto be among them. I thought I should go mad, and then--then I saw you."
Her words--wild, almost incoherent--aroused me to new strength ofpurpose. To remain idle there, amid such surroundings, would wreck thegirl's reason.
"It was a desperate struggle, lass," I said, "but there are living menhere as well as dead, and they need help. Draw this man off me, so I cansit up against the wall. Don't be afraid, dear; that is Miles, and he isyet alive. I felt his pulse a moment ago, and it was still beating."
She shrank from the grewsome task, her hands trembling, her face white,yet she drew the heavy body back, resting the head upon the pile ofplaster. The next moment her arms were about me, and I sat up supportedby her shoulder. Even this slight movement caused me to clinch my teethin agony, and she cried out,
"You are hurt? Tell me the truth!"
"My shoulder and side pain me," I admitted, "but they are nothing toworry over. Can you find water?"
"Yes," eager now for action. She was gone not to exceed a minute,returning with a pail and cloth, and dropping again on her knees, beganbathing my face.
"It is a charnel house, with dead lying everywhere. I had to step acrosstheir bodies to get to the kitchen, and stopped to give one poorwounded lad a drink. Oh, I never can blot this scene out; it will hauntme in my dreams." Tears were in her eyes, and stealing down her cheeks,but there was no faltering. Softly she bathed the wound on my head, andbound it up. Then she kissed me. "Will they never come to help us?" shecried, lifting her eyes from mine. "Hear that man yonder groan. What canI do, Robert? I cannot sit still here!"
"Try to revive Miles," I suggested, pointing to him. "You heard what hereplied when I called him just before the charge. He had caught themurderer, and, if he dies, we may never know the man's identity. Here,Billie, take this cloth and sprinkle water on his face. Don't mind meany more; I am all right now."
She started to do as I requested but had scarcely dampened the rag whena man came in through the wrecked door, picked his way forward a coupleof steps, and stopped, staring about at the scene. Behind him were otherfigures blocking the entrance. Apparently we were indistinguishable fromwhere he stood, for he called out,
"Is there any one alive here?"
I heard a weak response or two, and then answered, "A few, yes--backhere behind the stairs."
He moved to one side, shading his eyes with one hand so as to seebetter. I could tell now he wore the uniform of a Federal officer, butwas unable to distinguish his rank. The sight of the girl, standing inthe midst of all that horror, her loosened hair falling below her waist,evidently startled him. An instant he stared toward us incredulously;then removed his hat.
"Who are you?"
"I am Lieutenant Galesworth," I answered, although his question wasdirected to her. "And this lady is Miss Hardy, the daughter of MajorHardy of the Confederate army."
"This, I believe, was the Hardy plantation?"
"Yes--she was present throughout the fight."
"I understand. By all the gods, I thought I had gone crazy when I firstsaw her. A woman in such a scene as this seemed impossible. Here, men,quick now," and he turned to his following, pointing. "There wereseveral voices answered among those lying there. Place the dead againstthe wall, and," glancing through the doorway beside him, "carry thewounded into the parlor. Corporal, you and one man come with me."
He stepped across carefully, picking a way between the bodies.
"Galesworth, did you say? Then you were in command here?"
I bowed, feeling as I did so that Billie had slipped her hand into mine.
"Great fight you made," he went on warmly. "Perfect shambles, outsidethe house as well as in. Nothing like it in my experience. I am DoctorMcFarlan, Surgeon Medical Corps. Much hurt yourself?"
"Nothing serious, I think, Doctor. Shoulder and side pain some, but Iwant you to look at this fellow. He was my sergeant, and seems tobe alive."
The shrewd gray eyes surveyed us quizzically.
"Exactly, I see," he replied. "Love and war--the old story. Ah! thatbrought a little red into your cheeks, my girl. Well, it's good for you.Which is the man?--this one? Here, Corporal, lift his head, and you,Jones, bring me the water; easy now."
I drew her closer to me, our eyes on the surgeon and Miles. The formerworked with swift professionalism, forgetful of all else in his task,yet commenting audibly.
"Ah, a bad blow, a bad blow; however, skull intact; concussion merely.Bullet wound right chest--must probe for it later; right arm broken; notlikely to see any more of this war. Live? Of course he'll live, so faras I can see. Tough as a knot--country stock, and that's the best kind;constitution pull him through. More water, Jones; that's it, mylad--yes, you're all right now, and among friends. Lift him up higher,Corporal. Do you begin to see things?--know that man over there?"
Miles looked at me dully, but slowly the light of returning intelligencecame into his eyes.
"The lieutenant?" he asked weakly, "the lieutenant?"
"Yes, Sergeant," I replied eagerly, "we're both here, but we're aboutall there is left."
"Did they come, sir? Did our boys get here?"
"Did they!" broke in the surgeon, his face glowing. "It was like beesout of a hive the way they came up from that ravine. The lads had beenheld back until they were mad clear through. The moment they saw whatwas going on they broke for the house; never waited for orders, orformation--just made a run for it. I guess they didn't get here any toosoon either. Well, that's all I can do for you now, son. Jones, you stayhere until I come back--you know what to do."
Miles' eyes followed him; then he looked at the dead bodies,shuddering, his hands to his face. When he took them down again heseemed to see Billie for the first time.
"You--you here, Miss! Oh, I remember now; it had been knocked plum outo' me. Did he get away?"
"Who?"
"That feller who knifed Burke. I had him all right, sir, back in thecoal cellar. He'd crawled away there into one corner, an' it was dark ashell--beg your pardon, Miss." The sergeant sank back against Jones'shoulder, and the man wet his lips with water. "I couldn't see only themere outline of him, and didn't dare crawl in, for I knew he had aknife. All I could do was cover him with a gun, an' try to make him comeout. That's what I was up to when you called. Damned if I knew what todo then--there was some racket up stairs, let me tell you, an' I knewthere was a devil of a fight goin' on. I wanted to be in it the worstway, but I couldn't find it in my heart to let that devil loose again.Finally I got desperate, an' grabbed him by the leg, an' hauled him out,spittin' and fightin' like a cat. He cut me once, before I got a grip onhis wrist, an' my gun shoved against him. Then he went weak as a rag.But I wan't thinkin' much except about the fracas up stairs--the boyscatchin' hell, an' me not with 'em. So I didn't fool long with thatfeller. I just naturally yanked him 'long with me up stairs into thekitchen, an' flung him down against the wall. I got one glance out intothe hall, an' didn't care no more what become o' him. You was facin' thewhole mob of 'em, swingin' a gun barrel, an' I knew where I belonged.But damned if that feller didn't startle me. He was up like a flash tohis feet, an' I thought he was trying
to get me. But he wasn't. When Irun to you, he wasn't two steps behind, an' may I be jiggered, sir, ifhe didn't jump in there on your right, an' fight like a wild man. That'sall I saw, just the first glimpse. He sure went into it all right, but Idon't know how he come out."
"Well, I do; I happened to see that myself, though I hardly know how. Hewas clubbed with a musket from the stairs. The man who hit him fell whenthe railing broke. The two of them must be lying over there now. Who washe, Miles? Did you know him?"
The sergeant wiped the perspiration from his face with his sleeve, andJones moistened his lips again. I felt Billie's grasp tighten, and herhair brush my cheek.
"Well, I thought I did, sir," he admitted at last, but as though notwholly convinced, "only I don't like to say till you have a look at thelad. He was dead game anyhow, I'll say that for him, an' I don't feeljust sure. I never got eyes on him in daylight, an' when I yanked himout o' the coal hole he was mostly black. Maybe that's him overthere, sir."
The hospital squad had cleared out much of the front hall, but had notreached the plaster pile where we had made our last stand. Those thatwere left were mostly clad in gray, but over against the stairs, one legand arm showing, was a blue uniform. The hospital men came back, and Icalled to them,
"Sergeant, there is one of our men lying in that pile. Will you lift himup so I can see the face?"
This was the work of a moment only, and for an instant no one spoke.Disfigured as the face was, blackened and bloody, there could be nomistake in identity--it was that of Charles Le Gaire.
"Why--why," exclaimed Billie, thunderstruck. "I know him, but I cannotremember. Who is the man?"
It was all clear enough to me now; I only wondered at not suspecting thetruth before. After guiding us up the ravine he had not returned tocamp, but remained, intent on revenge, feeling that this was anopportunity for vengeance which would insure his own safety. Yet she didnot know, did not understand, and it must all be explained to her.Miles broke in impatiently.
"Ain't it the same nigger, sir, what brought us up here?"
"Yes," I said, but with my eyes on the girl's face. "Billie, listen,dear. The man was Le Gaire's servant, his slave, but also his son. Hewas here with his master, but you never knew of the real relationshipbetween them. The boy was our guide last night, and he told me hisstory--of how justly he hated Le Gaire. Shall I tell it to you now, orwait? The doctor is coming."
She glanced from my face up into that of the approaching surgeon. Thehospital squad, at the nod of command, were bearing the body downthe hall.
"Tell me now."
"It will require but a moment, dear. It was because this Charles LeGaire had lived here that I asked for him as a guide. He agreed to comeas far as the end of the ravine only, as he did not wish to berecognized. Then he disappeared, and, I supposed, returned to camp.Instead, he evidently stole into the house. He was Captain Le Gaire'sson by a slave mother. Bell told me later that the mother was sent backinto the fields, and died as a result. That would account for the hatethe boy felt against the father."
"How--how old was he?" her trembling lips white.
"Not over eighteen."
Billie hid her face on my shoulder, sobbing silently. A moment thesurgeon stood looking down at us compassionately.
"I am going to have both you and your sergeant taken up stairs," he saidat last. "Come, Miss Hardy, you have no right to break down now."
CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE COMING OF THE NIGHT
It was sundown, and silent without, except for voices and the constantmovement of men. The din of battle, the roar of guns, had ceased, andeverywhere gleamed the light of fires where the tired commands rested.The house stood, shattered but stanch, great gaping holes in its side,the front a mere wreck, the lower rooms in disorder, with windowssmashed, and pools of hardening blood staining the floors. Appearingfrom without a ruin, it yet afforded shelter to the wounded.
I had had my own wounds washed and cared for. They were numerous enoughand painful--an ugly slash in the side, a broken rib, the crease of abullet across the temple, and a shoulder crushed by a terrific blow,together with minor bruises from head to heels--and yet none to beconsidered serious. They had carried me up the shattered stairs to herroom, and I lay there bolstered up by soft pillows, and between cleansheets, my eyes, feverish and wide-awake, seeking out the many littlethings belonging to her scattered about, ever reminded of what hadoccurred, and why I was there, by my own ragged, stained uniform leftlying upon a chair. I could look far away out of the northern windowfrom where I rested, could see the black specks of moving columns oftroops beyond the orchard, the vista extending as far as the log church,including a glimpse of the white pike. The faint odor of near-bycamp-fires reached my nostrils, and the murmur of voices was wafted tome on the slight breeze. Some lad was singing not far away, although thewords could not be distinguished, and from the farther distance soundedclearly a cavalry bugle. I could hardly realize, hardly comprehend whatit all meant. It hurt me to move, and the fever made me half delirious.I fingered the soft, white sheets almost with awe, and the pillowsseemed hot and smothering. Every apartment in the house held its quotaof wounded, and down below the busy surgeons had transformed the parlorinto an operating room. In spite of my closed door I could overhearoccasionally a cry of pain.
Yet I was only conscious of wanting one presence--Billie. I could notunderstand where she had gone, why she had left me. She had been there,over in the far corner, her face hidden in her hands, when the surgeonprobed my wounds. She had been beside me when he went out, her softhand brushing back my hair. I remembered looking up at her, and seeingtears in the gray-blue eyes. Then some one had come to the door, and,after speaking, she came back to me, kissed me, said something softly,and went out, leaving me alone. I could not recall what it was she said.That must have been an hour, maybe two hours, ago, for it was alreadygrowing dusk. I do not know whether I thought or dreamed, but I seemedto live over again all the events of the past few days. Every incidentcame before me in vividness of coloring, causing my nerves to throb. Iwas riding with Billie through the early morning, and seeing her facefor the first time with the sunlight reflected in her smiling eyes; Iwas facing Grant, receiving orders; I was struggling with Le Gaire, hisolive face vindictive and cruel; I was with Billie again, hearing hervoice, tantalized by her coquetry; then I was searching for Le Gaire'smurderer, and in the fight, slashing madly at the faces fronting me. Itmust have been delirium, the wild fantasy of fever, for it was all soreal, leaving me staring about half crazed, every nerve throbbing. ThenI sank back dazed and tired, sobbing from the reaction, all lifeapparently departed from the brain. I could not realize where I was, orhow I got there, and a memory of mother came gliding in to takeBillie's place. I was in the old room at home, the old room with the oaktree before the window, and father's picture upon the wall at the footof the bed. I thought it was mother when she came in, and it was thetouch of mother's hand that fell so soft and tender upon my temple,soothing the hot pain. Gradually the mists seemed to drift away, and Isaw the gray-blue eyes, and Billie.
She was kneeling there beside me clasping one of my hands, and shelooked so happy, the old, girlish smile upon her lips.
"You have been away so long," I began petulantly, but she interrupted,
"No, dear, scarcely fifteen minutes, and I have had such good news. Ihurried back just to share it with you. The doctor says you are going toget well, that all you need is nursing, and--and I have heardfrom father."
I looked at her, dimly understanding, and beginning to reflect her ownhappiness.
"How did you hear? Is he a prisoner?"
"Oh, no! Could I be happy under those conditions? He is unhurt, and hassent for me. General Johnston despatched an officer through the lineswith a flag of truce. He was brought here, and that was why I left you.He had a letter for me, and authority to conduct me back to thegeneral's headquarters. Was not that thoughtful of them?"
"Yes," I answered wearily, clinging to her han
d, "and--and you are goingnow? You came to say good-bye?"
"You poor boy, do you really think that? Shall I tell you what message Isent back?"
My face must have answered, for she lowered her head until her cheekrested against mine, her eyes hidden.
"I--I said I would stay here with my soldier."
I was still a long while it seemed to me, our hands clasped, our cheekspressing. I could feel her soft breath, and the strands of her hair.
"Billie, there is no regret, no doubt any more?" I asked falteringly."It is all love for me?"
"All love," she answered, moving just enough so that our eyes met. "Youare my world forever."
"And that uniform yonder--it is no barrier, dear? I am still a Federalofficer."
She glanced at the rags, and then back into my face.
"Sweetheart," she whispered gently, "I can be loyal to the South, and toyou also--you must be content with that."
Content! It was as though everything else had been forgotten, blottedout. It was almost dark now, and far away the camp-fires blazed red andyellow among the trees. I lay there, gazing out through the open window,her rounded arm under my head, her cheek still pressed tightly againstmine. My nerves no longer throbbed, my veins no longer pulsed withfever. She never moved; just held me there against her, and in thesilence I fell asleep.
THE END
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