CHAPTER X
FEEDING THE HUNGRY
"It is now the gossip in Richmond," said Mrs. Prescott to her son asthey sat together before the fire a day or two later, "that General Woodmakes an unusually long stay here for a man who loves the saddle and waras he does."
"Who says so, mother?"
"Well, many people."
"Who, for instance?"
"Well, the Secretary, Mr. Sefton, as a most shining instance, and he isa man of such acute perceptions that he ought to know."
Prescott was silent.
"They say that Mr. Sefton wants something that somebody else wants," shecontinued. "A while back it was another person whom he regarded as theopponent to his wish, but now he seems to have transferred the rivalryto General Wood. I wonder if he is right."
She gazed over her knitting needles into the fire as if she would readthe answer in the coals, but Prescott himself did not assist her, thoughhe wondered at what his mother was aiming. Was she seeking to arouse himto greater vigour in his suit? Well, he loved Helen Harley, and he hadloved her ever since they were little boy and little girl together, butthat was no reason why he should shout his love to all Richmond. Seftonand Wood might shout theirs, but perhaps he should fare better if hewere more quiet.
Lonely and abstracted, Prescott wandered about the city that evening,and when the hour seemed suitable, bending his head to the northernblast, he turned willing steps once more to the little house in thecross street, wondering meanwhile what its two inmates were doing andhow they fared.
As he went along and heard the wind moaning among the houses he had thefeeling that he was watched. He looked ahead and saw nothing; he lookedback and saw nothing; then he told himself it was only the wind rattlingamong loose boards, but his fancy refused to credit his own words. Thisfeeling that he was watched, spied upon, had been with him several days,but he did not realize it fully until the present moment, when he wasagain upon a delicate errand, one perhaps involving a bit ofunfaithfulness to the cause for which he fought. He, the bold Captain,the veteran of thirty battles, shook slightly and then told himselfcourageously that it was not a nervous chill, but the cold. Yet helooked around fearfully and wished to hear other footsteps, to see otherfaces and to feel that he was not alone on such a cold and darknight--alone save for the unknown who watched him. At the thought helooked about again, but there was nothing, not even the faintest echo ofa footfall.
The chill, the feeling of oppression passed for the time and he hastenedto the side street and the little house. It was too dark for him to tellwhether any wisp of smoke rose from the chimney, and no light shone fromthe window. He opened the little gate and passed into the little yardwhere the snow seemed to be yet unbroken. Then he slipped two of thebeautiful gold double eagles under the door and almost ran away, thefeeling that he was watched returning to him and hanging on his backlike crime on the mind of the guilty.
Prescott's early ancestors had been great borderers, renowned Indianfighters and adepts in the ways of the forest, when the red men, silentand tenacious, followed upon their tracks for days and it was necessaryto practise every art to throw off the pursuers, unseen but known to bethere. Unconsciously a thin strain of heredity now came into play, andhe began to wind about the city before going home, turning suddenlyfrom one street into another, and gliding swiftly now and then in thedarkest shadow, making it difficult for pursuer, if pursuer he had, tofollow him.
He did not reach home until nearly two hours after he had left thecottage, and then his fingers and ears were blue and almost stiff withcold.
He wandered into the streets again the next morning, and ere long saw aslender figure ahead of him walking with decision and purpose. Despitethe distance and the vagueness of her form he knew that it was MissGrayson, and he followed more briskly, drawn by curiosity and aresolution to gratify it.
She went to one of the markets and began to barter for food, driving asharp bargain and taking her time. Prescott loitered near and at lastcame very close. There were several others standing about, but if shenoticed and recognized the Captain she gave no sign, going onimperturbably with her bargaining.
Prescott thought once or twice of speaking to her, but he concluded thatit was better to wait, letting her make the advances if she would. Hewas glad of his decision a few minutes later, when he saw a new figureapproaching.
The new arrival was Mr. Sefton, a fur-lined cloak drawn high around hisneck and his face as usual bland and smiling. He nodded to Prescott andthen looked at Miss Grayson, but for the moment said nothing, standingby as if he preferred to wait for whatever he had in mind.
Miss Grayson finished her purchases, and drawing her purse took forththe money for payment. A yellow gleam caught Prescott's eye and herecognized one of his double eagles. The knowledge sent a thrill throughhim, but he still stood in silence, glancing casually about him andwaiting for one of the others to speak first.
Miss Grayson received her change and her packages and turned to go away,when she was interrupted by the Secretary, with no expression whatevershowing through his blandness and his smiles.
"It is Miss Grayson, is it not?" he said smoothly.
She turned upon him a cold and inquiring look.
"I am Mr. Sefton of the Treasurer's office," he said in the same eventones--smooth with the smoothness of metal. "Perhaps it is too much tohope that you have heard of me."
"I have heard of you," she said with increasing coldness.
"And I of you," he continued. "Who in Richmond has not heard of MissCharlotte Grayson, the gallant champion of the Northern Cause and of theUnion of the States forever? I do not speak invidiously. On thecontrary, I honour you; from my heart I do, Miss Grayson. Any woman whohas the courage amid a hostile population to cling to what she believesis the right, even if it be the wrong, is entitled to our homage andrespect."
He made a bow, not too low, then raised his hand in a detaining gesturewhen Miss Grayson turned to go.
"You are more fortunate than we--we who are in our own house--MissGrayson," he said. "You pay in gold and with a large gold piece, too.Excuse me, but I could not help noticing."
Prescott saw a quiver on her lips and a sudden look of terror in hereyes; but both disappeared instantly and her features remained rigid andhaughty.
"Mr. Sefton," she said icily, "I am a woman, alone in the world and, asyou say, amid a hostile population; but my private affairs are my own."
There was no change in the Secretary's countenance; he was still bland,smiling, purring like a cat.
"Your private affairs, Miss Grayson," he said, "of course! None wouldthink of questioning that statement. But how about affairs that are notprivate? There are certain public duties, owed by all of us in a timelike this."
"You have searched my house," she said in the same cold tones; "you haveexposed me to that indignity, and now I ask you to leave me alone."
"Miss Grayson," he said, "I would not trouble you, but the sight ofgold, freshly coined gold like that and of so great a value, arouses mysuspicions. It makes a question spring up in my mind, and that questionis, how did you get it? Here is my friend, Captain Prescott; he, too, nodoubt, is interested, or perhaps you know him already."
It was said so easily and carelessly that Prescott reproved himself whenhe feared a double meaning lurking under the Secretary's words.Nervousness or incaution on the part of Miss Grayson might betray much.But the look she turned upon Prescott was like that with which she hadfavoured the Secretary--chilly, uncompromising and hostile.
"I do not know your friend," she said.
"But he was with the officer who searched your house," said theSecretary.
"A good reason why I should not know him."
The Secretary smiled.
"Captain Prescott," he said, "you are unfortunate. You do not seem to beon the road to Miss Grayson's favour."
"The lady does not know me, Mr. Sefton," said Prescott, "and it cannotbe any question of either favour or disfavour."
&nbs
p; The Secretary was now gazing at Miss Grayson, and Prescott used thechance to study his face. This casual but constant treading of theSecretary upon dangerous ground annoyed and alarmed him. How much did heknow, if anything? Robert would rather be in the power of any other manthan the one before him.
When he had sought in vain to read that immovable face, to gather theresome intimation of his purpose, the old feeling of fear, the feelingthat had haunted him the night before when he went to the cottage, cameover him again. The same chill struck him to the marrow, but his willand pride were too strong to let it prevail. It was still a calm facethat he showed to the lady and the Secretary.
"If you have not known Captain Prescott before, you should know himnow," the Secretary was saying. "A gallant officer, as he has proved onmany battlefields, and a man of intelligence and feeling. Moreover, heis a fair enemy."
Prescott bowed slightly at the compliment, but Miss Grayson wasimmovable. Apparently the history and character of Captain RobertPrescott, C. S. A., were of no earthly interest to her, and Prescott,looking at her, was uncertain if the indifference were not real as wellas apparent.
"Mr. Sefton," said Miss Grayson, "you asked an explanation and I saidthat I had none to give, nor have I. You can have me arrested if youwish, and I await your order."
"Not at all, Miss Grayson," replied the Secretary; "let the explanationbe deferred."
"Then," she said with unchanging coldness, "I take pleasure in biddingyou good-day."
"Good-day," rejoined the Secretary, and Prescott politely added his own.
Miss Grayson, without another word, gathered up her bundles and left.
"Slumbering fire," said the Secretary, looking after her.
"Is she to be blamed for it?" said Prescott.
"Did my tone imply criticism?" the Secretary asked, looking atPrescott.