CHAPTER III
THE QUESTION
The _Mount Vernon_, favored by a good stage of water, soon clearedthe narrow Monongahela channel, passed the confluence, and headeddown under full steam, all things promising well for a speedy andpleasant run. The sky was blue and cloudless, and the air freshwith the tang of coming autumn. Especially beautiful were theshores which they now were skirting. The hues of autumn had beenshaken down over mile after mile of wide forest which appeared in apanorama of russet and gold and red, to grow the more resplendentwhen they should arrive opposite the high bluffs which line thestream almost to the town of Wheeling.
Below these upper reaches, then the least settled and wildestportion of the country along the Ohio, the river flattened andwidened, the current becoming more gentle, and the shores, thoughnot yet wholly cleared of their forests, presenting here and therescenes of rural rather than of savage beauty. Civilization had notas yet taken full hold along this rich valley. The old town ofMarietta, the cities of Louisville and Cincinnati, the villageshuddled at mouths of such rivers as came down from the Virginiahills, or the larger settlements marking points near thedebouchments of slower streams like the Muskingum and Wabash, whichcrossed the flatter lands beyond, made the chief points of trafficand of interest in those days of west bound travel.
On the upper deck or along the rails of the lower deck, manypassengers were gazing out at the varying pictures of the passingshores. Not so the young officer, erstwhile accosted as jailer ofa woman, later hinted to be something else than jailer. With eyescast down, he spent most of his time pacing up and down alone. Yetit was not an irresolute soul which reposed beneath the half-frigidexterior. He presently arrived upon a plan of action.
The public, too, had its rights, he concluded, and the woman as awoman had her rights also to her good fame. He must not harm hername. Best then, to disarm suspicion by playing the game wholly inthe open. The midday meal now being announced by loud proclamationof the boat's gong, he turned, and soon rapped at the door of roomnineteen.
Jeanne, the tearful but faithful maid who shared her mistress'fortunes, by this time had done what she could to mend her lady'sappearance. The traces of travel had been quite removed, by virtueof the contents of such valises as they had with them. Good healthand youth, as well as good courage, fought for Josephine St. Auban,as well as good sense and a philosophy of travel learned byexperiences in other lands. If indeed she had not slept, at leasther face did not betray that fact. Her color was good, her eye wasclear. Her dark hair, brushed low over the temples in the fashionof the day, was fresh and glossy. Moreover, her habiliments weresuch as to cause most of the feminine occupants of the boat to makecareful note, when she had accepted Carlisle's escort and enteredthe dining-room. She walked with calmness to the table reservedfor her, and with inclination of the head thanked him as hearranged her chair for her. Thus in a way the gauntlet was by boththrown down to all present.
Most of those present without hesitation showed their interest.The hum of the dingy tables slackened and ceased. A score of womenfrowned at a score of men whose glances wandered undutifully. Whowas she, and what? That question certainly passed in the minds ofmost in the crowded little room. Meantime, Josephine St. Auban'sown eyes were not unregardful.
"I see that my guess was quite correct," she said at length,smiling full at her guardian.
At once he caught her thought. "Oh, about Mr. Dunwody," heassented, assuming a carelessness which she read through at once."Yes, I met him--a while ago. He told me he had suddenly decidedto change his plans and take the Vernon down the river, instead ofgoing by stage. Very natural of him, too, I should say. I wouldbe much distressed to think of myself traveling by coach, even inweather pleasant as this. He has keen eyes, though, has he not?"he added resentfully.
"That is to say--"
"So hard hit that he threatens a duel or worse if I do not at oncefurther his desire to pursue his acquaintance. It's not myselfhe's so eager to meet. He has no love for me, that's sure, longago."
"Indeed?" She kept her eyes fixed on her plate. If a slight flushtinged her cheek it scarce was visible. "Is that all?" she askedat length.
"Madam, you yourself could best answer your own question." Helooked at her keenly, not showing his case; not telling her thatDunwody had shown him her hasty note. Not the flicker of aneyelash betrayed her own thought. Surely, she had courage.Surely, she meant trouble.
"How delightful!" she resumed at length calmly. "Not that I wearyof your company, sir; but I told you my parole was ended when wereached the boat. Suppose, now, I should stand up here and cry outthat I am being restrained of my liberty. What would be theresult?"
"I should be hung at the yard-arm instantly! I should be lynched.Dunwody would come in the lead, crashing over the tables. I fearDunwody, even bearing a rope, as we used to say--in Virgil, was it?"
"Admirable! Now, since that is true, suppose you and I make somesort of terms! I'm tired of being jailed, even in a travelingjail. I told you fairly I should try to escape; and so I shall."
He needed no second look to catch the resolution in her glance."Our game is somewhat desperate, Madam, I admit," said he, "Iscarcely know whether you are in my hands or I in yours. As I havealready given you consideration, let us hope you will do as muchfor me, remembering at least the delicacy of my position. I'munder orders; and I'm responsible for you."
"Yes?" she rejoined. "Now, as to what I suggest, it is this: Youshall leave the boat at Louisville or Cincinnati. Your errand isalready sufficiently well done. You have got me out of Washington.Suppose we set Cincinnati as the last point of our common journey?"
"But what then for you. Madam?"
"As to that, I can not tell. Why should you care? Do not beconcerned over details. You have brought me into this situation.I must escape from it in my own way."
"You sting me deeply. I've had to do this, just as an executionermay have to cut off a head; but a thousand times I ask your pardon.A thousand times you, yourself, have made me ashamed. Come, whenwe part, shall it not be as friends? You have won my respect, myadmiration. I wish I were entitled to your own. You've beenperfect. You've been splendid."
"Look," she said, without raising her eyelids.
He turned. Dunwody was making his way toward them among the tables.
"My dear Senator," said Carlisle, choking down his wrath as theMissourian reached them and bowed his salutations, "I have thegreatest pleasure in the world in keeping my promise to you. I amdelighted to have you join our little party at this time. Youremember the Countess--I would say, Miss Barren?"
"I have not so soon forgotten," answered Dunwody. His commandingeyes still sought her face. Beyond a slight bow and one upwardglance, she did not display interest; yet in truth a sudden shiverof apprehension came into her heart. This was a different sort ofman she now must endeavor to handle. What was it that his straightglance meant?
It was a singular situation in which these three found themselves.That she had asked the aid of this new-comer was a fact known toall three of them. Yet of the three, none knew precisely theextent of the others' knowledge. Dunwody at least was polite, ifinsistent, in his wish to learn more of this mysterious young womanwho had appealed to him for aid, yet who now made no further sign.Who was she? What _sort_ was she? he demanded of himself. God! ifshe was one sort. And why should she _not_ be that sort? Did notthe River carry many sorts? Was not the army ever gallant? Whatofficer ever hesitated in case of a fair damsel? And what fairdamsel was not fair game in the open contest among men--that old,old, oldest and keenest of all contests since this hoary worldbegan?
"I am sure the fatigue of the journey across the mountains musthave left you quite weary," he ventured, addressing her. "There'sonly the choice of sleeping, or of hanging over the deck rail andlooking at these hills." He waved a hand toward a window, whencemight be seen the near-by shores.
Josephine St. Auban showed no sign o
f perturbation as she answered:"Not so weary as busy. The duties of an amanuensis leave one smalltime for recreation." Her face was demureness itself.
Josephine showed no sign of perturbation.]
The situation assumed swift complications. Carlisle caught hiscue, with alertness fairly to be called brilliant. "Yes," said he,"the young lady is of foreign education and family, and is mostskilful in these respects. I should find it difficult to carryforward my literary work without her able assistance. It is a boonwhich even few public men have shared with myself. You know, I amin the West in view of certain writings." He virtuously sat erect,with a fine air, presently pushing back his chair.
Dunwody looked from one to the other in perplexity. He hadexpected to find a woman claiming his aid, or rather hisacquaintance under excuse of a plea for aid. He found both theseapparently in league against him, and one of these apparently afterall not what he had thought! His face flushed. Meantime JosephineSt. Auban arose, bowed, and left them.
When the two men found themselves alone, Dunwody, for a time lostin moody silence, at length broke out into a peal of laughter."Well, human nature is human nature, I suppose. I make no comment,further than to say that I consider all the lady's fears weregroundless. She has been well treated. There was no need to callfor _my_ aid. The army is hard to defeat, Captain, and always was!"
"I had not myself regarded any officer in the light of an oppressorof the distressed amanuensis," he went on. "But come now, who isshe? You started to call her 'Countess.' Since when havecountesses gone into secretarying? Tut! Tut! and again, my dearman, Tut!"
"Sir," replied Carlisle, "I recall that when I was a youth, some ofus, members of the Sabbath-school class, occasionally would ask ourteacher a question on the Scriptures which he could not answer. Inthat case he always said, 'My dear young friends, there are somethings which are not for man to know.'"
"I accept my temporary defeat," said Dunwody slowly. "We'll see.But come, now, Captain, time is passing and the tables are yearningfor trouble. The army is distinguished not alone in love.Draw-poker hath its victories, not less than war. I told Jones andJudge Clayton and one or two others that I was pining for a littlegame of draw. What do you say? Should not all lesser questions beplaced in abeyance?"
"That," said the other, "comes to me at the present moment in thenature of an excellent compromise measure. I am agreed!"
Fencing thus, neither sure of his adversary, they now made theirway to one of the larger saloons, which ordinarily was devoted tothose who preferred to smoke, mayhap to chew, perhaps even to doworse; for the door leading to the bar-room of the boat was near athand. A darky boy stood grinning, arranging a table, offeringcards and tobacco in a tempting tray. The two drew up leisurely tothe table, and presently were joined by the gentlemen whom Dunwodyhad mentioned. For the time, then, as two of the four reflected,there was a truce, a compromise.