"O PAPA," cried Marian, after reaching the library, "we let Mr.Merwyn go without a lunch, and it's nearly two o'clock. Nor do Ibelieve you have had a mouthful since breakfast, and I've forgottenall about providing anything. Oh, how signally I have failed onthe first day of battle!"
"You are not the first soldier, by untold millions, who has doneso; but you have not shown the white feather yet."
"When I do that I shall expire from shame. You rummage for adisguise, and I'll be back soon."
She hastened to the kitchen, and at a glance saw that the Irishcook had fled, taking not a little with her. The range fire wasout, and the refrigerator and the store-closet had been ravaged.She first barred and bolted all the doors, and then the best shecould bring her father was crackers and milk and some old Sherrywine; but she nearly dropped these when she saw a strange man, asshe supposed, emerge from his bedroom.
Mr. Vosburgh's laugh reassured her, and he said: "I fancy I shallpass among strangers, since you don't know me. Nothing could bebetter than the milk and crackers. No wine. My head must be clearerto-day than it ever was before. So the Irish Biddy has gone withher plunder? Good riddance to her. She would have been a spy in thecamp. I'll bring home food that won't require cooking, and you'llhave to learn to make coffee, for Merwyn and others will, no doubt,often come half dead from fatigue. All we can do is to foragein such shops as are open, and you'll have to take the office ofcommissary at once. You must also be my private secretary. As fastas I write these despatches and letters copy them. I can eat andwrite at the same time. In an hour I must go out."
"I won't play the fool again," said the girl, doggedly.
"Drink this glass of milk first, while I run down for more, andsatisfy my mind as to the fastenings, etc."
"But, papa--"
"Marian," he said, gravely, "you can stay with me only on onecondition: you must obey orders."
"That is what Mr. Merwyn said. Oh what a credit I've been to mymilitary friends!" and with difficulty she drank the milk.
"You are a promising young recruit," was the smiling reply. "We'llpromote you before the week's out."
In five minutes he was back, cool, yet almost as quick as light inevery movement.
The despatches she copied were unintelligible to Marian, but theone to whom they were addressed had the key. The copies of theletters were placed in a secret drawer.
When their tasks were finished, Mr. Vosburgh looked up and downthe street and was glad to find it comparatively empty. The stormof passion was raging elsewhere.
He closed all the shutters of the house, giving it a deserted aspect,then said to his daughter. "You must admit no one in my absence,and parley with no one who does not give the password, 'Gettysburgand Little Round Top.' If men should come who say these words, tellthem to linger near without attracting attention, and come againafter I return. Admit Merwyn, of course, for you know his voice.It is a terrible trial to leave you alone, but there seems to beno prospect of trouble in this locality. At all events, I must domy duty, cost what it may. Be vigilant, and do not worry unnecessarilyif I am detained."
"I am bent on retrieving myself, papa; and I'd rather die than beso weak again."
"That's my brave girl. You won't die. After this venture, which Imust make at once, I shall be able to take greater precautions;"and with a fond look and kiss, he hastened away through the basemententrance, Marian fastening it securely after him.
We must now follow Merwyn's fortunes for a time. Rapidly, yetvigilantly he made his way up town and crossed Third Avenue. He soonobserved that the spirit of lawlessness was increasing. Columns ofsmoke were rising from various points, indicating burning buildings,and in Lexington Avenue he witnessed the unblushing sack of beautifulhomes, from which the inmates had been driven in terror for theirlives.
"It will be strange if Mr. Vosburgh's home escapes," he thought."Some one must know enough of his calling to bring upon him andhis the vengeance of the mob. I shall do the best I can for him andhis daughter, but to-day has slain the last vestige of hope beyondthat of compelling her respect. Wholly off her guard, she showedher deep-rooted detestation, and she can never disguise it again.Regret and mortification at her conduct, a wish to make amendsand to show gratitude for such aid as I may give her father, willprobably lead her to be very gracious; at the same time I shall everknow that in her heart is a repugnance which she cannot overcome.A woman can never love a man towards whom she has entertainedthoughts like hers;" and with much bitter musings, added to hisreckless impulses, he made his way to the region in which Mrs.Ghegan had her rooms.
Finding a livery stable near he hired a hack, securing it bythreats as well as money, and was soon at the door of the tenementhe sought.
Mrs. Ghegan showed her scared, yet pretty face in response to hisknock.
"Ye's brought me bad news," she said, instantly, beginning to sob.
"Yes, Mrs. Ghegan; but if you love your husband you will show itnow. I have come to take you to him. He has been wounded."
"Is it Mr. Merwyn?"
"Yes; I've just come from Mr. Vosburgh, and he will do what he canfor you when he has a chance. They know about your trouble. Nowmake haste, for we've not a moment to lose in reaching the hospital."
"The Lord knows I love Barney as me loife, an' that I'd go to himthrough fire and blood. Oi'll kape ye no longer than to tie mebonnet on;" and this she was already doing with trembling fingers.
Locking the door, she took the key with her, and was soon in thehack. Merwyn mounted the box with the driver, knowing that opennesswas the best safeguard against suspicions that might soon provefatal. At one point they were surrounded and stopped by the rioters,who demanded explanations.
"Clear out, ye bloody divils!" cried Sally, who did not counttimidity among her foibles; "wud ye kape a woman from goin' to herhusband, a-dyin' beloikes?"
"Oh, let us pass," said Merwyn, in a loud tone. "A cop knocked herhusband on the head, and we are taking her to him."
"Och! ye are roight, me mon. We'll let onybody pass who spakes inher swate brogue;" and the crowd parted.
Reaching the hospital, Sally rushed into the office with thebreathless demand, "Where's Barney?"
Merwyn recognized the surgeon he had met before, and said: "Youknow the man I brought a few hours since. This is his wife."
The surgeon looked grave and hesitated.
"What have ye done wid him?" Sally almost screamed. "Are ye nobetter than the bloody villains in the strates?"
"My good woman," began the surgeon, "you must be more composed andreasonable. We try to save life when there is life--"
"Where is he?" shrieked the woman.
The surgeon, accustomed to similar scenes, nodded to an attendant,and said, gravely, "Show her."
Merwyn took the poor woman's hand to restrain as well as to reassureher, saying, with sympathies deeply touched, "Mrs. Ghegan, rememberyou are not friendless, whatever happens."
"Quick! quick!" she said to her guide. "Och! what's a wurld uvfrin's if I lose Barney? Poor man! poor man! He once said I blewhot and could, but oi'd give him me loife's blood now."
To Merwyn's sorrow they were led to the dead-house, and there laythe object of their quest, apparently lifeless, his battered facealmost past recognition. But Sally knew him instantly, and staredfor a moment as if turned to stone; then, with a wild cry, she threwherself upon him, moaning, sobbing, and straining his unconsciousform to her breast.
Merwyn felt that it would be best to let her paroxysm of grief expenditself unrestrained; but a bitter thought crossed his mind,--"I maybe in as bad a plight as poor Barney before the day closes, yet noone would grieve for me like that."
Suddenly Mrs. Ghegan became still. In her embrace her hand hadrested over her husband's heart, and had felt a faint pulsation.A moment later she sprung up and rushed back to the office. Merwynthought that she was partially demented, and could scarcely keeppace with her.
Bursting in at the door, she cried: "Och! ye bloody spalpanes, toput a loive
man where ye did! Come wid me, an' oi'll tache ye thatI knows more than ye all."
"Please satisfy her," said Merwyn to the surgeon, who was inclinedto ignore what he regarded as the wild ravings of a grief-crazedwoman.
"Well, well, if it will do any good; but we have too much to doto-day for those who have a chance--"
"Come on, or oi'll drag ye there," the wife broke in.
"When I've satisfied you, my good woman, you must become quiet andcivil. Other wives have lost their husbands--"
But Sally was already out of hearing. Reaching the supposed corpse,the deeply excited woman said, with eyes blazing through her tears,"Put yez hand on his heart."
The surgeon did so, and almost instantly the expression of his facechanged, and he said sharply to the attendant, "Bring a stretcherwith bearers at once." Then to Sally: "You are right; he is alive,but there was no such pulsation as this when he was brought here.Now be quiet and cheer up, and we may help you save his life. Youcan stay and take care of him."
Merwyn again took the wife's trembling hand and said, earnestly:"Mrs. Ghegan, obey the surgeon's orders exactly. Be quiet, gentle,and self-controlled, and Barney may outlive us all."
"Faix, Mr. Merwyn, now that oi've hope I'll be whist as a babyasleep. Ye knew me onst as a light, giddy gurl, but oi'll watchover Barney wid such a slapeless eye as wud shame his own mither."
And she kept her word. For days and nights her husband remainedunconscious, wavering between life and death. The faithful woman,as indifferent to the tumult and havoc in the city as if it werein another land, sat beside him and furthered all efforts in awinning fight.
Merwyn saw him in a hospital ward, surrounded by skilful hands,before he took his leave.
"God bless ye!" Sally began. "If yez hadn't brought me--"
But, pressing her hand warmly, he did not wait to hear her gratefulwords.
CHAPTER XLV.
THE DECISIVE BATTLE.