by John Fox
XXVI
Yorktown broke the British heart, and General Dale, still weak fromwounds, went home to Red Oaks. It was not long before, with gentleinquiry, he had pieced out the full story of Barbara and Erskine andDane Grey, and wisely he waited his chance with each phase of thesituation. Frankly he told her first of Grey's dark treachery, and thegirl listened with horrified silence, for she would as soon havedistrusted that beloved father as the heavenly Father in her prayers.She left him when he finished the story and he let her go withoutanother word. All day she was in her room and at sunset she gave him heranswer, for she came to him dressed in white, knelt by his chair, andput her head in his lap. And there was a rose in her hair.
"I have never understood about myself and--and that man," she said, "andI never will."
"I do," said the general gently, "and I understand you through my sisterwho was so like you. Erskine's father was as indignant as Harry is now,and I am trying to act toward you as my father did toward her." The girlpressed her lips to one of his hands.
"I think I'd better tell you the whole story now," said General Dale,and he told of Erskine's father, his wildness and his wanderings, hismarriage, and the capture of his wife and the little son by the Indians,all of which she knew, and the girl wondered why he should be tellingher again. The general paused:
"You know Erskine's mother was not killed. He found her." The girllooked up amazed and incredulous.
"Yes," he went on, "the white woman whom he found in the Indian villagewas his mother."
"Father!" She lifted her head quickly, leaned back with hands caughttight in front of her, looked up into his face--her own crimsoning andpaling as she took in the full meaning of it all. Her eyes dropped.
"Then," she said slowly, "that Indian girl--Early Morn--is hishalf-sister. Oh, oh!" A great pity flooded her heart and eyes. "Whydidn't Erskine take them away from the Indians?"
"His mother wouldn't leave them." And Barbara understood.
"Poor thing--poor thing!"
"I think Erskine is going to try now."
"Did you tell him to bring them here?" The general put his hand on herhead.
"I hoped you would say that. I did, but he shook his head."
"Poor Erskine!" she whispered, and her tears came. Her father leanedback and for a moment closed his eyes.
"There is more," he said finally. "Erskine's father was the eldestbrother--and Red Oaks----"
The girl sprang to her feet, startled, agonized, shamed: "Belongs toErskine," she finished with her face in her hands. "God pity me," shewhispered, "I drove him from his own home."
"No," said the old general with a gentle smile. He was driving the barbdeep, but sooner or later it had to be done.
"Look here!" He pulled an old piece of paper from his pocket and handedit to her. Her wide eyes fell upon a rude boyish scrawl and a rudedrawing of a buffalo pierced by an arrow:
"It make me laugh. I have no use. I give hole dam plantashun Barbara."
"Oh!" gasped the girl and then--"where is he?"
"Waiting at Williamsburg to get his discharge." She rushed swiftly downthe steps, calling:
"Ephraim! Ephraim!"
And ten minutes later the happy, grinning Ephraim, mounted on thethoroughbred, was speeding ahead of a whirlwind of dust with a littlescented note in his battered slouch hat:
"You said you would come whenever I wanted you. I want you to come now.
"Barbara."
The girl would not go to bed, and the old general from his window sawher like some white spirit of the night motionless on the porch. Andthere through the long hours she sat. Once she rose and started down thegreat path toward the sun-dial, moving slowly through the flowers andmoonlight until she was opposite a giant magnolia. Where the shadow ofit touched the light on the grass, she had last seen Grey's white faceand scarlet breast. With a shudder she turned back. The night whitened.A catbird started the morning chorus. The dawn came and with it Ephraim.The girl waited where she was. Ephraim took off his battered hat.
"Marse Erskine done gone, Miss Barbary," he said brokenly. "He done gonetwo days."
The girl said nothing, and there the old general found her stillmotionless--the torn bits of her own note and the torn bits of Erskine'sscrawling deed scattered about her feet.