A Little Traitor to the South

by Cyrus Townsend Brady

  CHAPTER IX

  MISERABLE PAIR AND MISERABLE NIGHT

  Sempland's mind was in a fearful turmoil. It had all come so suddenlyand unexpectedly upon him that as yet he hardly realized the gravity ofhis situation, although it could scarcely be worse. He was under arrestand in confinement, facing such serious charges as neglect of duty,disobedience of orders, treason, cowardice! As to these last, he was soconscious of his loyalty and intrepidity that they did not worry him somuch as they might have done. The other things were bad enough, butsurely, surely, no one could ever believe him either a traitor or acoward!

  His mind did not dwell on his own situation as it might have done,either, if it had not been for Fanny Glen. Instinctively he had steppedforward to gather her in his arms when she fainted before him on thewharf that night, but he had been sternly waved back by the general,and without being given a chance to learn anything about her conditionhe had been hurried to headquarters and heavily guarded in the roomwhere he was to be held pending Beauregard's further pleasure. As forFanny Glen, although Sempland could not know it, the surgeon who hadbeen present had speedily revived that young woman, a carriage had beensummoned, and she had been taken home under the escort of one of thestaff officers.

  Sempland was utterly unable to fathom her mysterious conduct. He hadthought upon it swiftly as he could during those trying moments whichhad been so filled with action, but he had not had time, until in thequiet and solitude of his confinement, to give it any calmconsideration. He was at a loss to understand her actions.

  Was she a traitor to the South? Did she think to prevent the loss ofthe flagship of the Federal fleet by detaining him? That could not be,for if ever truth and sincerity shone in a woman's face and wereevinced in a woman's actions, they were in Fanny Glen's appearance andlife. Her patriotism was unquestioned. That hypothesis must bedismissed at once.

  Was it because she loved him so that, fancying the expedition promisedcertain death to him, she had taken this unfortunate method ofpreserving his life? He had not been too agitated in the strong room ofher house to realize as he held her that in some mysterious way she washappy at being in his arms. His heart leaped at the recollection. Shehad not struggled. She had almost nestled against him.

  He could recall the clasp of her arms, the kiss that she had given him,the words that she had said. He was almost sure that she loved him ashe thought of these things.

  Yet--she had disgraced him, dishonored him! That was not the act of aloving woman. She had shown herself possessed of a full measure ofwomanly heroism and courage. She knew exactly what was involved in hisfailure to carry out his orders. How could she have done it? Was it allacting then? Did her kisses betray him? Was she indeed a traitor--andto him? Yet--for whom?

  There was Lacy--oh, had he repented after all? Had he wished to resumethe command he had so reluctantly surrendered? Had she been a party toany plan whereby the matter might be brought about? Was he to be shamedand sacrificed for Lacy's glory and honor by this woman? Perish thethought! Yet why had she fainted on the wharf? Was it at the mention ofLacy's name? Was she alarmed for his safety? If that were the case, whyhad she not striven to restrain Lacy and allowed him to go in hisplace?

  Suddenly there flashed into his mind that there might be some one onthe _Wabash_ whom she wished to protect! Could that be the solution ofthe mystery? No one knew anything of her origin, her past history. Wasshe faithful to the South, yet had she a--a--lover in the Union fleet?Was she indeed what he called her, a heartless coquette? He could havesworn from that brief moment when he held her in his arms, when helooked at her, that she loved him. She had returned his kiss. Oh, hadshe? Was it a dream? A play? To deceive him? Great God! was he goingmad?

  Of only one thing was he certain. He could never disclose to any onethe cause of his failure to present himself on the wharf in time.Whether she loved Lacy, or some one in the Union fleet, made nodifference to his love. He would love her till he died. Ay, he wouldlove her even in the face of her treachery, her faithlessness--everything!He hated himself for this, but it was true, he could not deny it.

  And he would save her from the consequences of her action at the costof his life--his honor even. What had he to live for anyway, if shewere taken from him? Death might come. It would come. He would make nodefence. It was quite within the power of a court-martial to order himshot. And it was quite within the power of a court-martial to punishFanny Glen, too, if he fastened the culpability for his failure uponher; perhaps not by death, but certainly by disgrace and shame. Thecity was under martial rule, General Beauregard was supreme. No, hecould not expose her to that condemnation--he loved her too well.

  Yet he wished that he could hate her, as he paced up and down the longroom, stopping at the windows to stare out into the dark in thedirection of the sea--where he should have been if all had gone well.

  He was too far away to hear the explosion of the torpedo, which wasmuffled, because it took place under water, but he could hear thebatteries of the ships as they opened on the blockade-runners, and theanswer from the forts, and he knew that something had happened at anyrate. And his suspense as to that added to his wretchedness. Lacy hadsupplanted him and reaped the glory--again. It was maddening. No onecame to bring him any word. The general concluded to postpone hisinquiry until the next morning, and Sempland paced the floor the nightlong in a pitiable condition of wounded love, blasted hope, shatteredfame.

  At home, not far away, poor Fanny Glen was even more miserable thanRhett Sempland, for she had divined--yes, so soon as the two men hadleft her presence the afternoon before, she had recognized thefact--that she loved Sempland. Conviction had grown upon her swiftly,and in those moments when she was fearful that he would succeed in hispurpose, when she had kept him a prisoner in her home to prevent himfrom taking out the _David_ to try to blow up the _Wabash_, she knewthat she loved him.

  When he had held her in his arms in that bold and successful effort toescape, when he had strained her to his breast, when he had kissedher--oh, that kiss!--the consciousness of her passion overwhelmed her.The recollection of it even filled her with passionate tenderness. Shehad not been afraid when he had threatened her with the pistol. Shecould have died easily then--in his arms, with his kiss upon her lips,his heart beating against her own. He loved her! Nothing else matteredfor the moment.

  She had endeavored to keep him a prisoner partly for his own sake, butprincipally for another and greater reason. She had not thought ofdisgrace or shame to him. It had all come so swiftly. She had no timeto reflect at all. She had decided upon impulse, with but one thoughtat first--to save the Union ship. In her sudden alarm and anxiety shehad not realized that she was playing a traitor's part. Or if she had,she had done it willingly, in the belief that the punishment would fallupon her, and that he would be held blameless.

  But for whatever reason she had acted as she had, she had failed afterall, for another had taken Sempland's part, and the flagship, if the_David_ succeeded, was doomed. Her sacrifice was unavailing. She hadlost everything. Sempland had shrunk away from her when she hadconfronted him and the general on the wharf, and when she had recoveredconsciousness he was gone. She could not know his heart had gone out toher lying there, nor how they had hurried him away from her prostratefigure.

  He would never forgive her--never! she thought miserably. He was underarrest now. What was that word she had caught as she ran toward them?Coward! They would kill him perhaps. She had lost all--love, the ship,everything! Lacy, too, was gone. He had taken the boat out inSempland's place. Why had she not thought of that possibility? And hehad loved her, and he would never come back.

  With a misery akin to Sempland's she heard the bombardment whichproclaimed that something had happened. Had the flagship been blown up?Nothing was left to her. She would go to the general and tell the truthin the morning, and then--he would be free. They could punish her andshe could die. Well, death would be welcome.

  "Poor little Fanny Glen ... she had lost on everyhand."]
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  Poor little Fanny Glen! She had played, and played the foolexceedingly--and she had lost on every hand!