CHAPTER III
ORDERS TO CAPTAIN THORNE
On the sleeves of Captain Thorne's coat the insignia of a Captain ofConfederate Artillery were displayed; his uniform was worn, soiled, andill-fitting, giving honourable evidence of hard service; his face waspale and thin and showed signs of recent illness, from which he hadscarcely recovered. In every particular he was a marked contrast toLieutenant Maxwell.
"Miss Varney," he said, bowing low.
"We were expecting you," answered Edith, giving her hand to Thorne."Here's Captain Thorne, mamma!"
Mrs. Varney shook hands with him graciously while her daughter turnedonce more to the other man, with the acknowledgment of the order, whichshe handed to him.
"I wasn't so very long writing it, was I, Lieutenant Maxwell?" sheasked.
"I've never seen a quicker piece of work, Miss Varney," returned thatyoung man, putting the note in his belt and smiling as he did so. "Whenyou want a clerkship over at the Government offices, you must surely letme know."
"You would better not commit yourself," said Edith jestingly; "I mighttake you at your word."
"Nothing would please me more," was the prompt answer. "All you have gotto do is just apply, and refer to me, of course."
"Lots of the other girls are doing it," continued Edith half-seriously."They have to live. Aren't there a good many where you are?"
"Well, we don't have so many as they do over at the Treasury. I believethere are more ladies over there than men. And now I must go."
"A moment," said Mrs. Varney, coming forward with Thorne. "Do yougentlemen know each other?"
Captain Thorne shook his head and stepped forward, looking intently atthe other.
"Let me have the pleasure of making you acquainted, then. CaptainThorne--Lieutenant Maxwell."
Thorne slowly inclined his head. Maxwell also bowed.
"I have not had the pleasure of meeting Captain Thorne before, althoughI have heard of him a great many times," he said courteously.
"Yes?" answered the other, who seemed to be a man of few words.
"In fact, Captain, there is a gentleman in one of our offices who seemsmighty anxious to pick a fight with you."
"Really!" exclaimed Captain Thorne, smiling somewhat sarcastically;"pick a fight with me! To what office do you refer, sir?"
"The War Office, sir," said Lieutenant Maxwell, rather annoyed, he couldnot exactly say why.
"Dear, dear!" continued Thorne urbanely; "I didn't suppose there wasanybody in the War Office who wanted to fight!"
"And why not, sir?" asked Lieutenant Maxwell haughtily, while Edithbarely stifled a laugh, and her mother even smiled.
"Well, if he wanted to fight, he'd hardly be in an office at a time likethis, would he?"
Captain Thorne's sarcasm seemed to perturb the youngster, but his goodbreeding got the better of his annoyance.
"I'd better not tell him that, Captain," he said with a great effort atlightness; "he would certainly insist upon having you out."
"That would be too bad," said the Captain. "It might interfere with hisoffice hours and----"
"He doesn't believe it, Miss Varney," said Maxwell, turning to theyounger woman, "but it is certainly true. I dare say you know thegentleman----"
"Please don't, Lieutenant," interrupted Edith quickly. "I would rathernot talk about it, if you please."
"Of course," said Maxwell, "I didn't know there was anything----"
"Yes," said Edith. "Let's talk about something else. You know there isalways the weather to fall back on----"
"I should say so," laughed the Lieutenant, "and mighty bad weather forus, too."
"Yes, isn't it?"
They turned away, talking and laughing somewhat constrainedly, whileMrs. Varney picked up the note that was still lying on the table.
"From your note, I suppose you are leaving us immediately, CaptainThorne. Your orders have come?"
"Yes, Mrs. Varney," said the Captain. "I am afraid this must be the lastof my pleasant calls."
"Isn't it rather sudden? Are you quite well? It seems to me they oughtto give you a little more time to recover."
"I have no doubt that I am, or feel, much better than I look," said theCaptain, "and we have to be ready for anything, you know. I have beenidle too long already."
"Yes, I suppose so," said Mrs. Varney. "Well, it has been a greatpleasure to have you call upon us. When you are away, we shall greatlymiss your visits."
"Thank you; I shall never forget what they have been to me."
"Lieutenant Maxwell is going, mamma," said Edith.
"So soon! Please excuse me a moment, Captain. I am very sorry you haveto hurry away, Lieutenant; we shall hope for the pleasure of seeing youagain, if your duties permit."
"I shall certainly avail myself of your invitation, if you will allowme." He saluted Captain Thorne. "Good-evening, sir."
Thorne, of course, returned the courteous salute of his junior.
"Lieutenant Maxwell," he said pleasantly, as Mrs. Varney followedLieutenant Maxwell into the hall.
"Now remember, you are to come some time when duty doesn't call you awayso soon," she said, as he bowed himself out.
"Trust me not to forget that, Mrs. Varney," said the Lieutenant, as hedisappeared on the porch.
Captain Thorne and Edith were left alone. The girl stepped over to asmall table on which stood a vase of roses, and, with somewhat nervoushands, she busied herself arranging them. The young officer watched herin silence for a little while, the moments tense with emotion.
"Shall I see Mrs. Varney again?" he began at last.
"Oh, I suppose so, but not now. I heard her go upstairs to Howard."
"How is he?"
"Desperately ill."
"I am sorry."
"Yes," said the girl.
"I have a very little time to stay and----"
"Oh--not long?" asked Edith.
"No, I am sorry to say."
"Well, do you know," she looked at him archly, "I believe you will havemore time than you really think you have. It would be odd if it came outthat way, wouldn't it?" she continued, as she played with the flower inher hand.
"Yes, but it won't come out that way," said Thorne, as he stepped closerto her.
"You don't know," she faltered, as Thorne drew the flower from her andtook her hand in his. They stood there quiet a moment, and she did notdraw her hand away. "Well, it makes no difference how soon you are goingaway; you can sit down in the meantime if you want to."
"It is hardly worth while," he said; "my time is so short."
"You would better," interrupted the girl; "I have a great many things tosay to you."
"Have you?" he asked, sitting down on the little sofa by her side incompliance with her invitation.
"Yes."
"But I have only one thing to say to you--Miss Varney and--thatis"--Thorne took her other hand in both of his--"good-bye."
Very different words had trembled on his lips, as he knew and as thegirl knew.
"But I don't really think you will have to say that, Captain Thorne,"said Edith slowly.
"I know I will."
"Then," said Edith more softly, "it will be because you want to say it."
"No," said Thorne, resolutely and of his own motion releasing her hands,which she had allowed him to hold without remonstrance; "it will bebecause I must."
He rose to his feet and took up his hat from the table as if, the thingbeing settled, he had only to go. But the girl observed with secret joythat he made no other effort at departure.
"Oh, you think you must, do you, Captain Thorne?" said Edith, looking upat him mischievously. "You are a very wise person, but you don't knowall that I know."
"I think that is more than likely, Miss Varney, but won't you tell mesome of the things that you know that I don't, so that I can approachyour knowledge in that respect?"
"I wouldn't mind telling you one thing, and that is that it is v
erywrong for you to think of leaving Richmond now."
"Oh, but you don't know."
"Yes, I do."
"Well, what do you know?" asked Thorne curiously.
"Whatever you were going to say. Most likely it was that there'ssomething or other I don't know about, but I do know this. You were senthere to recover, and you haven't nearly had enough time for it yet."
"I do look as if a high wind would blow me away, don't I?" he laughed.
"No matter how you look, you ought not to go. You are just making fun ofit, as you always do of everything. No matter, you can have all the funyou like, but the whole thing is settled; you are not going away at all,you are going to stay here," she concluded with most decided but winningemphasis.
"Oh, I'm not going? Well, that is quite a change for me," said Thornecomposedly. He laid his hat back on the table and came closer to Edith."Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me what I am going to do."
"I don't mind at all, and it is this. You see, I have been to see--I amalmost afraid to tell you."
"Don't tell me," said the man with sudden seriousness, laying aside allhis pleasantry, "because it can't be true. I have my orders, and I amleaving to-night."
"Where--to Petersburg--to the front?"
"We can't always tell where orders will take us," he said evasively,again sitting down beside her on the lounge.
He could scarcely tear himself away from her, from the delicious yetpainful emotion aroused by her presence. He ought to have gone longsince, yet he was with her, as he supposed, for the last time. Surely hemight indulge himself a little. He loved her so desperately, sohopelessly.
"But listen," said the girl; "supposing there were other orders, ordersfrom a higher authority, appointing you to duty here?"
"It would not make any difference."
"You don't mean you would go in spite of them!" cried the girl in suddenalarm.
Thorne looked at her gravely and nodded his head.
"But if it were proved that your first orders were a mistake----"
She stretched out her hand toward him, which Thorne clasped closelyagain.
"But it wasn't a mistake, and I must go," he said slowly, rising to hisfeet once more, but still holding her hand.
"Is it something dangerous?" asked the girl apprehensively.
"Oh, well, enough to make it interesting."
But Edith did not respond to his well simulated humour. She drew herhand away, and Thorne fancied with a leap of his heart that she did itwith reluctance. She began softly:
"Don't be angry with me if I ask you again about your orders. I mustknow."
"But why?" asked Thorne curiously.
"No matter, tell me."
"I can't do that. I wish I could," he answered with a slight sigh.
"You needn't," said the girl triumphantly; "I do know."
The Captain started and, in spite of his control, a look of dismay andapprehension flitted across his face as the girl went on:
"They're sending you on some mission where death is almost certain. Theywill sacrifice your life, because they know you are fearless and will doanything. There is a chance for you to stay here, and be just as muchuse, and I am going to ask you to take it. It isn't your lifealone--there are--others to think of and--that's why I ask you. It maynot sound well, perhaps I ought not--you won't understand, but you----"
As she spoke she rose to her feet, confronting him, while sheimpulsively thrust out her hand toward him again. Once more he took thatbeloved hand in his own, holding it close against him. Burning avowalssprang to his lips, and the colour flamed into her face as she stoodmotionless and expectant, looking at him. She had gone as far as amodest woman might. Now the initiative was his. She could only wait.
"No," said the man at last, by the exercise of the most ironself-control and repression, "you shall not have this against me, too."
Edith drew closer to him, leaving her hand in his as she placed herother on his shoulder. She thought she knew what he would have said. Andlove gave her courage. The frankness of war was in the air. If this manleft her now, she might never see him again. She was a woman, but shecould not let him go without an effort.
"Against you! What against you? What do you mean?" she asked softly.
The witchery of the hour was upon him, too, and the sweetness of herpresence. He knew he had but to speak to receive his answer, to summonthe fortress and receive the surrender. Her eyes dropped before hispassionately searching look, her colour came and went, her bosom roseand fell. She thought he must certainly hear the wild beating of herheart. He pressed her hands closely to his breast for a moment, butquickly pulled himself together again.
"I must go," he said hoarsely; "my business is--elsewhere. I ought neverto have seen you or spoken to you, but I had to come to this house andyou were here, and how could I help it? Oh--I couldn't for mywhole--it's only you in this----" He stopped and thrust her hands awayfrom him blindly and turned away. As there was a God above him he wouldnot do it. "Your mother--I would like to say good-bye to her."
"No, you are not going," cried the girl desperately, playing her lastcard. "Listen, they need you in Richmond: the President told me sohimself--your orders are to stay here. You are to be given a specialcommission on the War Department Telegraph Service, and you----"
"No, no, I won't take it--I can't take it, Miss Varney."
"Can't you do that much for--me?" said the girl with winning sweetness,and again she put out her hands to him.
"It is for you that I will do nothing of the kind," he answered quickly;"if you ever think of me again after--well, when I am gone, rememberthat I refused."
"But you can't refuse; it is the President's desire, it is his order,you have got to obey. Wait a moment, I left it upstairs. I will fetch itfor you and you will see."
She turned toward the door.
"No," said Thorne, "don't get it, I won't look at it."
"But you must see what it is. It puts you at the head of everything. Youhave entire control. When you see it I know you will accept it. Pleasewait."
"No, Miss Varney, I can't----"
"Oh, yes, you can," cried Edith, who would hear no denial as she ranswiftly toward the door.
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