"I recognized you as soon as I saw you, colonel," he said, in responseto my salute. "You probably do not know me, however, as I have just beentransferred from the Army of the West. Colonel Mohun, at your service."
I exchanged a pressure of the hand with Colonel Mohun, or, speaking morecorrectly, I grasped his. It did not return the pressure. I then thankedhim for his timely appearance, and he bowed coldly.
"It was lucky that my scout led me in this direction," he said, "thatparty is whipped back over the river, and will give us no more troubleto-night--the woods are full of their dead and wounded."
As he spoke he took a cigar case from his pocket, and presented it.
"Will you smoke, sir?" he said.
I bowed and selected a cigar. Colonel Mohun imitated me, and was aboutto commence smoking, when two or three cavalry men were seen approachingthrough the gloom, apparently escorting some one.
As they drew nearer the figures became plainer in the firelight. Thecavalry men had in charge a female prisoner.
She was a woman of petite figure, clad in a handsome gray riding-habit,and mounted upon a superb horse, with rich equipments, apparentlybelonging to a Federal officer of high rank. From the horse, I glancedat the prisoner's face. It was a strange countenance. She was abouttwenty-five--her complexion was dead white, except the lips which wereas red as carnations; her eyes were large and brilliant, her hair darkand worn plain under a small riding-hat. In one delicately gauntletedhand she held the rein of her horse--with the other, which was ungloved,she raised a lace handkerchief to her lips. On the finger sparkled adiamond.
There was something strange in the expression of this woman. She looked"dangerous" in spite of her calmness.
She sat gazing at some one behind me, with the handkerchief still raisedto her lips. Then she took it away, and I could see a smile upon them.
What was the origin of that smile, and at whom was she looking? Iturned, and found myself face to face with Colonel Mohun. His appearancealmost frightened me. His countenance wore the hue of a corpse, hiswhole frame shook with quick shudders, and his eyes were distended untilthe black pupils shone in the centres of two white circles.
Suddenly his teeth clinched audibly; he passed his hand over hisforehead streaming with cold sweat; and said in a low voice:
"Then you are not dead, madam?"
"No, sir," the prisoner replied tranquilly.
Mohun gazed at her with a long, fixed look. As he did so his featuresgradually resumed the cold and cynical expression which I had firstobserved in them.
"This meeting is singular," he said.
A satirical smile passed over the lips of the prisoner.
"Our last interview was very different, was it not, sir?" she said. "TheNottoway was higher than the Rappahannock is to-night, and you did notexpect to meet me again--so soon!"
Mohun continued to gaze at her with the same fixed look.
"No, madam," he said.
"You recall that agreeable evening, do you not, sir?"
Mohun coolly inclined his head.
"And you have not seen me since?"
"Never, madam."
"You are mistaken!"
"Is it possible that I could have forgotten so pleasing a circumstance,madam?"
"Yes!"
"Where and when have I seen you since that time?"
"Everywhere, and at all times!--awake and asleep, day and night!"
Mohun shuddered.
"True," he said, with a bitter smile.
"You remember, then! I am not wrong!" exclaimed the prisoner, gazingintently at him.
Mohun raised his head, and I could see the old cynical expression uponhis lips.
"Certainly I remember, madam," he said. "Do you think it possible forany one to forget your charming ladyship? And could any thing be moredelightful than this interview between two old friends? But let usreserve these sweet confidences, these gushing emotions! One thing onlyis wanting, to perfect the happiness of this moment; the presencethis evening of _your dear brother_!--but he is doubtless detainedelsewhere!"
Mohun's expression was singular as he uttered these words. The prisonerlooked at him as he was speaking with an indescribable smile. I can onlycompare it to that of the swordsman about to deliver a mortal lunge.
"My brother," she said, in accents as soft as a flute; "detainedelsewhere, do you say, sir? You are mistaken in supposing so. Hecommanded the cavalry with which you were fighting to-night!"
At these words, uttered in a strange, mocking voice, I saw Mohun startas if a rattlesnake had bitten his heel. With all his self-possession hecould not restrain this exhibition of emotion.
"Impossible! You are deceiving me--"
The prisoner interrupted him with a gay laugh.
"So you do not believe me," she said; "you think, my dear sir, thateverybody is dead but yourself! Dismiss that idea from your mind! _I_ amnot dead, since we have the pleasure of again meeting in the flesh. _He_is not dead! No! it was Colonel Mortimer Darke whom you fought to-night.This is his horse which I borrowed to take a short ride. I have beencaptured, but _he_ is neither dead nor captured, and you will doubtlessreceive some friendly message from him soon."
Under the mocking accents and the satirical glance, it was easy to readprofound hatred. The speaker could not hide that. At that moment sheresembled a tigress about to spring.
Mohun had listened with absorbing attention as his companion spoke; but,as on the first occasion, he speedily suppressed his agitation. His facewas now as cold and unmoved as though moulded of bronze.
"So be it, madam," he said; "I will respond as I best can to suchmessage as he may send me. For yourself, you know me well, and, I amglad to see, indulge no apprehensions. The past is dead; let it sleep.You think this interview is painful to me. You deceive yourself, madam;I would not exchange it for all the wealth of two hemispheres."
And calling an officer, he said:--
"You will conduct this lady to General Stuart, reporting thecircumstances attending her capture."
Mohun made a ceremonious bow to the prisoner as he spoke, saluted me inthe same manner, and mounting his horse, rode back at the head of hiscolumn.
The prisoner, escorted by the young officer, and still riding her finehorse, had already disappeared in the darkness.
V.
STUART.
An hour afterward, I had delivered my message to Mordaunt, and wasreturning by the road over Fleetwood Hill, thinking of the singulardialogue between Mohun and the gray woman.
What had these worthies meant by their mysterious allusions? How hadMohun found himself face to face on this stormy night, with two humanbeings whom he thought dead?
These questions puzzled me for half an hour; then I gave up the mystery,laughing. An hour afterward I had passed through Culpeper Court-House,crossed the fields, and had reached General Stuart's headquarters.
Stuart's tent, or rather the strip of canvas which he called one, waspitched beneath a great oak on a wooded knoll about a mile south ofthe little village. Above it drooped the masses of fresh June foliage;around, were grouped the white canvas "flies" of the staff; in a gladeclose by gleamed the tents d'abri of the couriers. Horses, tethered tothe trees, champed their corn in the shadow; in the calm, summer night,the battle-flag drooped and clung to its staff. Before the tent ofStuart, a man on guard, with drawn sabre, paced to and fro with measuredsteps.
A glance told me that Mohun's singular prisoner had arrived. Acourier was holding her fine animal near the general's tent, and as Idismounted, three figures' appeared in the illuminated doorway. Thesewere the figures of Stuart, the "gray woman," and a young aid-de-camp.
"Farewell, madam," said Stuart, bowing and laughing; "I am sorry to havemade your acquaintance under circumstances so disagreeable to you; but Itrust you will appreciate the situation, and not blame me."
"Blame you? Not in the least, general. You are a very gallant man."
And the gay words were accompanied by a musical laugh.
The lady made a humorous grimace.
"And of abusing me upon the way thither; and afterward on the route toPort Monroe and Washington, as you will not be detained, I am sure."
"I shall not abuse you, sir. You are the noblest gentleman I have everknown."[1]
[Footnote 1: The real words of Stuart's prisoner]
And with mutual salutes they parted--the young aid-de-camp accompanyingthe lady to her horse, and aiding her to mount. They then set forwardtoward the Court-House. Stuart had ordered the prisoner to be conductedthither, and detained at the village tavern, under guard, until morning,when she would be sent to Richmond.
As they disappeared, I entered the general's tent, and found himlaughing. Leaning one hand upon his desk, covered with papers, uponwhich rested his feather-decorated hat, he carelessly played with thetassel of his yellow sash with the other hand. His blue eyes sparkled,and his mustache curled with humor.
"That is really a beauty, Surry?" he said, "and I have laughedheartily."
He threw himself on his red blanket as he spoke, and began playing withhis two setter pups, whose names were "Nip" and "Tuck." He had broughtthem out of the lines on his saddle.
"Well, you are really a magician," I said. "You charm the evil spirit,and make prisoners laugh."
Stuart laughed in reply.
"That is a curious person that Mohun sent me," he said; "at first shewas disdainful enough; but I paid her a few compliments, and now she isin an excellent humor, as you saw."
"Yes."
"But what about the fight?"
I made my report of the events of the evening.
"Well, Mohun is a trump," said Stuart. "A new man, but seems made of theright stuff--real steel. What does Mordaunt say of the attack?"
"Only a scout."
"Right, and this lady is our spoil! She is handsome, is she not? But amore curious face I have never seen. White cheeks and red lips--a sortof devil and angel mixed! Who is she, I wonder, and what was her errand.Something is under it. She gave her name as 'Mrs. Darke,'--and herhorse made me break the tenth commandment, Surry! Lady and courser aresplendid."
"She is certainly a beauty."
"And what eyes!"
"Dangerous."
Stuart remained silent for some moments, and then I heard him sigh.
"Do you know, my dear Surry," he said, "that if people heard us talk inthis way, they would call us libertines--immoral--any thing? There aretwo things that people will not disbelieve about me--that I am impure,and a drunkard! Do you know what a good man was heard to say of me theother day? 'Stuart would be one of the greatest soldiers in the army,if he did not drink so hard!'[1] And others add: 'if he were not alibertine.' Well, need I defend myself to _you_, from these charges? Ipromised my mother in my childhood, never to touch ardent spirits, anda drop has never passed my lips, except the wine of the communion.[2]I know I need not tell you that I am equally guiltless of the otherimputation. That person does not live who can say that I ever didany thing improper of that description. And yet I am a drunkard--alibertine--I, who never touched drink, and love but one person in thisworld!"
[Footnote 1: This was actually said of Stuart.]
[Footnote 2: His words]
Stuart's head sank, and he uttered a weary sigh.
"They will not let me alone," he muttered, "and yet I am here fightingfor my country. But I defy them to take my good name away from me,Surry!"
And he rose to his feet.
"General Lee knows me! Jackson knew me! I have the regard of the one,and I had the love of the other. What do I care? If my childrenonly will not hear these ignoble charges! _One_ can never hear them,Surry--my beloved little Flora! She died while I was fighting nearMiddleburg in the fall of '62--that nearly broke me down--"
And Stuart paused and covered his eyes with his hand. Between thefingers I saw a tear.
For a moment his breast heaved--something like a sob issued from thebrave lip, whereon the heavy mustache trembled.
"I think of her often--I shall never get over her death, Surry!"[1] hemurmured. "They think me hard and cold, and bad perhaps--it is nothing.Since she died I care less for men's opinion, and only try to do myduty, till the ball comes that will end me."
[Footnote 1: His words.]
And dashing a tear from his eyes, Stuart walked to the door of his tent,from which he gazed forth upon the stars.
Five minutes passed thus, and I did not speak. Then all at once I heardStuart call out: "Orderly!"
"Yes, sir," came from the man on post near the tent.
"Tell Sweeney to come and bring his banjo!"
And walking fifty steps, Stuart caressed the glossy neck of hismare "Lady Margaret," who was tethered to a bough, and looked aroundaffectionately at her master.
When he returned he was humming "The dew lay on the blossom," andfollowing him was Sweeney--the same old Sweeney!--ever mild, courteous,almost sad, doffing his cap, saluting with simple grace, and tuning hisbanjo.
In a moment the tent, the wooded knoll, the whole vicinity was ringingwith the uproarious notes of the mirth-inspiring banjo; and Sweeney waschanting, as only that great master _could_ chant, the mighty epic ofthe sabreurs of Stuart:--
"If you want to have a good time Jine the cavalry, Bully Boys, hey!"
The staff and couriers quickly assembled, the servants were grouped inthe starlight, the horses beneath the boughs turned their intelligentheads--and leading in the uproarious chorus might have been heard thesonorous and laughing voice of Stuart.
VI.
STUART'S INSTINCT.
The festivities were kept up until nearly midnight.
Then Stuart yawned; said with a laugh, "Good morning, gentle-_men_" aswas his habit when he wished to work; and the tent was soon deserted.
I retired to rest, but at three in the morning felt a hand upon myshoulder.
"The general is going to move, colonel, and wishes to see you," said theorderly.
I rose, made my brief toilet, and went toward Stuart's tent where alight was shining. He was writing busily at his desk, as fresh and gayas on the preceding evening. His enormous constitution defied fatigue.
All at once I saw that there was another personage in the tent. He wasa young man of about twenty, of slight figure, beardless face, and anexpression so shy and retiring that he seemed ready to blush if youspoke to him. He wore, nevertheless, the uniform of a captain ofartillery; and I remember wondering how this girlish and shrinkingpersonage, with the large, sad eyes, had come to hold a commission.
"Captain Davenant, of my horse artillery, Colonel Surry," said Stuart.
The youth colored, and then with an air of painful embarrassment took astep forward and pressed my hand. The grasp of the slender fingers waslike the grip of a steel vice.
"Davenant has been on a scout across the Rappahannock, to keep his handin," said Stuart, busily writing. "My horse artillery boys do a littleof every thing--and Davenant is a wild-cat, Surry, with a touch of thebull dog, in spite of his looks!"
The young officer drew back blushing more than ever at these words. Hisconfusion seemed to deprive him of the power of utterance.
"I'll bet he's blushing now!" said Stuart, laughing and continuing towrite with his back turned, as he spoke. "He is blushing or sighing--forthe poor Yankees he has killed, doubtless!"
"You are laughing at me, general," said the young man timidly. "Well,my laughter won't hurt you, Davenant. I never joke with people I don'tlike. But to business. The enemy are going to attack me, Surry. Getready, I am going to move."
"Ready, general."
"All right!--Hagan!"
"General!"
The voice came like an echo. Then at the door appeared the gigantic,black-bearded Lieutenant Hagan, chief of the general's escort. Have youforgotten him, my dear reader?--his huge figure, his mighty beard, thedeep thunder of his tones? I showed you the brave soldier in 18
61 and'62. In 1863 his beard was heavier, his voice more like thunder--whenthe giant walked along he seemed to shake the ground.
"I am going to move in half an hour, Hagan," said Stuart, still writingbusily. "Head-quarters will be established on Fleetwood Hill, beyondBrandy; my horse!"
Hagan saluted and vanished without uttering a word. In five minutes thecamp was buzzing, and "Lady Margaret" was led up.
"Come on, Surry! Come on, Davenant! I will beat you to the Court-House!"
And Stuart buckled on his sword, drew on his gauntlets, and mounted hishorse. I was beside him. Not to be ready when Stuart was--was to be leftbehind. He waited for nobody. His staff soon learned that.
As Davenant's horse was awaiting him, he was as prompt as Stuartdesired. In a minute we were all three riding at full speed toward thevillage. Stuart was playing with his glove, which he had taken off anddangled to and fro. His brows were knit, and he was reflecting. We didnot interrupt him, and in ten minutes we were all clattering over themain street of the hamlet.
Stuart pushed on by the tavern, without pausing, in the direction ofFleetwood, when just as he reached the eastern suburbs of the town asmall one-horse wagon, leaving the place, attracted his attention. Therewas just sufficient light to make out the figures in the wagon. Therewere two. One was a portly and plainly clad old countryman, with aprominent nose, a double chin, and fat hands decorated with pinchbeckrings. Beside him sat an old woman, as fat as himself, wearing a fadedcalico gown, a "coal-scuttle" bonnet, and a huge ruffled cap beneath.
Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins. Page 2