The Courier of the Ozarks

by Byron A. Dunn

  CHAPTER XXII

  MARK CONFESSES HIS LOVE

  It was a day or two after the appearance of the fugitives from Powell'sforce that Mark Grafton returned to the La Belle. He seemed tired andcareworn, but reported that his trip had been entirely successful.

  When told of the disastrous defeat of Powell's force, he was astounded."Had I expected such a result," he exclaimed, "I would have gone withhim. Ran into an ambuscade, did he? I believe, if I had been with him, Icould have prevented that, for I am used to fighting just such fellows,and am up to all their tricks."

  "You seem to have a good opinion of yourself," remarked Grace, somewhatsarcastically.

  What she said, and the tone in which she said it, cut Mark to the heart."Your rebuke is just, Grace. No man should boast," he said, as he turnedaway.

  That night Mark lay thinking. That Grace had changed, he could plainlysee. It must be because he had refused to tell her his secret. "I mustgo away, and never return," he sighed. "It is the only way. If I couldonly stay near her, to see her every day, to be her slave, I would becontented."

  Then the thought of Big Tom came into his mind. He knew there was realdanger from that source. No one knew better than he what the guerrillasof the State were fast becoming--bands of robbers that preyed on friendand foe alike. He felt that Mr. Chittenden's being a Confederate wouldnot save him. To go away and leave Grace exposed to such a great dangerwould be to him a torture.

  Sleep did not visit him that night, and when morning came he was nonearer a decision than he was the night before. He arose; white andhaggard. The lines in his face showed what he had suffered.

  That night also seemed to have changed Grace. She came to him and,holding out her hand, said: "Mark, I'm sorry I spoke as I did lastnight. Forgive me." Then, looking at him, she cried: "Foolish boy! Ibelieve you took to heart what I said. Mark, did it hurt you so?"

  "There is nothing to forgive, Grace," he replied, gently. "I passed arestless night, but it was not what you said that caused it, but thethought that I had already remained here too long; and yet it is hard togo from those who are so kind to me."

  "Why go at all?" asked Grace. "You belong here. Did we not bring youback from the very brink of the grave? I have heard father say he wishedyou would always remain. He has taken a great fancy to you."

  A great light came into Mark's face. He took a step toward her, as if hewould clasp her in his arms. "Grace! Grace!" he cried, then stopped andturned deadly pale.

  "Mark, what is it? Are you sick?" asked Grace, anxiously.

  "No; I did turn a little faint, but I am over it now. I will think overwhat you said."

  He did think it over, and came to the conclusion that he must go; for,if he stayed, the time would come when he would have to confess his lovefor Grace. He trembled when he realized how near he had come to tellingher. But it was not many hours before he was telling her.

  A man came riding into the valley from the north. He was burning withfever, and reeled from side to side in his saddle. He was lifted fromhis horse, and carried into the house.

  "I am afraid I am done for," he said, faintly, as he was gently placedon a bed. "I was told I would find a crippled Confederate soldier here,called Mark Grafton, who sometimes acts as the bearer of dispatches. Ishe here now?"

  "He is," answered Mr. Chittenden.

  "I must see him--see him before it is too late. I feel the hand of Deathupon me."

  Mark was called, and the sick man, between gasps, told his story. Hesaid his name was Paul Dupont, and he was the bearer of importantdispatches to General Hindman. "I was sick at the time they asked me tocarry them, and tried to beg off, but they said the dispatches were soimportant they could only be trusted to a brave and trusty man, and theyknew I was one. 'Carry them as far as Judge Chittenden's, on the LaBelle,' they said; 'then, if you are not able to go farther, deliverthem into the hands of a crippled Confederate soldier there, by the nameof Mark Grafton.' I can go no farther. The hand of Death is already onme. You will find the dispatches sewed in the lining of my coat. Takethem and deliver them into the hands of General Hindman."

  "To Hindman!" gasped Mark.

  "Yes--don't fail!" whispered Dupont, as he sank back on his pillow,exhausted. He closed his eyes; his breath came shorter and shorter, andhe soon passed away, without speaking again.

  Mark stood as one confounded. A sacred trust had been committed tohim--one that took him where he never wished to go--into Arkansas. Noone except himself could realize the dangers that he would run.

  When Mr. Chittenden heard of the dead man's request, he said: "Mark,will you go? Those dispatches mean much; they may mean the redemption ofthe State. But the danger--Mark, I hate to see you go."

  Mark thought a moment, and then, drawing himself up to his full height,his face set and determined, he answered: "I will go. It is a sacredtrust--it is for my country."

  Mr. Chittenden and Mark searched the effects of the dead man, and foundthe dispatches as stated. They also found he had about one hundreddollars in Federal money and two thousand dollars in Confederate moneyon his person. Among the papers found was a pass from General Hindman,asking all good Confederates to aid the bearer all possible.

  "No doubt Dupont was a trusty spy for General Hindman," said Mr.Chittenden. "Mark, you are stepping into dangerous shoes; yet, if youwere my son, I should bid you go. As for the money, keep that; no doubtit was given Dupont for expenses, and you are now in his place."

  Mark's preparations were soon made, but the roll which he strappedbehind his saddle was much larger than he generally took. When he wasready, he sought Grace, to say good-bye. She was not in the house, andknew nothing of what had taken place.

  He sought her in her favorite nook by the side of the La Belle, andthere he found her gazing pensively into the water. Mark thought therewas a look of sadness on her face. She looked up in surprise as he rodeup.

  "Going away so soon?" she asked.

  Dismounting, Mark hitched his horse, and, going up to her, said: "Yes,Grace, I am going again, and on one of the most dangerous missions Iever undertook. I have come to say good-bye. If I never see you again,God bless you!"

  The girl turned pale. "Why go, Mark, if it is so dangerous?"

  "It is my duty."

  "Mark, don't go!" Tears were gathering in her eyes.

  He looked at her, his whole face eloquent with love. All the resolutionshe had made were forgotten.

  "Grace, I must say what I have told myself a thousand times I wouldnever say. Grace, I love you--love you better than I do my own soul, andbecause I so love you, it is better that I go away and never return."

  "I don't understand," she murmured. "You said things the other day Ididn't understand, and you made me angry."

  "Grace, you are fit to reign a queen in some palace. I am poor andunknown. But it is not my poverty that has kept me from declaring mylove. It is because I am unworthy of you--because I have deceived you insome things. Grace, I am not worthy to kiss the earth you tread on."

  A death-like pallor came over the face of the girl. "Mark, for the loveof Heaven, tell me--tell me! Are you married, or have you committed someheinous crime?"

  "Married! Why, Grace, I never thought of love until I saw you. I knewnot what love was. Neither am I a criminal. Things are done in war thatwould be criminal in times of peace."

  "Then why do you say you are so unworthy? Mark, it's that terriblesecret you are keeping from me! Mark, tell me what it is?" She put herhands on his shoulders, looking yearningly in his face.

  Mark Grafton shook like a leaf. "Grace! Grace!" he cried, "don't temptme! You know not what you ask."

  "Then you refuse to tell me?" She had taken her hands from hisshoulders; there was an angry flush on her cheeks.

  "I can't, Grace! Oh, God! if I could!"

  "Go!" she said. "For once, you have told the truth, when you said youwere not worthy of me. All the rest you have said are lies--lies. Youlove me, you say, better than your own soul, and yet you refuse
to tellme what it is that would keep me from you. If you loved me, you wouldtrust me, confide in me. By your actions you have shown yourselfunworthy of the love of any true woman. I have loved you as asister--nothing more--but even that love is gone now. Go! I never wantto see you again," and she turned from him.

  A moment Mark stood; then he said, gently: "Grace, good-bye. It is bestthat you feel as you do, for I now know that it is only I who willsuffer. I love you, Grace, and always will, but it will be a pure, aholy love. Nothing you can say or do can take from me the blessedprivilege of loving you. Grace, will you not say good-bye?" No answer.

  Mark turned wearily, and mounted his horse. As the sound of the horse'shoofs came to her, Grace started as if from a dream. She looked. He wasalready riding away. She rushed toward him, with outstretched arms.

  "Mark! Mark! Come back!" she cried. "It was I that lied. I love you! Ilove you!"

  He did not hear, or, if he heard, did not heed, for he rode on withoutlooking back. She watched until he had disappeared in the distance;then, pressing her hands to her heart, sank down. The wind rustledthrough the trees, and sent a shower of withered leaves down upon her.

  "Like my hopes," she murmured, "withered and dying; yet, even in death,they are beautiful!"

  She noticed the imprint of Mark's foot where he had stood when hedeclared his love. A leaf, all orange and gold, with a splash of red inthe center, had fallen and half concealed the imprint. She stooped andpicked it up.

  "He said he was not worthy to kiss the earth on which I tread," shewhispered, and she pressed the leaf to her lips; then, with a shudder,she threw it from her, for she noticed her lips had touched the splashof red, which to her looked like blood.