Sons and Fathers

by Harry Stillwell Edwards

  CHAPTER XX.

  IN THE HANDS OF THEIR FRIENDS.

  It was not sunset when Col. Montjoy left home. Mary went to her room andthrew herself upon her bed, sick at heart and anxious beyond the powerof weeping. Unadvised, ignorant of the full significance of theinformation that had been conveyed to them, she conjured up a world ofdanger for her father and for Edward. Tragedy was in the air shebreathed. At supper she was laboring under ill-concealed excitement.Fortunately for her, the little mother was not present. Sitting in herroom, with the green glasses to which she had been reduced by theprogress of her disease, she did not notice the expression of thedaughter's face when she came as usual to look after the finalarrangement of her mother's comfort.

  By 8 o'clock the house was quiet. Throwing a light wrap over hershoulders and concealing in its folds her father's army pistol, Maryslipped into the outer darkness and whistled softly. A great shaggy dogcame bounding around from the rear and leaped upon her. She rested herhand on his collar, and together they passed into the avenue. Old Isamstood there and by him the pony phaeton and mare.

  "Stay up until I return, please, Uncle Isam, and be sure to meet mehere!" The old man bowed.

  "I'll be hyar, missy," he said. "Don't you want me to go, too?"

  "No, thank you; I am going to Gen. Evan's and you must stay and lookafter things. Nero will go with me." The dog had already leaped into thevehicle. She sprang in also, and almost noiselessly they rolled awayover the pine straw.

  The old man listened; first he heard the dogs bark at Rich's then atManuel's and then at black Henry's, nearly a mile away. He shook hishead.

  "Missy got somep'n on her mind! She don't make no hoss move in de nightdat way for nothin'! Too fast! Too fast!"

  He went off to his cabin and sat outside to smoke. And in the night thelittle mare sped away. On the public roads the gait was comparativelysafe, and she responded to every call nobly. The unbroken shadows of theroadside glided like walls of gloom! The little vehicle rocked andswayed, and, underneath, the wheels sang a monotonous warning rhyme.

  Now and then the little vehicle fairly leaped from the ground, for whenNorton, a year previous, had bid in that animal at a blooded-stock salein Kentucky, she was in her third summer and carried the blood of Wilkesand Rysdyk's Hambletonian, and was proud of it, as her every motionshowed.

  The little mare had the long route that night, but at last she stoodbefore the doorway of the Cedars. The general was descending the stepsas Mary gave Nero the lines.

  "What! Mary--"

  He feared to ask the question on his lips. She was full of excitement,and her first effort to speak was a dismal failure.

  "Come! Come! Come!" he said, in that descending scale of voice whichseems to have been made for sympathy and encouragment. "Calm yourselffirst and talk later." He had his arms around her now and was ascendingthe steps. "Sit right down here in this big chair; there you are!"

  "You have not heard, then?" she said, controlling herself with supremeeffort.

  "About your father's defeat? Oh, yes. But what of that? There aredefeats more glorious than victories, my child. You will find that yourfather was taken advantage of." She buried her face in her hands.

  "It is not about that, sir--the means they used!" And then, betweensobs, she told him the whole story. He made no reply, no comment, butreaching over to the rail secured his corn-cob pipe and filled it. As hestruck a match above the tobacco, she saw that his face was as calm asthe candid skies of June. The sight gave her courage.

  "Do you not think it awful?" she ventured.

  "Awful? Yes! A man to descend to such depths of meanness must havesuffered a great deal on the way. I am sorry for Royson--sorry, indeed!"

  "But Mr. Morgan!" she exclaimed, excitedly.

  "That must be attended to," he said, very gravely. "Mr. Morgan hasplaced us all under heavy obligations, and we must see him through."

  "You must, General; you must, and right away! They have sent for poorpapa, and he has gone to town, and I--I--just could not sleep, so I cameto you." He laughed heartily.

  "And in a hurry! Whew! I heard the mare's feet as she crossed the bridgea mile away. You did just right. And of course the old general isexpected to go to town and pull papa and Mr. Morgan out of the mud, andstraighten out things. John!"

  "Put the saddle on my horse at once. And now, how is the little mamma?"he asked, gently.

  He held her on this subject until the horse was brought, and then theyrode off down the avenue, the general following and rallying the girlupon her driving.

  "Don't expect me to hold to that pace," he said. "I once crossed abridge as fast, and faster, up in Virginia, but I was trying to beat thebluecoats. Too old now, too old."

  "But you will get there in time?" she asked, anxiously.

  "Oh, yes; they will be consulting and sending notes and raising pointsall night. I will get in somewhere along the line. When a man starts outto hunt up trouble he is rarely ever too late to find it." He saw hersafely to where Isam was waiting, and then rode on to the city. Herealized the complication, and now his whole thought was to keep hisneighbor from doing anything rash. It did occur to him that there mightbe a street tragedy, but he shook his head over this when he rememberedRoyson. "He is too much of a schemer for that," he said. "He will getthe matter into the hands of a board of honor." The old gentlemanlaughed softly to himself and touched up his horse.

  In the meantime affairs were drawing to a focus in the city. After theabrupt departure of Gerald, Royson stood alone, holding the demand andthinking. An anxious expression had settled upon his face. He read andreread the curt note, but could find no flaw in it. He was to be heldresponsible for the publication; that was the injury. He was forced toconfess that the idea was sound. There was now no way to involve theMontjoys and let them hush it up. He had expected to be forced towithdraw the card and apologize, but not until the whole city wasinformed that he did it to save a woman, and he would have been placedthen in the position of one sacrificing himself. Now that such refugewas impossible he could not even escape by giving the name of hisinformant. He could not have given it had there been a demand.

  He read between the lines that his authority was known; that he wasdealing with some master mind and that he had been out-generaledsomewhere. To whom had he talked? To no one except Barksdale. He gavevent to a profane estimate of himself and left the office. There was nodanger now of a street assault.

  Amos Royson threw himself into a carriage and went to the residence ofMarsden Thomas, dismissing the vehicle. The family of Marsden Thomas wasan old one, and by reason of its early reputation in politics and at thebar had a sound and honorable footing. Marsden was himself a member ofthe legislature, a born politician, capable of anything that wouldadvance his fortune, the limit only being the dead-line of disgrace.

  He had tied to Royson, who was slightly his elder, because of hisexperience and influence.

  He was noted for his scrupulous regard for the code as a basis ofsettlement between honorable men, and was generally consulted uponpoints of honor.

  Secure in Thomas' room, Royson went over the events of the day,including Montjoy's and Gerald's visits, and then produced the demandthat had been served upon him.

  Thomas had heard him through without interruption. When Royson describedthe entrance of Gerald, with the unlooked-for note, a slight smile drewhis lips; he put aside the note, and said:

  "You are in a very serious scrape, Amos; I do not see how you can avoida fight." His visitor studied him intently.

  "You must help me out! I do not propose to fight." Thomas gravelystudied the note again.

  "Of course, you know the object of the publication," continued Royson;"it was political. Without it we would have been beaten. It was adesperate move; I had the information and used it."

  "You had information, then? I thought the whole thing was hatched up.Who gave you the information?" Royson frowned.

  "My cousin, Mrs. Montjoy; you see the complication now. I supp
osed thatno one but the Montjoys knew this man intimately, and that their handswould be tied!"

  "Ah!" The exclamation was eloquent. "And the young man had anotherfriend, the morphine-eater; you had forgotten him!" Thomas could notrestrain a laugh. Royson was furious. He seized his hat and made a feintto depart. Thomas kindly asked him to remain. It would have been cruelhad he failed, for he knew that Royson had not the slightest intentionof leaving.

  "Come back and sit down, Amos. You do us all an injustice. You playedfor the credit of this victory, contrary to our advice, and now you havethe hot end of the iron."

  "Tell me," said Royson, reverting to the note, "is there anything inthat communication that we can take advantage of?"

  "Nothing! Morgan might have asked in one note if you were the author ofthe published letter and then in another have demanded a retraction. Hisjoining the two is not material; you do not deny the authorship."

  After a few moments of silence he continued: "There is one point I amnot satisfied upon. I am not sure but that you can refuse upon theground you alleged--in brief, because he is not a gentleman. Whether ornot the burden of proof would be upon you is an open question; I aminclined to think it would be; a man is not called upon in the south toprove his title to gentility. All southerners with whom we associate aresupposed to be gentlemen," and then he added, lazily smiling, "exceptthe ladies; and it is a pity they are exempt. Mrs. Montjoy wouldotherwise be obliged to hold her tongue!"

  Royson was white with rage, but he did not speak. Secretly he was afraidof Thomas, and it had occurred to him that in the event of hishumiliation or death Thomas would take his place.

  This unpleasant reflection was interrupted by the voice of hiscompanion.

  "Suppose we call in some of our friends and settle this point." Theaffair was getting in the shape desired by Royson, and he eagerlyconsented. Notes were at once dispatched to several well-knowngentlemen, and a short time afterward they were assembled and in earnestconversation. It was evident that they disagreed.

  While this consultation was going on there was a knock at the door; aservant brought a card. Gen. Evan had called to see Mr. Thomas, butlearning that he was engaged and how, had left the note.

  Thomas read it silently, and then aloud:

  "Marsden Thomas, Esq.--Dear Sir: I have read in to-day's paper the painful announcement signed by Mr. Royson, and have come into the city hoping that a serious difficulty might thereby be averted. To assist in the settlement of this matter, I hereby state over my own signature that the announcement concerning Edward Morgan is erroneous, and I vouch for his right to the title and privileges of a gentleman.

  "Respectfully,

  "Albert Evan."

  The silence that followed this was broken by one of the older gentlemenpresent.

  "This simplifies matters very greatly," he said. "Without the clearestand most positive proof, Mr. Royson must retract or fight."

  They took their departure at length, leaving Royson alone to gaze uponthe open note. Thomas, returning, found him in the act of drawing on hisgloves.

  "I am going," said Royson, "to send a message to Annie. She must, sheshall give me something to go on. I will not sit quietly by and be madea sacrifice!"

  "Write your note; I will send it."

  "I prefer to attend to it myself!" Thomas shook his head.

  "If you leave this room to-night it is with the understanding that I amno longer your adviser. Arrest by the police must not, shall not--"

  "Do you mean to insinuate--"

  "Nothing! But I shall take no chances with the name of Thomas!" said theother proudly. "You are excited; a word let fall--a suspicion--and wewould be disgraced! Write your note; I shall send it. We have no time tolose!" Royson threw himself down in front of a desk and wrote hurriedly:

  "Annie: I am cornered. For God's sake give me proofs of your statements or tell me where to get them. It is life or death; don't fail me.

  "A. R."

  He sealed and addressed this. Thomas rang the bell and to the boy hesaid: "How far is it to Col. Montjoy's?"

  "Seven miles, sah!"

  "How quickly can you go there and back?"

  "On Pet?"

  "Yes."

  "One hour an' a half, sah."

  "Take this note, say you must see Mrs. Norton Montjoy, Jr., in person,on important matters, and deliver it to her. Here is a $5 bill; if youare back in two hours, you need not return it. Go!"

  There was a gleam of ivory teeth and the boy hurried away. It was awretched wait, that hour and a half. The answer to the demand must gointo the paper that night!

  One hour and thirty-two minutes passed. They heard the horse in thestreet, then the boy upon the stairway. He dashed to the door.

  "Miss Mary was up and at de gate when I got deir! Reck'n she hear Pet'shoof hit de hard groun' an' hit skeered her. I tole her what you say,and she sen' word dat Mrs. Montjoy done gone to sleep. I tell her youall mighty anxious for to get dat note; dat Mr. Royson up here, waitin',an' gentlemen been comin' an' goin' all night. She took de note in denand putty soon she bring back the answer!"

  He was searching his pockets as he rambled over his experience, andpresently the note was found. It was the same one that had been sent byRoyson, and across the back was written:

  "Mr. Thomas: I think it best not to awaken Annie. Papa is in town; if the matter is of great importance call upon him. I am so certain this is the proper course that it will be useless to write again or call in person to-night.

  "Respectfully,

  "M. M."

  He passed the note to Royson in silence and saw the look of rage uponhis face as he tore it into a thousand pieces.

  "Even your little Montjoy girl seems to be against you," he said.

  "She is!" exclaimed Royson; "she knew that my note to Annie was not inthe interest of Edward Morgan, and she is fighting for him. She willfollow him to the altar or the grave!"

  "Ah," said Thomas, aside, drawing a long breath; "'tis the old story,and I thought I had found a new plot! Well," he continued aloud, "whatnext?"

  "It shall not be the altar! Conclude the arrangements; I am at yourservice!"

  "He will stick," said Thomas to himself; "love and jealousy are strongerthen fear and ambition!"