Marion's Faith.

by Charles King

  CHAPTER XIX.

  IN CLOSE ARREST.

  To use his own language, life had suddenly become vested with new charmsfor Mr. Blake. He had found his conversational affinity. "For years,"said he, "I have been like Pyramus, peeking and scratching at a wall forThisbe,--only my Thisbe was never there." But Pyramus Blake had foundhis mate, he swore, and with huge delight he began devoting hours tochat with Mrs. Whaling.

  She was old enough to be his mother, though she thought the fact wasknown to but few. She was as prosaic as he was fanciful, though it washer aim to appear at ease in all literary topics. She knew little ornothing of music or the languages, but it was her implicit convictionthat those by whom she was surrounded knew less; and she chiefly erredin assuming to know that of which they frankly confessed theirignorance. Aside from a consummate facility for blundering in French,Mrs. Whaling possessed illimitable powers of distortion of hermother-tongue, and this it was that so fascinated and enraptured Blakeon short acquaintance. He rushed in one morning to tell Mrs. Stannardthat nothing but jealousy could have prompted her and the other ladiesin concealing from him Mrs. Whaling's phenomenal gifts in this line, andproclaiming her the sweetest sensation of his maturer years. If we havefailed thus far in pointing out some of the lingual peculiarities whichhad won for this estimable lady the title of Mrs. Malaprop, it wasthrough the confidence we felt that so soon as she began to talk forherself our efforts would be rendered unnecessary. Overweening interestin other ladies has kept her somewhat in the background, a fact thatdetracts at once from all hope of ever establishing the record of beingfaithfully historic, since all who knew Mrs. Whaling are aware thatnobody could ever keep her in the background in any assemblage whereinshe was permitted to speak for herself. Perhaps it was therein that layone of her direst misfortunes, but she knew it not, poor lady, and liketoo many of the rest of us, could never realize what was and what wasnot best for her at the time. Will the day ever come when the author ofthis will not realize in mournful retrospect what an ass he made ofhimself the twelvemonth previous? Mrs. Whaling had never studied French,but French was the language of courts and courtesy, and it sounded well,she was convinced, to introduce an occasional phrase or quotation in herdaily conversation, and what she meant when she used a big word in herown language was (as in the case of honest Mr. Ballou) a secret betweenherself and her Maker.

  Mr. Blake had hobbled over to pay his respects soon after his arrival,and was noticed shaking his head and muttering to himself in perplexityat odd hours of the day thereafter. The next morning he was seen toexplode, as Mrs. Whaling gravely announced among a circle of her friendsthat she considered Miss Sanford to be the most _soi-disant_ creatureshe had ever met, and went on to explain for the benefit of those towhom her French was an impenetrable mystery,--"fascinating, or, as _theysay_, seductive." But when she soon thereafter referred to the general'smagnanimity in not remanding to the guard-house an inebriated soldier,who had dropped and broken a valuable lamp, because "he knew it was onlya _lapsus linguae_," Blake became her slave, and hovered about her frommorn till night in hopes of further revelations. He was getting lots offun out of life just now despite his aches and pains, and was beingchaffed extensively for replacing so readily the absent and lamentedGleason,--the one thing that seemed to mar his happiness.

  Mrs. Truscott had been ailing for two or three days, and the ladies werewont to stop at her door each morning to make inquiries and suggestions.Mrs. Stannard had virtually moved in next door, and was with her at alltimes. Mr. Ray was a frequent visitor, despite the fact that Mrs.Truscott was unable to see him (though he always asked for her), and thegarrison was arriving at the not unjustifiable inference that otherattractions might draw him thither. He was still too lame to walk orride, had no duties to perform, and much time to devote to calling; butbeyond leaving his card at the commanding officer's and paying acourteous visit to Mrs. Turner and Mrs. Wilkins, he made no garrisoncalls at all, for the hours he spent with Mrs. Stannard and Miss Sanfordcould hardly be so termed. He had been at the post a week, and theadjutant and quartermaster of the little command had as yet failed todrop in and welcome him as is customary. They had called on Blake whenRay was "up the row," but had not left their cards or inquired for hiscomrade. Blake thought it simply a piece of forgetfulness. Perhaps theyhad asked and he had forgotten; but Ray thought otherwise, and still,oddly enough, did not seem to care. He was happy in his day, and lifehad a new, strange, sweet interest for him that, despite his pastephemeral flames for one belle after another, was seriously influencinghis life and character.

  Blake wrote to his chums in the regiment that Billy Ray wasn't half thefun he used to be. "Never knew a fellow lose all his old self so quick.He has gone back on potations and poker, and it hasn't improved him awhit." There was another thing Blake growled at: Ray was mixed up insome garrison mystery, and wouldn't tell him anything about it. He had"pumped him," so to speak, because Mrs. Turner kept nagging him forinformation, and Ray had only colored and stumbled painfully, andfinally burst forth with, "See here, Blake; something _has_ happenedthat I accidentally got mixed up in, but it's a thing a man can't tellof, so don't ask me;" and Blake could only surmise. Then, too, there wasthat desertion of Wolf's,--Ray knew something about it,--and then thecolonel had asked him--Blake--a point-blank question about Ray's habitswhich amazed him and set him to thinking. Then no mail was received fromthe regiment for four days, and they were all anxious; and so thisbright August morning quite a party had gathered in front of Truscott's,for a little batch of letters had just arrived, and they were discussingcontents and comparing notes. When Mrs. Stannard came down-stairs,blithe and breezy as ever, the ladies began their natural inquiries forMrs. Truscott. She had enjoyed a good night's rest, at times at least,but had a severe nervous headache this morning. This had prompted Mrs.Turner to remark that nervous headaches were such trying things; shecould never control them except by liberal use of bromides. Mrs. Wilkinswas of opinion that if ever she had one she'd cut her head off beforeshe'd use the likes--such stuff as that; lapsing very nearly into thevernacular of her early days; and Mrs. Whaling calmly announced thatnothing ever did her so much good as a warm embryocation, whereat therewas suppressed sensation on part of the ladies and convulsive throes byMr. Blake. Ray and Miss Sanford, absorbed in converse on the weather,were standing apart at the door-way and heard nothing of it.

  Guard-mounting was over; the band had just finished its morningprogramme of music and was going away, when a sudden exclamation fromMrs. Turner called all eyes to the form of the young post adjutantcoming up the row.

  "Why! What's Mr. Warner in full uniform for,--what can it mean?"

  Full uniform had not been worn at the post for any duty since thecommand left for the front; guard-mounting was in "undress," as onlyhalf a dozen men were put on duty each day, and the military reader canreadily understand the sensation in the group as the white plumes of theyoung adjutant were seen. There is only one duty which, in the absenceof courts-martial and dress-parades or the like, will account for anadjutant's appearing in full uniform at such an hour, and he was comingstraight toward them.

  Conversation ceased at once in the group at the gate. Ray and MissSanford, standing at the door-way, were still absorbed in their chat,and saw and heard nothing of what was coming. Mrs. Stannard turned paleand trembled so that all could see it. Blake looked, as he afterwardssaid, "six ways for Sunday;" then, as the officer neared him, withattempted jocularity sang out,--

  "'The king has come to marshal us in all his armor drest, And he has donned his snow-white plume to put us in arrest.'

  Who's your victim, Warner?" and then stopped short as Warner brushed by,saying, in savage whisper,--

  "Shut up! man, and get Ray away from this crowd quick. I want _him_."

  Blake simply stared. Mrs. Stannard turned quickly and almost ran intothe house. Mrs. Whaling lifted her eyes heavenward, as though imploringDivine mercy on the doomed one; Mrs. Turner flushed, and lookedwonderingly from one to
the other; Mrs. Wilkins dropped her parasol andpicked it up pretty much as though it were a shillelah and she meant touse it as such, and then the group began to break up. Ray, glancing overhis shoulder to inquire the cause of the sudden cessation of talk,caught sight of the snowy plume dancing on up the walk, of Blakestanding in petrified and indignant silence, and then of Mrs. Stannard'sface,--her eyes filling with tears. He recalled instantly her recentquestions and half-uttered warnings, and something told him the blow hadcome. He gave one quick look at Miss Sanford; their eyes met, and hers,too, were full of trouble and something she could not express.

  "Excuse me, but I want to inquire what this means," he said, and,bowing quietly, he turned to the gate where Blake still stood lookingafter Warner, who had halted farther up the row.

  "It's you, Billy boy; and damn me if I don't believe the world is mad!"

  Ray stalked up the line fast as his halting gait would admit.Wonderment, indignation, bitterness, were in his heart, but he choked itall down, and his eyes were fixed full upon the staff-officer, who,seeing him alone, came rapidly back to meet him. Something of the oldreckless, dauntless manner reasserted itself as they reached speakingdistance. The adjutant was toying nervously with his sword-knot. Despiteall Gleason's insinuations, despite official papers that had been goingto and fro, he felt it impossible to believe the allegations against Mr.Ray, and his unbelief was never so pronounced as at this moment whenthey came together. He had never seen it done before, butinstinctively--by an impulse he could not restrain--he raised his handin salute as he spoke the brief official words,--

  "Mr. Ray, you are hereby placed in close arrest, by order of ColonelWhaling."

  And Ray, with courteous return of the salute, replied with almostsmiling grace,--

  "Very well, Mr. Warner. I presume you will give me prompt information asto the charges;" and, facing about, went slowly and deliberately to hisquarters.

  Mrs. Stannard stood at the door-way until she saw him turn, then, takingMiss Sanford's hand, drew her within the hall, saying simply, "Come."

  "What can it mean, Mrs. Stannard? Surely he will stop and tell us."

  "He cannot, Miss Marion. He must go direct to his quarters. I will sendMr. Blake at once to him. They are going now together. I shall go andfind out all I can. Do not tell Mrs. Truscott."

  And without a word Marion Sanford went slowly up the stairs and to herroom. Mrs. Stannard listened until she heard her close the door, thenhastened down the row in pursuit of Mr. Blake. Ray waved his hand to heras he stepped inside the threshold, and Blake, fuming with fury, cameback to meet her.

  "Was there ever such an outrage? It is something of Gleason's doing, ofcourse, but Ray says he can stand it if G. can, and is disposed to laughit off; but there's something else, I'm afraid; have you heardanything?"

  "Nothing but vague rumors, Mr. Blake, but enough to worry me. There issome deep-laid plot or I'm fearfully mistaken. Gleason would never daredo it alone. Can't you telegraph to the regiment and have thingsstopped?"

  "They are far above Fetterman, and can only be reached by courier. Webband Gleason went out with small escort last night, so the despatchessay. By Jove! I'll try it. Surely the colonel and Stannard and Wayneought to be told. Wayne is still at Laramie, but he would come.Something must be done to block these lies whatever they are."

  "Oh, if Luce were only where we could make him hear! Mr. Blake, _can't_you find out from Mr. Warner what the trouble is,--what the chargesare?"

  "Of course I can. It is some mere local mischief that fellow Gleason haskicked up. I'll go just as soon as I've seen Billy."

  And go he did: and would have gone straight into the old colonel'soffice even had that veteran not called him in. And when next Mr. Blakeappeared upon the walk, the light had gone out of his face. He wentslowly, reluctantly, wretchedly, back down the row. He could not bear tocarry the news to Ray, yet he had promised, and in his hand was a copyof the charges and specifications preferred against his friend. So farfrom being a mere local matter the arrest was ordered from divisionheadquarters, the court was already selected, and the time fixed for itsmeeting. Long before sunset the whole garrison knew--and with whatadditions and exaggerations who can say?--that Lieutenant Ray was to betried by court-martial for offences that reflected on the honor of thewhole regiment, and that accepting bribes and large sums of money fromprominent contractors while on the horse board, gambling with them andmisappropriating public funds, were the main allegations. The chargeswere signed by a prominent staff-officer, and Gleason's name onlyappeared incidentally as a witness; so did that of Rallston, Ray'sbrother-in-law; but there were several others. Blake laid the bulkypaper before his friend with this word,--

  "Before you say aye or nay to any one of the charges in this batch ofinfamy, I want to say to you, Ray, that I'll stake my commission ontheir utter falsity."

  And he had said practically the same thing to the post commander.

  That afternoon Mr. Blake, after a long talk with Ray, knocked at Mrs.Stannard's door and asked to see her a moment. She came to him in direanxiety. Long before this had Mrs. Whaling been in to lament over thedownfall of this unhappy young man, and to expatiate on the gravity ofthe charges. On Mrs. Stannard's making prompt and spirited expression ofher utter disbelief in them, the good lady had lifted her eyes inpathetic appeal to heaven that so mercifully enables us to bear thetribulations that befall our friends, and groaned, a veritable Stigginsin skirts. Ah, no; she hoped, she prayed, of course, it might provefalse; but the general--the general said the array of witnesses wasoverwhelming, and then his temptations! and his past career! She hadbeen told he was addicted to the vices of drink and cards in their worstform. Ah, no; it was futile to hope. She feared the worst. And Mrs.Stannard was wellnigh ready to bid her begone,--the old croaking raven!as down in her inmost heart she termed her. She was full of faith andloyalty, but she was fearfully worried, and Blake's coming was agodsend.

  "How is he?" she asked.

  "Astonished, of course; mad, not a little; but as full of pluck as ever.What I want to see you about is this. He forbids my telegraphing to havethings stopped. He wants a court, wants to be tried; the quicker thebetter; says I can write to Stannard or anybody, but not to think ofstopping proceedings. All he seems to care for is this: he fullyexpected to be well enough to travel in two weeks, and then he wanted tojoin the regiment as fast as horse could take him. All that is nowimpossible. He has not said a word about Gleason, but I have sent acouple of telegrams from him that will make his brother-in-law smart."

  "And have you telegraphed to Fort Fetterman? I'm sure they would have achance to send the news."

  "Yes, of course I did. What I can't get over is this: that much of thismatter must have been reported through old Whaling here by Gleason, andit has all been done in the dark. The old rip never gave us a chance torefute any story that Gleason would tell. Did you hear about Ray'smessage to him?"

  "No. When--what was it?"

  "Instead of asking to see the commanding officer, as the average officerdoes when put in arrest for a thing he is innocent of, Ray nevermentioned him. About an hour ago I met the colonel, and he asked me howRay was behaving, and was beginning something about not letting himdrink, when I could hold in no longer, and told him flatly that Rayhadn't taken as many drinks in a month as he had in a day. You ought tohave seen him; he was struck all aback, and stammered something abouthis having been led to suppose Ray was doing a good deal of that sort ofthing. I replied that that wasn't the only thing he had been misinformedabout by a jugful, and he looked as though he'd like to put me in arresttoo--the old slab; he would, too, if he had the grit of his wife; but hedidn't. He sent Warner down just a moment ago to say that if Mr. Raydesired to speak to him about the matter he would see him this evening,as 'he desired to go to town on the morrow.' Ray begged Warner to sitdown, offered him a toddy or a glass of wine, and, finally, as though ithad suddenly occurred to him, exclaimed, 'Oh! Do _I_ want to see thecolonel? Why, really, Mr. Warner, I know of
nothing that--well, _you_might say this, you know: it isn't at all necessary that _I_ should seehim, and I do not send this as a message; but, as the colonel appears tohave furnished much of the information on these charges withoutreference to me, I shall probably answer them in the same way,--withoutreference to him.' Gad! I never saw Ray more placidly polite, and he'salways most full of fight at such times."

  But even with such "an old slab" as Whaling anything more impolitic thanthe conduct of these two cavalry subalterns could hardly have beenimagined. Warner never told the colonel what Ray said; but, of course,had to say that Ray expressed no desire to see him. By the followingmorning the colonel was chafing over it a great deal, and over theindignation expressed around the post at Ray's arrest. He concluded thathe wanted to see the young man himself, and an opportunity unexpectedlyoccurred. Sergeant Wolf's recent desertion was still a source of muchsubdued excitement, and efforts had been made to capture him. It hadbegun to leak around the garrison that he had been sent for the night ofhis departure by Lieutenant Ray, and did not return to the band barracksuntil eleven o'clock, "when he acted queer." The post quartermaster wasmuch exercised about the theft of one of the best horses from the bandstable, as he had become responsible for them in the absence of Mr.Billings. Possibly Ray could throw some light on the matter, and, tothat officer's surprise, he was sent for at guard-mounting. His firstidea was that his remarks to Warner had been carried to the colonel, andthat he was to be overhauled for them. His head was perhaps a triflehigher than usual, therefore, when he entered the office. The firstquestion sent the blood surging to his forehead, and he almost staggeredwith surprise.

  "Mr. Ray," said the colonel, abruptly, "do you know anything of thecauses of Wolf's desertion?"

  It was a moment before he could reply. Know? Of course he knew; but itwas a thing to be sacredly guarded. He _could_ not tell of thatinterview without betraying _her_, without bringing Grace Truscott'sname into the very snare that Gleason had laid for it. The colonel sawhis hesitation, and wheeled around in his chair; Mr. Warner looked up insurprise.

  "I say, do you know anything of Wolf's desertion,--of its causes, ofwhere he has probably gone?" repeated the colonel, sharply.

  "I do not know where he has gone, sir; I have formed an opinion as tothe cause of his desertion."

  "And what is it, Mr. Ray?"

  "If it concerned me, I would answer unhesitatingly, Colonel Whaling. Asit is, I cannot."

  "What possible reason can there be for silence, sir? I do notunderstand."

  "I cannot explain it now, sir. Let me simply assure you that I never sawhim until within the last few days, that I had an interview with him thenight of his desertion, and that he has had some trouble of a personaland private nature. Other than that I can give no account of him."

  "This is most extraordinary, Mr. Ray. How came you to know anything ofhis private history, sir?"

  "I decline to say, sir."

  "By heavens, Mr. Ray! Do you realize that in addition to the othercharges against you, you are laying yourself open to those of abettingdesertion?"

  "Possibly, sir. If so, I can meet them before the proper tribunal."

  "You may go, sir. Stop! one moment: I have telegraphed to Sidney, toDenver, and to Laramie City to be on the lookout for him. I demand toknow whether you have an idea where he has gone; _that_ you can answer!"

  "I have not, colonel."

  "Do you think of any place I have not mentioned where he would be apt togo?"

  Ray turned whiter now, but his eyes were unflinching.

  "I do; but it is only conjecture."

  "What place, sir?"

  "Fort Fetterman."

  "Fort Fetterman? That's simply absurd! He would be recognized there withhis horse and surely arrested."

  "Very well, sir; then I know of no other."

  "And you still refuse to tell what your interview was about?"

  "I shall always refuse that, sir." And therewith Mr. Ray was remanded tohis quarters. Verily there was some reason for Blake's outburst when hecame in after hearing Warner's brief description of the officialinterview which Mrs. Whaling had given in lurid exaggeration to thegarrison.

  "Why, hell is empty, and all the devils are here."