Red Rock: A Chronicle of Reconstruction

by Thomas Nelson Page

  CHAPTER XLI

  DR. CARY WRITES A LETTER TO AN OLD FRIEND

  The vows of a considerable part of the human race are said to be writ in water, but it is by no means only that sex to whom the poet has attributed this quality, which possesses it. Quite another part of the race is liable to forget vows made under conditions that have changed. And Major Leech was of this number. He no sooner found himself free and guarded by a power strong enough to protect him than he forgot the oaths he had sworn so volubly to Andy Stamper that night when he stood in the darkness of the deserted plantation; and he applied himself with all his energy to repair his fortunes and revenge himself. His enemies were in his power. With them free he might have to undergo trial himself; with them under indictment for offences against the Government, even if they were not convicted, he was free to push forward his plans. It was too great a temptation for him to resist, too good an opportunity for him to pass by; and perhaps even Andy Stamper did not blame him, or even expect him to forego it.

  The story the returned captive told of his wrongs was one strange enough to move hearts even less inclined to espouse his cause than those of the authorities into whose ears he poured it, and almost immediately after his arrival the machinery of the law was set in motion. His grudge against Captain Thurston was as great as that against the residents of the County—indeed greater; for he professed some gratitude for Jacquelin Gray and Stamper, and even had an offer made them of a sort of pardon, conditional on their making a full confession of their crimes. But investigation showed him that for the present he would weaken himself by attempting to attack Thurston. Thurston had secured his release. So for the time being he was content to leave the Captain alone, and apply all his energies to the prosecution of the enemies against whom he was assured of success.

  In a little while he had his grand jury assembled, and the prisoners were all indicted. An early time was set for their trial. Dr. Cary was among those indicted.

  In this state of the case, it appeared to the Doctor that the time had come when he could no longer with propriety refrain from applying for help to his old friend, Senator Rockfield, who had asked him to call on him. It was no longer a private matter, but a public one. It was not himself alone that was concerned, but his nearest friends and neighbors; and in such a case he could no longer stand on his pride. Already the prison was in view; and the path seemed very straight, and the way of escape seemed blocked on every side. Step by step they had been dragged along; every avenue shut off; all the old rights refused; and it looked as if they were doomed.

  So Dr. Cary sat down in prison and wrote a letter to his old college-mate, setting forth the situation in which he found himself and his friends, giving him a complete statement of the case and of all the circumstances relating to it, and asked that, if in his power, the Senator would help him.

  He told him that unless some action were taken promptly he saw no escape, and that he seemed doomed to a felon’s cell. The Doctor told his friend that, while he had been present for a little while with the masked mob that broke into the jail, he had been so for the purpose of trying to dissuade them from any act of lawlessness; and the part he had taken could be proved by a hundred witnesses. But all those who had been arrested were indicted with him, which would prevent their testifying for him; and if any others were to come forward to testify, they would simply subject themselves to immediate arrest.

  “I can give you no idea,” he wrote, “of the condition of affairs here, and shall offer no proof except my word. Unless you and I have changed since we knew each other man to man in that old time long ago, no other proof will be necessary; yet if I should attempt to give you a true picture, I should strain your credulity.

  “I think I can say, with Cicero, it is not my crimes, but my virtues that have destroyed me.

  “But if you wish to know the whole state of the case, I would ask you to come down and see for yourself. Unfortunately I shall not be able personally to extend to you the hospitality of my home; but if you will go to my house, my wife and daughter will show you every attention, and do everything in their power to promote your comfort.

  “Lying in jail as I am, under indictment for a scandalous crime, with the penitentiary staring me in the face, I perhaps should not sign myself as I do; yet when I call to mind the long and distinguished line of men of virtue who have suffered the same fate, and reflect on my own consciousness of integrity, I believe you would not have me subscribe myself otherwise than as,

  “Your old friend, JOHN CARY.”

  This letter reached Senator Rockfield at an auspicious time, oneevening after dinner, when he was resting quietly at home, enjoying agood cigar, and when his heart was mellow. It happened that certainmeasures were pending just then, to secure which the Senator’sinfluence was greatly desired. It also happened that a number of othermeasures of a very radical character had lately been proposed; and theSenator had gone somewhat deeply into the subject, with the result ofunearthing an appalling state of affairs in the whole section fromwhich this letter came. Moreover, Captain Middleton happened to be atthe Senator’s house at that very time, and added certain details tothose the Senator had learned, which stirred the Senator deeply.

  The Senator’s part in the release of the prisoners that shortlyfollowed Dr. Cary’s letter was not known even to Dr. Cary for sometime, and was never known generally.

  Senator Rockfield read Dr. Cary’s letter all through twice, and thenleaned back in his big chair and thought profoundly. The letter droppedfrom his hand to the floor, and his cigar went out. His wife, seeingthat something was moving him deeply, watched him anxiously, and atlength asked: “What is it?” For answer, the Senator merely picked upthe letter, handed it to her across the table, and again sat backin deep thought. She read it, and looked at him more anxiously thanbefore, her face paling somewhat. His face, which before had beensoft with reminiscence, had grown stern. He was conscious that shewas looking at him, and conscious of her thoughts as she was of his.Suddenly he rose to his feet.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, though in reality she knew.

  “To send a telegram.”

  “I will call John.”

  “No, I am going to see Secretary ——.”

  He folded the letter and put it into his pocket. At the mention of thename, the light sprang into her eyes—the light of contest. She knewthat it would be a crucial interview, and that her husband’s futurewould depend on it.

  “Shall I ring for the carriage?”

  “No, I will walk. I want to cool myself off a little.” He stopped as hereached the door. “He was the first gentleman of our class,” he said.He went out.

  A half-hour later, Senator Rockfield was admitted to the study orprivate office of the Secretary who had the direction of mattersaffecting the South and who controlled everything which related to it.

  He was a man of iron constitution, a tremendous worker, and his studyat his home was only a private apartment of his office in the greatGovernment building in which he presided. His ambition was to presidein a greater building, over the whole Government. He gave his life toit. Every other consideration was subordinated. It was a proof of theSenator’s influence that he was admitted to see him at that hour. Andat the instant he appeared the Secretary was busy writing a momentousdocument. As the Senator entered, however, he shot a swift, keen glanceat him, and his face lit up. He took his appearance at that hour as aproof that he had yielded, or, at least, was yielding.

  “Ah! Senator. Glad to see you,” he said, with a smile which he couldmake gracious. “I was just thinking of you. I hope I may consider yourvisit a token of peace; that you recognize the wisdom of our position.”

  He was speaking lightly, but the Senator did not respond in the samevein. His face did not relax.

  “No, far from it,” he said. Without noticing the chair to which theSecretary waved him, he took Dr. Cary’s letter from his pocket and laidit on the table under the Secretary’s nose. “Read t
hat.”

  The Secretary’s face clouded. He took up the letter and glanced at it;then began to read it cursorily. As he did so his face assumed anotherexpression.

  “Well, what of this?” he asked, coldly. He looked at the Senatorsuperciliously. His manner and the sneer on his face were like a blow.The Senator’s face flushed.

  “Just this. That I say this thing has got to stop, by G—d!” He toweredabove the Secretary and looked him full in the eyes. He did not oftenshow feeling. When he did he was impressive. A change passed over theother’s face.

  “And if it don’t?”

  “I shall rise in my seat to-morrow morning and denounce the wholeadministration. I shall turn the whole influence of my paper againstyou, and shall fight you to the end.”

  “Oh! you won’t be so foolish!” sneered the Secretary.

  “I will not! Wait and see!” He leant over and took up the paper. “I bidyou good-evening.” He put on his hat and turned to the door. Before hereached it, however, the other had reflected.

  “Wait. Don’t be so hasty.”

  The Senator paused. The Secretary had risen and was following him.

  “My dear Senator, let me reason with you. I think if you give me tenminutes, I can show you the folly——”

  Senator Rockfield stiffened. “Good-evening, Mr. Secretary.” He turnedback to the door.

  “Hold on, Senator, I beg you,” said the Secretary. The Senator turned,this time impatiently. “What guarantee have I that this letter istrue?” asked the other, temporizing.

  “My word. I was at college with the writer of that letter. He was mydearest friend.”

  “Oh! of course, if you know yourself that those facts are correct! Whydid you not say so before? Take a seat while I read the paper overagain.”

  The Senator seated himself without a word, while the Secretary readthe letter a second time. Presently Senator Rockfield leant over andlit again the cigar he had let go out an hour before, and which he hadcarried all this time without being aware of it. He knew he had won hisgame.

  When the Secretary was through, he laid the letter down and, drawing asheet of paper toward him, began to write.

  “When do you want the order issued?” he asked, presently.

  “Immediately. I am going South to-night.”

  “It will not be necessary. I will issue an order at once that theprisoners be admitted to bail. In fact, I had intended to do so in afew days, anyhow.”

  The Senator looked politely acquiescent.

  “But I am very glad to do it at once, at your request. You see, we areobliged to rely on the reports of our agents down there; and theyreport things to be in a very bad way.”

  The Senator looked grimly amused.

  “No doubt they are.”

  “I will send you a copy of the order to-morrow. I hope you will take itas a proof that we really are not quite as bad as you appear to thinkus.” He began to write again.

  The two men parted ceremoniously, and the Senator, after sending atelegram South, returned to his home.

  As he entered, he found his wife anxiously awaiting him.

  “I won,” he said, and she threw herself into his arms.

  The effect of this interview was immediately felt in the old County,and after a short time Dr. Cary and the other prisoners confinedwith him were admitted to bail, and eventually the prosecutions weredismissed. But this was not until after the event about to be recorded.