The Victim: A Romance of the Real Jefferson Davis

by Thomas Dixon

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER

  Long before Jennie Barton arrived in Richmond Socola had waked to therealization of the fact that he had been caught in the trap he had setfor another. He had laughed at his growing interest in the slender darklittle Southerner. He imagined that he had hypnotized himself into theidea that he really liked her. He had kept no account of the number ofvisits he had made. They were part of his programme. They had grown soswiftly into the habit of his thought and life he had not stopped toquestion the motive that prompted his zeal in pressing his attentions.

  In fact his mind had become so evenly adjusted to hers, his happinesshad been so quietly perfect, he had lost sight of the fact that he waspressing his attentions at all.

  The day she was suddenly called South and he said good-by with her browneyes looking so frankly into his he was brought sharply up against thefact that he was in love.

  When he took her warm hand in his to press it for the last time, he feltan almost resistless impulse to bend and kiss her. From that moment herealized that he was in love--madly, hopelessly, desperately.

  He had left the car and hurried back to his post in the StateDepartment, his heart beating like a trip hammer. It was a novelexperience. He had never taken girls seriously before. The last girl onearth he had ever meant to take seriously was this slip of a Southernenthusiast. For a moment he was furious at the certainty of his abjectsurrender. He lifted his eyes to the big columns of the ConfederateCapitol and laughed:

  "Come, come, man--common sense--this is a joke! Forget it all. To yourwork--your country calls!"

  Somehow the country refused to issue but one call--the old eternal cryof love. Wherever he turned, Jennie's brown eyes were smiling into his.He looked at the Confederate Capitol to inspire him to deeds of daringand all he could remember was that she was a glorious little rebel withthree brothers fighting for the flag that floated there. All he couldget out of the supreme emblem of the "Rebellion" was that it was herCapitol and _her_ flag and he loved her.

  And then he laughed for sheer joy that love had come into his heart andmade the world beautiful. He surrendered himself body and soul to themadness and wonder of it all.

  If he could only see his mother and tell her, she could understand. Hecouldn't talk to the bundle of nerves Miss Van Lew had become. Her eyesburned each day with a deeper and deeper light of fanatical patriotism.He had yielded none of his own enthusiasm. But this secret of his heartwas too sweet to be shared by a comrade in arms.

  Only God's eye, or the soul of the mother who bore him, could understandwhat he felt. The realization of his love for Jennie brought a new fearinto his heart. His nerve was put daily to supreme test in the dangerouswork in which he was engaged. A single mistake would start aninvestigation sure to end with a rope around his neck. Love had givenlife a new meaning. The chatter of the squirrels in the Capitol Squarewas all about their homes and babies in the tree tops. The song ofbirds in the old flower garden on Church Hill made his heart thump witha joy that was agony. The flowers were just bursting into full bloom andtheir perfume filled the air with the lazy dreaming of the southernspring.

  He must speak his love. His heart would burst with its beating. His matemust know. And she had returned to Richmond with a bitterness againstthe North that was something new in the development of her character.

  The newspapers of Richmond had published an elaborate account of thesacking of her father's house, the smashing of its furniture and theftof its valuables. It had created a profound sensation. There was nomistaking the passion with which she had told this story.

  He had laughed at first over the fun of winning the fairest little rebelin the South and carrying his bride away a prize of war, against thecombined efforts of his Southern rivals. His love and pride had notdoubted for a moment that her heart would yield to the man she loved nomatter what uniform he might wear at the end of this war.

  He couldn't make up his mind to ask her to marry him until she shouldknow his real name and his true principles.

  What would she do if the truth were revealed? His heart fairly stoppedits beating at the thought. The fall of Richmond he now regarded as apractical certainty. The _Merrimac_ had proven a vain hope to theConfederacy.

  McClellan was landing his magnificent army on the Peninsula andpreparing to sweep all before him. McDowell's forty thousand men weremoving on his old line of march straight from Washington. Their twoarmies would unite before the city and circle it with an invincible wallof fire and steel. Fremont, Milroy and Banks were sweeping through thevalley of the Shenandoah. Their armies would unite, break theconnections of the Confederacy at Lynchburg and the South would becrushed.

  That this would all be accomplished within thirty days he had the mostpositive assurances from Washington. So sure was Miss Van Lew ofMcClellan's triumphant entry into Richmond she had put her house inorder for his reception. Her parlor had been scrupulously cleaned. Itsblinds were drawn and the room dark, but a flag staff was ready and aUnion standard concealed in one of her feather beds. Over the old houseon Church Hill the emblem of the Nation would first be flung to thebreeze in the conquered Capital of the Confederacy.

  The certainty of his discovery in the rush of the Union army into thecity was now the nightmare which haunted his imagination.

  He could fight the Confederate Government on even terms. He asked noodds. His life was on the hazard. Something more than the life of aUnion spy was at stake in his affair with Jennie. Her life and happinesswere bound in his. He felt this by an unerring instinct.

  If this proud, sensitive, embittered girl should stumble on even asuspicion of the truth, she would tear her heart out of her body ifnecessary to put him out of her life.

  For a moment he was tempted to give up his work and return to the North.It was the one sure way to avoid discovery when Richmond fell. The warover, he would have his even chance with other men when its bitternesshad been softened. His work in Richmond was practically done. His mencould finish it. The number of soldiers in the Southern armies had beenaccurately counted and reported to Washington. Why should he risk thehappiness of the woman he loved and his own happiness for life byremaining another day?

  The thought had no sooner taken shape than he put it out of his mind.

  "Bah! I've set my hand to a great task. I'm not a quitter. I'll stand bymy guns. No true woman ever loved a coward!"

  He would take his chances and tell her his love.

  He lifted the old-fashioned brass knocker on Senator Barton's door andbanged it with such force he laughed at his own foolish eagerness:

  "At least I needn't smash my way in!" he muttered.

  "Yassah, des walk right in de parlor, sah," Jennie's maid said, with herteeth shining in a knowing smile.

  Senator Barton had recovered from his illness. There could be no doubtabout it. He was in the library holding forth in eloquent tones to agroup of Confederate Congressmen who made his house their rendezvous. Hewas enjoying the martyrdom which the outrage on his home and the deathof his aged mother and father had brought. He was using it to inveighwith new bitterness against the imbecility of Jefferson Davis and hisadministration. He held Davis personally responsible for every defeat ofthe South. He was the one man who had caused the fall of New Orleans,the loss of Fort Donelson and the failure to reap the victory at Shiloh.

  "But you must remember, Senator," one of his henchmen mildly protested,"that Davis did save Albert Sidney Johnston to us and that alone made avictory possible."

  "And what of it, if he threw it away by appointing a fool second inCommand?"

  There was a good answer to this--too good for the henchman to dare useit. He had sent Beauregard west to join Albert Sidney Johnston's commandbecause Barton's junta, supporting Joseph E. Johnston against theadministration, would no longer tolerate Beauregard in the same campwith their chief. They had demanded a free field for Joseph E. Johnstonin the conflict with McClellan or they had threatened his resignationand the disruptio
n of the Confederate army.

  The President, sick unto death over the wrangling of these two generals,had separated them and sent Beauregard west where the genius of AlbertSidney Johnston could use his personal popularity, and his own morepowerful mind would neutralize in any council of war the little man'sfeeble generalship.

  Socola listened to Barton's fierce, unreasoning invective with a senseof dread. It was impossible to realize that this big-mouthed, bitter,vindictive, ridiculous politician was the father of the gentle girl heloved. There must be something of his power of malignant hatredsomewhere in Jennie's nature. He had caught just a glimpse of it in thestory she had told the Richmond papers.

  She stood in the doorway at last, a smiling vision of modest beauty. Herdress of fine old lace seemed woven of the tender smiles that playedabout the sensitive mouth.

  He sprang to his feet and took her hand, his heart thumping with joy.She felt it tremble and laughed outright.

  "So you have returned a fiercer rebel than ever, Miss Jennie?" he saidhesitatingly.

  He tried to say something purely conventional but it popped out when heopened his mouth--the ugly thought that was gnawing at his happiness.

  "Yes," she answered thoughtfully, "I never realized before what it meantto be with my own people. I could have burned New Orleans and laughedat its ruins to have smoked Ben Butler out of it--"

  "President Davis has proclaimed him an outlaw I see," Socola added.

  "If he can only capture and hang him, the people of Louisiana would beperfectly willing to lose all--"

  "But your brother, the Judge, is still loyal to the Union--you can'thate him you know?"

  Jennie's eyes flashed into Socola's.

  Why had he asked the one question that opened the wound in her heart?Perhaps her mind had suggested it. She had scarcely spoken the bitterwords before she saw the vision of his serious face and regretted it.

  "Strange you should have mentioned my brother's name at the very momenthis image was before me," the girl thoughtfully replied.

  "Clairvoyance perhaps--"

  "You believe in such things?" Jennie asked.

  "Yes. My mother leaped from her bed with a scream one night and told methat she had seen my father's spirit, felt him bend over her and touchher lips. He had died at exactly that moment."

  "Wonderful, isn't it," Jennie murmured softly, "the vision of love!"

  She was dreaming of the moments of her distress in the sacking of herhome when the vision of this man's smiling face had suddenly set her tolaughing.

  "Yes," Socola answered. "I asked you about your older brother because Idon't like the idea of you poisoning your beautiful young life withhatred. Such thoughts kill--they can't bring health and strength, MissJennie."

  "Of course," the girl responded tenderly, "you can see things morecalmly. You can't understand how deep the knife has entered our heartsin the South."

  "That's just what I do understand. It's that against which I'm warningyou. This war can't last always you know. There must be areadjustment--"

  "Between the North and South?"

  "Of course--"

  "Never!"

  With sudden emotion she leaped to her feet her little fists clinched.She stood trembling in silence for a moment and her face paled.

  "No, Signor," she went on in cold tones. "There can be no readjustmentof this war. It's to the death now. I confess myself a rebel body andsoul--_Confess_? I glory in it! I'm proud of being one. I thought myfather extravagant at first. Ben Butler has changed my views. The Southcan't look back now. It's forward--forward--always forward to death--orindependence!"

  She paused overcome with emotion.

  "Yes," she went on in quick tones, "I thank God we're two differenttribes! I'm proud of the South and her old-fashioned, out-of-datechivalry. The South respects and honors women. God never made theSouthern white man who could issue Butler's orders in New Orleans orinsult the heart-broken women who are forced to enter his office withthe vile motto he has placed over his desk--"

  Socola lifted his hand in gentle smiling protest.

  "But you must remember, Miss Jennie, that General Butler is a peculiarindividual. He probably does not represent the best that's in NewEngland--"

  "God knows I hope not for their sakes," was the answer. "I only wish Icould fight in the ranks with our boys. If I can't fight at least I'mgoing to help our men in other ways. I'll work with my hands as a slave.I'll sew and knit and nurse. I'll breathe my soul into the souls of ourmen. I sing Dixie when I rise in the morning. I hum it all day. I singit with my last thoughts as I go to sleep."

  Socola moved uneasily.

  She looked at him a moment with an expression of sudden tenderness.

  "I can't tell you how proud and happy I am in the thought that I mayhave helped you to give your brilliant mind to the service of the South.It's my offering to my country and her cause!"

  It was impossible to resist the glow of love in her shining face. Socolafelt his soul dissolve.

  With a little gesture of resignation she dropped to a seat on the loungebeside the window, her young face outlined against a mass of early rosesin full bloom. Their perfume poured through the window and filled theroom.

  Socola seated himself deliberately by her side and held her gaze withdirect purpose. She saw and understood and her heart beat in quickresponse.

  "You realize that you _are_ the incarnate Cause of the South for me?"

  She smiled triumphantly.

  "I have always known it."

  There was no silly boasting in her tones, no trace of the Southerngirl's light mood with one of her numerous beaux. Her words were spokenwith deliberate tenderness.

  "And yet how deeply and wonderfully you could not know--"

  "I have guessed perhaps--"

  He took her hand in his.

  "I love you, Jennie--"

  Her voice was the tenderest whisper.

  "And I love you, my sweetheart--"

  He clasped her in his arms and held her in silence.

  She pushed him at arm's length and looked wistfully into his face.

  "For the past month my heart has been singing. Through all the shame andmisery of the sacking of our home, I could laugh and be happy--foolishlyhappy, because I knew that you loved me--"

  "How did you know?"

  "You told me--"

  "When?"

  "With the last little touch of your hand when I went South."

  He pressed it with desperate tenderness.

  "It shall be forever?"

  "Forever!"

  "Neither life nor death, nor height nor depth can separate us?"

  "What could separate us, my lover? You are mine. I am yours. You havegiven your life to our cause--"

  "I am but a soldier of fortune--"

  "You are my soldier--you have given your life because I asked it. I giveyou mine in return--"

  "Swear to me that you'll love me always!"

  She answered with a kiss.

  "I swear it."

  Again he clasped her in his arms and hurried from the house. Thetwilight was falling. Artillery wagons were rumbling through thestreets. A troop train had arrived from the South. Its regiments wererushing across the city to reenforce McGruder's thin lines on thePeninsula. McClellan's guns were already thundering on the shores.

  He hurried to the house on Church Hill, his dark face flushed withhappiness, his heart beating a reveille of fear and joy.