The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (best love novels of all time txt) 📖

still upon them the officers said little.

As the twilight deepened Warner lighted several candles. The silver

glittered under the flame. Colonel Winchester presently ordered the cook

to take a plate of the most delicate food to Colonel Woodville.

 

As the cook withdrew on his mission he left open the door of the

dining-room and they heard the sound of a voice, uplifted in a

thunderous roar. The cook hurried back, the untouched plate in his hand

and his face a little pale.

 

"He cursed me, sir," he said to Colonel Winchester. "I was never cursed

so before by anybody. He said he would not touch the food. He was sure

that it had been poisoned by the Yankees, and even if it were not he'd

rather die than accept anything from their hands."

 

Colonel Winchester laughed rather awkwardly.

 

"At any rate, we've tendered our good offices," he said. "I suppose his

daughter will attend to his wants, and we'll not expose ourselves to

further insults."

 

But the refusal had affected the spirits of them all, and as soon as

their hunger was satisfied they withdrew. The soldier who had acted as

cook was directed to put the dining-room back in order and then he might

sleep in a room near the kitchen.

 

Dick and Warner returned to their own apartment. Neither had much to

say, and Warner, lying down on the bed, was soon fast asleep. Dick

sat by the window. The town was now almost lost in the obscurity. The

exhausted army slept, and the occasional glitter from the bayonet of a

sentinel was almost the only thing that told of its presence.

 

Dick was troubled. In spite of will and reason, his conscience hurt

him. Theory was beautiful, but it was often shivered by practice. His

sympathies were strongly with the old colonel who had cursed him so

violently and the grim old maid who had given them only harsh words.

Besides, he had pleasant memories of Victor Woodville, and these were

his uncle and cousin.

 

He sat for a long time at the window. The house was absolutely quiet,

and he was sure that everybody was asleep. There could be no doubt about

Warner, because he slumbered audibly. But Dick was still wide awake.

There was some tension of mind or muscle that kept sleep far from him.

So he remained at the window, casting up the events of the day and those

that might come.

 

The evening was well advanced when he was quite sure that he heard a

light step in the hall. He would have paid little attention to it at an

ordinary time, but, in all that silence and desolation, it called

him like a drum-beat. Only a light step, and yet it filled him with

suspicion and alarm. He was in the heart of a great and victorious

Union army, but at the moment he felt that anything could happen in this

strange house.

 

Slipping his pistol from his belt, he opened the door on noiseless

hinges and stepped into the hall. A figure was disappearing in its dim

space, but, as he saw clearly, it was that of a woman. He was sure that

it was Miss Woodville and he stepped forward. He had no intention

of following her, but his foot creaked on the floor, and, stopping

instantly, she faced about. Then he saw that she carried a tray of food.

 

"Are we to have our house occupied and to be spied upon also?" she

asked.

 

Dick flushed. Few people had ever spoken to him in such a manner, and it

was hard to remember that she was a woman.

 

"I heard a footstep in the hall, and it was my duty to see who was

passing," he said.

 

"I have prepared food and I am taking it to my father. He would not

accept it from Yankee hands."

 

"Colonel Woodville sups late. I should think a wounded man would be

asleep at this hour, if he could."

 

She gave him a glance full of venom.

 

"What does it matter?" she said.

 

Dick refused to be insulted.

 

"Let me take the tray for you," he said, "at least to the door. Your

father need not know that my hands have touched it."

 

She shrank back and her eyes blazed.

 

"Let us alone!" she exclaimed. "Go back to your room! Isn't it

sufficient that this house shelters you?"

 

She seemed to Dick to show a heat and hate out of all proportion to the

occasion, but he did not repeat the offer.

 

"I meant well," he said, "but, since you do not care for my help, I'll

return to my room and go to sleep. Believe me, I'm sincere when I say I

hope your father will recover quickly from his wound."

 

"He will," she replied briefly.

 

Dick bowed with politeness and turned toward his own room. Nevertheless

his curiosity did not keep him from standing a moment or two in the dark

against the wall and looking back at the woman who bore the tray.

He drew a long breath of astonishment when he saw her pass Colonel

Woodville's door, and hurry forward now with footsteps that made no

sound.

 

The suspicion which had lain deep in his mind sprang at once into life.

Keeping close to the wall, he followed swiftly and saw her disappear up

a stairway. There he let the pursuit end and returned thoughtfully to

his room.

 

Dick was much troubled. An ethical question had presented itself to him.

He believed that he had divined everything. The solution had come to him

with such suddenness and force that he was as fully convinced as if he

had seen with his own eyes. Military duty demanded that he invade the

second floor of the Woodville house. But there were feelings of humanity

and mercy, moral issues not less powerful than military duty, and maybe

more so.

 

He was pulled back and forth with great mental violence. He was sorry

that he had seen Miss Woodville with the tray. And then he wasn't.

Nevertheless, he stayed in his own room, and Warner, waking for a

moment, regarded him with wonder as he sat outlined against the window

which they had left unshuttered and opened to admit air.

 

"What's the matter, Dick? Have you got a fever?" he asked. "Why haven't

you gone to bed?"

 

"I'm going to do so right away. Don't bother yourself about me, George.

My nerves have been strained pretty hard, and I had to wait until they

were quiet until I could go to sleep."

 

"Don't have nerves," said Warner, as he turned back on his side and

returned to slumber.

 

Dick undressed and got into bed. It was the first time in many nights

that he had not slept in his clothes, and beds had been unknown for many

weeks. It was a luxury so penetrating and powerful that it affected

him like an opiate. Such questions as military and moral duty floated

swiftly away, and he slept the sleep of youth and a good heart.

 

Breakfast was almost a repetition of supper. The army cook prepared and

served it, and the Woodvilles remained invisible. Colonel Winchester

informed the young officers that they would remain in Jackson two or

three days, and then great events might be expected. All felt sure

that he was predicting aright. Pemberton must be approaching with the

Vicksburg army. The wary and skillful Johnston had another army, and he

could not be far away. Moreover, this was the heart of the Confederacy

and other unknown forces might be gathering.

 

They felt the greatness of the hour, Grant's daring stroke, and the

possibility that he might yet be surrounded and overwhelmed. Their minds

were attuned, too, to other and yet mightier deeds, but they were glad,

nevertheless, of a little rest. The Woodville house was a splendid

place, and in the morning they did not feel so much the chill of

embarrassment that had been created for them the night before.

 

Dick went straight to the room of Colonel Woodville, opened the door

without knocking, and closed it behind him quickly but noiselessly.

 

The colonel was propped up in his bed and a tray bearing light and

delicate food lay on a chair. His daughter stood beside the bed,

speechless with anger at this intrusion. Dick lifted his hand, and the

look upon his face checked one of the mightiest oaths that had ever

welled up from the throat of Colonel Charles Woodville, king of

swearers.

 

"Stop!" said Dick in a voice not loud, but sharp with command.

 

"Can't we at least have privacy in the room of an old and wounded man?"

asked Miss Woodville.

 

"You can hereafter," replied Dick quietly. "I shall not come again, but

I tell you now to get him out of the house to-night, unless he's too

badly hurt to be moved."

 

"Why should my father be taken away?" demanded Miss Woodville.

 

"I'm not speaking of your father."

 

"Of whom, then?"

 

Dick did not answer, but he met her gaze steadily, and her face fell.

Then he turned, walked out of the room without a word, and again closed

the door behind him. When he went out on the piazza he saw excitement

among his comrades. The moment for great action was coming even sooner

than Colonel Winchester had expected.

 

"Johnston is communicating with Pemberton," said Warner, "and he has

ordered Pemberton to unite with him. Then they will attack us. He sent

the same order by three messengers, but one of them was in reality a

spy of ours, and he came straight to General Grant with it. We're

forewarned, and the trap can't shut down on us, because General Grant

means to go at once for Pemberton."

 

Dick understood the situation, which was both critical and thrilling.

Grant was still in the heart of the Confederacy, and its forces were

converging fast upon him. But the grim and silent man, instead of merely

trying to escape, intended to strike a blow that would make escape

unnecessary. All the young officers saw the plan and their hearts

leaped.

 

Dick, in the excitement of the day, forgot about the Woodville house

and its inmates. Troops were already marching out of Jackson to meet the

enemy, but the Winchester regiment would not leave until early the next

morning. They were to spend a second night, or at least a part of it, in

Colonel Woodville's house.

 

It was the same group that ate supper there and the same army cook

served them. They did not go to the bedrooms afterward, but strolled

about, belted, expecting to receive the marching call at any moment.

 

Dick went into the library, where a single candle burned, and while he

was there Miss Woodville appeared at the door and beckoned to him. She

had abated her severity of manner so much that he was astonished, but he

followed without a word.

 

She saw that the hall was clear and then she led quickly into her

father's room. Colonel Woodville was propped up against the pillows, and

there was color in his face.

 

"Young man," he said, "come here. You can afford to obey me, although

I'm a prisoner, because I'm so much older than you are. You have a heart

and breeding, young sir, and I wish to shake your hand."

 

He thrust a large hand from the cover, and Dick shook it warmly.

 

"I wouldn't have shaken it if you had been born north of the Ohio

River," said Colonel Woodville.

 

Dick laughed.

 

"My chief purpose in having you brought here," said Colonel Woodville,

"was to relate to you an incident, of which I heard once. Did I read

about it, or was it told to me, Margaret?"

 

"I think, sir, that some one told you of it."

 

"Ah, well, it doesn't matter. A few words will tell it. In an old,

forgotten war a young soldier quartered in the house of his defeated

enemy--but defeated only for the time, remember--saw something which

made him believe that a wounded nephew of the house was hid in an upper

room. But he was generous and he did not search further. The second

night, while the young officer and his comrades were at supper, the

nephew, who was not hurt badly, was slipped out of the house and escaped

from the city in the darkness. It's not apropos of anything, and I don't

know why I'm relating it to you, but I suppose this terrible war we are

fighting is responsible for an old man's whim."

 

"I've found it very interesting, sir," said Dick, "and I think it's

relevant, because it shows that even in war men may remain Christian

human beings."

 

"Perhaps you're right, and I trust, young sir, that you will not be

killed in this defeat to which you are surely marching."

 

Dick bowed to both, and left them to their fears and hopes. The glow was

still about his heart when he rode forth with the Winchester regiment

after midnight. But, owing to the need of horses for the regular

cavalry, it had become