Red Rock: A Chronicle of Reconstruction

by Thomas Nelson Page

  CHAPTER XLV

  CAPTAIN ALLEN HAS AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR

  Dr. Cary had hardly been laid away, when the County had to face anothersorrow.

  The trial of Captain Allen was set for the next day, and the countyseat was in a fever of expectation and apprehension. It was the finalstruggle between the old residents and the new invaders, and it seemedthat the latter must triumph. There was no hope. It was the beginningof the complete subjugation of the people. All thoughts were centredon the little village where the battle was to be joined and fought. Adark cloud seemed to have settled like a pall over the place which eventhe soft afterglow of a summer evening could not lighten. The breathof flowers was on the breeze that came from the shrubbery-filled yardsand rustled the trees. Yet the sounds were subdued, and the faces ofthe people were gloomy and grim. The Judge had arrived, and had takenhis room in the old Hotel. Leech, solemn and once more self-assertive,with a face still pale from his recent attack, but a gleam of joy inhis pale blue eyes, was quartered with Judge Bail in the hotel. Somesaid he was afraid to go to his house; some that he wanted to be nearthe Judge, and keep his mind filled with his insinuations. It washinted that he was afraid Bail would offer to sell out. McRaffle hadquarrelled with Leech and had made such an offer. He had also said thatthe Judge could be reached, if the sum tendered were large enough. Atleast, such was the rumor about the village. The jury was assembledand kept together. The witnesses had been brought to town and werealso keeping together. The lawyers, with grave faces, were consultingbehind locked doors and closely shut windows—those who represented theGovernment in a room adjoining Leech’s, and not far from the Judge’schamber; and those who were for the prisoner, among them some of theablest lawyers in the State, in Steve’s old office. Mr. Bagby andGeneral Legaie were the leading counsel, and Jerry lounged about thedoor like a Bashi-Bazouk. The crowd in the village was larger than ithad been in a good while. Men were assembled in groups in the suburbsor on the verandas, sullen and almost awe-struck, discussing the pointsin the case with the intelligence of those trained by sharp experienceto know the gravity of such an occasion and to weigh the chances. Itwas known that the principal evidence against Captain Allen was hisown confession. This was his chief danger. Leech (it was noticeablethat, when Leech was there, it was not the Government, whose soldierswere still quartered in the village, but Leech that was spoken of asrepresenting the prosecution)—Leech could not prove any act of hiswithout that. The lawyers could break down all the witnesses exceptone—the one to whom Captain Allen had been fool enough to talk; hertestimony they could not get around. Mr. Bagby and General Legaie hadsaid so. Mr. Bagby said that a man’s own confession was the hardestthing in the world to overcome; that one was a fool ever to confessanything. Such were the observations of a group assembled on one of thestreet corners, out of hearing of the sentries.

  This idea gave the discussion another turn. “Was Captain Allen reallyin love with Miss Welch?” someone questioned. He had been in love withher beyond a doubt, but he had stopped visiting her. Some thought shehad led him on, to get all out of him she could; others that he hadstopped, and that she was taking her revenge. One element consideredthat it served him right. Why should he have to go off after a Yankeegirl, whose people were all against them, when there were plenty oftheir own girls just as pretty and more attractive? Others tookSteve’s part. If a man fell in love he fell in love, that was all; andif he was in love, he had a right to do as he chose—there was no Masonand Dixon line in love. Even these, however, thought that Miss Welchwas taking her revenge.

  Andy Stamper, who had come up and was grimly listening with unwontedsilence, broke forth with a strong denunciation of such nonsense. Hedid not believe a word of it. Miss Welch had been to see Miss BlairCary and Miss Thomasia, old Mr. Langstaff and Mr. Bagby, and had doneall she could to keep from testifying. She was “cut up as the mischiefabout it,” declared Andy. She had wanted to go away, but Leech was toosharp for her; he had had her recognized to appear. He knew he couldnot convict the Captain without her. Her father, too, was awfullytroubled about it, and had been to Washington to see what he could do.He could not bear Leech. Was he not getting ready to sue him about thatrailroad steal? He had just come back from the North. They had not cometo the court-house. Perhaps he had been able to do something?

  The crowd did not accept Andy’s views. Some of them thought theattitude of Major Welch was all a sham; that his anger with Leech wasjust a pretence, and that he was really in collusion with him. Had henot objected to Captain Allen’s visiting at his house, and hadn’t hedone all he could to trace up Leech when the Captain had him hidden. Hehad made a big show of giving up when Captain Steve and Mr. Gray provedHiram Still’s rascality; but he had bided his time, and he was gettinga pretty sweet revenge. He had been North; but the speakers believed itwas to push the case against the Captain, not to stop it. He could havestopped it easy enough, if he had chosen. He was “in with the biggestof ’em.”

  Little Andy chewed in glum silence. Suddenly he burst out:

  “Well, I say that man don’t pretend to nothin’. Whether he likes theCaptain or whether he don’t, or whether you like him or whether youdon’t, is one thing. But what he is, he is; and he don’t pretend tonothin’. If all Yankees was like him, I wouldn’t care how many theywas—unless I had to fight ’em.”

  This sententious speech had its effect on the crowd, and the sergeantwas proceeding to expound further his opinion. But just then the soundof wheels was heard; and the next moment a close carriage, with agood pair of horses, drove quickly by them in a cloud of dust. It wasrecognized as Major Welch’s carriage, and, though the curtains werehalf-drawn, the group recognized the occupants as Major and Mrs. Welchand their daughter, and one other person, who was leaning back. One manthought it looked like old Mr. Langstaff; but, of course, it was nothe. A number of groans followed the carriage as it passed on down thestreet toward the hotel. Andy’s countenance and stock both fell.

  To a man like Steve Allen the sentence which appeared to wait forhim on the morrow was worse than death. He had faced death scores oftimes, and would readily have done so again, on any occasion. But hehad never apprehended that a shameful sentence, however undeserved,would be passed on him. Better, a thousand times, that he had died inbattle and lain with his comrades, who had left honorable names. Hesummoned to his aid all his fortitude, and tried to soothe himselfwith the knowledge that he had never committed a dishonorable act;that the cause of his present situation was the desire to act a noblepart and save others. But do what he might, he could not keep from hismind the feeling that, deserved or not, a conviction and sentence tothe penitentiary placed a stigma on him never to be erased. All hishigh hopes would be blighted, his future ruined; he would have broughtdisgrace on his family; he could never more face men as he had doneheretofore; he would not be fit to speak to a lady.

  He was aware at intervals that this was a weakness, for he had momentswhen he recognized that an undeserved sentence could not degrade; butdo what he might, the horror of it would come back to him. With itwas another wound. The blow had been struck by her whom he loved. Thegirl whom he had given his whole heart to and whom he had thought thetruest, bravest, highest woman in all the world, to whom he had spokenas he would not have spoken to any other man or woman, and who, he hadhoped, cared for him, had turned and betrayed him. But for her he wouldbe free to-morrow. He knew it himself, and his lawyers, in their lastinterview with him, just over, had told him so. They would do what theycould; but the fact remained that he had confessed his part in the actfor which the prosecution was brought, and they did not see how theycould get around it. Some of them had suggested that they had a singlechance. The witness was in a condition of high excitement; and theymight, by severe cross-examination, confuse her and destroy the forceof her evidence. This Steve promptly vetoed. He would not have it done.The lawyers gazed at him in dismay.

  “My dear sir, it is your only chance.”

  “I do not care, I will
not have it,” said Steve, firmly. “I said it,and I will have no cross-examination on that point.”

  “That is Quixotic.”

  “Then I’ll be Quixotic. I’ve been so before. Don Quixote was agentleman.” General Legaie’s eyes sparkled suddenly as they rested onhim.

  They had left him, saying good-by with that solemnity which showedhow forlorn their hope was. As they reached the outer door and passedacross the court-green, old Mr. Bagby said, “That is really a mostextraordinary young man, and to think that such a man should be inprison under indictment.”

  The little General breathed a deep and fervent oath.

  “What a pity that he could not have married that nice young lady, MissWelch—such a nice young lady!” proceeded Mr. Bagby, half in soliloquy.

  “Marry her! Marry that woman! The viper!” exploded the General. “I’drather die!”

  “Oh, a very nice young lady,” pursued Mr. Bagby to himself, as hewalked on, feeling his way in the darkness. He did not tell the Generalthat he had lately had an interview which had raised Miss Ruth Welchin his esteem and changed her, in his mind, from the viper which theGeneral conceived her to be, to the nice young lady of whom he mutteredin the dusk of the summer night.

  This interview with his lawyers had been over an hour ago. Steve wasstill in the room in which the interview had been held; but the highstand which he had taken with his counsel had now lost some of itsloftiness as the hardness of his position stood nakedly before him.After all, had not this girl betrayed him? Why should he sacrificehimself for her? This thought flitted before Steve, only for aninstant. He put it away from him with a gesture of bitterness. At leasthe would be a gentleman, whatever befell. He took from his pocket apistol which he wore when he surrendered, and which had not been takenfrom him, and examined it attentively, with a curious expression on hisface. He was thinking deeply. Suddenly his expression changed. “Never!Cowardice!” He flung the pistol over on the cot by the window. Thereflection had come to him that it would be taken as a proof of fearas well as of guilt. And, moreover, the thought had come that he mightstill be of use.

  The triumph of Leech recurred to him. He very often thought ofLeech—of Leech, who had hounded him down, and not only him, but othersa thousand times better: Dr. Cary, the high-minded, noble gentleman,the faithful Christian. Leech, the vampire, sucking the life-blood ofthe people; the harpy, battening on the writhing body of the prostrateState, had broken Dr. Cary’s heart. Jacquelin had told Steve howthe Doctor looked as he lay in his coffin, murdered; his face fullof scars, but calm with the stamp of immortal courage—like an oldknight, paladin of a lost cause, stricken through the heart in a finalcharge, before the light of victory could fade from his brow. Steve,thinking of this, was leaning against the bars of his open window,looking away into space through the dusk. The window was in the rearof the jail, and looked down on a vacant, weed-grown lot, back of thecourt-green. Steve became conscious of the presence of two men in theopen space beneath. They had just moved, so as to be in the shadow ofthe building, and were right below his window, conversing earnestly.Suddenly their voices rose, and Steve was almost startled to recognizeLeech and McRaffle. He could not help hearing what they were saying.McRaffle was insisting on something, and Leech was refusing. McRafflebroke out in a passion. He was evidently under the influence of liquor.

  “You owe it to me. You said you would pay me $1,000 for him, alive ordead,” he asserted. “I kept my part of the bargain; now, blank you!stand up to yours.”

  “If you had brought him dead, I might have paid; but you did notcapture him,” said Leech, with a harsh laugh. “He gave himself up.”

  “Well, it was in consequence of the report I circulated,” insistedMcRaffle. “Do you suppose he’d have given himself up, if he had notheard that if he did so the others would be released?”

  Leech laughed incredulously. “More fool he!”

  “And whose idea was that?”

  “My friend, there’s no use to try that game on me. What good would thathave done, if I had not induced Miss Welch to tell what your friend wasfool enough to confide to her? Where would we have been but for hertestimony? If anyone is entitled to claim the reward I offered, I amthe man. I must protect the Government.” He spoke unctuously.

  “You think you are entitled to everything. I know how you’ll protectthe Government!” sneered McRaffle. “Suppose your important witnesswon’t testify?” he asked.

  “She’ll sleep in jail. I’ll make Bail give her the apartment next herfriend,” said Leech, scornfully. “They’ll enjoy that.”

  Leech never knew how close Death brushed by him that instant. Steve’spistol was lying on the bed, within a foot of him. He seized it. Hewould rid the country of that cursed presence, and pay his own debt atthe same time. He had cocked the pistol involuntarily, when he came tohimself. Oh! if he only had him face to face, in an open field, botharmed, he could settle the final score! He uncocked the pistol andflung it away from him.

  “Miss Welch won’t refuse,” Leech went on, “I am smart enough to knowhow to deal with women as well as men.” He laughed arrogantly.

  “You think so? You are sometimes too blanked smart for your own good,”said McRaffle.

  Leech, stung by the speech, turned on him.

  “I’ll put you on the stand,” he threatened.

  “Not much, you won’t. I won’t testify.”

  “You’re getting pretty squeamish all of a sudden,” sneered Leech.

  McRaffle wheeled on him in a rage.

  “Don’t you dare sneer at me that way,” he said. “If you do, I’ll——”

  He seized Leech by the shoulder.

  “I’ll tell how you deal with women—for instance, with Miss Bush, theschool-teacher, _alias_ Mrs. Jonadab Leech!” he hissed.

  Leech seemed suddenly to shrink up.

  “What do you know about—about her?”

  “Put me on the stand, and I’ll tell you all you want to know,” saidMcRaffle, tauntingly. “Perhaps, you don’t want me as a witness now?Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Pay me the thousand dollars, or—Itell you—endorse my note for a thousand, and I’ll keep quiet.Otherwise, I’ll have to get Dr. Still to endorse it, or maybe even theGovernor,” he said, meaningly.

  “Well, if I do, will you swear that you will never open your mouthagain about this to a single soul on earth?”

  “Make it twelve hundred,” said McRaffle. “The Governor’d give twicethat to know of Mrs. Leech. I reckon it would be some time before you’ddine with Miss Krafton again.”

  Leech seized him to stop him.

  The rest of the conversation was in a lower key, and they soonmoved off together, leaving Steve still in darkness, literally andfiguratively. But he had conquered a great temptation. This reflection,after a time, brought a feeling almost of peacefulness. He threwhimself on the bed, and began to go over his life. Presently he beganin humility to look to a Higher Power.

  At that moment his door was opened, and a voice said:

  “A visitor to see you, Capt’n. Will you come to the parlor?” Themessenger was the old Sergeant, O’Meara, whom Thurston had placed incharge of the prison.

  Steve, after a moment, left his cell and walked slowly through thecorridor to the apartment adjoining the jailer’s quarters, which wasdignified by the name of parlor. It was lighted by a small lamp, therays of which hardly reached the walls. The room was empty. But Stevecould hear from the voices that there were two persons in the nextroom. He walked to the open window and waited, with his head restingon his arm against the bars. The same reverie from which he had beenaroused returned.

  The door behind him opened and closed softly.

  “Captain Allen!” said a faint voice. Steve turned.

  “Miss Welch!” He stood dumbfounded. Before him, with her veil only halfthrown back, was Ruth Welch. She stood just inside the door, motionlessas though planted on the spot; and, as Steve did not move, the wholespace of the room was between them. Her eyes, which she
lifted for asecond to Steve’s face, fell.

  “Captain Allen,” she began, and then faltered. After a second, however,with an effort she began again.

  “I have come to see you; to see—to see if there is nothing I can doto—to help you?”

  At the words, Steve’s heart hardened.

  “No, thank you, there is nothing,” he said. His voice was hard andunnatural. She made a movement, almost as if she shrank back. But shebegan again, speaking very slowly and painfully:

  “I do not know what to say. But I want—I want to see if there isnothing——?” She broke off, but began again: “You don’t know howdeeply—how terribly—I——” Her voice failed her. She stopped andwrung her hands. “Is there nothing—nothing I can do?”

  Steve stood like stone. “No, nothing.”

  She broke the silence that fell.

  “I thought there was—there might be. I hoped—there might be. You donot know how terribly I feel. I hoped there might be some way for me tohelp you, to atone for my wicked folly. I did not know——”

  Her voice failed again, and she put her handkerchief quickly to hereyes.

  Steve, up to this time, had not volunteered a word or stirred fromwhere he stood. His heart began to relent, and he felt that he must saysomething.

  “You need not reproach yourself,” he said. “I have not done so. It wasmy folly, not yours.”

  “Oh, no, no! I will not let you say that,” she broke out, vehemently.“You trusted me. You have been only brave and noble. But I did notknow! I thought, when I told it, it would help you. You will believethat, will you not?”

  She came a step or two nearer in her intensity, and gazed at himearnestly.

  “Yes, if you say so,” said Steve.

  “I do,” she declared, earnestly. “I thought, when they were prosecutingyou, that it would set you in the right light; and it seems thatdreadful man knew how to distort it and knew— Oh! it all seems like adreadful nightmare! I have done everything I could. And my father has,too. Is there no way? Do you not know of one way in which my testimonycould not be taken?” Her voice faltered, so that Steve could scarcelycatch the words.

  “No, none whatsoever.”

  “Yes. There is one way. I have heard—I have been told there is one,”she persisted, faintly.

  “And what is that?” asked Steve, coldly. Suddenly she broke down.

  “How can you be so hard on me—so cruel?” she sobbed.

  Steve watched her, at first almost grimly; but her weeping softened him.

  “Miss Welch, do not distress yourself,” he said, quietly. “There is noway to help me; but it is not your fault. I believe what you have toldme.”

  “There is one way,” she said.

  “And that is?”

  “To marry me.”

  “What!” Steve almost tottered.

  “To marry me. If you marry me, I could not be made to testify againstyou. I have been told so.” She had recovered her composure and wasspeaking quite calmly.

  “I could not let you do that,” said Steve, firmly.

  “I have come to ask you to do it,” she went on, speaking quite asif she were but finishing her first sentence. “And afterward, youcould—get—a—a—divorce. I would go away and hide myself, and never,never trouble you again.” Her composure deserted her, and she buriedher face in her hands. If she could have seen Steve’s face at thatmoment—the sudden flame which lit it up—and the gesture which hemade, as though he would have caught her in his arms, and that withwhich he restrained himself and reasserted his self-control, she mightnot have wept. But she did not see it, and Steve was able to masterhimself, though when he spoke his voice had wholly changed.

  “I could not do that,” he said, gently, and with a new tone. “I couldnot allow you to sacrifice yourself.”

  “It would not be— Yes, you can,” she pleaded.

  “No,” said Steve, almost sternly. “Do not, I beg you.” He lifted hishand as though to put her from him; but suddenly clutched at his heart.

  She stopped sobbing. He turned half-away.

  “Go,” he said. “Leave me, please.”

  His voice could scarcely be heard, and he put his hand to his forehead.She turned without a word, and moved slowly toward the door. As she putout her hand to open it, she suddenly sank in a heap on the floor. In asecond Steve was at her side. He stooped and lifted her, as though shewere a child.

  “Ruth,” he said; and, as she opened her eyes, “forgive me.” He caughtthe hem of her dress and crushed it against his lips. “I could not letyou do that. I could not let you sacrifice yourself.”

  “It is no sacrifice. Do you not see? Oh! Can you not seethat—I—love——?” She could not complete the sentence. Her headdrooped.

  “What! Ruth!” Steve stood her up on her feet and held her at arm’slength. “Ruth Welch, for God’s sake do not tell me that unless it istrue.” His eyes were burning, and were fastened on her face with a gazethat seemed almost to scorch her.

  “It is true,” she said, in a low voice, and tried to turn her faceaway. Steve did not stir.

  “Wait,” he said, hoarsely. “Does your mother know of this?”

  “Yes.” She was looking in his eyes now quite calmly.

  “Where is she?”

  “In the next room.”

  Steve suddenly caught her in his arms.

  AND THERE, IN THE LITTLE PARLOR, STEVE AND RUTH WEREMARRIED.]

  A little later Mrs. Welch and Steve had an interview. Steve told herthat while he had loved her daughter better than his life, ever sincethe day he had met her, and while the knowledge that she cared forhim had changed the world for him, that very fact would not permithim to let her take the step she proposed. He would not allow herto sacrifice herself by marrying him when under a criminal charge,and with a sentence staring him in the face. Mrs. Welch adroitly metthis objection with the plausible argument that it was as much on herdaughter’s account as on his that she desired it. She spoke for herhusband as well as for herself. It would prevent the horror of herdaughter’s having to appear, and give testimony against him, in opencourt. She did not believe Ruth could stand the ordeal. She knew shewould not testify, even though she should be sent to jail and keptthere. This Ruth stoutly confirmed. She would die before she wouldanswer a question.

  Mrs. Welch, having come over to Steve’s side, was a powerful ally; andas Ruth resolutely maintained her position that she would die in prisonbefore she would utter one word, there was nothing else for Steve to dobut yield to their proposal. He raised the point that it was too late,as it was now midnight, and no license could be secured or clergymanbe found. But Mrs. Welch was prepared to meet this objection. CaptainThurston had authority under the law to issue the license, and apreacher could be secured. Indeed, Mr. Langstaff had come down to thecounty seat with them.

  So in a short time these preliminaries were settled. A few friends werebrought in quietly: General Legaie, who knelt on one knee and liftingRuth’s hand kissed it reverently; Mr. Bagby, whose eyes twinkled withdeep satisfaction over a double victory; Reely Thurston and JacquelinGray, and Andy Stamper who had got wind of the matter and askedpermission to come. And there in the little dingy room, in the presenceof these and of Major and Mrs. Welch, Steve Allen and Ruth Welch weremarried at midnight by old Mr. Langstaff.