The Beguiled

by Thomas Cullinan

  Matilda Farnsworth: He hasn’t been told that directly, has he? He hasn’t been told in them exact words. Maybe you been too nice to him about his going away. Maybe now you got to get mean about it, and tell him, “Yankee, this is what you got to do. Right now, this minute!”

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: That’s enough, Mattie. You have the same right as the rest of us here to offer your opinion, but you mustn’t persist with a suggestion when you are told that it is useless.

  Matilda Farnsworth: Then if you can’t send him away, go down to the front gate and holler. Everybody go down there and holler, “We got a no account Yankee in this house and he won’t go away when we ask him nice to do it. Somebody come in here, please, and throw this no account Yankee out.”

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: Mattie. . . .

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Let me explain it to you, Mattie, dear. There are none of our boys in this vicinity any more. The only troops on these roads now are Union boys and if we call on them for help we may find we have something worse than Corporal McBurney to cope with. Especially if he tells them that he has been mistreated here.

  Miss Emily Stevenson: (emphatically) He certainly hasn’t been! Of course I know he thinks he has been, because of the loss of his leg, I suppose, and possibly for other misguided reasons too. He doesn’t stop to think of all our boys who’ve lost legs in battle and probably weren’t half as well treated afterwards, as McBurney has been here.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: If I thought he’d go away and not say anything mean about us, I’d even be willing to give him money to compensate for whatever injustice he feels he has suffered here.

  Miss Emily Stevenson: You’re too soft-hearted, Miss Harriet. What he’d do is take the money and betray us anyway. Miss Martha didn’t even mention what I consider the most serious charge against him. If I had been called upon to speak, I would have accused him of spying and intending to furnish military information to the enemy.

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: Stay to the point, young ladies. What shall we do with him?

  Miss Alice Simms: We might take him back to the woods and leave him there.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: What makes you think he’d go to the woods any more quickly than he’d go off down the road?

  Miss Alice Simms: If he were asleep or unconscious we might put him on that stretcher we made and carry him out there.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: I’m afraid we have no means of rendering him unconscious. If there were any such opiates or anesthetics here Miss Martha would have used them.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: You gave him lots of wine to drink before his operation in order to put him to sleep. Couldn’t we do that again?

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: It seems the wine is almost gone, dear. We think Mister McBurney has now taken most of it from the cellar.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: What you all seem to be forgetting is that even if he were rendered unconscious with spirits or by some other means, he wouldn’t remain that way indefinitely.

  Miss Alice Simms: That’s true. And then he’d march right back from the woods and we might be very much worse off than before.

  Miss Emily Stevenson: He could be bound securely. Then he wouldn’t be able to return.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: Are you suggesting that he be left in the woods to die from starvation or thirst? I’m sure, Miss Emily, that wouldn’t be a very pleasant way to die.

  Miss Alice Simms: Of course if he did die it wouldn’t be any worse than what has happened to plenty of other boys in the past three years, including close relatives of many of us here.

  Miss Emily Stevenson: That’s quite true, Alice, and I’m most glad to hear you say it.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: I would like to hear Alice say which close relative of hers has perished.

  Miss Alice Simms: I’ll be glad to furnish dozens of names, but first I’d like this nasty child to give me the name of just one relative of hers who has sacrificed his life.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: You think I can’t do it, eh Miss Alice? Would you care to make a little wager on it, say perhaps our portion of meat at dinner, if we happen to be getting any?

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: (striking the teacup with her spoon) Girls, girls . . . this is no time for private arguments . . . and that’s not a suitable subject for argument at any time.

  Miss Alice Simms: If her roommate hadn’t brought him from the woods in the first place, we wouldn’t even need to be bothering with this meeting. He’d’ve been dead long ago.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: That’s very nice! That’s your usual cowardly way, Alice, attacking someone who isn’t here to defend herself.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Girls, girls, you must stop this! And, Miss Alice, we cannot blame Miss Amelia for her act of charity. After all, if Miss Martha had not attended him during his two critical illnesses he would certainly have passed away, too. Indeed it causes us to pause and wonder, doesn’t it, young ladies?

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: At what, sister?

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: At how the Lord has brought him to the eternal door on those two occasions, and then permitted us to bring him back from it. Perhaps there is a sign for us somewhere in that.

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: What are you suggesting, sister?

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Nothing, sister. I’m just musing aloud.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: If you’re interested, I might be able to think of a way to get Johnny into the woods, but somebody else will have to find a way to keep him there.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: How would you get him there, dear?

  Miss Marie Deveraux: Well, Amelia has a secret hiding place out there. I won’t tell you exactly where it is, but it’s very deep in the woods. Now she has already suggested to Johnny that he go there, but he’s refused up ’til now. However, I think he might agree if he had some good reason for going.

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: And do you have that good reason?

  Miss Marie Deveraux: Yes, Miss Martha. I think perhaps he would go if he was very frightened of us.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: He’s not though. It’s just the other way around. We’re frightened of him.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: But we could change that. We could scare him by making him think we are planning to do something bad to him.

  Miss Emily Stevenson: And what bad thing did you have in mind?

  Miss Marie Deveraux: Well, maybe one of us could tell him that the others had decided to kill him.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Miss Marie, you mustn’t say such things!

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: Sister, we are in such a situation here that we cannot refuse to listen to anyone or any plan. We adults don’t seem able to cope with McBurney. Perhaps these young ladies can think of a way to do it. You may continue, Miss Marie.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: Well that was really all I had in mind, that I tell him a vote was taken, and it was decided to execute him.

  Miss Emily Stevenson: I’m all for it! That’s a fine idea!

  Miss Edwina Morrow: How would we be planning to carry out this execution? Just in case he asks?

  Miss Emily Stevenson: Firing squad.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: That’s ridiculous. Firing squad of what?

  Miss Alice Simms: Hanging. We could tell him he’s going to be hanged, like in the picture Edwina is drawing in her copybook.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: (scratching out the picture) That’s only scribbling and it has nothing to do with McBurney.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: All the same, it isn’t a bad idea. It would be a pretty scary thing to tell Johnny.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Do you think he would believe it?

  Miss Emily Stevenson: Why not? It’s a very common thing in wartime. He knows it’s the usual punishment for spies and traitors.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: Where would you be planning to carry out this sentence?

  Miss Harrie
t Farnsworth: How about on one of the trees in the yard? Perhaps the apple tree near the barn would do.

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: Are you getting into the spirit of it now, sister?

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: If it’s only to frighten him . . . to drive him away. . . .

  Miss Alice Simms: Who’s going to be appointed to tell him this news?

  Miss Marie Deveraux: I suppose I could do it. He might be more apt to believe me than he would some of you other people here, since we’re of the same religion and all that.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Miss Marie hasn’t had any difficulties with him either, as some of the rest of us have had.

  Miss Alice Simms: It might be better to let Mattie do it. She hasn’t had any trouble with him either and she’d be less likely to exaggerate than Marie.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: If anyone could exaggerate a hanging, I suppose Marie could.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: And why not, for pity’s sake? The more colorful a story like that the better, I say. Besides I’m sure Mattie would be likely to get the whole thing all mixed up, wouldn’t you, Mattie dear?

  Matilda Farnsworth: Probably so, Miss Marie. It’s more than likely I would.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: What about Amelia? Johnny certainly trusts her.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: She’d refuse to do it. I can tell you that for a positive fact.

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: Well, Miss Marie, it seems that you’re appointed. Now how do you propose to spread this news to him?

  Miss Marie Deveraux: Well, I’ll go and find him in a few minutes, and tell him that it’s important that he leave the house with me right away. I’ll say we have to go and find Amelia and let her lead us to this secret hiding place. I’ll say that the sentence has been passed and that you all are preparing now to carry it out.

  Miss Alice Simms: Then you might add that right now we’re fixing ropes to bind him with.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: What ropes?

  Miss Emily Stevenson: There are those pieces of harness which we used on the stretcher. But what about the other rope?

  Miss Alice Simms: Bed sheets. We could tear up sheets and other pieces of cloth and braid them.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Oh, I’m afraid we don’t have nearly enough sheets for anything like that. You know how we’ve used so many of them for his bandages.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: Well you don’t really need the sheets, do you? I mean isn’t the idea just to tell him that you’re making his noose?

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Of course, of course . . . that’s all it is.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: I’ll tell you. It might be more convincing if you had really started on it. Maybe we could even fix it so Johnny would see you tearing up the sheets. That would really frighten him. Also that way I wouldn’t be telling any lie.

  Miss Alice Simms: That’s certainly important. It would never do for Marie to be untruthful.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: (who seemed to have regained some of her color and vitality) Especially since this house is just filled with honest people like Alice.

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: That will do! You may go to McBurney now, Miss Marie.

  Miss Marie Deveraux: And may I tell him that he has been condemned to death?

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: Yes. (At this point Miss Marie Deveraux left the room.)

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Do you think he will believe it, sister?

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: I hope so.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: And what shall we do in the meanwhile?

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: Think about it. We shall sit here and think about it.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: I would like to ask Miss Harriet a question before this meeting ends. I would like to know more about what really happened last night. For instance, why did she come downstairs?

  Miss Martha Farnsworth: You needn’t answer that, sister. We are judging McBurney here, not you.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Oh, but I must answer it, sister. You deserve to know everything I can tell you, although I’m afraid it isn’t much.

  Miss Edwina Morrow: Tell us what you can, Miss Harriet.

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Well it was like a dream. In fact the beginning of it was a dream.

  Miss Emily Stevenson: You mean you were walking in your sleep, Miss Harriet?

  Miss Harriet Farnsworth: Yes . . . yes, perhaps I was. You see, I was dreaming about a person who was very close to me . . . and somehow I began to think that person was Mister McBurney. He kept calling me . . . and calling me . . . and when I awoke . . . if I ever did awake . . . I’m not sure now that I did . . . but when it seemed to me I was awake, I was sitting with him on the settee in the parlor, having a glass of wine with him. That summer . . . I kept thinking that summer had returned. But he wasn’t looking at me, he kept looking away. And oh, I wanted him so much to look at me and tell me I was beautiful. . . .

  (This is all I can report of the Proceedings of Investigation. I was very nervous and upset at that point and one of my bad headaches was coming on. Also, I think I may have wept a bit too loudly and my sister was disturbed by it. She and Mattie helped me up the stairs to my room, and then they returned to the library where, I understand, shortly thereafter my sister closed the meeting.)

  Amelia Dabney

  I really didn’t know anything about the meeting although I probably wouldn’t have attended if I had. What I did was spend the morning and a part of the afternoon in the woods. There is this little quiet place I have out there, which I go to quite often—perhaps I’ve mentioned it before. Anyway, earlier on that day the possibility of Corporal McBurney’s going out there had been discussed by my roommate.

  I cleared out all the old fallen branches and then removed one or two things which I thought maybe would annoy him. Some wasps, for instance, were starting to build a mud nest in a tree trunk, so I took the nest out very carefully and found another place for it, some distance away. I also resettled one or two spiders and beetles and a garter snake. Then I swept the dead leaves into a pile and put them on a bed of boughs for Johnny to sleep on.

  Well I didn’t hurry, so I wasn’t finished until past noon. Then on the way back I stopped to pick a few mushrooms, because I knew Johnny liked them. Anyway when I entered the house I heard voices in the library, peeked in, and saw everyone seated around the table and trying to talk at the same time, and decided not to concern myself with it at all.

  Then I came across the hall and glanced into the parlor. Johnny was seated there on his settee, drinking wine from a bottle and grinning foolishly, although a little nervously I thought.

  “I have a nice place all fixed for you whenever you want to go to it,” I told him.

  “What could be nicer than here,” he said, waving the bottle. “Good wine, fine women, and we’ll have a merry song, too, in a minute as soon as I can think of a gamey one. How’s about this?” And he crooned softly, “Come out from under your petticoat, Mary Anne my dear. The night is dark, the grass is warm, so what’ve you got to fear.”

  Then he halted abruptly. “Now I shouldn’t be singin that kind o’ song in front of you, should I, sweet? You’re the nicest one here and you don’t deserve that kind o’ song.”

  “What is everyone talking about in the library?” I asked him.

  “Me! They’re figurin out ways to get back at me.”

  “What do you think they’ll do?”

  “What can they do? Two women, five girls and a darky. Four girls, I don’t count you.”

  “You shouldn’t count Marie either. She’s on your side.”

  “I don’t know,” said he. “I ain’t so sure about Marie. The only one I really trust here is you.”

  “That’s nice of you,” I said. “I’m glad you trust me, because I trust you, too.”

  “Why is that?” he wondered. “Why do you and I feel so sure of each other? For my part,
I suppose it’s because you helped me in the first place, and also since then you haven’t seemed to want anything special of me the way some of the others have.”

  “For my part,” I said, “it’s because I know in your heart you’re a kind person. I feel sure you’d never hurt anyone . . . or any animal . . . intentionally.”

  “Well then,” he said, lifting the bottle again. “We’re friends for life then, eh?” He swallowed a great gulp of wine and then sang: “Here’s a toast to ye, darlin Amelia. If I was a thief I’d surely steal ya. You’re still a bit young to be nippin on wine. So, I’ll drink your share of the toast as well as mine.” And he did so.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come out to the woods with me, now,” I asked him.

  “Nope,” said he. “If I did it’d be thought I was afraid. Even if I was afraid, I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowin it.”

  “Well you’d better come upstairs with me anyway,” I told him. “I don’t want to leave you alone down here.”

  “Can you protect me better up there?”

  “I can keep a better eye on you. And also you’ll be out of the way of those people. If you’re not around them they can’t say you’re causing them any trouble.”

  “Well I’ll go up with you then,” said Johnny. “It’s not that I need you to guard me, o’ course, but I am glad to have a bit of company. I’m going daft here with only the four walls to talk to.”

  He lifted himself on his crutches, handed me the bottle of wine to carry and then followed me out of the room and up the stairs. He was getting around very well by that time, and I noticed he could move fairly silently as well as rapidly on his supports. I didn’t ask him to be quiet, because I didn’t care particularly right then whether or not Miss Martha and the others knew he was upstairs, but I guess he decided on his own that it might be better if they didn’t know.

  When we got to the room I share with Marie, he came in and sat on her bed, which was all disarranged, I noticed, as though Marie had spent the day there. I put the wine on the table near him and also my handkerchief full of mushrooms which still needed to be sorted.