LITMIR.BIZ

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"Jean is waiting, and we must all of us be off."

      It was accomplished mechanically, yet I remember assisting the girl into the saddle, slipping her little foot into the stirrup, my heart beating fast as I touched the arched instep, and felt her slight weight rest for an instant on my shoulder. All at once I apprehended the sweet charm of her young womanhood, coupled with an odd feeling of personal interest. My God! it was a strange situation! I had never even spoken to her; she had never once spoken to me—yet she was my wife. Some way the thought thrilled me as if I had received an electric shock. Jean Denslow was already actually mine; I could claim her by law; she bore my name—why, she did n't ​even know what my name was! The sense of humiliation seemed to leave me at the thought, and I even smiled at the humor of it as I swung up into my own saddle. Humor? oh, yes! But it would certainly prove no matter tor laughter when she once discovered the truth.

      I recall the warm hand-clasps, the cheery words of good-bye, the hearty congratulations, to which we both remained strangely dumb, the several figures standing clustered at our horses' heads; then we rode forth alone, and, knowing nothing as to the direction in which Fairview lay, I permitted the lady's horse to take the lead slightly To my immense relief she drew rein sharply to the right, and we headed eastward. Unacquainted with the nature of the road we travelled, I hesitated to speed the horses anxious though I was to be well advanced before daylight, but she as instantly decided the matter by touching her mount with a light riding-whip, the gray mare under her breaking into a smart canter. Immediately I ranged up at her side, my heavier roan easily keeping the pace, as I permitted him to pick his own way. It was like riding blindfolded, so black was all ahead, with what appeared to be thick forest on either side; yet the road was evidently a well-travelled one, and our horses very seldom made a misstep. Once her high-spirited mare shied violently, so that I reached out, and hastily grasped her rein, but, so far as I could perceive, the slender figure scarcely swayed in the saddle, and her lips uttered no sound. At a steady stride we rode onward through the gloom in silence, an embarrassing constraint upon us both I could realize plainly enough those emotions which were ​swaying her, but she little comprehended the thoughts of the man at her side. Again and again I glanced toward her, my lips opening for speech, yet unable to utter the first syllable. I had in my heart the fear of a coward; I dreaded to confess the truth, and face her just indignation. Yet I was inevitably driven to it; there was nothing else for me to do, unless I should suddenly rein back my horse, ride swiftly away in the darkness, leaving her alone and undefended. That would be the act of a cur; it would insure me her hatred forever, and, deep down in my heart, I was already beginning to desire the future goodwill of this girl. I wanted her to respect my motives, to understand what it was which had driven me into such an act of deceit. Not even justified in my own mind, I yet dreamed I might possibly justify myself in some small degree before her. Once, as if the constrained silence had become unbearable, she ventured a common-place remark upon the black stillness of the night, to which I must have replied stiffly enough, for both immediately relapsed into silence; the only sound was made by our horses' hoofs, now pounding along a road grown hard and rocky as we steadily rose into higher altitudes. In the narrow bed of a stream we drew rein to permit the animals to drink thirstily. Feeling that I must now know something more definite as to this country we traversed, I began doubtfully to probe after the information.

      "I rather expected to encounter pickets along the road," I began, staring about into the night. "Have they been withdrawn?"

      ​I imagined she glanced toward me as if in surprise at my words, or rendered suspicious by the sound of my voice.

      "All pickets in this direction were recalled last night, when General Huston returned to his brigade," she replied indifferently.

      "Then we are already between the lines?"

      "Neither army has ever been east, on this slope of the mountains, so far as I know. Two weeks ago Joe drove me over to Coulter's Landing after some supplies for the house, and the country at that time appeared to have been untouched even by foraging parties. I have heard of no movements in this direction since then."

      "Haven't I heard there was a ford at Coulter's?"

      "Just below the landing, yes; but it is narrow, and never safe when the water is at all high. Why, we crossed it together only last Summer on our way to Franklyn."

      "To be sure; so we did. I have passed through so much since then that I have grown forgetful."

      The horses lifted their heads, their wet nostrils dripping, and we rode up the opposite bank, noticing a star or two peeping shyly out from among the ragged clouds. The road uplifted somewhat sharply, but there were comparatively level reaches along which we galloped, riding closely side by side, so that I could feel the touch of her skirt against my leg. The faint gleam of the stars afforded me a slight glimpse of my companion sitting her horse easily, her hair blowing back beneath the rim of a coquettish hat, the soft oval of her face barely taking ​shape in the gloom. She was gazing directly ahead, apparently utterly unconscious of my near presence, every thought concentrated elsewhere. When was the end to come? Why was it I could not muster sufficient courage to speak, could not even determine what it was I desired to say? Surely I was not afraid of this helpless, slender girl. If I had done wrong it was for the cause of my country, and I had nothing now to fear except her anger. Why should I greatly care for that? Why should I shrink from revealment as a slave from the lash? Suddenly she brought the end upon herself, reining up her mare so sharply that, when I also came to a halt, we were facing each other, my horse rearing from the heavy pressure on his bit.

      "What is it? Did you see something?"

      "Nothing but that dead pine yonder," pointing toward the left. "We have ridden beyond the cut-off."

      "Beyond—"

      "Yes, a quarter of a mile beyond. What can be the matter with you to-night? Have you forgotten the way to your own home?"

      There was a vague touch of suspicion in the voice, and she was leaning forward evidently striving in vain to distinguish my features in the darkness. An instant I hesitated, no satisfactory excuse coming to my lips. She touched her mare lightly with the whip, forcing her forward.

      "Why does it take you so long to answer? You are not usually so dumb."

      "I was surprised at having ridden beyond the turn; ​I—I must have been dreaming," I ventured, still striving to retard the inevitable exposure. But by now she had become convinced that something was wrong; had grown alarmed, indignant. I heard the sharp indrawing of her breath, and marked the uplifting of her hand as if to shade her eyes.

      "You—you are not Calvert Dunn," she ejaculated swiftly. "Your voice is unlike his."

      I stared at her, my lips dry, my tongue useless, even reeling myself tremble in the saddle.

      "Tell me the truth! Who—who are you?" The girl's voice faltered and broke, her hands pulling so hard on the reins as to cause her restless mare to back away.

      I was compelled to speak now, rapidly, my voice full of a sympathy and earnestness I made no effort to conceal. She appealed to me; outside her unfortunate situation, merely as a woman she appealed. Even the bravery with which she faced me, sitting there straight and slender in the saddle, was pathetic.

      "Don't draw back," I said quickly. "Don't be afraid. Nothing will harm you. I pledge you the word and honor of a soldier that no unfriendly hand shall touch you, no word be spoken to which you need object. Only listen and I will explain all. It is true I am not Lieutenant Dunn, but you are personally as safe with me as you would be riding this road with him. I mean to take you to his people at Fairview, and leave you there entirely unharmed by this night's adventure."

      "But—but who are you?"

      "A soldier left wounded on the field, who, seeking to ​escape from capture, was compelled to assume this uniform."

      "A—Yankee?" the question barely audible, yet the low voice expressive of intense horror.

      "Yes, as you use the term," I admitted, yet even then scarcely comprehending what the word signified to her. "I am from the West, but belong to the Federal army."

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