The Traitor (Dixon, 1907)/Book 3/Chapter 1
THE news of the arrival of the regiment of cavalry, and the swift silent way in which they had struck their first blow, brought to John Graham at once a sharp realisation of the danger of his men.
Releasing Stella, he turned to the white figures gathered in an excited group and in short sharp accents said:
"I thank you boys for your kindness in coming to the little masquerade we had prepared to celebrate the announcement of my engagement to the woman who is the queen of my heart. Sorry the Yanks have interrupted us. Get home as fast as your horses can carry you. Burn your costumes the minute you reach a safe place. Hide them under your saddles as usual until you can burn them. Leave one at a time and go home by unused roads if possible. And listen—every man of you who can, should leave the state in twenty-four hours and stay until the trouble blows over."
"What are you goin' to do?" asked a tall masked figure.
"Don't worry, Dan. I'll look out for myself. You boys do the same and do it quick."
"We'll stan' by you if ye give the word," persisted Dan.
John left Stella's side, stepped to the men and growled:
"I've given the word. Run, and run like hell!"
"We don't like the orders, Chief, but orders is orders—git boys!"
The men quickly disappeared, and John took Stella's hand:
"Come, dearest, we must go."
"Yes," she answered, timidly clinging to his arm and holding him back.
"We must hurry," he urged.
"I won't hurry," she said with tender wilfulness.
"When a woman won't, she won't," John laughed.
She gently stroked his hand and slowly slipped her arm in his as she allowed him to lead her out into the moonlight beside the white silent pillars.
"Wait here until I bring the horses," John said, gently disengaging his arm.
Stella clung to him firmly.
"No, don't go yet. Why hurry? Let them wait. I wish to be alone with you for a while here on this beautiful spot. It's all so new and wonderful. This knowing that I love and am loved! I've just begun to live the past hour. I'm afraid to go back to the world."
"I must face some stern realities to-night. But you love me. That's the only thing of any importance. What do jails matter? They can only imprison the body—my soul will follow you, hover about you, laugh and cry with you day and night, waking or dreaming."
"They won't put you in jail to-night, dear?" she asked, piteously.
"Yes."
"Then you shall not give yourself up to them! You'll let me have my own way now that you know that I love you, won't you, John dear? There! I've called your name for the first time—haven't I?—I love your name!—You're not going to give up to them—are you?"
"I see no other way, dearest."
"You told your men to fly. Our horses are fresh. We can put miles between us and these troops before day. I'll go with you, just as I am in this riding habit—no matter—I'll get a dress somewhere when you're out of danger."
He slipped his arm about her, bent his tall form, and stopped her with a kiss.
"How sweet to hear you talk this beautiful nonsense!"
"I mean it," she hurried on earnestly. "We must leave to-night, I don't know what they may do to you. Something terrible—maybe—I can't think of it! Something may happen to separate us. I want to feel your hand clasping mine like this forever!"
He answered by crushing the little hand in his.
"You won't go back and let them arrest you, will you, John?" she pleaded, a sob catching her voice.
He was silent and a smile played about his mouth.
"Answer me, John dear! You must do as I say because life is too sweet and beautiful to lose it! You will leave if I go with you—won't you? My whim you said should be your law. This is my whim, my heart's desire. Get the horses now, and we'll make them fly as far from Independence to-night as their heels can carry us! You'll do this because I ask it—won't you, darling?"
The little head began to droop, the voice broke, and she lay sobbing in his arms.
He held her close for a moment.
"You know this is impossible, dear!"—he said tenderly.
"Yes, I know!" she sobbed.
"My business is to save others now."
"At least, you'll go by the house and stay with me a little while?"
"They'll think I'm hiding."
"Who cares what they think? I can't go home alone, can I?"
"Of course, I'll stop a moment. And now we must hurry."
He brought the horses and they galloped back to town in silence. Along a dark rough place of the road, they slowed down to a walk, and his hand sought hers.
"What a strange ending to the most wonderful day of my life!" she suddenly cried with passionate tenderness.
"Why strange?" he asked. "I never had a doubt that you would love me. It was written in the Book of Life."
"But I didn't know it until to-night."
"Tell me, dear," he pleaded; "what sudden flash revealed the truth?"
"Don't ask me!" she said with a shiver. "I'll tell you some day."
"Why not now? This has been a wonderful day for me. I shall never live its like again. I heard for the first time the one woman I love, the only woman I ever loved, the one woman I shall love forever, speak the sweetest words that ever fell from human lips."
"I love you—I love you!" she softly repeated.
"But tell me how you came to know it to-day?" he urged.
"It's a secret—one I fear that will give me many an hour of anguish. I'll tell you, dear—but not now."
"I'll share it with you when you'll let me."
"Not this one, John. I need to bear it alone to keep me humble, and sweeten with suffering and fear the bitter, selfish impulses that fight within me. Oh, I want to be good and tender and beautiful and true now!"
"How full of strange moods you've been to-night!" he exclaimed.
"Have I dear?"
She caught his hand and pressed it tenderly.
The lights of the town flashed in view from the hill.
They galloped boldly down the main street and into the lawn. As they passed the cabin at the gate, Isaac's face appeared a moment at the door.
"I didn't know old Isaac had returned?" John remarked.
"Nor did I," she replied; "he must have come with those troops."
A tremor caught her voice as she recalled that Ackerman was in communication with Isaac, and the cords she had been winding about the man by her side began slowly to tighten around her own throat.
He tried to leave her at the door, but she drew him inside.
"You can't go yet."
"I must hurry, my love," he protested. "Those men will think I'm a coward. I should have been at home when they called."
"Sh!"
She placed her hand over his lips, ignoring his plea.
"I've a little experiment to make. My whim is law. Go stand there in the alcove with your hat in your hand fumbling it."
Laughing with girlish excitement she pressed him into the exact spot he stood the night she first met him, drew back, and gazed tenderly into his face, her big brown eyes dancing with the hysterical strain of the deep half-conscious fear for his safety which had begun to strangle her.
"Have you forgotten the first scene in the drama of our life?" she asked, slowly approaching him with extended hand.
He clasped it with a smile.
"I shall not forget it if I live to be a hundred years old," he said reverently.
"And yet, you are trying to hurry away from me to-night again. Don't you like the picture as well now?"
"A thousand times better, dearest," he cried. "The love that shines in your eyes will make radiant the darkest hour of life. I've nothing now to fear. Perfect love has cast out fear. My way's a shining one whether it leads to a palace or a prison."
"Come into the dining room," she whispered, leading him through the door and seating herself at the head of the table. "You remember the night we sat together here?"
"Do I!"
"Would you believe me if I told you that I tried to make you love me that night?"
"You said you tried to hate me."
"But we can't always do what we try—can we?" she asked wistfully.
"You did that night I'm sure."
"And yet, I'm failing to-night!" she sobbed, unable to keep back the tears, "just when I've told you that I love you, and the joy and wonder of it all has begun to light the world. Before I've thought only of myself. To-night I'm thinking only of you, my sweetheart! Just as I've learned to speak your name I feel you slipping away from me—oh, John darling, what will they do to you? Tell me—tell me!"
"They can only put me in jail to-night."
"But they shall not—they shall not!" she moaned, clinging close to him. "You shall not let them! You shall not leave this house except to fly with me."
Stella's words choked into sudden silence at the shrill angry notes of Aunt Julie Ann's voice ringing in the hall:
"Git out er dis house, I tells ye, 'fo I bus' yo head open wid dis door weight."
"Mind your own business," snapped the angry reply.
"I'se mindin' my own business. Git out dat door, an' knock 'fo yer come in! An' I lets yer in when I gits ready—when my mistis say yer kin come!"
"Faith, an' I'll slap ye head off ye shoulders, if ye don't kape still," growled the trooper.
"What do you want in here, yer low-life slue-footed Yankee?"
"If it's just the same ter ye, I wants Mr. John Graham, me dusky maiden!"
John suddenly released himself from Stella's clinging form and stepped through the door into the hall.
"I'm John Graham. What is it?"
"You're my prisoner, sir, ye'll have to come with me!"
"I'm ready."
The sergeant took a step toward John, drawing a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.
Stella sprang between them, her eyes blazing with rage:
"How dare you enter my house without my permission?"
The sergeant stopped in sheer amazement at the fury of her outburst. Recovering himself with a smile he replied:
"Axin yer pardon m'am, it may be rude, but hit ain't writ in our book of etiquette ter knock at the front door when we're huntin' fer a man charged with murder."
"But he's not guilty!" Stella stormed.
"I believe ye, Miss—ye'd have an easy time with me. But I ain't the Coort!"
"Stella, dear," John pleaded.
"Leave this house!" Stella cried with fury.
"Sure m'am, but yer friend comes wid me," said the sergeant, taking another Step toward John.
"I tell you he's not guilty! It's all a mistake. I'll explain to your commander in the morning."
John smiled in spite of himself.
"Stella dear, this is nonsense. The sergeant is acting under orders, must go at once."
"Ye see, m'am!" said the sergeant with a polite bow.
"All right then, sergeant," said Stella, suddenly changing her tone, "I'll excuse you for your rudeness; I'll go with you."
"You mustn't, my love," John protested.
"Yes, I'm going with you, but I've had nothing toeat. We must have supper—it's waiting. Aunt Julie Ann, show the sergeant downstairs and give him supper. Mr. Graham will be ready in half an hour, sergeant."
The trooper looked doubtfully at John and at Stella, smiling.
"All right m'am. It's agin my principles as a soldier to leave a good supper to spoil—an', axin yer pardon agin, I'll station one o' me men at each door an' window to make sure we wont lose any of our party durin' the festivities. It'll be more sociable like to feel that we're all here."
The sergeant placed his men and followed Aunt Julie Ann to the kitchen.
Stella drew John to the old davenport:
"Quick, John darling, through the old secret way—the way of love"
"Dearest!" he said reproachfully.
She extended her hand to press the spring in the panel.
"Quick, the soldier at the door can't see you. I'll stand in front. Wait for me in the vault. I'll let them search the house and when they go, I'll join you and we can leave before daylight."
"I must face it. There's no other way."
"Yes, yes, this way—the old sweet way of love! I can't let them take you—you're mine now—I love you—I love you!—John, dear, he has big ugly handcuffs. He was going to put them on you—didn't you see him?"—her voice faltered.
"Yes, I saw him."
"I can't stand it, John, I can't—oh, dear, you don't understand, and I can't explain—You love me?"
"Better than life and deeper than death."
"And yet you refuse my heart's desire?"
"Only in this. I'm done with lawlessness. I'm not a coward. I've led a successful revolution. It had to be, and now with silent lips I'll face my accusers."
A hot tear fell on his hand.
"Come, dearest, you must help me," he pleaded.
"Yes, yes, I will," she faltered, brushing the tears away. "Come then, we will have this one little supper together, shall we not?"
"Yes. I want to look across that old table into your face again."
He chatted gaily through the supper and she sat silent, choking back the sobs, unable to eat.
The sergeant bowed at the door:
"Axin yer pardon m'am, but I must hurry now."
John rose and the trooper again drew his handcuffs, Stella watching him with wide-set eyes.
"I'm sorry, sir, I'll have to put 'em on."
"It's all right, sergeant," he answered.
Stella sprang between them and placed a trembling little hand on the trooper's.
"Please, sergeant!"
"Orders, m'am, I'm sorry."
"Please—for—my—sake—don't. He'll go with you. I tried to get him to fly with me, and he wouldn't. You won't put them on him—will you? For my sake?"
Her voice sank to the softest music of tears. The sergeant hesitated a moment and said gruffly:
"All right, for your sake, m'am, I won't."
John stooped and kissed her. The door closed behind him and with a low piteous moan Stella sank to the floor, crying:
"God have mercy on me!"