Faithful Margaret: A Novel
Margaret bent over my lady with a rush of tenderness in her manner. What
would she not give to win the sweet girl's love? The innocent blue eyes
seemed to hold in their depths such guilelessness; the beauty was so
perfect which Heaven had bestowed upon her, that beauty-loving Margaret
yearned to have her cling to her thus forever.
"I will stay with you as long as you want me," she whispered, kissing
the pellucid brow of Lady Julie.
CHAPTER V.
ATTEMPT AT MURDER.
The fair dawn slid with crimson ray under the yellow mist; the breath of
morning stirred the pendant leaves, and on its wings it bore the tramp
of a host.
In a moment the loud _reveille_ was sounding, the thundering camp was
alive with voices, every man was on his feet.
"A surprise!" shouted St. Udo, marshaling his company. "Be ready to meet
them! Form, men!"
The soldiers under Colonel Brand's command had come straight from their
pleasant homes among the Green Mountains. Untried and but freshly
trained, one might have doubted their stability in a moment like this.
Not so their colonel; he had carefully studied these intelligent faces,
and he had read both sense and spirit there. His ringing voice carried
confidence and enthusiasm to its utterances, and was met by a cheer from
his men which reverberated from the distant forest like an echo of the
sea. In a few moments the tents were struck, the baggage vans were
loaded, and the small army was in rapid motion toward the point from
which the alarm had sounded.
In the midst of the plain they halted; their flashing arms were
presented to the wall of foliage behind which lurked the foe. They stood
there awaiting the onset, motionless as if they had sprung up from the
earth and been petrified in the first instant of their resurrection.
Then a roar of musketry broke from the emerald wall; a storm of lead
swept into the human ranks; a wild huzzah burst from the invisible
enemy, and the battle had begun. The fight was fierce and long--courage
and daring were exhibited on both sides--but when it was over, St. Udo
Brand and his brave band were famous forever. They were the victors.
* * * * *
The two colonels were smoking together before St. Udo's tent, enjoying
an hour's chat, as usual, before they parted for the night, and in the
welcome absence of Thoms, were served by a fine fellow from Vermont, who
almost worshiped his colonel.
As the friends joked and laughed with all the reckless abandon of
soldiers, a pistol-shot was heard, and simultaneously a pistol ball
whistled past their ears and buried itself in the earth at a few feet's
distance.
Both sprang to their feet, and rushing round the tent, came upon two men
in deadly strife--one in gray, the other in blue. They rolled on the
ground; each held the other's throat in a deadly grasp. It seemed
impossible to decide upon which side the victory would turn, and their
continual writhings and contortions rendered interference impossible.
But at last the struggle ended in the Federal soldier succeeding in
drawing a dagger from his breast and plunging it into his opponent's
side.
The wounded man's hold relaxed from the other's throat; he fell back
heavily with a stifled groan, and the victor rose and turned round his
haggard, white face to the brother colonels.
"_Morbleu!_ it is Thoms!" cried Calembours, in accents of incredulity.
"Well fought, gray-beard," chimed in St. Udo, in equal amazement. "You
deserve promotion. What was this Confederate soldier about?"
Thoms glared at the two colonels like a tiger, then down at his
vanquished enemy, from whose side the blood poured hotly.
"He pretended that he wanted to offer himself as a guide to the grand
army," muttered Thoms, "and we passed the pickets and came straight to
your tent to speak about it. But he tried to pistol you when he came in
sight of you, and I had just time to dash his arm up."
"Brave Thoms!" applauded Calembours. "Good Thoms!"
"What is it, Reed?" demanded St. Udo of the soldier, who was kneeling by
the fallen Confederate.
"He is trying to speak," answered Reed. "He is saying, 'No, no.'"
Thoms bent eagerly over him, with murderous look in his eyes.
The man was dying; his half-closed eyes were glazing fast, but his
bloodless lips moved convulsively, and though his life-blood welled
forth at every effort, he still strove to utter some frantic word.
"No!--he--lies!" muttered he, at last.
Thoms' trembling fingers were at his throat in a moment--Thoms' tigerish
eyes flashed out their rage.
"Let him alone," expostulated Reed. "Let the poor wretch speak."
"Off, Thoms!" thundered St. Udo, with a terrible frown.
Both colonels stooped over the Confederate soldier. St. Udo put his ear
close to the twitching lips.
"He shot the pistol off himself," muttered the man. "Before Heaven, I
swear it! He stabbed me to save himself. He did--he did!"
The life-blood oozed into his lungs and choked him; he clasped his hands
and threw them up toward Heaven, as if he called on his creator to
witness his innocence, and immediately expired.
The two friends rose and looked at Thoms.
Whiter in his grave he would never be. The veins stood out on his damp
forehead like whipcord, but he returned their fierce gaze with a dogged
firmness.
"What do you say to this charge?" demanded St. Udo.
"I say nothing," mumbled Thoms, showing his long, cruel teeth. "If
you're ready to believe a rebel against your own servant, I needn't
expect much fair play. What else would he say to revenge his death, I'd
like to know? Of course, if you're a-going to shoot me, nothing that I
can say will stop you--you're master here, as well as everywhere else."
He ground the last words out through his teeth with a venom, a fury
which belonged more to a madman than to a man supposed to be in
possession of his ordinary sanity, and he addressed them to St. Udo
exclusively.
"You deserve to die," said St. Udo, "if you have attempted our lives."
"By gar! ve vill court-martial the rogue!" cried Calembours. "He shall
be shot, the traitor!"
"If you shoot me, you shoot an innocent man," protested the old man.
"Surely Colonel Brand will give me fair play? I swear I never attempted
your lives!"
St. Udo scrutinized the eager face doubtfully, and frowned.
"You say that the Confederate, not you, fired that pistol-shot?" he
demanded.
"I do say so," answered Thoms, firmly.
"Then we give you the benefit of the doubt this time," said St. Udo,
"but warn you that you shall be well watched in future. Be off now, and
beware of treachery, for you shall not escape a second time."
The haggard face lit up with evil exultation; but Thoms cringed before
the haughty colonel, and muttered his gratitude in abject terms.
"No more need be said," cried St. Udo, with a cold sneer, "except
this--if either Colonel Calembours or I meet death treacherously, you
will be a suspected man, and will not escape, I promise you. Now, go."
Away slunk Thoms, with his head down on his breast, and the friends'
eyes met significantly.
"There goes von rascal unhung," said the chevalier.
"He's mad, Calembours--mad as Malvolio," said St. Udo. "Don't annoy
yourself over his vagaries. Ugh! how I detest his presence near me."
Reed, the soldier, filled the camp with whisperings against Thoms; over
and over the black story was repeated by a thousand camp-fires, and
wherever the wretched man slunk, he was met by suspicious looks and
loathing hatred.
He saw that everybody believed in his guilt, notwithstanding Colonel
Brand's clemency, and he quailed before the terrible position, and
shrank into himself in dumb patience.
Some hours later the command was once more on the march, and at the dawn
of day it came upon a plantation with a magnificent mansion set in the
midst.
A murmur of satisfaction ran through the weary men as a halt was
ordered, and ere long the verdant plain was white with tents, and the
lambent air was rife with the rattle of the breakfast preparations, and
fragrant with the odor of coffee and frying steaks.
Colonels Brand and Calembours looked anxiously at the pretty mansion
which peeped from foliage of the jasmine, oleander, and magnolia, and in
its spacious rooms they mentally saw their brave boys properly cared for
and nursed by the negroes of the plantation.
"We can ask for room for our wounded here until we get a chance to send
them to Washington," said St. Udo, "and leave a guard with them. Come,
Calembours, let's reconnoiter."
"With all my heart," quoth the chevalier. "I like the outside of the
_maison_ better than the inside of my tent, and, by gar! comrade, what
then will the inside of the _maison_ be? Come, then."
And with this brief prologue the quaintest performance was ushered in
which Colonel Brand had yet witnessed in his acquaintance with the
sprightly Chevalier de Calembours.
The two colonels approached through beds of sweetest flowers, and
tinkling fountains, and garden houses--the loveliest residence
imaginable, swathed in roses and creamy jasmine cups, girdled with
balconies in highest tracery, embellished with a row of pillars in front
upholding a gilded piazza roof, and entered through an imposing portal
of richest design.
There was no sign of life, however, apparent, although the upper windows
were opened to their widest extent, and the snowy curtains waved out on
the wall among the climbing roses; and St. Udo's peremptory rap upon the
door only received an answer from its echo in the sounding hall.
"_Encore!_" cried the cavalier, "they sleep soundly! Again, _mon ami_,
don't despair."
A shrill cry interrupted the little man, and sent his dilated eyes up to
the window above, from which it had proceeded.
"A woman in terror!" whispered he. "_Morbleu!_ I long to greet the owner
of such a voice. So clear, so fresh. Sweet madam. I pray you shriek
again!"
St. Udo knocked louder.
"Go, go, Vinnie," uttered a frantic voice. "It is a band of Northern
soldiers. They will blow up the house if you don't let them in!"
"_Milles diables!_" muttered the chevalier, in a startled tone. "Who
speaks with these accents? _Ma foi!_ I want the eclaircissement."
The door grudgingly opened, and a pretty quadroon girl looked out.
"Bring your mistress," ordered St. Udo.
She fearfully retreated, leaving the door open, and rushed up a broad
staircase, down which was wafted the hurried tones of a terrified
consultation.
Then she reappeared and conducted the officers into a magnificent
drawing-room assuring them that her mistress would see them in a few
moments.
"_Machere_, whose house is this?" demanded the chevalier.
"Colonel Estvan's," whispered the quadroon.
"Where is he?" asked St. Udo, sharply.
She turned pale.
"_Pouf!_ do not affright this pretty one," interposed the gallant
chevalier. "Monsieur Estvan is fighting like the devil against the
Northerners, is he not, _pauvrette_?"
"Yes," faltered she; "but madam forbade me to tell it."
"_Ouais_, madam is shrewd," laughed Calembours. "Now, _mon enfant_,
where is madam?"
"She has not arisen yet," said the trembling maid, "but will come soon
to speak with you. Madam asks will you have refreshments?"
"Ten thousand thanks. Yes, yes, _machere_, and make haste," said the
hungry Hun, with alacrity.
No sooner was the girl gone when Calembours turned his attention to the
examination of the elegantly embellished apartment, and, with an
ejaculation of delight, extolled the pictures, statuettes, and
_bijouterie_ which were scattered about with such profusion; and then he
burst into a gay old French song.
St. Udo, being seated within view of the hall, which he could see
through the half-open door, was the sole witness of what followed,
however.