 CHAPTER 49 The Awful Peril of Capitola Out of this nettle danger, I'll pluck the flower safely. Shakespeare. Capitola's blood seemed turned to ice, and her form to stone by the sight. Her first impulse was to scream and let fall the waiter. She controlled herself and repressed the scream, though she was very near dropping the waiter. Black Donald looked at her and laughed aloud at her consternation, saying with a chuckle, You did not expect to see me here tonight, did you now, my dear? She gazed at him in a silent panic for a moment. Then her faculties, that had been suddenly dispersed by the shock, as suddenly rallied to her rescue. In one moment she understood her real position. Black Donald had locked her in with himself and held the key, so she could not hope to get out. The loudest scream that she might utter would never reach the distant chamber of major Warfield, or the still more remote apartment of Mrs. Condiment, so she could not hope to bring anyone to her assistance. She was therefore entirely in the power of Black Donald. She fully comprehended this, and said to herself, Now, my dear Cap, if you don't look sharp your hour is come. Nothing on earth will save you, Cap, but your own wits. For if ever I saw mischief in anyone's face, it is in that fellows that is eating you up with his gray eyes at the same time that he is laughing at you with his big mouth. Now, Cap, my little man, be a woman. Don't you stick at trifles. Think of J. L. and Cicera. Think of Judith and Holferne's. And the devil and Dr. Faust, if necessary. And don't you blanch. All stratagems are fair in love and war, especially in war. And most especially in such a war as this is likely to be. A contest in close quarters for dear life. All this passed through her mind in one moment, and in the next her plan was formed. Setting her waiter down upon the table, and throwing herself into one of the armchairs, she said, Well, upon my word, I think a gentleman might let a lady know when he means to pay her a domiciliary visit at midnight. Upon my word, I think you are very cool, replied Black Donald, throwing himself into the second armchair on the other side of the stand of refreshments. People are likely to be cool on a December night, with a thermometer at zero, and the ground three feet under snow, said Cap, nothing daunted. Capitola, I admire you. You are a cucumber. That's what you are a cucumber. A pickled one? asked Cap. Yes, and as pickled cucumbers are good to give one an appetite, I think I shall fall to an eat. Do so, said Cap, for heaven forbid that I should fail in hospitality. Why, really, this looks as though you had expected a visitor, doesn't it? asked Black Donald, helping himself to a huge slice of ham, and stretching his feet out toward the fire. Well, yes, rather, though, to say the truth it was not your reverence I expected, said Cap. Ah, somebody else's reverence, eh? Well, let them come. I'll be ready for them, said the outlaw, pouring out and quaffing a large glass of brandy. He drank it, sat down the glass, and turning to her little heroine, inquired. Capitola, did you ever have Cravenly Nor here to supper with you? You insult me, I scorn to reply, said Cap. Wheeew! What long whiskers our grimmelkins got! You scorn to reply. Then you really are not afraid of me, asked the robber, pulling a great piece of cheese in his mouth. Afraid of you? No, I guess not, replied Cap, with a toss of her head. Yeah, I might do you some harm. But you won't. Why won't I? Because it wouldn't pay. Why wouldn't it? Because you couldn't do me any harm unless you were to kill me, and you would gain nothing by my death except a few trinkets that you may have without. Then you were really not afraid of me, he asked, taking another deep draught of brandy. Not a bit of it. I rather like you. Come, now, you are running a rig upon a fellow, said the outlaw, winking and depositing a huge chunk of bread in his capacious jaws. No, indeed, I liked you long before I ever saw you. I always did like people that make other people's hair stand on end. Don't you remember when you first came here disguised as a peddler, though I did not know who you were when we were talking of Black Donald, and everybody was abusing him except myself. I took his part and said that for my part I liked Black Donald and wanted to see him. Sure enough, my jewel, so you did. And didn't I bravely risk my life by throwing off my disguise to gratify your laudable wish? So you did, my hero. But well as you liked me, the moment you thought me in your power didn't you leap upon my shoulders like a catamount and cling there, shouting to all the worlds who come and help you, for you had caught Black Donald and would die before you would give him up? Ah, you little vampire, how you thirsted for my blood, and you pretended to like me, said Black Donald, eyeing her from head to foot, with a sly leer. Cat returned to the look with interest. Dropping her head on one side, she glanced upward from the corner of her eye, with an expression of infinite mischief and roguery, saying, Laura, didn't you know why I did that? Because you wanted me captured, I suppose? No, indeed, but because... Well, what? Because I wanted you to carry me off. Well, I declare, I never thought of that, said the outlaw, dropping his bread and cheese and staring at the young girl. Well, you might have thought of it then. I was tired of humdrum life, and I wanted to see adventures, said Cap. Black Donald looked at the mad girl from head to foot and then said, coolly, Miss Black, I am afraid you are not good. Yes, I am, your folks, said Cap, and so you really wished me to carry you off? I should think so, didn't I stick to you until you dropped me? Certainly, and now if you really like me as well as you say you do, come give me a kiss. I won't, said Cap, until you have done your supper and washed your face. Your beard is full of crumbs. Very well, I can wait a while. Meantime, just brew me a bowl of eggnog by way of a nightcap, will you? said the outlaw, drawing off his boots and stretching his feet to the fire. Agreed, but it takes two to make eggnog. You'll have to whisk up the whites of the eggs into a froth, while I beat the yellows and mix the other ingredients, said Cap. Just so, assented the outlaw, standing up and taking off his coat and flinging it upon the floor. Cap shuddered, but went on calmly with her preparations. There were two little white bulls setting one within the other upon the table. Cap took them apart, and set them side by side, and began to break the eggs, letting the white slip into one bowl, and dropping the yellows into the other. Black Donald sat down in his shirt sleeves, took one of the bulls from Capitola, and began to whisk up the whites, with all his might and mane. Capitola beat up the yellows, gradually mixing the sugar with it. In the course of her work, she complained that the heat of the fire scorched her face, and she drew her chair farther towards the corner of the chimney, and pulled the stand after her. Oh, you are trying to get away from me, said Black Donald, hitching his own chair in the same direction, close to the stand, so that he sat immediately in front of the fire. Cap smiled, and went on beating her eggs and sugar together. Then she stirred in the brandy, and poured in the milk, and took the bowl from Black Donald, and laid on the foam. Finally she filled a goblet with the rich compound, and handed it to her uncanny guest. Black Donald untied his netcloth, threw it upon the floor, and sipped his egg-nog, all the while looking over the top of the glass at Capitola. "'Miss Black,' he said, "'it must be past twelve o'clock.' "'I suppose it is,' said Cap. Then it must be long past your usual hour of retiring.' "'Of course it is,' said Cap. "'Then what are you waiting for?' "'For my company to go home,' replied Cap. "'Meaning me?' "'Meaning you.' "'Oh, don't mind me, my dear.' "'Very well,' said Cap. I shall not trouble myself about you.' And her tones were steady, though her heart seemed to turn into a ball of ice through terror. Black Donald went on slowly sipping his egg-nog, filling up his goblet when it was empty, and looking at Capitola over the top of his glass. "'At last,' he said, "'I have been watching you, Miss Black.' "'Little needs to tell me that,' said Cap, "'and I have been reading you.' "'Well, I hope the page was entertaining.' "'Well, yes, my dear, it was, rather so. But why don't you proceed?' "'Proceed with what?' "'With what you are thinking of, my darling? I don't understand you.' "'Why don't you offer to go downstairs and bring up some lemons?' "'Oh, I'll go in a moment,' said Cap, if you wish.' "'Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Of course you will, my darling, and you deliver me into the hands of the Philistines, just as you did my poor men when you fooled them about the victuals. I know your tricks, and all your acting has no other effect on me than to make me admire your wonderful coolness and courage. So, my dear, stop puzzling your little head with schemes to baffle me. You are like the cage-starling. You can't get out,' chuckled Black Donald, hitching his chair near to hers. He was now right upon the center of the rug. Capitola turned very pale, but not with fear, though Black Donald thought she did, and roared with laughter. "'Have you done your supper?' she asked, with a sort of awful calmness. "'Yes, my duck,' replied the outlaw, pouring the last of the eggnog into his goblet, drinking it at a draught, and chuckling as he set down the glass. Capitola then lifted the stand with the refreshments to remove it to its usual place. "'What are you going to do, my dear?' asked Black Donald. "'Clear away the things and set the room in order,' said Capitola, in the same awfully calm tone. "'A nice little house, so I feel make, my duck,' said Black Donald. Capitola set the stand in its corner, then removed her own armchair to its place before the dressing-bure. Nothing now remained upon the rug except Black Donald seated in the armchair. Capitola paused. Her blood seemed freezing in her veins. Her heart beat thickly. Her throat was choked. Her head felt nearly bursting, and her eyes were veiled by a blinding film. "'Come, come, my duck, make haste. It is late. Haven't you done setting the room in order yet?' said Black Donald, impatiently. "'In one moment,' said Capitola, coming behind his chair and leading upon the back of it. "'Donald,' she said, with dreadful calmness, I will not now call you Black Donald. I will call you as your poor mother did, when your young soul was as white as your skin, before she ever dreamed her boy would grow black with crime. I will call you simply Donald, and entreat you to hear me for a few minutes. Look on, then, but talk fast, and leave my mother alone. Let the dead rest,' exclaimed the outlaw, with a violent convulsion of his bearded chin and lip, that did not escape the notice of Capitola, who hoped some good of this betrayal of feeling. "'Donald,' she said, men call you a man of blood. They say that your hand is red, and your soul black with crime. They may say what they like. I care not,' laughed the outlaw. "'But I do not believe all this of you. I believe that there is good in all, and much good in you, that there is hope for all, and strong hope for you.' Bosh, stop talking poetry. Tain in my line, nor yours either,' laughed Black Donald. "'But truth is in all our vines. Donald,' I repeat it, men call you a man of blood. They say that your hands are red, and your soul black with sin. Black Donald,' they call you. "'But Donald, you have never yet stained your soul, with a crime as black as that which you think of perpetrating tonight.' "'It must be one o'clock, and I'm tired,' replied the outlaw, with a yawn. "'All your former acts,' continued Capitola, in the same voice of awful calmness, have been those of a bold, bad man. This act would be that of a base one. "'Take care, girl, no bad names. You are in my power and my mercy. I know my position, but I must continue. Hitherto you have robbed male coaches and broken into rich men's houses. In doing thus you have always boldly risked your life, often at such fearful odds that men have trembled at their firesides to hear of it, and even women, while deploring your crimes, have admired your courage. I think I'm kindly for it. Women always like men with a spice of the devil in them,' laughed the outlaw. "'No, they do not,' said Capitola gravely. "'They like men of strength, courage, and spirit, but those qualities do not come from the evil one, but from the Lord, who is the giver of all good. Your Creator, Donald, gave you the strength, courage, and spirit that all men and women so much admire, but he did not give you these great powers that you might use them in the service of his enemy, the devil. I declare there is really something in that. I never thought of that before, nor ever thought, perhaps, that however misguided you may have been, there is really something great and good in yourself that might yet be used for the good of man and the glory of God,' said Cap, solemnly. "'Ha, ha, ha, oh, you flatterer, come, have you done? I tell you it is after one o'clock, and I am tired to death.' Donald, in all your former acts of lawlessness, your antagonists were strong men, and as you boldly risked your life and your depredations, your acts, though bad, were not base. But now your antagonist is a feeble girl, who has been unfortunate from her very birth. To destroy her would be an act of baseness to which you never yet descended. Bosh, who talks of destruction? I am tired of all this nonsense. I mean to carry you off, and there's an end of it,' said the outlaw, doggedly, rising from his seat. "'Stop,' said Capitola, turning ashen pale. Stop! Sit down and hear me for just five minutes. I will not tax your patience longer.' The robber with a loud laugh sank again into his chair, saying, "'Very well, talk on for just five minutes, and not a single second longer. But if you think in that time to persuade me to leave this room tonight without you, you are widely out of your reckoning, my duck. That's all.' Donald, do not sink your soul to perdition by a crime that heaven cannot pardon. Listen to me. I have jewels here worth several thousand dollars. If you will consent to go, I will give them all to you, and let you quietly out of the front door, and never say one word to mortal of what has passed here tonight.' "'Ha, ha, ha! Why, my dear, how green you must think me! What hinders me from possessing myself of your jewels, as well as of yourself?' said Black Donald, impatiently rising. "'Sit still. The five minutes grace are not half out yet,' said Capitola, in a breathless voice. "'So they are not. I will keep my promise,' replied Black Donald, laughing, and again dropping into his seat. "'Donald, Uncle pays me a quarterly sum for pocket money, which is at least five times as much as I can spend in this quiet country place. It has been accumulating for years until now. I have several thousand dollars of all my own. You shall have it if you will only go quietly away and leave me in peace,' prayed Capitola. "'My dear, I intend to take that anyhow. Take it as your bridal dower, you know, for I'm going to carry you off and make an honest wife of you.' "'Donald, give up this heinous purpose,' cried Capitola, in an agony of supplication, as she leaned over the back of the outlaw's chair. "'Yes, you know I will. Ha, ha, ha,' laughed the robber. "'Man, for your own sake, give it up. Ha, ha, ha, for my sake. Yes, for yours, Black Donald, have you ever reflected on death?' asked Capitola, in a low and terrible voice. I have risked it often enough, but as to reflecting upon it, it will be time enough to do that when it comes. "'I am a powerful man, in the prime and pride of life,' said the athlete, stretching himself exultingly. "'Yet it might come. Death might come with sudden overwhelming power, and hurl you to destruction. What terrible thing for this magnificent frame of yours, this glorious handiwork of the Creator, to be hurled to swift destruction, and for the soul that animates it to be cast into hell! Bosh, again, that is a subject for the pulpit, not for a pretty girl's room. If you really think me such a handsome man, why don't you go with me at once, and say no more about it?' roared the outlaw, laughing. "'Black Donald, will you leave my room?' cried Capitola, in an agony of prayer. "'No,' answered the outlaw, mocking her tone. "'Is there no inducement that I can hold out to you to leave me?' "'None.' Capitola raised herself from her leaning posture, took a step backward, so that she stood entirely free from the trapped door, and slipping her foot under the rug, she placed it lightly on the spring-bolt, which she was careful not to press. The ample fall of her dress concealed the position of her foot. Capitola was now paler than a corpse, for hers was a paler of a living horror. Her heart beat violently, her head throbbed, her voice was broken, as she said. "'Man, I will give you one more chance. Oh, man, pity yourself as I pity you, and consent to leave me.' "'Ha, ha, ha. It is quite likely that I will, isn't it now?' "'No, my duck. I haven't watched and planned for this event, for this long time passed, to give it up, now that you are in my power.' "'A likely story, indeed. And now the five minutes' grace are quite up.' "'Stop, don't move yet. Before you stir, say, Lord have mercy on me,' said Capitola solemnly. "'Ha, ha, ha. That's a pretty idea. Why should I say that?' "'Say it to please me. Only say it, Black Donald. But why to please you? Because I wish not to kill both your body and soul, because I would not send you prayerless into the presence of your Creator. For Black Donald, within a few seconds your body will be hurled to swift destruction, and your soul will stand before the bar of God,' said Capitola, with her foot upon the spring of the concealed trap. She had scarcely seized speaking before he bounded to his feet, pulled around, and confronted her, like a lion at bay roaring forth. You have a revolver there, girl? Move a finger, and I shall throw myself upon you like an avalanche. I have no revolver. Watch my hands as I take them forth, and see,' said Capitola, stretching her arms out toward him. "'What do you mean, then, by your talk of sudden destruction?' inquired Black Donald, in a voice of thunder. I mean that it hangs over you, that it is imminent, that it is not to be escaped. O man, call on God, for you have not a minute to live.' The outlaw gazed on her in astonishment. Well he might, for there she stood paler than marble, sterner than fate, with no look of human feeling about her, but the gleaming light of her terrible eyes, and the beating sweat upon her death-like brow. For an instant the outlaw gazed on her in consternation, and then recovering himself he burst into a loud laugh, exclaiming, "'Ha, ha, ha! Well, I suppose this is what people would call a piece of splendid acting. Do you expect to frighten me, my dear, as you did cravenly nor with the peas?' "'Say, Lord, have mercy on my soul. Say it, Black Donald, say it, I beseech you,' she prayed. "'Ha, ha, ha, my dear, you may say it for me, and to reward you, I will give you such a kiss. It will put life into those marble cheeks of yours,' he laughed. "'I will say it for you. May the Lord pity and save Black Donald's soul. If that be yet possible, for the saviour's sake,' prayed Capitola in a broken voice, with her foot upon the concealed and fatal spring. He laughed aloud, stretched forth his arms, and rushed to clasp her. She pressed the spring. The drop fell with a tremendous crash. The outlaw shot downwards. There was an instant's vision of a white and panic-stricken face, and wild uplifted hands as he disappeared. And then a square, black opening was all that remained where the terrible intruder had sat. No sight or sound came up from that horrible pit to hint of the secrets of the prison-house. One shuddering glance at the awful void, and then Capitola turned and threw herself face downward upon the bed, not daring to rejoice in the safety that had been purchased by such a dreadful deed, feeling that it was an awful, though a complete, victory. CHAPTER FIFTY Capitola lay upon the bed, with her face buried in the pillow. The greater portion of the time from two o'clock until day. An uncontrollable horror prevented her from turning, lest she should see the yawning mystery in the middle of the floor, or hear some awful sound from its unknown depths. The very shadows on the walls thrown up wildly by the expiring fire-light were objects of grotesque terror. Never, never in her whole youth of strange vicissitude had the nerves of this brave girl been so tremendously shaken and prostrated. It was late in the morning when at last nature succumbed, and she sank into a deep sleep. She had not slept long when she was aroused from a profound state of insensibility by a loud, impatient knocking at her door. She started up wildly and gazed around her. For a minute she could not remember what were the circumstances under which she had laid down, or what was that vague feeling of horror and alarm that possessed her. Then the yawning trapdoor, the remnants of the supper, and black Donald's coat, hat and boots upon the floor, drove in upon her reeling brain the memory of the night of terror. The knocking continued more loudly and impatiently, accompanied by the voice of Mrs. Condiment crying, Miss Capitola, Miss Capitola, why, what can be the matter with her? Miss Capitola? Eh, what, yes? answered Capitola, pressing her hands to her feverish forehead, and putting back her dishevelled hair. Why, how soundly you sleep, my dear! I've been calling and wrapping here for a quarter of an hour. Good gracious child! What made you oversleep yourself so? I did not get to bed till very late, said Capitola, confusedly. Well, well, my dear, make haste now. Your uncle is none of the patientist, and he has been waiting breakfast for some time. Come, open the door, and I will help you to dress, so that you may be ready sooner. Capitola rose from the side of the bed where she had been sitting, and went cautiously around that gaping trapdoor to her chamber door, when she missed the key, and suddenly remembered that it had been in Black Donald's pocket when he fell. A shudder thrilled her frame at the thought of that horrible fall. Well, well, Miss Capitola, why don't you open the door? cried the old lady, impatiently. Mrs. Condiment, I have lost the key. Dropped it down the trapdoor. Please ask Uncle to send for someone to take the lock off, and don't wait breakfast for me. Well, I do think that was very careless, my dear, but I'll go at once, said the old lady, moving away. She had not been gone more than ten minutes, when Old Hurricane was heard, coming blustering along the hall and calling, What now, you imp of Satan? What mischief have you been at now? Opening the trapdoor, you mischievous monkey. I wished from the bottom of my soul you had fallen into it, and I should have got rid of one trial. Losing your key, you careless baggage. I have a great mind to leave you locked up there forever. Thus scolding, Old Hurricane reached the spot, and began to ply screwdrivers and chisels, until at length the strong Glock yielded, and he opened the door. There a vision met his eyes that arrested his steps upon the very threshold, the remains of a baccalaunian supper, a man's coat and hat and boots upon the floor, in the midst of the room the gray square, black opening, and beyond it standing upon the hearth, the form of Capitola, with disordered dress, dishevelled hair, and wild aspect. Oh, uncle, see what I have been obliged to do, she exclaimed, extending both her arms down toward the opening, with a look of blended horror and inspiration, such as might have sat upon the countenance of some sacrificial priestess of the olden time. What? What? What? cried the old man, nearly dumb with amazement. Black Donald was in my room last night. He stole from his concealment, and locked the door on the inside, and withdrew the key, thus locking me in with himself. And she ceased, and struck both hands to her face, shuddering from head to foot. Go on, girl, thundered old hurricane, in an agony of anxiety. I escaped, harmless, oh, I did, sir, but at what a fearful price. Explain, explain, cried old hurricane, in breathless agitation. I drew him to sit upon the chair on the rug, and again she shuddered from head to foot, and I sprang the trap and precipitated him to, oh, heaven of heaven, where, I know not. But you, you were unharmed? Yes, yes. Oh, Cap, oh, my dear Cap, thank heaven for that. But, uncle, where, oh, where did he go? inquired Capitola, almost wildly. Who the demon cares? To perdition, I hope and trust, with all my heart and soul, cried old hurricane, with emphasis, as he approached and looked down the opening. Uncle, what is below there? Asked Capitola anxiously, pointing down the abyss. An old cellar, as I have told you long ago, and black Donald, as you have just told me, hello there, are you killed as you deserve to be, you atrocious villain, roared old hurricane, stooping down into the opening. A feeble, distant moan answered him. Oh, heaven, he is living! He is living! I have not killed him! cried Capitola, clasping her hands. Why, I do believe you are glad of it, exclaimed old hurricane, in astonishment. Oh, yes, yes, yes! For it was a fearful thought that I had been compelled to take a sacred life, to send an immortal soul unprepared to its account. Well, his neck isn't broken, it appears, or he couldn't grown, but I hope and trust every other bone in his body is. Mrs. Condiment, mum, I'll trouble you to put on your bonnet and walk to EZ's, and tell him to come here directly. I must send for the constable, said old hurricane, going to the door and speaking to his housekeeper, who, with an appalled countenance, had been a silent spectator of all that had passed. As soon as the old woman had gone to do her errand he turned again, and stooping down the hole exclaimed, I say, you scoundrel down there, what do you think of yourself now? Are you much hurt, you knave, as every one of your bones broken as they deserve to be, you villain? Answer me, you varlet. A low, deep moan was the only response. If that means yes, I'm glad to hear it, you wretch. You go to the camp meeting with us again, won't you, you knave? You'll preach against evil passions and profane squaring, looking right straight at me all the time, until you bring the eyes of the whole congregation upon me as a sinner, above all sinners, you scoundrel. You'll turn me out of my own bed, and away from my own board, won't you, you villain? Won't you, precious Father Gray? Oh, will Father Gray you? Demi, the next time a trapped door falls under you, you rascal, there shall be a rope around your neck to keep you from the ground, precious Father Gray. Uncle, uncle, that is cowardly, exclaimed Capitola. What is cowardly, misimpertonance? To insult and abuse a fallen man who is in your power. The poor man is badly hurt, may be dying for ought you know, and you stand over him, and berate him when he cannot even answer you. Oomph, oomph, oomph! Demi, you're oomph. Well he is fallen, fallen pretty badly, eh? And if he should come round after this, the next fall he gets will be likely to break his neck, eh? I say, you gentlemen below there, Mr. Black Donald, precious Father Gray, you'll keep quiet, won't you, while we go and get our breakfast. Do now. Come, Cap, come down and pour out my coffee, and by the time we get through, old E. Z. will be here. Capitola complied, and they left the room together. The overseer came in while they were at breakfast, and with his hair standing on end listened to an account of the capture of the outlaw by her heroine. And now saddle Fleetfoot and ride for your life to tip-top, and bring a pair of constables, where the last orders of old hurricane. While Mr. E. Z. was gone on his errand, Major Warfield, Capitola, and Mrs. Condiment remained below stairs. It was several hours before the messenger returned with the constables, and with several neighbors, whom interest and curiosity had instigated to join the party. As soon as they arrived, a long ladder was procured and carried up into Capitola's chamber, and let down through the trapdoor. Fortunately, it was long enough, for when the foot of the ladder found the floor of the cellar, the head rested securely against the edge of the opening. In a moment the two constables began singly to descend. The foremost one carrying a lighted candle in his hand. The remaining members of the party, consisting of Major Warfield, Capitola, Mrs. Condiment, and some half-dozen neighbors, remained gathered around the trapdoor, waiting, watching, and listening for what might next happen. Presently one of the constables called out, Major Warfield, sir. Well, replied old hurricane. He's a breathing still, sir, but seems badly hurt, and may be a dying, seeing as he's unsensible and unspeakable. What shall we do long of him? Bring him up. Let's have a look at the fellow at any rate, exclaimed old hurricane, peremptorily. Just so, sir, but some of the gemmen up there will have to come down on the ladder and give a lift. He's a dead weight now, I tell your honor. Several of the neighbors immediately volunteered for the service, and two of the strongest descended the ladder to lend their aid. On attempting to move the injured man he uttered a cry of pain and fainted, and then it took the united strength and skill of four strong men to raise the huge insensible form of the athlete and get him up the ladder. No doubt the motion greatly inflamed his inward wounds, but that could not be helped. They got him up at last, and laid out upon the floor a ghastly, bleeding, insensible form around which everyone gathered to gaze. While they were all looking upon him as upon a slaughtered wild beast, Capitola alone felt compassion. Uncle, he is quite crushed by his fall. Make the men lay him upon the bed. Never think of me. I shall never occupy this room again. Its associations are too full of horrors. There, uncle, make them at once lay him upon the bed. I think the young lady is right, unless we mean to let the fellow die, said one of the neighbors. Very well, I have particular reasons of my own for wishing that the man's life should be spared until he could be brought to trial and induced to give up his accomplices, said Old Hurricane. Then turning to his word he said, come along, Capitola. Mrs. Condiment will see that your effects are transferred to another apartment. And you, friends, he continued, addressing the men present, be so good, so soon as we have gone, to undress that fellow and put him to bed, and examine his injuries while I send off for a physician. For I consider it very important his life should be spared sufficiently long to enable him to give up his accomplices, and so saying Old Hurricane drew the arm of Capitola within his own and left the room. It was noon before the physician arrived. When he had examined the patient he pronounced him utterly unfit to be removed, as besides other serious contusions and bruises his legs were broken and several of his ribs fractured. In a word it was several weeks before the strong constitution of the outlaw prevailed over his many injuries, and he was pronounced well enough to be taken before a magistrate and committed to prison to await his trial. Alas, his life it was said was forfeit by a hundred crimes, and there could be no doubt as to his fate. He maintained a self-possessed, good-humored, and laughingly defiant manner, and when asked to give up his accomplices he answered gaily. That treachery was a legal virtue which outlaws cannot be expected to know anything about. Capitola was everywhere lauded for her brave part in the capture of the famous Desperado, but Cap was too sincerely sorry for Black Donald to care for the applause. CHAPTER 51 O by heaven and all its hosts he shall not die. By Satan and his fiends he shall not live. This is no transient flash of fugitive passion. His death has been my life for years of misery. Which else I had not lived upon that thought and not on food I fed. Upon that thought and not on sleep I rested. I came to do the deed that must be done, nor thou, nor the sheltering angels could prevent me. MADERIN The United States Army, under General Scott, invested the City of Mexico. A succession of splendid victories had marked every stage of their advancement, from the sea coast to the capital, Vera Cruz had fallen, Saro Gordon had been stormed and passed, Zalapa taken, the glorious triumph of Churibusco had been achieved. The names of Scott, Wirth, Wool, Quitman, Pillow, and others were crowned with honour. Others again, whose humble names and unnoticed heroism have never been recorded, endured as nobly, suffered as patiently, and fought as bravely. Our own young hero, Herbert Grayson, had covered himself with honour. The war with Mexico witnessed, perhaps, the most rapid promotions of any other in the whole history of military affairs. The rapid ascent of our young officer was a striking instance of this. In two years from the time he had entered the service with a lieutenants' commission he held the rank of major in the blank regiment of infantry. Fortune had not smiled upon our other young friend, Trevor Schrock, partly because, being entirely out of his vocation, he had no right to expect success. But mostly because he had a powerful enemy in the kernel of his regiment, an unsleeping enemy, whose constant vigilance was directed to prevent the advancement and ensure the degradation and ruin of one whom he contemptuously termed the gentleman private. Now it is known that by the rules of military etiquette a wide social gulf lies between the kernel of the regiment and the private in the ranks, yet Colonel Lenore continually went out of his way to insults private rock, hoping to provoke him to some act of fatal insubordination. And very heavy was this trial to a high-spirited young man like Trevor Schrock, and very fortunate was it for him that he had early been imbued with that most important truth, that he who ruleeth his own spirit is greater than he who takeeth a city. But if Colonel Lenore crossed the gulf of military etiquette to harass the poor young soldier, Major Grayson did the same thing for the more honorable purpose of soothing and encouraging him. And both Herbert and Travers hoped that the designs of their kernel would be still frustrated by the self-command and patience of the young private. Alas, they did not know the great power of evil. They did not know that nothing less than divine providence could meet and overcome it. They fondly believed that the malignancy of Lenore had resulted in no other practical evil than in preventing the young soldier's well-merited advancement and in keeping him in the humble position of a private in the ranks. They were not aware that the discharge of Trevor Schrock had long ago arrived, but that it had been suppressed through the diabolical cunning of Lenore, that letters, messages, and packets sent by his friends to the young soldier had found their way into his kernel's possession and no further. And so, believing the hatred of that bad man to have been fruitless of a serious practical evil, Herbert encouraged his friend to be patient for a short time longer when they should see the end of the campaign, if not of the war. It was now that period of suspense and a false truce between the glorious 20th of August and the equally glorious 8th of September, 1847, between the two most brilliant actions of the war, the battle of Churibusco and the storming of Chapultepec. The general-in-chief of the United States forces in Mexico was at his headquarters in Archipiscopal Paschal of Tecobova on the suburbs or in the full site of the city of the Montezuma's. Awaiting the issue of the conference between the commissioners of the hostile governments met to arrange the terms of a treaty of peace that every day grew more hopeless. General Scott, who had had misgivings as to the good faith of the Mexicans, had now his suspicions confirmed by several breaches on the part of the enemy of the terms of the armistice. Early in September he dispatched a letter to General Santa Anna complaining of these infractions of the truce, and warning him that of some satisfactory explanations were not made within 48 hours he should consider the armistice at an end and renew hostilities. And not to lose time, he began on the same night a series of reconnaissance, the object of which was to assert in their best approach to the city of Mexico, which in the event of the renewal of the war he purposed to carry by assault. It is not my intention to pretend to describe the siege and capture of the capital, which has been so often and eloquently described by grave and wise historians, but rather to follow the fortunes of an humble private in the ranks and relate the events of a certain court-martial as I learned them from the after-dinner talk of a gale and officer who had officiated on the occasion. It was during these early days in September, while the illustrious general-in-chief was meditating concluding the war by the assault of the city of Mexico, that Colonel Lenore also resolved to bring his own private feud to an end and ruin his enemy by a coup de diable. He had an efficient tool for his purpose and the captain of the company to which Traverse Rock belonged. This man, Captain Zooten, was a vulgar upstart thrown into his command by the turbulence of war, as the scum is cast up to the surface by the boiling of the cauldron. He hated Traverse Rock for no conceivable reason, unless it was that the young private was a perfect contrast to himself in the possession of a handsome person, a well-cultivated mind, and a gentlemanly deportment, cause sufficient for the antagonism of a mean and vulgar nature. Colonel Lenore was not slow to see and to take advantage of this hatred. And Captain Zooten became the willing co-adjutor and instrument of his vengeance. Between them they concocted a plot to bring the unfortunate young man to an ignomious death. One morning, about the first of September, Major Grayson, and going his rounds, came upon Traverse, standing sentry near one of the outposts. The aspect of the young private was so pale, haggard and despairing that his friend immediately stopped and exclaimed, Why, Traverse, how ill you look, more fitted for the sick list than the sentry's duties, what the deuce is the matter? The young soldier touched his hat to his superior and answered sadly, I am ill, ill in body and mind, sir, who, leave off etiquette when we are alone, Traverse, and call me Herbert as usual. Heaven knows, I shall be glad when all this is over, and we fall back into our relative civil positions towards each other. But what is the matter now, Traverse? Some of Lenore's villainy again, of course. Of course, but I did not mean to complain, Herbert, that were childish. Must endure the slavery, these insults and persecutions patiently, since I have brought them upon myself. Take comfort, Traverse, the war is drawing to a close. Either this armistice will end in a permanent peace, or when hostilities are renewed our general will carry the city of Mexico by storm, and dictate the terms of a treaty from the grand square of the capital. In either event the war will soon be over, the troops disbanded, and the volunteers free to go about their business, and Dr. Traverse Rock, at liberty to pursue his legitimate profession, said Herbert cheerfully. It may be so. I do not know. Oh, Herbert, whether it be from want of sleep and excessive fatigue, for I have been on duty for three days and nights, or whether it be from incipient illness, or all these causes put together I cannot tell, but my spirits are dreadfully depressed. There seems to be hanging over me a cloud of fate I cannot dispel. Every hour seems descending lower and blacker over my head, until it feels like some heavy weight about to suffocate or crush me, said Traverse, sadly. Poo-poo, hypochondria, cheer up, remember that in a month we shall probably be disbanded, and in a year. Think of it, Traverse Rock, Clara Day will be twenty-one, and at liberty to give you her hand. Cheer up! Ah, Herbert, all that seems now to be more unsubstantial than the fabric of a dream. I cannot think of Clara or of my mother without despair. For oh, Herbert, between me and them there seems to yawn a dishonored grave. Herbert, they talk you know of an attack upon the Malino del Array, and I almost hope to fall in that charge. Why? inquired Major Grayson in dismay. To escape being forced into a dishonored grave. Herbert, that man has sworn my rune, and he will accomplish it, said Traverse, solemnly. For heaven's sake, explain yourself, said Herbert. I will, listen, I will tell you the history of the last three days, said Traverse. But before he could add another word, the sentry that was to relieve his guard approached and said, Captain Zooten orders you to come to his tent instantly. With a glance of significance Traverse bowed to Herbert and walked off, while the sentinel took his place. Herbert saw no more of Traverse that day. At night he went to inquire for him, but learned that he had been sent with a reconnoitering party to the Malino del Array. The next day, on seeking Traverse, he understood that the young private had been dispatched on a foraging expedition. That night, upon again inquiring for him, he was told that he had been sent in attendance upon the officers who had borne secret dispatches to General Quitman at his quarters on the Acapulco Road. Traverse is right, they mean to ruin him. I see how it is exactly. When I saw Traverse on guard two days ago, he looked like a man exhausted and crazed for want of sleep, and since that time he has been night and day engaged in harassing duty. That demon Lenore, with Zooten to help him, has determined to keep Traverse from sleep until nature is thoroughly exhausted, and then set him upon guard that he may be found sleeping on his post. That was what the boy meant when he talked of the cloud that was hanging over him and of being forced into a dishonored grave, and when he hoped, poor fellow, to fall in the approaching assault upon the Molino del Rey, I see it all now. They have decided upon the destruction of Traverse. He can do nothing. A soldier's whole duty is comprised in one word, obedience. Even if, as in this instance, he is ordered to commit suicide, let them hatch their diabolical plots, we will see if the Lord does not still reign, and the devil is not a fool. It shall go hard, but that they are hoist with their own petard, said Herbert, indignantly. Here the next morning he went to the tent of Captain Zooten and requested to see Private Traverse Rock, in whom he said he felt a warm interest. The answer of Colonel Lenore's tool confirmed Herbert's worst suspicions. Touching his cap with an air of exaggerated deference, he said, As you think so much of the young fellow, Major, I am very sorry to inform you, sir, that he is under arrest. Upon what charge, inquired Herbert calmly, concealing the suspicion and indignation of his bosom? On a rather bad one, Major, sleeping on his post, replied the officer, masking his exaltation with a show of respect. Rather bad, the penalty is death, said Herbert, dryly. Yes, sir, martial law is rather severe. Who charges him? asked Herbert, curtly. The Colonel of our regiments, sir, replied the man, scarcely able to conceal his triumph. An accusation from a high quarter is his charge supported by other testimony? Big pardon, Major, but is that necessary? You have answered my question by asking another one, sir. I will trouble you for a direct reply, said Herbert, with dignity. Then, Major, I must reply, yes. What testimony? I would know the circumstances. Well, sir, I will tell you about it, said the officer, with ill-concealed triumph. Private Travers Rock had the early morning watch. After his return from the night ride to Acapulco? Yes, sir, while Colonel Lenore and myself, in going our rounds this morning, just before sunrise, came full upon the young fellow, fast to sleep on his post, in fact, sir, it required a hearty shake to awaken him. After ninety-six hours loss of sleep I should not wonder. I know nothing about that, sir, I only know that Colonel Lenore and myself found him fast to sleep on his post. He was immediately arrested. Where is he now? inquired Herbert. In one of the Colonel's extra tents, under guard, replied the officer. Herbert immediately went to the tent in question, where he found two sentinels with loaded muskets on duty before the door. They grounded arms on the approach of their superior officer. As Private Travers Rock confined within there, he inquired, Yes, sir, I must pass in to see him. I beg your pardon, sir, but our orders are strict, not even to admit an officer, without a written order from our Colonel, said the sentinel. Where is the Colonel? In his tent, sir. Herbert immediately went on to the fine marquee occupied by Colonel Lenore. The sentinel on duty there at once admitted him, and he passed on into the presence of the Colonel. He saluted his superior officer with cold military etiquette and said, I have come, sir, to ask of you in order to see Private Travers Rock confined under the charge of sleeping on his post. I regret to say, Major Grayson, that it cannot be done, lightly nor, with ironical politeness. Will you have the kindness to inform me, sir, upon what pretext my reasonable request is refused? Asked Herbert coldly. I deem it quite unnecessary to do so, sir, answered the Colonel haughtily. Then I have no more to do here, replied Herbert, leaving the tent. He immediately threw himself into his saddle, and rode off to the Arch-Opiscopal Palace of Tecubea, where the general-in-chief had fixed his headquarters. Here he had to wait some little time before he was admitted to the presence of the gallant commander, who received him with all the stately courtesy for which that renowned officer is distinguished. Herbert mentioned the business that had brought him to the general's presence, the request of a written order to see a prisoner in strict confinement for sleeping on his post. The commander whose kind heart was interested in the welfare of all his soldiers made some inquiries into the affair, of which Herbert proceeded to give him a short history, about however venturing as yet directly to charge the Captain or the Colonel with intentional foul play. Indeed, to have attempted to discriminate the superior officers of the accused man would then have been most unwise, useless, and hurtful. The general immediately wrote the desired order and passed it to the young officer. Herbert bowed and was about to retire from the room when he was called back by the general, who placed a packet of letters in his hand, saying that they had arrived among his dispatches and were for the prisoner, to whom Major Grayson might as well take them at once. Herbert received them with avidity, and on his way back to the Colonel's tent he examined their superscription. There were three letters, all directed to Traverse Rock. On two of them he recognized the familiar handwriting of Mara Rock. On the other he saw the delicate Italian style of a young lady's hand, which he readily believed to be that of Clara. In the midst of his anxiety on his friend's account he rejoiced to have this one little ray of comfort to carry him. He knew that many months had elapsed since a young soldier had heard from his friends at home. In fact Traverse never received a letter unless it happened to come undercover to Herbert Grayson, and well they both knew the reason. How very fortunate, said Herbert, as he wrote on, that I happened to be at the general's quarters to receive these letters just when I did, for if they had been sent to Coloneling Nor's quarters, or to Captain Z's, poor Traverse would never have heard of them. However, I shall not distract Traverse's attention by showing him these letters until he has told me the full history of his arrest, for I wish him to give me a cool account of the whole thing, so that I may know if I can possibly serve him. Ah, it is very unlikely that any power of mine will be able to save him, if indeed, and in truth he did sleep upon his post, ruminated Herbert, as he wrote up to the tent where the prisoner was confined. Another pair of sentinels were on duty in place of those who had refused him admittance. He alighted from his horse, was challenged, showed his order, and passed into the tent. There a sight met him that caused the tears to rush to his eyes, for the bravest is always the tenderest heart. Thrown down on the mat at the back of the tent lay Traverse Rock, pale, haggard, and sunken into the deep, deep sleep of utter exhaustion. Even in that state of perfect abandonment, prostration and insensibility, the expression of great mental anguish remained upon his deathly countenance. A mortal pallor overspread his face, his thick black curls, matted with perspiration, clung to his hollow temples and cheeks. Great drops of sweat beaded upon his corrugated brow. A quiver convulsed his mouth and chin. Every circumstance betrayed how severely, even in that swoon-like state, he suffered. Herbert drew a campstool and sat down beside his mat, resolving not to break that greatly needed rest, but to wait patiently until the sleeper shed awake. Again I say that I know nothing about mesmerism, but I have seen strange effects produced quite unconsciously by the presence of one person upon another. And in a few minutes after Herbert took his seat beside Traverse, it was noticeable that the face of the sleeper lost its look of pain, and his rest grew deep and calm. Herbert sat watching that pale, calm, intellectual face, thanking heaven that his mother, in her distant home, knew nothing of her boy's deadly peril, and praying heaven that its justice might be vindicated in the deliverance of this victim from the snares of those who sought his life. For more than an hour longer Traverse slept the deep sleep of exhaustion, and then calmly awoke. On seeing Herbert sitting beside him, he smiled sadly, saying, You hear, Herbert, how kind of you to come. Well, Herbert, you see they have succeeded, as I knew they would. That was what I wished to tell you about when I was abruptly ordered away. I do believe it was done on purpose to prevent my telling you. I really think I have been surrounded by spies to report and to store every word and look and gesture. If our company had only watched the enemy, with half the vigilance with which they watched me, that party of immigrants would not have been cut off on the planes. Traverse, said Herbert, solemnly taking the hand of his friend, were you caught sleeping on your post? Ah, sleeping like death, Herbert. Herbert dropped the hand of his friend, covered his face with his own, and groaned aloud. He could not help it. I told you that they had resolved upon my death, Herbert. I told you that I should be pushed into a shameful grave. Oh, no, no, the Lord forbid. But tell me all about it, Traverse, that I may understand and know how to proceed, said Herbert, in a broken voice. Well, I need not tell you how I have been insulted, oppressed, and persecuted by those two men, for you know that already. Yes, yes. It really soon became apparent to me that they were resolved, if possible, to exasperate me to desert, to retort, or to commit some other fatal act of insubordination or violence. Yet for the sake of my dear mother and of Clara, I did violence only to my own natural manhood, and bore it all with their civility of a slave. With the submission of a saint, dear Traverse, and in doing so you followed the divine precept and example of our savior, who when accused, railed upon, and buffeted, opened not his mouth, and in his forbearance, dear Traverse, there was as much of godlike dignity as there was of saintly patience. Great self-respect is as often manifested in forbearance, as in resentment, said Herbert soothingly. But you see it availed me nothing. Here I am, under a charge to which I plead guilty, and the penalty which is death, replied Traverse, in despair. Tell me how it was, Traverse. You are persecutions and your patience I knew before, but what are the circumstances that led to your present position? That your misfortune is the result of a concerted plan on the part of Lenore and his twill I partly see, but I wish you to put me in possession of all the facts, that I may see in what manner I may be able to assist you. Ah, Herbert, I thank you most faithful of friends, but I doubt whether you can assist me in any other manner than being kind to my poor mother and my dear Clara when I am gone. For ah, old playmate, the act can be too surely proved upon me, and the penalty is certain. And it is death," said the poor boy, deeply sighing. Herbert groaned and said, but tell me, at least, the history of the four days preceding your arrest. I will, let me see, this is Friday. Well until this morning's fatal sleep I had not slept since Sunday night. Monday was past and the usual routine of military duty. Monday evening I was sent on a reconnoitering expedition to the old castellated Spanish fort of the Casa de Mata that occupied the whole night. On Tuesday morning I was selected to attend the messenger who went with the flag of truce into the city to carry our general's letter of exposalation to Santa Ana which employed the whole day. On Tuesday night, without having had an hour's rest in the interval, I was put on guard. Wednesday morning I was sent with a party to escort an immigrant caravan across the marsh to the village of Churrabusco. Monday afternoon you saw me on guard and I told you that I had not slept one hour for three days and nights. Yes, you looked ill enough to be ordered on the sick list. Yet listen, thoroughly exhausted as I was, on Wednesday night I was ordered to join a party to go on a secret reconnoitering expedition to the Molina del Rey. On Thursday morning I was sent out with another party on a foraging tour. On Thursday night I was sent in attendance upon the officer who carries dispatches to general Whitman. On Friday morning I was set on guard between the hours of four and eight. Oh, heaven, what an infamous abuse of military authority exclaimed Herbert indignantly. Herbert, in my life I have sometimes suffered with hunger, cold and pain, and have some idea of what starving, freezing, and torture may be. But among all the ills to which flesh is air I doubt if there is one so trying to the nerves and brain of man as enforced and long-continued vigilance when all his failing nature sinks for want of sleep. Insanity and death must soon be the result. Humpf! Go on, tell me about the manner of your finding you, said Herbert, scarcely able to repress his indignation. Well, when after, let me see, eighty-four, ninety, ninety-six hours of incessant watching, riding and walking, I was set on guard to keep the morning watch between four o'clock and eight. My whole head was sick and my whole heart faint, my frame was sinking, my soul could scarcely hold my body upright. In addition to this physical suffering was the mental anguish of feeling that these men had resolved upon my death, and thinking of my dear mother and Clara, whose hearts would be broken by my fall. Oh, the thought of them at this moment quite unmans me, I must not reflect. Well, I endeavored with all the faculties of my mind and body to keep awake. I kept steadily pacing to and fro, though I could scarcely drag one limb after the other, or even stand upright. Sleep would arrest me while in motion, and I would drop my musket, and wake up in a panic, with the impression of some awful, overhanging rune appalling my soul. Herbert, will you thank me a miserably weak wretch if I tell you that that night was a night of mental and physical horrors? Brain and nerves seemed in a state of disorganization. Thought and emotion were chaos, their relations of soul and body broken up. I had but one strong, clear idea, namely that I must keep awake at all costs, or bring shameful death upon myself, and disgrace upon my family. And even in the very midst of thinking this I would fall asleep. No power within you could have prevented it, indeed, you had to drop into sleep or death. I pinched myself, I caught my flesh, I burned my skin, but all in vain. Nothing could withstand the overwhelming power of sleep that finally conquered me, about five o'clock this morning. Even in the midst of a delightful dream of mother and Clara at home, I was roused up by a rude shake, and awoke to find my musket fallen from my hands, and my captain and colonel standing over me. It was several minutes before I could travel back from the pleasant land of sleep and dreams and realize my real position. When I did, I had nothing to say. The inevitable ruin I felt had come, and crushed me into a sort of dumb despair. Nor did my superior officers reproach me. Their revenge was too perfect. The captain called a sergeant to take my gun, and I was marched off to my present prison. And Herbert, no sooner was I left alone here than sleep overcame me again, like a strong man, and despite all the gloom and terror of my situation, despite all my thoughts of home and mother and Clara, I slept like a tired child. But this awakening—oh, this awakening, Herbert. Be of good courage, let us hope that heaven will enable us to confound the plots of the evil and save you. Ah, Herbert, that will be impossible. The duty of a soldier is clear and stern. His punishment, if he fails in it, swift and sure. At the word of command he must march into the very jaws of death, as is right. He must die or madden for the want of rest, rather than fall asleep on his post, for if he does, his punishment is certain and shameful death. Oh, my mother, oh, Clara, would heaven I had fallen at Vera Cruz or Churibusco, rather than live to bring this dreadful sorrow upon you, cried Travers, covering his convulsed face with his hands. Cheer up, cheer up, old comrade. All is not lost that is endangered, and we shall save you yet. Herbert, you know it is impossible. No, I do not know any such thing. You know that I shall be tried today and shot tomorrow. Oh, Herbert, never let my dear ones at home know how I shall die. Tell them that I fell before Chipultepec, which will be literally true, you know. Oh, my mother, oh, my dear Clara, shall I never see you more. Never hear your sweet voices calling me. Never feel the kind clasp of your hands again. Is this the end of a life of aspiration and endeavor? Is this the comfort and happiness I was to bring you? Early bereavement, dishonored names, and broken hearts? I tell you no, you shall be saved, I say it. It is impossible. No, it is only very difficult, so very difficult, that I shall be sure to accomplish it. What a paradox. It is a truth, things difficult, almost to impossibility, can always be accomplished. Write that upon your tablets, for it is a valuable truth. And now cheer up, for I bring you letters from Clara and your mother. Letters from Clara and mother? Oh, gift them to me, exclaimed the young man eagerly. Herbert handed them, and Traverse eagerly broke the seals one after another, and devoured the contents. They are well, they are well and happy. Oh, thank God they are so. Oh, Herbert, never let them know how I shall die. If they think I fell honorably in battle, they will get over it in time. But if they know I died a convict's death, it will break their hearts. Oh, Herbert, my dear friend, by all our boyhood's love, never let my poor mother and dear Clara know the manner of my death, cried Traverse, in an imploring voice. Before he could say another word, or Herbert could answer, an orderly sergeant entered, and put into Major Grayson's hands, a paper that proved to be a summons for him, to attend immediately at headquarters to serve upon a court-martial, to try private Traverse Rock upon the charge of sleeping on his post. This is done on purpose to prevent me from becoming a witness for the defense, whispered Herbert to his friend, but take courage. We will see yet whether you shall succeed. End of Chapter 51 Chapter 52 of The Hidden Hand. This Librivox recording is in the public domain, recording by Bridget, The Hidden Hand, by E. D. E. N. Southworth, Chapter 52, The Court-martial. I wish I could meet all accusers with as good excuse, as well as I am certain I can clear myself of this, Shakespeare. Pursuant with the general orders issued from headquarters, the court-martial, consisting of thirteen officers, convened at Take-o-Bea, for the trial of Traverse Rock, private in the blankth regiment of infantry, accused of sleeping on his post. It was a sultry morning, early in September, and by seven o'clock the drum was heard beating before the arch-episcopal palace, where it was understood the trial, involving life or death, would come off. The two sentinels on guard before the doors, and a few officers off duty, loitering about the verandas, were the only persons visible near the well-ordered premises, until the members of the court-martial, with the prosecutors and witnesses, began to assemble and pass in. Within a lofty apartment of the building, which was probably at one time the great dining-hall of the priests, were collected some twenty persons, comprising the court-martial and its attendants. An extension-table covered with green cloth occupied the middle of the long room. At the head of this table sat General W., the president of the court. On his right and left, at the sides of the table, were arranged the other members according to their rank. At a smaller table, near the right hand of the president, stood the judge-advocate or prosecutor on behalf of the United States. At the door stood a satin-alon guard, and near him two or three orderly sergeants and attendants upon the officers. The judge-advocate opened the court by calling over the names of the members, beginning with the president and ending with the youngest officer present, and recording them as they intended. This preliminary settled. Orders were dispatched to bring the prisoner, prosecutor, and witnesses into court. And in a few minutes entered Colonel Lenore, Captain Zooten, Un-Sin Allen, and Sergeant Baker. They were accommodated with seats near the left hand of the president. Lastly, the prisoner was brought and guarded, and placed standing at the foot of the table. Traverse looked pale, from the severe effects of excessive fatigue and anxiety. But he deported himself with firmness and dignity, bowed respectfully to the court, and then drew his stately form up to its fullest height, and stood awaiting the proceedings. The judge-advocate at the order of the president commenced and read the warrant for holding the court. He then read over the names of the members, commencing as before with the president, and descending through the gradations of rank to the youngest officer, and demanded of the prisoner, whether he had any cause of challenge, or took exception to any member present, and if so, to declare it, as it was his privilege. Traverse lifted his noble head and keen eyes, and looked slowly around, in turn, upon each officer of the court-martial. They might all be said to be strangers to him, since he knew them only by sight, all except his old acquaintance, Herbert Grayson, who sat first at the left hand of the president, and who returned his look of scrutiny with a gaze full of encouragement. I find no cause of challenge, and take no exception to any among the officers composing this court, answered Traverse, again bowing with such sweetness and dignity, in tone and gesture, that the officers, in surprise, looked first at the prisoner, and then at each other. No one could doubt that the accused, in the humble garb of a private soldier, was nevertheless a man of education and refinement, a true gentleman, both in birth and breeding. As no challenge was made, the judge-advocate proceeded to administer to each of the members of the court the oath prescribed in the Articles of War, to the intent that they should, try the matter before them, between the prisoner and the United States, according to the evidence, without fear, favor, or affection. This oath was taken by each member holding up his right hand, and repeating the words after the officer. The court then being regularly constituted, and every preliminary form observed, the judge-advocate arose and directed the prisoner to listen to the charge brought against him, and preferred by the colonel of his regiment, Gabriel Lenore. Traverse raised his head, and fixed his eagle eyes upon the prosecutor, who stood beside the judge-advocate, while the latter, in an audible voice, read the accusation, charging the prisoner with willful neglect of duty, and that he, the said Traverse Rock, on the night of the 1st of September, being placed on guard at the northwestern outpost of the infantry quarters, at Tecubea, did fall asleep upon his post, thereby endangering the safety of the quarters, and violating the 46th Article of War. To which charged the prisoner, in a firm voice, replied, not guilty of willful neglect of duty, though found sleeping upon my post. The judge-advocate then cautioned all witnesses to withdraw from the court, and come only as they were called. They withdrew, and he then arranged some preliminaries of the examination, and called in Captain Zooten, of the Blankth Regiment of Infantry. This witness was a short, course-featured, red-haired person of Dutch extraction, without intellect enough to enable him to conceal the malignity of his nature. He testified that on Thursday, the 1st of September, Traverse Rock, private in his company, was ordered on guard at the northwestern outpost of the quarters, between the hours of 4 and 8 a.m. That about five o'clock on the same morning, he, Joseph Zooten, and making his usual rounds, and being accompanied on that occasion by Colonel Gabriel Lenore, Lieutenant Adams, and on-sign Baker, did surprise Private Traverse Rock asleep on his post, leaning against the sentry box with his musket at his feet. This witness was cross-examined by the judge-advocate, who it is known, combines in his own person the office of the prosecutor on the part of the United States, and counselor for the prisoner, or rather, if he be honest, he acts as an impartial inquirer and arbiter between the two. As no new facts were gained by the cross-examination, the judge-advocate proceeded to call the next witness, Colonel Lenore. Here, then, was a gentleman of most pre-possessing exterior, as well of most irreproachable reputation. In brief, his testimony corroborated that of the foregoing witness, as to the finding of the prisoner asleep on his post, at the time and place specified. In honor of his high social and military standing, this witness was not cross-examined. The next called was Lieutenant Adams, who corroborated the evidence of former witnesses. The last person examined was on-sign Baker, whose testimony corresponded exactly to that of all who had gone before him. The judge-advocate then briefly summed up the case on the part of the United States, first by reading the 46th article of war, to wit that any sentinel who shall be found sleeping on his post, or shall leave it before he shall be regularly relieved, shall suffer death, etc., etc., etc. And secondly, by reading the recorded evidence to the effect that Trevor Schrock had been found by competent witnesses sleeping on his post. And concluded by saying, gentlemen, officers of the court-martial, here is the law, and here is the fact both proven, and it remains for the court to find a verdict in accordance with both. The prisoner was then put upon his defense. Trevor Schrock drew himself up, and said that the truth, like the blessed son, must, on its shining forth, dispel all clouds of error, that trusting in the power of truth, he should briefly relate the history of the preceding seven days. And then he commenced, and narrated the facts with which the reader is already acquainted. Trevor Schrock was interrupted several times in the course of his narrative by the president, General W., a severe martinet, who reminded him that an attempt to discriminate his superior officers would only injure his cause before the court. Trevor spowing, as in duty bound to the president at every fresh interruption, nevertheless proceeded straight on with his narrative to its conclusion. The defense being closed, the judge advocate arose, as was his privilege, to have the last word. He stated that if the prisoner had been oppressed or aggrieved by his superior officer, his remedy lay in the thirty-fifth of the Articles of War, providing that any soldier who shall feel himself wronged by his captain shall complain thereof to the colonel of his regiment. To this the prisoner begged to reply that he had considered the colonel of his regiment his personal enemy, and as such could have little hope of the issue, even if he had had opportunity afforded him of appealing to that authority. The judge advocate expressed his belief that this complaint was vexatious and groundless, and here the evidence was closed, the prosecutor, prisoner, and witnesses dismissed, and the court adjourned to meet again to deliberate with closed doors. It was a period of awful suspense with Trevor Shrock. The prospect seemed dark for him. The fact of the offense and the law affixing the penalty of death to that offense was established, and as the judge advocate truly said, nothing remained but for the court to find their verdict in accordance to both. Extenuating circumstances there were certainly, but extenuating circumstances were seldom admitted in court's marshal, the law and practice of which were severe to the extent of cruelty. Another circumstance against him was the fact that it did not require a unanimous vote to render a legal verdict, but that if a majority of two-thirds should vote for a conviction the fate of the prisoner would be sealed. Trevor's had but one friend in the court, and what could his single voice do against so many? Apparently nothing. Yet as the prisoner on leaving the courtroom raised his eyes to that of his friend, Herbert Grayson returned to the book with a glance of more than encouragement. Of triumph. End of chapter fifty-two. Chapter fifty-three of The Hidden Hand. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Bridget, The Hidden Hand, by E. D. E. N. Southworth, chapter fifty-three, The Verdict. We must not make a scarecrow of the law, setting it up to frighten birds of prey, and let it keep one shape till custom makes it, their perch and not their terror. Shakespeare. The members of a court-martial sit in the double capacity of jurors and judges. As jurors they find the facts, and as judges they award the punishment. Yet their session with closed doors was without the solemn formality that the uninitiated might have supposed to attend a grave deliberation upon a matter of guilt or innocence involving a question of life or death. No sooner were the doors closed that shut out the vulgar crowd than the high and mighty officials immediately fell into easy attitudes and disengaged conversations upon the weather, the climate, yesterday's dinner at General Cushion's quarters, the claret, the cigars, and the Mexican señoritas. They were presently recalled from this easy chat by the President, a severe disciplinarian, who reminded them rather sharply of the business upon which they had convened. The officers immediately wheeled themselves around in the chairs, facing the table, and fell into order. The judge advocate seated himself at his detached stand, opened his book, called the attention of the court, and commenced and read over the whole record of the evidence and the proceedings up to this time. The President then said, For my own part, gentlemen, I think this quite a simple matter, requiring but little deliberation. Here is the fact of the offense proved, and here is the law upon the offense clearly defined. Nothing seems to remain for us to do but to bring in a verdict in accordance with the law and the fact. Several of the older officers and sterner disciplinarians agreed with the President, who now said, I move that the vote be immediately taken upon this question. To this also, the elder officers assented, and the judge advocate was preparing to take the ballot when one of the younger members arose and said, Mr. President and gentlemen, there are mitigating circumstances attending this offense, which in my opinion should be duly weighed before making up our ballot. Lieutenant Lovell, when your hair has grown white in the service of your country, as mine has, and when your skin is modeled with the scars of a score of well-thought fields, you will find your soft theories corrected by hard experience, and you will know that in the case of a sentinel sleeping upon his post, there can be no mitigating circumstances, that nothing can palliate such flagrant and dangerous neglect involving the safety of the whole army. A crime that martial law and custom have very necessarily made punishable by death, said the President sternly. The young lieutenant sat down abashed under the impression that he had betrayed himself into some act of gross impropriety. This was his first appearance in the character of juror and judge. He was literally unaccustomed to public speaking, and did not hazard a reply. Has any other gentlemen any views to advance before we proceed to the general ballot? Inquired the President. Several of the officers whispered together, and then someone replied that there seemed to be no reason why the vote should not be immediately taken. Herbert Grayson remained perfectly silent. Why he did not speak, then, and replied to this adoration? Why, indeed, he had not spoken before, in support of Lieutenant Lovell's views, in favor of his friend. I do not know to this day, though I mean to ask him the first time I have the opportunity. Perhaps he wished to draw the enemy's fire. Perhaps he was inclined to dramatic effects. But whatever might have been the motive, he continued silent, offering no obstacle to the immediate taking of the vote. The judge advocate then called the court to order for the taking of the ballot, and proceeded to question the members in turn, commencing with the youngest. How say you, Lieutenant Lovell, is the prisoner on trial guilty or not guilty of the offense laid to his charge? Guilty, responded the young officer, as his eyes filled with tears of pity for the other young life against which he had felt obliged to record this vote. If that is the opinion of one who seems friendly to him, what will be the votes of the other stern judges? said Herbert Grayson to himself in this May. What say you, Lieutenant Adams, is the prisoner guilty or not guilty? said the judge advocate, proceeding with the ballot. Guilty, Lieutenant Craigon? Guilty, Lieutenant Evans? Guilty, Lieutenant Joff? Guilty, Lieutenant Hess? Guilty, Captain Kingsley? Guilty, Captain McConkey? Guilty, Captain Lucas? Guilty, Captain O'Donnelly? Guilty, Captain Rosencrantz? Guilty, Major Grayson? Not guilty. Every officer sprang to his feet and gazed in astonishment, consternation, and indignant inquiry upon the renderer of this unprecedented vote. The President was the first to speak, breaking out with Sir, Major Grayson, your vote, Sir, in direct defiance of the fact and the law upon it, is unprecedented, Sir, in the whole history of court-martial. I record it as uttered, nevertheless, replied Herbert. And your oath, Sir, what becomes of your oath as a judge of this court? I regard my oath in my vote. What, Sir? inquired Captain McConkey. Do you mean to say that you have rendered that vote in accordance with the facts elicited in evidence, as by your oath you were bound to do? Yes. How, Sir, do you mean to say that the prisoner did not sleep upon his post? Certainly I do not. On the contrary, I grant that he did sleep upon his post, and yet I maintain that in doing so he was not guilty. Major Grayson plays with us, said the President. By no means, Sir, I never was in more solemn earnest than at present. Your honor, the President and gentlemen judges of the court, as I am not counsel for the prisoner, nor civil officer, nor lawyer, of whose interference court-martials are proverbial jealous. I beg you will permit me to say a few words in support, or at least I will say an explanation of the vote which you have characterized as an opinion in opposition to facts and law, and unprecedented in the whole history of court-martial. Yes, it is, it is, said General W., shifting uneasily in his seat. You heard the defense of the prisoner, continued Herbert. You heard the narrative of his wrongs and sufferings, to the truth of which his every aspect bore testimony. I will not here express a judgment as to the motives that prompted his superior officers. I will merely advert to the facts themselves, in order to prove that the prisoner, under the circumstances, could not, without his human power, have done otherwise than what he did. Sir, if the prisoner considered himself wronged by his captain, which is very doubtful, he could have appealed to the colonel of his regiment. Sir, the Articles of War accord him that privilege. But is it ever taken advantage of? Is there a case on record where a private soldier ventures to make a dangerous enemy of his immediate superior by complaining of his captain to his colonel? Nor in this case would it have been of the least use, in as much as this soldier had well-founded reasons for believing the colonel of his regiment, his personal enemy, and the captain as the instrument of this enmity. And you, Major Grayson, do you coincide in the opinion of the prisoner? Do you think that there could have been anything in common between the colonel of the regiment and the poor private in the ranks, to explain such an equalizing sentiment as enmity, inquired Captain O'Donnelly? I answer distinctly, yes, sir. In the first place, this poor private is a young gentleman of birth and education, the heir of one of the most important estates in Virginia, and the betrothed of one of the most lovely girls in the world. In both these capacities he has stood in the way of Colonel Lenore, standing between him and the estate on one hand, and between him and the young lady on the other. He has disappointed Lenore both in love and ambition, and he has thereby made an enemy of the man who has, besides the nearest interest in his destruction. Gentlemen, what I say now in the absence of Colonel Lenore, I am prepared to repeat in his presence and maintain at the proper time and place. But how came this young gentleman of birth and expectations to be found in the ranks, inquired Captain Rosencrantz? How came we to have had strong sons of wealthy parents, fast young men of fortune, and run away students from the universities and colleges of the United States in our ranks? In a burst of boyish impatience the youth enlisted. Destiny gave him as the Colonel of his regiment his mortal enemy. Colonel Lenore found in Captain Zooten a ready instrument for his malignity, and between them both they have done all that could possibly be affected to defeat the good fortune and ensure the destruction of Traverse Rock. And I repeat, gentlemen, that what I feel constrained to affirm here in the absence of those officers, I shall assuredly repeat and maintain in their presence upon the proper occasion. In fact, I shall bring formal charges against Colonel Lenore and Captain Zooten of conduct unworthy of officers and gentlemen. But it seems to me that this is not directly to the point at issue, said Captain Kingsley. On the contrary, sir, it is the point, the whole point, and only point, as you shall presently see by attending to the facts that I shall recall to your memory. You and all present must, then, see that there was a deliberate purpose to affect the ruin of this young man. He was accused of having been found sleeping on his post, the penalty of which, in time of war, is death. Now listen to the history of the days that preceded his fault, and tell me if human nature could have withstood the trial. Sunday night was the last of repose to the prisoner until Friday morning when he was found asleep on his post. Monday night he was sent out with the reconnoitering party to Casa de Mata. Tuesday he was sent with the officer that carried our general's expositation to Santa Ana. At night he was put on guard. Wednesday he was sent with another party to protect a band of emigrants crossing the marshes. At night he was sent with still another party to reconnoiter Molina del Rey. Thursday he was sent in attendance upon the officer that carried dispatches to general Whitman, and did not return until after midnight when thoroughly worn out, driven indeed to the extreme degree of mortal endurance, he was again on a sultry oppressive night, in a still solitary place, set on guard, where a few hours later he was found asleep upon his post, by whom, the colonel of his regiment, and the captain of his company, who seemed bent upon his ruin, as I hold myself bound to establish before another court-martial. This result had been intended from the first. If five nights loss of sleep would not have affected this, fifteen probably would. If fifteen would not, thirty would. Or if thirty wouldn't, sixty would. And all this Captain Zutin had the power to enforce, until his doomed victim should fall into the hands of the provost-martial and into the arms of death. And now, gentlemen, in view of all these circumstances, I ask you, was Traverse Rock guilty of willful neglect of duty in dropping asleep at his post, and I move for a reconsideration, and a new ballot? Such a thing is without precedence, sir. These mitigating circumstances may be brought to bear on the Commander-in-Chief, and may be embodied in a recommendation to mercy. They should have no weight in the finding of the verdict, said the President, which should be in accordance with the fact and the law. And with justice and humanity, to find a verdict against this young man would be to place an unmerited brand upon his spotless name that no after clemency of the executive could wipe out. Gentlemen, will you do this? No, I am sure that you will not, and again I move for a new ballot. I second the motion, said Lieutenant Lovell, rising quite encouraged to believe in his own first instincts, which had been so favourable. Gentlemen, said the President sternly, this thing is without precedent, and all the annals of courts-martial without precedent. Then if there is no such precedent, it is quite time that such a one were established so that the iron car of literal law should not always roll over and crush justice. Gentlemen, shall we have a new ballot? Yes, yes, yes, were the answers. It is irregular, it is illegal, it is unprecedented. A new ballot? Never heard of such a thing in forty years of military life. Lord bless my soul, what is the service coming to? A new ballot, a new ballot, a new ballot, was the unanimous cry. The President groaned in spirit, and recorded a vow never to forgive Herbert Grayson for this departure from routine. The new ballot demanded by acclamation had to be held. The judge advocate called the court to order and began anew. The votes were taken as before, commencing with the young Lieutenant, who now responded sonoriously, not guilty, and so it ran around the entire circle. Not guilty, not guilty, not guilty, were the hearty responses of the court. The acquittal was unanimous, the verdict was recorded. The doors were then thrown open to the public, and the prisoner called in and publicly discharged from custody. The court then adjourned. Traverse Rock threw himself upon the bosom of his friend, exclaiming in a broken voice. I cannot sufficiently thank you, my dear mother and Clara will do that. Nonsense, said Herbert, laughing. Didn't I tell you that the Lord reigns and the devil is a fool? This is only the beginning of victories. End of chapter fifty-three. Chapter fifty-four of The Hidden Hand. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Bridget, The Hidden Hand, by E. D. E. N. Southworth. Chapter fifty-four, The End of the War. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, our bruised arms hung up for monuments, our stern allerums changed to merry meetings, our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front, and now, instead of mounting barbed steeds, to fright the souls of fearful adversaries, he capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, to the lascivious pleasing of a lute. Shakespeare. Ten days later, Molina del Rey, Casa de Mada, and Chipotlepec had fallen. The United States forces occupied the city of Mexico, General Scott was in the Grand Plaza, and the American standard waved above the capital of the Montezuma's. Let those who have a taste for swords and muskets, drums and trumpets, blood and fire, described the desperate battles and splendid victories that led to this final magnificent triumph. My business lies with the persons of our story, to illustrate whom I must pick out a few isolated instances of heroism in this glorious campaign. Herbert Grayson's division was a portion of the gallant 11th that charged the Mexican batteries on Molina del Rey. He covered his name with glory, and qualified himself to merit the command of the regiment, which he afterwards received. Traverse Rock fought like a young Paladin. When they were marching into the very mouths of the cannon, they were vomiting fire upon them, and when the young ensign of his company was struck down before him, Traverse Rock took the colors from his falling hand, and crying, Victory! pressed onward and upward over the dead and the dying, and springing upon one of the guns which continued to belch forth fire, he thrice waved the flag over his head, and then planted it upon the battery. Captain Zuhun fell in the subsequent assault upon Chapultepec. Colonel Lenore entered the city of Mexico with the victorious army, but on the subsequent day, being engaged in a street skirmish with the Laperos, or liberated convicts, he fell mortally wounded by a copper bullet, and he was now dying by inches at his quarters near the Grand Cathedral. It was on the evening of the 20th of September, six days from the triumphant entry of General Scott into the capital, that Major Grayson was seated at supper at his quarters, with some of his brother officers. When an orderly entered, and handed a note to Herbert, which proved to be a communication from the surgeon of the regiment, begging him to repair without delay to the quarters of Colonel Lenore, who being in extremity desired to see him. Major Grayson immediately excused himself to his company, and repaired to the quarters of the dying man. He found Colonel Lenore stretched upon his bed, in a state of extreme exhaustion, and attended by the surgeon, and chaplain of his regiment. As Herbert advanced to the side of his bed, Lenore stretched out his pale hand, and said, You bear no grudge against a dying man, Grayson. Certainly not, said Herbert, especially when he proposes doing the right thing, as I judge you do, from the fact of your sending for me. Yes, I do, I do, replied Lenore, pressing the hand that Herbert's kindness of heart could not withhold. Lenore then beckoned to the minister to hand him two sealed packages, which he took, and flayed upon the bed before him. Then taking up the larger of the two packets, he placed it in the hands of Herbert Grayson, saying, There, Grayson, I wish you to hand that to your friend, young Rock, who has received his colors, I understand. Yes, he has now the rank of Ensign. Then give this parcel into the hands of Ensign Rock, with the request that, being freely yielded up, they may not be used in any manner to harass the last hours of a dying man. I promise, on the part of my noble young friend, that they shall not be so used, said Herbert, as he took possession of the parcel. Lenore then took up the second packet, which was much smaller, but more firmly secured than the first, being in an envelope of parchment, sealed with three great seals. Lenore held it in his hand for a moment, gazing from the surgeon to the chaplain, and thence down upon the mysterious packet, while spasms of pain convulsed his countenance. At length he spoke. This second packet, Grayson, contains a, well, I may as well call it a narrative. I confide it to your care upon these conditions, that it shall not be opened until after my death and funeral, and that when it has served its purpose of restitution, it may be, as far as possible, forgotten. Will you promise me this? On my honor, yes, responded the young man, as he received the second parcel. This is all I have to say, except this, that you seem to me, upon every account, the most proper person to whom I could confide this trust. I thank you for accepting it, and I believe that I may safely promise that you will find the contents of the smaller packet of great importance and advantage to yourself and those dear to you. Herbert bowed in silence. That is all, good-bye. I wish now to be alone with our chaplain, said Colonel Lenore, extending his hand. Herbert pressed that wasted hand, silently sent up a prayer for the dying wrongdoer, bowed gravely and withdrew. It was almost eight o'clock, and Herbert thought that he would scarcely have time to find travers before the drum should beat to quarters. He was more fortunate than he had anticipated, for he had scarcely turned to the grand cathedral when he came full upon the young ensign. Ah, travers, I am very glad to meet you. I was just going to look for you. Come immediately to my rooms, for I have a very important communication to make to you. Colonel Lenore is supposed to be dying. He has given me a parcel to be handed to you, which I shrewdly suspect to contain your correspondence for the last two years, said Herbert. Travers started and gazed upon his friend in amazement, and was about to express his astonishment. When Herbert, seeing others approach, drew the arm of his friend within his own, and they hurried silently on toward Major Grayson's quarters. They had scarcely got in and closed the door and stricken a light, before Travers exclaimed impatiently. Give it to me! And almost snatched the parcel from Herbert's hands. West, don't be impatient. I dare say it is all stale news, said Herbert, as he yielded up the prize. They sat down together on each side of a little stand supporting a light. Herbert watched with sympathetic interest while Travers tore open the envelope and examined its contents. They were, as Herbert had anticipated, letters from the mother and the betrothed of Travers. Letters that had arrived and been intercepted from time to time for the preceding two years. There were blanks also directed in a strange hand to Travers, but familiar to Herbert is that of Old Hurricane, and those blanks enclosed drafts upon a New Orleans bank payable to the order of Travers Rock. Travers pushed all these letters aside with scarcely a glance, and not a word of inquiry, and began eagerly to examine the long desired, long withheld letters from the dear ones at home. His cheeks flamed to see that every seal was broken, and the fresh aroma of every heart-breathed word inhaled by others before they reached him. Look here, Travers, look here! Is this not insufferable? Every fond word of my mother, every delicate and sacred expression of regard from Clara, all read by the profane eyes of that man. That man is on his deathbed, Travers, and you must forgive him. He has restored your letters. Yes, after their sacred privacy has been profaned. Oh! Travers handed his mother's letters over to Herbert, that his foster brother might read them. But Clara's sacred epistles were kept to himself. What are you laughing at? inquired Travers, looking up from his page, and detecting Herbert with a smile upon his face. I am thinking that you are not as generous as you were some few years ago, when you would have given me Clara herself, for now you will not even let me have a glimpse of her letters. Have they now already been sufficiently published? said Travers, with an almost girlish smile and blush. When those cherished letters were all read and put away, Travers stooped down and fished up from amidst envelopes, strings, and waste paper, another set of letters, which proved to be the blanks in closing the checks, of various dates which Herbert recognized as coming anonymously from Old Hurricane. What in the world is a meaning of all this, Herbert? Have I and a Bob Uncle turned up anywhere, do you think? Look here, a hundred dollars, and a fifty, and another, all drafts upon the planter's bank, New Orleans, drawn in my favor, and signed by Largent and Doer, bankers. I, that haven't had five dollars at a time to call my own in the last two years. Here, Herbert, give me a good, sharp pinch to wake me up. I may be sleeping on my post again, said Travers, in perplexity. You are not sleeping, Travers. Are you sure? Perfectly, replied Herbert, laughing. Well, then, do you think that crack upon the crown of my head that I got in Chipotlepec has not injured my intellect? Not in the slightest degree, said Herbert, still laughing at his friend's perplexity. Then I am the hero of a fairy tale, that is all, a fairy tale in which waste paper is changed into banknotes, and private soldiers, Prince Palatines. Look here, cried Travers, desperately, thrusting the bank checks under the nose of his friend. Do you see those things and know what they are? And will you tell me that everything in this castle don't go by enchantment? Yes, I see what they are, and it seems to me perfectly natural that you should have them. Hump, said Travers, looking at Herbert with an expression that seemed to say that he thought the wits of his friend deranged. Travers, said Major Grayson, didn't never occur to you that you must have other relatives in the world besides your mother? Well, I suspect that those checks were sent by some relative of yours or your mother's, who just begins to remember that he has been neglecting you. Herbert, do you know this? inquired Travers anxiously. No, I do not know it. I only suspect this to be the case, said Herbert evasively. But what is that which you are forgetting? Oh, this! Yes, I had forgotten it. Let us see what it is, said Travers, examining a paper that had rested unobserved upon the stand. This is an order for my discharge, signed by the Secretary of War, and dated, ha ha ha, two years ago, here I have been serving two years illegally, and if I had been convicted of neglect of duty in sleeping on my post, I should have been shot unlawfully, as that man, when he prosecuted me, knew perfectly well, exclaimed Travers. That man, as I said before, lies upon his deathbed. Remember, nothing against him. But that order for a discharge, now that you are in the way of promotion and the war is over, will you take advantage of it? Decidedly, yes. For though I am said to have acquitted myself passively well at Chapultepec, gloriously, Travers, you won your colors gloriously. Yet for all that my true mission is not to break men's bones, but to set them when broken. Not to take men's lives, but to save them when endangered. So, tomorrow morning, please, Providence, I shall present this order to General Butler and apply for my discharge. And you will set out immediately for home? The face of Travers suddenly changed. I should like to do so. Oh, how I should like to see my dear mother and Clara, if only for a day. But I must not indulge the longing of my heart. I must not go home until I can do so with honour. And can you not do so now, you who triumphed over all your personal enemies, and who won your colors at Chapultepec? No, for all this was in my legitimate profession. Nor will I present myself at home until, by the blessing of the Lord, I have done what I set out to do, and established myself in a good practice. And so, by the help of heaven, I hope within one week to be on my way to New Orleans to try my fortune in that city. To New Orleans, and a new malignant fever of some horrible unknown type raging there, exclaimed Herbert. So much the more need of a physician. Herbert, I am not the least uneasy on the subject of infection. I have a new theory for its annihilation. I never saw a clever young professional man without a theory, laughed Herbert. The drum was now heard beating the tattoo, and the friends separated with hearts full of revived hope. The next morning, Travers presented the order of the secretary to the commander-in-chief, and received his discharge. And then, after writing long, loving, and hopeful letters to his mother and his betrothed, and in treating the former to try to find out who was the secret benefactor who had sent him such timely aid, Travers took leave of his friends, and set out for the south queen of the cities, once more to seek his fortune. Meantime, the United States Army continued to occupy the city of Mexico through the whole of the autumn and winter. General Butler, who temporarily succeeded the illustrious scot in the chief command, very wisely arranged the terms of an armistice with the enemy that was intended to last two months from the beginning of February, but which happily lasted until the conclusion of the Treaty of Peace between the two countries. Colonel Lenore had not been dusted soon to die. His wound, an inward canker from a copper bullet that the surgeon had at length succeeded in extracting, took the form of a chronic fester disease. Since the night upon which he had been so extremely ill to be supposed dying, and yet had rallied, the doctors felt no apprehensions of his speedy death, though they gave no hopes of his final recovery. Under these circumstances there were hours in which Lenore bitterly regretted his precipitation in permitting those important documents to go out of his hands. And he frequently sent for Herbert Grayson in private to require his assurances that he would not open the packet confided to him before the occurrence of the event specified. And Herbert always soothed the sufferer by reiterating his promise that so long as Colonel Lenore should survive the seals of that packet should not be broken. Beyond the suspicion that the parcel contained an important confession, Herbert Grayson was entirely ignorant of its contents. But the life of Gabriel Lenore was prolonged beyond all human calculus of probabilities. He was spared to experience a more effectual repentance than the spurious one into which he had been frightened by the seeming rapid approach of death, and after seven months of lingering illness and gradual decline, during the latter portions of which he was comforted by the society of his only son, who had come at his summons to visit him, in May 1848 Gabriel Lenore expired as a sincere penitent, reconciled to God and man. And soon afterward, in the month of May, the Treaty of Peace having been ratified by the Mexican Congress at Queratero, the American Army evacuated the city and territory of Mexico, and our brave soldiers, their brows crowned with victorious wreaths, set out upon the return to home and friends. End of Chapter 54 Chapter 55 of The Hidden Hand This LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Bridget, The Hidden Hand, by E. D. E. N. Southworth, Chapter 55 The Fortunate Bath Heaven has to all allotted soon or late some lucky revolution of their fate, whose motions if we watch and guide with skill, for human good depends on human will, our fortune rolls as from a smooth descent, and from the first impression takes its bent. Now, now she meets you with a glorious prize, and spreads her locks before you as she flies, dried in. Meanwhile, what had our young adventurer been doing in all those months between September and June? Traverse, with his two hundred dollars, had set out for New Orleans about the first of October, but by the time he had paid his traveling expenses and fitted himself out with the respectable suit of professional black and a few necessary books, his little capital had diminished three quarters, so that when he found himself settled in his new office, in a highly respectable quarter of the city, he had but fifty dollars and a few dimes left. A portion of this sum was expended in a cheap sofa bed, a closed wash stand, and a spirit lamp coffee boiler, for Traverse determined to lodge in his office and board himself, which will have this additional advantage, said the cheerful fellow to himself, for besides saving me from debt, it will keep me always on hand for calls. The fever, though it was October, had scarcely abated. Indeed, on the contrary, it seemed to have revived and increased in virulency in consequence of the premature return of many people who had fled on its first appearance, and in who coming back too soon to the infected atmosphere are less able to withstand contagion than those who had remained. That Traverse escaped the plague was owing not so much to his favorite theory as to his vigorous constitution, pure blood, and regular habits of temperance, cleanliness, and cheerful activity of mind and body. Just then the demand was greater than the supply of medical service. Traverse found plenty to do, and his pleasant young face, and hopeful and confident manners, won him great favor in sickrums, where, whether it were to be ascribed to his theory, his practice, or to the happy inspiring influence of his personal presence, or to all these together, with the blessing of the Lord upon them, it is certain that he was very successful in raising the sick. It is true that he did not earn five dollars in his many days, for his practice, like that of almost every very young professional man, was among the indigent. But what of that? What if he were not running up heavy accounts against wealthy patrons? He was giving to the poor, not money, for he himself was as poor as any of them. But his time, labor, and professional skill, he was giving to the poor, he was lending to the Lord, and he liked the security. And the most successful speculator that ever made a fortune on change never, never invested time, labor, or money to a sureer advantage. And this I would say for the encouragement of all young persons in similar circumstances. Do not be impatient if the returns are a little while delayed, for they are so sure and so rich that they are quite worth waiting for. Nor will the waiting be long. Give your services cheerfully, also, for the Lord loveth a cheerful giver. Traverse managed to keep out of debt. He regularly paid his office rent and his laundress's bill. He daily purchased his mutton shop, or pound of beef steak, and broiled it himself. He made his coffee, swept and dusted his office, put up his sofa bed, blacked his boots, and oh, miracle of independence. He mended his own gloves, and sewed on his own shirt buttons. For you may depend that the widow's son knew how to do all these things. Nor was there a bit of hardship in his having to wait so upon himself. Though of his mother and Clara, and their well provided, and comfortable home at Willow Heights, had only known how destitute the young man was a female aide in comfort, how they would have cried. No one but himself to mend his poor dear gloves. Oh, oh, boo-hoo-hoo! Traverse never alluded to his straightened circumstances, but boasted of the comfort of his quarters and the extent of his practice, and declared his income already exceeded his outlay, which was perfectly true since he was resolved to live within it, whatever it might be. As the fever began to subside, Traverse's practice declined, and about the middle of November his occupation was gone. We said that his office was in the most respectable locality in the city. It was in fact on the ground floor of a first class hotel. It happened that one night, near the close of winter, Traverse lay awake on his sofa bed-stead, turning over in his mind how he should contrive to make both ends meet at the conclusion of the present term, and feeling as near despondency as it was possible for his buoyant and God-trusting soul to be when there came a loud ringing at his office bell. This reminded him of the stirring days and nights of the preceding autumn. He started up at once to answer the summons. Who's there? Is Dr. Rockin? Yes, what's wanted? A gentleman, sir, and a house here, sir, taken very bad, once the doctor directly. Room number five hundred fifty-five. Very well, I will be with the gentleman immediately, answered Traverse, plunging his head into a basin of cold water and drying it hastily. In five minutes Traverse was in the office of the hotel, inquiring for a waiter to show him up into five hundred fifty-five. One was ordered to attend him, who led the way up several flights of stairs and around diverse galleries, until he opened a door and ushered the doctor immediately into the sick-room. There was a little old, dried-up French woman in a brown merino gown and a high-crowned muslin cap who hopped and chattered about the bed like a frightened magpie. We, Missoula doctor, she screamed, jumping at Traverse in a way to make him start back. We, Missoula doctor, I am very happy to see you. Voila, mofrere, behold my brother, he is ill, he is vera ill, he is dead, he is vera dead. I hope not, said Traverse, approaching the bed. Voila, behold, moju. He is vera still, he is vera cold, he is vera dead. What can you do, mofrere? My brother to save. Be composed, madam, if you please, and allow me to examine my patient, said Traverse. Ma foie, I know not what you speak, compose. What can you, my brother, to save? Much, I hope, madam. But you must leave me to examine my patient and not interrupt me, said Traverse, passing his hand over the naked chest of the sick man. Moju, I know not examine and interrupt, and I know not what you can mofrere to save. If you don't hush, parli vuing, the doctor can do no thing, mom, said the waiter, in a respectful tone. Traverse found his patient in a bad condition, in a stupor, if not in a state of positive insensibility. The surface of his body was cold as ice, and apparently without the least vitality. If he was not, as his sister had expressed it, vera dead, he was certainly next to it. By close questioning, and by putting his questions in various forms, the doctor learned from the chattering little magpie of a French woman, that the patient had been ill for nine days, that he had been under the care of Moju, Le Docteur, Cartier, that there had been a consultation of physicians, that they had prescribed for him and given him over, that Le Docteur, Cartier still attended him, but was at this instant in attendance as in a cartier to a lady in extreme danger, whom he could not leave. But Dr. Cartier had directed them, in his unavoidable absence, to call on the skillful, the talented, the soon-to-be illustrious young Dr. Rock, who was also near at hand. The heart of Traverse thrilled with joy, the Lord had remembered him. His best skill spent upon the poor and needy, who could make him no return, but whose lives he had succeeded in saving, had reached the ears of the celebrated Dr. C., who had with the unobtrusive magnanimity of real genius, quietly recommended him to his own patrons. Oh, well he would do his very best, not only to advance his own professional interests and to please his mother and Clara, but also to do honor to the magnanimous Dr. C.'s recommendation. Here, too, was an opportunity of putting in practice his favorite theory. But first of all, it was necessary to be informed of the preceding mode of treatment and its results. So he further questioned the little restless magpie, and by ingeniously framed inquiries, succeeded in gaining from her the necessary knowledge of his patient's antecendence. He examined all the medicines that had been used, and informed himself of their effects upon the disease. But the most serious difficulty of all seemed to be the impossibility of raising vital action upon the cold, dead skin. The chattering little woman informed him that the patient had been covered with blisters that would not pull, that would not delineate, that would not, what you call it, draw. Traverse could easily believe this, for not only the skin, but the very flesh of the old doctor seemed bloodless and lifeless. Now, for his theory, what would kill a healthy man with a perfect circulation might save the life of this dying one, whose whole surface, inch deep, seemed already dead. Put him in a bath of mustard water, as hot as you can bear your own hand in, and continue to raise the temperature slowly, watching the effect for about five minutes. I will go down and prepare a cordial draught to be taken the moment he gets back to bed, said Dr. Rock, who immediately left the room. His directions were all but too well obeyed. The bathing-tub was quickly brought into the chamber, and filled with water as hot as the nurse could bear her hand in. Then the invalid was hastily invested in a slight bathing-gown, and lifted by two servants, and laid in the hot bath. Now, bring quickly, water boiling, said the little old woman, imperatively. And when a large copper kettle was forthcoming, she took it, and began to pour a stream of hissing, bubbling water in at the foot of the bath. The skin of the torpid patient had been reddening for a few seconds, so as to prove that its sensibility was returning. And now, when the stream from the kettle began to mix with the already very hot bath, and to raise its temperature almost to boiling, suddenly there was heard a cry from the bath, and the patient, with the agility of youth and health, skipped out of the tub and into his bed, kicking vigorously and exclaiming, Brigands, assassins, you have scalded my legs to death. Glory be to the Lord, he's saved, cried one of the waiters, a devout Irishman. Siola, he speaks, he moves, he lives. Mo frere, cried the little Frenchman, going to him. Ah, murderers, bandits, you've scalded me to death. I'll have you all before the commissioner. He scolds, he threatens, he swears, he gets well. Mo frere, cried the old woman, busying herself to change his clothes and put on his flannel nightgown. They then tucked him up warmly in bed, and put bottles of hot water all around to keep up this newly stimulated circulation. At that moment Dr. Rock came in, put his hand into the bathtub, and could scarcely repress a cry of pain and of horror. The water scalded his fingers. What must it have done to the sick man? Good heavens, madam, I did not tell you to parboil your patient, exclaimed Trevers, speaking to the old woman. Trevers was shocked to find how perilously his orders had been exceeded. Eh bia! M'jeu, he lives, he does well. Voila, Mo frere, exclaimed the little old woman. It was true, the accidental, boiling bath, as it might almost be called, had affected what perhaps no other means in the world could, a restored circulation. The disease was broken up, and the convalescence of the patient was rapid. And as Trevers kept his own secret concerning the accidental high temperature of that bath, which everyone considered a fearful and successful experiment, the fame of Dr. Rock spread over the whole city and country. He would soon have made a fortune in New Orleans, had not the hand of destiny beckoned him elsewhere. It happened thus. The old Frenchman whose life Trevers had, partly by accident, and partly by design, succeeded in saving, comprehended perfectly well how narrow his escape from death had been, and attributed his restoration solely to the genius, skill, and boldness of his young physician, and was grateful, accordingly, with all a Frenchman's noisy demonstration. He called Trevers his friend, his deliverer, his son. One day, as soon as he found himself strong enough to think of pursuing his journey, he called his son into the room, and explained to him that he, Dr. Pierre Sojourn, was the proprietor of a private insane asylum, very exclusive, very quiet, very aristocratic, indeed, receiving none but patience of the highest rank, that this retreat was situated on the wooded banks of a charming lake in one of the most healthy and beautiful neighborhoods of East Feliciana, that he had originally come down to the city to engage the services of some young physician of talent as his assistant, and finally that he would be delighted and raptured if his deliverer, his friend, his son, would accept the post. Now Trevers particularly wished to study the various phases of mental derangement, a department of his professional education that had hitherto been open to him only through books. He explained this to his old friend, the French physician, who immediately went off into ecstatic exclamations of joy as, good, great, grand, and I shall now repay my good child, my dear son, for his so excellent skill. The terms of the engagement were soon arranged, and Trevers prepared to accompany his new friend to his beautiful retreat, the private madhouse. But Trevers wrote to his mother and to Clara in Virginia, and also to Herbert Grayson in Mexico, to apprise them of his good fortune.