 19. Justice After the arrest of Walter, the doctor and Sam rode back over their tracks, one as disconsolate as the other. It was not a pleasant duty that loomed up before them in the all-tunier future. Walter was gone. He would be missed and questions would be asked. Then what? Oh, Lord! sighed the doctor. Sam, what are we going to do? What are we going to say to them when they ask for him? Well, it don't seem days nothing else fall me to do but to tell the truth. My Lord, you are in desperate straits. That's always a man's last resort. Now, for my part, I'd a good deal rather lie if it would do any good. But the devil's going to be raised and they'll be sure to find out. Biff, there goes my reputation. I tried to persuade your master to let me take this business on my hands. It would have been a good deal better to have faced Forsythe and have shot him or been shot than to face these bereaved women. But I'm in for it now. So come along, Sam. You take a hint from me. If I decide to tell the truth, you tell it. If I decide to lie, you fall in and outlie the devil and stick to it. As they neared the steward home, the spirits of both of them sank lower still. The sun was now overhead and was fast drying the due laden grass by the roadside. The day was clear and bright, or they might have taken for an apparition the white-faced figure that stepped out in the road before them. The doctor drew in his horse with an exclamation and Sam's eyes threatened to leave their sockets. Where's he? Where's he? cried Dolly. What has happened to him? The dumbfounded men gazed first at the misery distraught woman and then helplessly at each other. Oh, don't keep me in suspense. Tell me, where is Walter? She had thrown aside all reserve and false monesty and stood before them, self-confessed, a woman distressed for the safety of her lover. Why, why, Miss Etheridge, stammered Daniel. You tell me, Sam, I command you to tell me the truth. I see in Dr. Daniel's eyes his intention to hide something from me. The slave looked at his companion for guidance, but getting no help from him, he mumbled, Mass Walter, why, he went with the lieutenant, went with him. What do you mean? Was he hurt? Have you deserted him? Oh, doctor, please, please tell me. It was for me that he went into this. Daniel dismounted and, throwing his bridle over his arm, he began leading the girl towards the house. I'll tell you the truth, he said, and as briefly and gently as possible, he related what had taken place. She heard him throw in silence and then asked, what will they do with him? That I cannot tell, Miss Etheridge, but I don't see how they can do much when the truth is known. But how will the truth be known? I cannot vouch for that either, but whatever I can do to make it known shall be done. I am going up home to arrange my affairs, so that I may be away, and then I shall start for Colonel Braxton's headquarters, whether he will be taken. Will you take a letter for me? With pleasure. Thank you, doctor. Thank you for your kindness to him and to me. I will have the letter ready when you return. Goodbye until then. She was hastening away, but he detained her. I am going up to the house, he said. You must not. I will break it to them as you cannot. But do you think it quite right? he asked, with a look of relief that belied his anxious tone. I can do it better than you, so do not wait for me. Mount and lose no time. She hurried on, and he rejoined Sam. It's all right, Sam. Just keep your mouth shut. The tellin' will be done for us better than we can do it. By Jove, he said later, as he left the servant at the gate and rode on past, if I could find a woman who loved me like that, I'd be hanged if I wouldn't risk it. I would. With swift but reluctant steps, Dolly made her way homeward, and sought out Emily and her mother. Her face was pale and drawn with pain, and her girl companion saw it once that something was wrong. What is it, Dolly? she asked, hastening to her. Let me sit down. I don't know what you will say to me, Mrs. Stewart, and you, Emily, how you will feel towards me. Nothing can ever change us towards you, Dolly, so be calm, said Emily, putting her arms around her. I should have told you last night, but he wouldn't let me. He was afraid you would be worried. Is it about Walter? exclaimed his mother. What has happened to him? He is at Colonel Braxton's headquarters under arrest. Under arrest, cried the two women. But Dolly said, Emily, how could they arrest him? He was paroled. Oh, you will think that I am a wicked, heartless girl, for it is all my fault. Your fault, how? Emily's tone was colder, and she withdrew her arm from Dolly's waist. Don't leave me, Emily, till you understand. There was a personal encounter last night between Walter and Lieutenant Forsythe, and it resulted in a meeting between them this morning. A duel? It would have been, but they were both arrested by a squad this morning and taken away. Why did you not tell us this before, Dolly, so that we might have stopped it? said Mrs. Stewart sternly. Walter forbade me, and I could not violate his confidence. There are times when even a violation of confidence might be justifiable. The girl raised her tear-stained face to the older women. You do not understand, she said. He was involved on my account, and he trusted me. Suppose I had violated this trust, told you, and the matter had been stopped by you. What would they have said? His mother intervened to save him. Mrs. Stewart, Walter's honor is as dear to me as to you or Emily, and I could not do that. Forgive me, child, you are right, but this is very hard. I know it, but though I could not save him then without dishonor, I shall try to help him now, by writing the whole story to Colonel Braxton. Who will take it? Dr. Daniel is going to the camp to intercede for Walter, and will call for my letter soon. I will go now and write it. Do try to be calm. They can't be hard upon him when they know what a hero he has been. Mrs. Stewart patted the girl's hand gently and said, His mother and sister will try to be as brave as his sweetheart, cried Dolly, blushing, and taking the gray-haired woman in her arms. She kissed her and sped from the room. Emily laughed. Why, daughter, how can you laugh at such a time? asked her mother. Because I feel so sure that Walter is safe and will come back to us unharmed and without dishonor. Don't be sanguine, dear. The conditions of war are very different from those of peace. I know, mother, but would you have had him do less? I don't know, and yes I do. Your father's son could have done no less. It was not long before Dr. Daniel came hastening back, but quick as he was, Dolly Etheridge was ready with her letter. I want you to forgive me, he said, for my pardon this affair, but you must understand that I am not greatly to blame. I beg Stewart to let me chip in, but he's an awfully proud fellow, you see, and he wouldn't let me do it. I was particularly anxious to get a chance at foresight. But your son, Mrs. Stewart, said that it was his quarrel, and I could only play second fiddle. To be sure, I might have locked him in his room and gone as proxy, but I didn't think he'd like it. Why, that would have been horrible, exclaimed Emily. Yes, but you'd have had your brother with you now. We should not have wanted him at that cost, was the sister's reply. No, Walter has been perfectly right, added the mother. Perhaps I did the best thing after all, said the Doctor roofily, but it's pretty hard to see such a chance escape never to return. Have you any quarrel with Lieutenant Forsythe? Oh no, no special quarrel. It was just general principles with me. I really believe the Confederate army would have voted your son a medal if he had rid them of a hound who gained his position through the worst influence, and holds it through duplicity. But I mustn't stand here chattering all morning. I am quite ready to take your letter, Miss Dolly, and I am sure it will do as much good as you wanted to do. Miss Etheridge handed him her missive with a blush. Bring him back with you, she said. Well, I won't promise to do just that, but if I don't, I'll bring you good news anyhow, and I won't spare any time in getting this into the proper hands. Good morning to you ladies, and good cheer. And the good Doctor leapt into his saddle and cantered away, leaving behind him a cheerier household than he had found. It was ten miles to his destination, but he made short work of it, sent his message through the lines, and received safe conduct to the Colonel. This officer was a grizzled veteran who had seen service in the Mexican War, and who was bent on doing for the raw material that he had in hand what years of service had done for him. He was as kind of heart as he was brisk of manner. To him, Dr. Daniel came with his own story, and Dolly's letter, which the Colonel read grimly. You are a friend of the prisoners, I suppose? Yes, I haven't known him long, but I have learned to like him right well. Do you know that this liking of yours and your connection with their affairs likely to involve you in difficulty? Well, now I hadn't thought of that, but it doesn't matter in the least. The Colonel bent industriously over the paper in his hand, and a smile flickered through his gray mustache. Are you acquainted also with Lieutenant Forsythe? Daniel strained himself up angrily. I know Forsythe. I said Lieutenant Forsythe. Beg pardon, Colonel, but... Enough, sir. Who is this Miss Etheridge? She's a daughter of old Nelson Etheridge of Rockford, sir. Who was related, I believe, to the Etherages of Mecklenburg County? Well, sir, I'm not just up on genealogy and all that sort of thing, but I dare say you're right. Most Old Virginians are related, you know. It's become a state habit. Again, the Colonel had recourse to the papers to hide his amusement. When he looked up again, he said, I shall have to detain you, Dr. Daniel, until I look further into this case. Discipline has been altogether too lax here of late, and while disaffection has not become common in Virginia, there is altogether too great a tendency towards it. I hope you don't feel any doubt about me, Colonel. It isn't a matter of personal feeling. Of course not. I ought to have known that. In fact, I did know it, and yet I feel that you are saying what is an able-bodied fellow like that doing at home? Well, I'm not home for choice or for all time, yet there are some things to be done before I can go where the rest of the fellows of my age are. There are women and children to be looked after and dosed, until now there have been things outside of the army that I could do for Virginia, but as soon as a breathing time comes, I shall be where I should be. The Colonel's eyes were very bright as he looked at the young man, but he only said, no doubt, and called an officer to take Daniel away. There's a man who would make a good fighter, but a damned bad soldier was the veteran's mental comment. He's too free and easy. Bring in the prisoner Stuart, was his command to the orderly. The appearance of Walter was hardly that of a felon when he came into the presence of the commanding officer. His eyes were clear, his head high, and his stepped firm. There was no sign of fear in the manner in which he met his judges' gaze. Your name is Walter Stuart, and you were until first taken a soldier of the Northern Army? I was. You were taken when within the Confederate lines, and were paroled when you might have been dealt with as a spy. My business within your lines was perfectly clear. That does not alter the case. You were paroled and violated the parole. I do not feel that the latter is the case, sir. What cried the Colonel sternly? Do you dare to deny it? I deny none of the facts of the case, sir. I only question their construction. You have no right to question, sir. You are a prisoner to be judged. The case to my mind is perfectly clear against you. You are the judge, said Walter calmly. You were found, sir, in the very act of an encounter with a Confederate officer after having assaulted him on the night before. We consider, sir, that you have violated your parole and broken your word of honor. When Virginia thinks that by protecting a defenseless woman, a man tarnishes his honor or forfeits his word, I begin to feel sorry for my father's state. Sir, you are not the guardian of Virginia's honor. I am the guardian of my own, though. Then you should have seemed better to it than to have broken your parole. You know the consequences. I am not afraid of the consequences. I am willing to abide by them. But I do not think that I have violated my parole. I have not taken up arms against the Confederate states, unless they are warring against their own defenseless women. Nor have I given aid or comfort to your enemies, unless you consider as an enemy a woman who has never by word or deed shown anything but allegiance to the South she loves. Aham, said the Colonel. Furthermore, my quarrel, my encounter, was not against your government but against the injustice of one man. It was not an encounter involving national views, but a purely personal encounter. In troubleous times like these, no encounter with an officer of ours can be considered as personal. I hope, sir, that you have not also suspended the rule in regard to respectful women. You are pleased to be impertinent, and yet I answer that I hope Virginia will never be guilty of that, Walter Bowd. I understand that you are a son of the late Colonel Stuart of Virginia, gentlemen. I was never more his son than now. I doubt that. I knew your father. My father, placed in the same position I was, would, I believe, have acted as I did. Without doubt, I beg your pardon, the Colonel checked himself. But yours are rules of civil life, and your laws are for civilians. At present, we are under military rule. Having been a soldier, I understand that. I am in your hands. Sergeant of the God, you will hold the prisoner under arrest until further orders. I will look into your case and consider it further. Retire. A moment, Sergeant. The non-commissioned officer paused just out of your shot of Walter, and the Colonel whispered, trade him well, Sergeant. He's a steward clear through. After the dismissal of Walter, Lieutenant Forsythe was brought into the Colonel's presence. The conference between him and his superior officer was short and decisive. Lieutenant Forsythe, you gave as your reason for entering the house of Miss Ethridge that you were on a search for her brother. I did. You were not aware that her brother had been for some time in the Union Army? I had received reliable information that led me to believe that he had returned and was in hiding at home. After gaining entrance into the house, why did you insist upon Miss Ethridge's accompanying you in your search? Forsythe hesitated and turned color under the Colonel's glance. I wished to be able to watch her face and so tell when I was upon the scent. Why, when you had the chance to search the house without her, did you not do it? I was sure her brother had been given time and opportunity to escape. Now, Lieutenant Forsythe, will you tell me by whose orders you went upon this search for Nelson Ethridge? I thought that the captor of an enemy will you answer my question upon no one's specific orders, but no buts about it. I am answered. Will you ever assude her for Miss Ethridge's hand? I considered that a personal question, sir. Forsythe saw that the hope for him was gone and he could be no worse off by taking a stand on dignified effrontery. Oh, you consider it a personal question? I do, and one that has nothing to do with my service. And as such you refuse to answer it? Very well. You have no doubt understood the rules of this command in regard to the treatment of women. Yes, but that will do, Lieutenant Forsythe. A court martial will attend to your case. The Lieutenant saluted and was taken away under guard. Walter and Dr. Daniel were then summoned. Young man, said the colonel to the former, I regret that I find cause neither to hold nor to punish you. I regret, too, that you have chosen a course alien to your father's traditions and beliefs. But that, of course, is not my affair. I advise you in the future, however, to keep clear of collisions with our officers or the next time you may knock it off so easily. Walter felt it the part of wisdom to make no reply and so merely bound. You, Dr. Daniel, said the colonel, turning to the physician, will always find a welcome here. And whenever, if ever, you choose to throw your lot in with us, I hope to have you in my command. Thank you, colonel. Thank you, sir. The two men were conducted safely away from camp and set on their homeward way. But Cho Stewart, said the doctor heartily, I wish you weren't a Yankee. I'm hardly a Yankee doctor, as you use the term. But knowing Ohio and knowing Virginia through such men as you, I am more than ever for the union that will keep two such states together. Let that union be bought at whatever price it may. The two men clasped hands across their saddle bows. The physician took Walter's praise as ingenuously as a child. I wish, he said, that more northerners knew us southerners. If the two sections did know each other better, a deal of blood might be saved. It was a grave ride home, but the rejoicings at the end of the journey compensated for all the serious thought along the way. Bless you, Dr. Daniel, said Mrs. Stewart fervently. Oh, don't thank me, Mrs. Stewart. I'm not a drop in the bucket. It was Miss Dolly's letter that fixed everything. Dolly's letter, cried Walter. The girl blushed, and the doctor added, Maybe I'm telling tales out of school. You shall tell me about it, Dolly, said Walter, with glowing eyes. This was perhaps only an excuse to lead her away from the rest for a walk in the arbor. What excuse Dr. Daniel gave for leading Emily in an opposite direction matters not, but it must have been satisfactory, for Mrs. Stewart found the housewife's excuse of her work to leave them, and the doctor stayed to supper. Despite the apparent cheerfulness with which Mary Waters went her way in the woods household, she was not entirely her own old self. There was an air about her, not so much of sadness as of repression. She tried, as well as the circumstances of the household allowed, to be alone, although nanny, feeling that brooding over her experiences must be unprofitable to her friend, attempted to correct this tendency in her. She was not always successful, for notwithstanding the pliancy of her disposition with those whom she loved, Bradford Waters' daughter had something of a will of her own, and there were times when she would elude nanny's vigilance, or repel her advances, and wander away to indulge her moods to herself. As the Midsummer approached, she grew restless and preoccupied, and often she would awake nanny at night by starting up with cries of terror. But on being questioned, the only reply she would make was that she had been dreaming. Her dreams she would not tell at first. Finally, the fancy so grew upon her that nanny began to tax her with keeping something back. Mary continued, reticent, but worn and weak, she at last surrendered to her friend's stronger nature. You've just got to tell me what it is, Mary Waters, said nanny. Something is troubling your mind, and you are troubling mine. But it's such a foolish thing, nanny. I don't care. Folly is none the worse for being shared with someone. Do you believe in dreams? I don't know. Tell me yours and I'll see. If I believe it means anything, I'll tell you. Honestly, I will. Well, I have the vision of a black rider that continually comes to me in a sort of stupa that I experience between sleeping and waking. I cannot describe what I mean nor the feeling of it, but I know I am not asleep nor yet awake. The rider is always going along a dark road, and he comes up and holds out his arms to me. His face is covered, but I know him. It is the form of Robert Bandoren. But before I can touch his hand, he is gone, and when I call out after him, everything grows utterly black, and I am awake with a terrible misgiven at my heart. Oh, I am afraid something has happened to him. The girl seldom let herself out so fully, and Nanny saw that she was terribly wrought up. It is nothing, Mary, she said. You've been brewed in too much, and it has made you nervous and sleepless. It will all come out right if you try not to worry and wonder too much. I knew you would say that, and I would rather not have told you. Don't be offended, dear. What I say is only for the best. It is what Tom would say to you if he were here. Yes, that's true, for he would understand no better than you, Nanny. There is with me something more than the dream. A feeling here, she pressed her hand to her breast. A peculiar ache that isn't so much an ache as a premonition of one. You don't know what I mean, but I do. I think I almost understand. It's the same feeling that I have in my feet just before I step on the jack in your father's warehouse. Mary looked up quickly to see if her friend was joking, but the eyes that met her own were perfectly serious, and though she could not vouch for the correctness of the likeness, she felt that somehow Nanny understood. But, the latter pursued, I never let the feeling in my foot get the better of me, and neither must you give way to that in your heart. It may be there, and it may seem something, but just keep on going. That's hardly necessary advice, smiled Mary. It's the one thing that we have to do in life. Keep on going. No matter how many pre-sentiments you have, you've got to go on to their fulfillment. That's one thing that gives me the horrors at times until I want to shriek aloud this unending forward movement. If one could only stop sometimes, but we can't. Don't, Mary, don't. There are some things that we must neither think nor talk about, some things that we must leave to a higher intelligence than ours. But suppose that one does think about them, that one cannot help it, that everything suggests these thoughts. Oh, in that case, one goes out into the open air with me, walks down to the shop, and as she has a quick eye, helps me match some goods, and seeking to divert her mind from the gloomy thoughts that were taking possession of it, Nanny hurried Mary into her hat and out upon the streets. The day was full of sunshine, but the air was limpid with the suggestion of rain, and a soft breeze blew up from the river. The town was humming and drowsing comfortably, and there was nothing in its appearance to indicate that just a little below the surface, there smoldered volcanic fires of discontent and unrest. The whole place was the embodiment of peace. The blinds of the houses were closed to keep out the garish sunlight, and the most active sign of life upon the resident streets was the young children playing in the gutters and on the pavements. Something of the restfulness of the scene possessed Mary, and for the time drove the clouds from her mind. The bright day and her forebodings did not set well together. Could it be true that on such a morning as this, with such a sky overhead, men could be hating each other and seeking each other's lives? Her mind rejected the incongruity. After all, the darkest hour is just before dawn. She had been going through her dark hour, and now all the brightness and beauty about her were but the promise of the better time coming. She went into the shop with Nanny, stepping lightly and with a smile on her face. Though poetry has told us that coming events cast their shadows before them, science has not troubled itself to deal largely with this subject of premonition. Nor is it believable that those shadows are cast upon all hearts. But there is little doubt that to some there is given the added sorrow of feeling the approach of catastrophe some time before the fact. Call it pre-sentiment or what you will. There are those who are capable of feeling disaster before it comes. Of these was Mary Waters, and bright as her face had been when she entered the shop with Nanny, the clouds had settled upon it again when she emerged. Let us walk up Main Street, she said, and her companion agreed. Nanny chatted on cheerfully because she had not noted Mary's return to her former depression. Had she only looked at her companion's gloomy face, her flow of talk would have been checked. Mary's eyes were fastened upon a knot of people surrounding a bulletin board in front of the diurnal office. Something is wrong, said Mary suddenly, breaking in on her friend's talk. Why do you think so? asked the surprised girl. Look at the crowd up there. Let us go and see. Reluctantly Nanny complied, and they were soon on the outskirts of the growing crowd. They could not get near enough to see the words on the board, but someone read aloud for the benefit of the latecomers the words that made Mary pale with terror and turn hastily away. John Morgan with his cavalry has crossed the river and is advancing into Ohio. John Morgan is in Ohio, and Robert is with him. My vision, the black rider. The disjointed words beat time to the throbbing of her heart. John Morgan is in Ohio, and Robert is with him. The news spread like wildfire, and already the town was alive with people hastening to the center of intelligence. The drowsy summer quiet had gone from the streets as if by magic, and instead there were the shuffling of feet and the babble of many tongues. But Mary did not speak, and Nanny gave her the sympathy of silence. Only when they were in the house again did she say, I shall never question your feelings again, never. Then with rare good sense she left Mary to herself. The shock coming as it had as a confirmation of her fears and holding in it unknown possibilities for trouble had a severe effect upon the girl. She was distressed for the safety of her lover, but not only that, for a new element had entered into her feelings. Here too far she had had little or no doubt as to the righteousness of her loyalty to Robert. But now it was a very different thing. He was no longer a brave man exiled and driven into the army of the enemy. He was now the invader of his own home and hers. As long as he fought on the soil of his father's state against invasion, he might still have her love and sympathy. But did he not, by this last act, forfeit both? Reasoning with a woman's narrow vision, she admitted his right to defend himself and those he loved against the government, but questioned his privilege to attack it. It is not to be denied that sentiment had much to do with Mary's point of view. In one role Robert was the prince, in the other the ogre, and she could not quite reconcile herself to sympathy with the ogre. It was rather a nice question to ask her to decide whether the right of defense did not carry with it the right of attack. There was something of horror in the picture she drew of him, riding a marauder over the fields of the state that had so long sheltered him. In her mind the whole invasion was narrowed down to one man. It was not Morgan and his men. It was Robert, Robert for whom she had left home, for whom she had suffered contempt. What did it matter to her that John Morgan was with him? What did it matter to her that he was one of two thousand? Then her trend of thought began to change. Had he not been forced to go where he was? She remembered his words to her father on that memorable night. The Confederacy may thank you for another recruit. Must he not do then, as his comrades did? Would it not be cowardice in him to refuse to go where they went? Would he do wrong consciously? She could not believe it. After all, she loved him and she would trust him blindly, whatever happened. The inevitable thing occurred. Her love triumphed. She need have asked herself no perplexing questions had she only begun with. Is my love for him strong enough to overlook all shortcomings? With Nanny in the same case it would have been different. There would have been no questions at all. She would merely have said, Well, if he does it, it must be right. And gone on with a contented mind. Even Mary was happier for her decision, though she reached it after much doubt. Dorberry heard of the rebel generals daring dash into Ohio with an astonishment that was only equaled by its anger and terror. There had been threats and rumors of some danger from Kentucky, but the possibility of it had been beyond belief. Now that the thing had really come, men stood aghast. Men who had scoffed before now became suddenly serious. Men who had wavered in their allegiance now spoke out boldly for the union when their homes were menaced. On every side was the cry, the home guards, the home guards, and old men, middle-aged men, and beardless youths went flocking into the armory. Be sure, said some, if he dares cross into Ohio, there are more behind him, and it means that they intend to overwhelm the state. Others said, they will burn Cincinnati, strike here unless we can check them, march on, and destroy the Capitol. On any corner, sane men, fanatics, and demagogues could secure audiences to listen to their oratory, in which they adjured their hearers to rise in their might and drive the invader from their sacred soil. There were some men in the town who smiled and added, it is a faint, let Morgan come, he will not come far. There were not many of them. There were others who gathered behind the closed blinds of Stephen Vandoren's house to talk of this new development. To them, Vandoren spoke confidentially. I deplore this move, he said. It will take away sympathy from the cause of the South, although Morgan is only doing what Lincoln has done in the South. It is a sorry matter all through, for we have been plunged into a war that might have been averted by Abel's statesmanship. If worse comes to worst, we have only our government to thank, and yet it is a bad thing, for nothing will do more to cement a feeling of clannishness in the North and give these fanatics something to point to than this same attempt to fight the devil with fire. Among all the crowding men, the believers in different creeds walked Bradford waters like an Elijah among the prophets of Baal. The news was to him as the battle smoked to the nostrils of the warhorse. He seemed like one inspired, and it was as if the things that he had longed for had been done. There was a look of exultation on his face, but his was an emotion too deep for words, though none who saw him needed speech of him. In her bedroom his daughter sat staring silently out of her window, not thinking, hardly dreaming, and so night fell on Dorbury. End of Chapter 20 Chapter 21 of the Fanatics This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Rita Boutros The Fanatics by Paul Laurence Dunbar Chapter 21 A Vague Quest It is doubtful how long Mary would have sat staring out into the darkness, had not the entrance of Nanny and her preparations for bed disturbed her reverie. She also disrobed and was soon lying in bed, her eyes wide open, and her thoughts busy with the events of the day. She did not want to talk and so made but brief replies to Nanny's proffers of conversation. Finally, from feigning sleep, she fell into a light dose from which she started crying, The Black Rider, The Black Rider! The experiences of the last few hours had exhausted Nanny, and though it was yet early in the evening, she was sleeping soundly. Mary recovered herself, and finding that she was not observed, crept stealthily from the bed. She paused for a while beside the window, and then dressed with feverish haste as if spurred by a definite purpose. When she was fully clothed, she stepped quietly down the stairway and passed the sitting-room, where some of the family were still up and glided out of the house. Why she was doing so, she herself could not have told, but something was dragging or driving her on, on towards the station. She had yet no fixed idea where she was going, but she felled in her pocket for money, and it never occurred to her until she found the amount of her fare that from the beginning she had intended to go to Cincinnati. Though she did not yet know, the tendency towards a definite act being rather subconscious than apprehended. There was just time to catch the half-past-ten train. She reached the station, bought her ticket, and sank breathless and dazed into a seat. There was a moment's delay, and then the train sped away into the darkness. The sum of all her impressions was that the Black Rider, whose face was still concealed from her, flitted ever by the side of the coach and just at her window. The lights of the town faded from view, and the river lay behind her a line of sinuous silver. The sky overhead was bespread with pale stars, but she saw only the cloaked and muffled man riding, riding as one rides in a nightmare. The train whistled, wheezed, and paused at stations, and then went panting on, and Mary, knowing as little, feeling hardly more than the dumb mechanism that carried her, went on upon a vague unknown quest, for what she could not have told. Prompting her action, there was apparently no cause or intelligence. Scarcely was there even volition. Some force, stronger and wiser than she, good or malignant, impelled her forward, whether she would or no. She went on not because she would, but because she must. The night became suddenly overcast. The sky darkened, the stars went out, and as the train flew on its way southward, a peel of thunder broke from the heavens, and sharp rain began pattering against the window. She crouched lower in her seat, and stared ever out through the pain, where she could see the mantled figure riding, riding. She could hear his horse's hoof beats above the sound of the storm, and her eyes sought vainly his face, though she knew and could not be deceived in the form. When the coach drew into Cincinnati, she alighted, and still blind, dazed, and apparently without direction, hastened out, and took a car. The night was one of inky blackness, the rain was coming down in torrents, while intermittent flashes of lightning showed her the wet and shining streets, and the roadways through which she was passing. At the call Avondale, she left the car and went on blindly into the night. Terror now seized her, terror of the unknown, of the darkness, of the mystery in her own wild act, but she could not stop nor turn back. Was she fleeing from or to something? Once in a moment of consciousness, she asked herself the question, but hurried on without answering or attempting to answer it. On through the little suburban village and out upon a country road, a mile out, the last house had been passed, the last light had flickered out of her sight, and then drenched, exhausted, she paused under a huge oak, and turned her eyes back over the way she had come. It was not wariness that made her stop, it was a sense of waiting, waiting for something, the thing for which she had come. It was perhaps a half hour that she stood there, and then the sound of clattering hooves struck her ear. She pressed closer to the tree. A company of cavalrymen were approaching. They came at a smart canter. Breathlessly she awaited. They were near to her, first close together, then with gaps between, then scatteringly. With her physical ear, she heard the sound of their hoofbeats in the soft slushy mud, but with her inner sense, she heard the sound of one horse on dry ground, and her eyes saw but one rider, still the black-amantled figure of her dreams. She heard him, saw him coming nearer, nearer, then a flash of lured lightning lit the whole scene, and starting forward from the tree, she cried, Robert, Robert! As if but one man had heard her, as if her voice had been intended to reach but one, a figure shrouded in a dark cloak, whirled and rode from the straggly ranks up to the side of the road and dismounted. She stretched her arms out. Another flash of lightning showed the trooper the white face of the girl beside the tree, and with a cry he caught her to him as she fell forward. Mary, Mary, he cried, can it be you? Are you flesh or spirit? My God, what does it mean? But she was lying cold in his arms. The cavalry passed on, stragglers and all. He stood there helplessly holding her, one hand clutching his horse's bridle. The rain from the leaves dripped in her face, and she revived. Robert, she said faintly. What are you doing here? he asked. I, I don't know. I dreamed of you and I came. Where am I? On the road out of Cincinnati, about two miles from Avondale. Who came with you? I came alone. Where are you going? I don't know. Something sent me to you. You are very weak, he said. I must go back now, she replied. Where will you go? I don't know. The power that had driven her out, that had guided her, seemed suddenly to have left her helpless, and without direction. The men now were entirely past, and without a word, he lifted her to his saddle, and springing up behind her, turned his horse's head back towards the town. God knows what brought you here, darling, he whispered close to her ear. But it was something stronger and wiser than us both. It has been a long, hard ride, with me, and I was losing hold. But you have given me strength again. People have heard our horses, and are aroused, but I will take you back, where you will be safe. Another day, he bent over, and kissed her brow. When all of this is over, you shall tell me how and why you came to me, love of my heart. She nestled closer to him, and did not answer. There was nothing for her to say. I understand, he did not understand. He rode straight into the town. Dark forms were gathering upon the corners, here and there a torch flared. I must leave you now, Mary, he said. The power that brought you will care for you. I must join my company. God be with you. He set her down, and was wheeling away when a torch beside him flared. A man cried, then Doran struck spurs to his horse, and the animal dashed away. A hue and cry arose. There was a volley of shots, and the night swallowed the black rider. A crowd surrounded Mary, and led her, speechless and confused, to the nearest house. A few of the bolder spirits followed the rider on foot, until the sound of his horse's hooves had died away into the distance. The girl could not give any sound of herself, except that she had come from Dorbury, and had wandered out of her way. Kind matrons put her to bed where she fell asleep like a child, though she would have rested less easily had she known that Robert was swaying, white-faced in his saddle, his arm shattered by a bullet. All night long, men full of alarm patrolled the streets of the village, fearing and expecting an attack, they gathered up and brewed tea and topped of their night visitor. When Mary awoke in the morning, the events of the night before were like a dream to her, and though the women questioned her closely and eagerly, she was able to give them little or nothing of the satisfaction for which they longed. It was all so strange, so unbelievable, that she did not dare tell them all that had really happened. And there were threats of detaining her, but she made it clear where she lived, mentioning the names of people whom several of them knew, and so they put her down as some demented or half-witted creature who had lost her way and been rescued by the trooper in gray. Well, the hound will have one thing to his credit, said the husband of the woman at whose house she had slept. Her head clear, the girl was anxious now to return to her home. The busy little matron, still suspecting her sanity, insisted on going with her as far as the train, where, with many head shakes and mysterious comments, she put Mary in charge of the conductor and went away trembling for the safety of her protégé. The whole woods household was in an uproar of excitement, and nanny was blaming herself keenly for negligence when Mary walked in. Oh, Mary, Mary! cried her friend at sight of her. Where have you been? You've given us such a fright. We've searched everywhere for you. But Mary only smiled and kept her counsel. I had to go away, she said. What time did you leave? Mary smiled again. A little later a message came from Bradford Water saying, Have you found Mary yet? Nanny blushed. Mary saw on home and so we went there. I was not at home, was the only answer. Whatever it may have meant, the girl herself was never able to explain it, but Mary saw no more visions and she was happier. The puzzle was deep in Robert's mind as he rode away from the girl, leaving her to the mercies of the gaping townspeople. He had no doubt that they would treat her kindly and sent her home in safety. But the thought that held him and made him forget even the pain in his arm that grew and grew was how she had come there. How had she known where to find him when even the troopers themselves did not know whether they were tending. Who gave the simple emotional girl the information that the Governor of Ohio would have given so much to have? There was nothing in the range of Robert's experience to explain the phenomenon. Although he hugged the memory of her presence to his consciousness, he gave up speculation to wait for that later day when he had said she would tell him. His thoughts now had time to revert to his wound and he found that his sleeve was soaked with blood that was fast stiffening in spite of the constant downpour. The absorption of his attention no longer kept his misery and subordination. He began to feel fainter but clenched his teeth and laid his head upon the neck of his good mare. A mile more and the sound of moving men came to his ears. Then he gained upon them faster and knew that they had halted for the night. His head was ringing like a chime of bells. His heart throbbed painfully and his tongue was parched. Heavier and heavier he lay upon the mare's neck and when finally the animal halted in the hastily improvised camp it was an inert body that had to be lifted from her back. Already Mary was quietly sleeping in the friendly house and no dream or vision told her of the lover who was to ride no more with John Morgan but unknown was to be nursed back to life by a good-hearted farmer and his wife. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 The Homecoming of the Captain With his regiment he had taken part in the engagements at Pittsburgh Landing and in all the active operations of the Army of Ohio or as it was finally rechristened the Army of the Cumberland. He had distinguished himself in the terrible fight of the 19th of July and it was as a captain that he lay with his company at Chattanooga Creek encouraging his men by example not to flinch under the awful fire which the Confederate batteries poured upon them. Doorberry knew the privations through which her boys were going the long marches when both rest and refreshment were denied the hardships of camp and field and the heroism of patient endurance then began that gradual turn of sentiment and feeling for which the battle of Pittsburgh Landing and Morgan's raid had proved the cue. Her wave of enthusiasm for her patriotic sons swept over the town and this time had permanent effect. Even Davies scoffed no longer and spoke of our boys in a tone that led waters to forgive all his past transgressions. Tom had always been a favorite at home but men spoke his name now with a new affection. After each new engagement in which his regiment was known there were numerous inquiries at the water's house as to how the captain had fared. He was no longer a family idol he had become a public hero. This pride in a young man's success is after all of the vanity which is human. Something of credit seems to accrue to the man himself when he can say what captain why I knew him when he was a boy. Behind closed doors Stephen Vandoren sat and read the papers. He had the largeness of heart that made him respect a brave man wherever placed and now he felt a real pride in the son of his enemy. To be sure in his heart he had misgivings and wished time and again that he might read something of his own son of whose whereabouts he knew nothing. There had come one brief letter sometime before the raid since that nothing. Why couldn't his bob be a captain too? His anxiety was shared in some degree by Mary but the pride which she took in her brother and which Nanny constantly nourished left her little time for brooding. The summer wore away amid rumors of battles reconnaissance and skirmishes. The golden autumn came and although so many of the husband men were away they were being strange harvests in a strange land. The land smiled with the fullness of things and the ring of scythes could be heard afield. Over the little town over the fair meadows that surrounded it the son of plenty hung and drove away the darkness that the preceding summer had known. Morgan had come and gone and they felt no fear of another such invasion. Terror was dead to themselves joyously to the task of supplying whatever wants those at the front expressed. They rested in a content insecurity that even the imminence of a battle at Mission Ridge in which their own might be engaged failed wholly to destroy. Orchard Knob had dealt kindly with them and they began to think of their soldiers as each an Achilles with the vulnerable heel secure. Then like a tempest from a cloudless sky came the news of the battle of November 25th and Dorbury was silent from sheer amazement. Could this thing really have happened to them and theirs? They looked down the list of the dead and wounded again. So many of the names were familiar so many were those whom they thought to see again. Tom Waters, Captain Tom could it be? Their young hero? To awake and with the awakening the place became as a house of mourning. The bulletin boards were surrounded by hushed, awe-stricken men, while women with white faces hastened up to hear the latest from the field. It was Davies who having heard the news went over to break it to Bradford Waters. He had not left his office at the warehouse and only knew from vague rumors that a battle had taken place. He was heading through to get out and hear the particulars when Davies entered, his white face speaking for him before his lips could utter a sound. Waters sprang to his feet and then sank back into a chair. There has been a battle they tell me, he said. Yes, said Davies with dry lips. Was Tom's name mentioned? He asked the question mechanically as if he already knew the answer that was coming. Davies was trembling. The tears filled his eyes as he went over and laid his hand on the other shoulder. Yes, he answered. Tom, the captain's name, Waters is among the killed. An ashen pallor spread over Waters' seamed face and his hard hands gripped the desk in front of him fiercely. He breathed heavily but did not speak. Tom Bradford, come out in the air with me. Waters rose but there was a knock at the door and, opening it, a messenger confronted him. It was a telegram from Tom's Colonel. The old man could hardly read the words, his hand trembled so, but he made out that they were sending him home. Then Davies saw the man's form straighten up and his eye flash as with a clear voice he read, killed while waiting a gallant charge. Thank God, Davies, he died like a soldier. There was not a tear in Waters' eye though pride and grief struggled for mastery in his voice. Davies, who under all his cynical indifference was as soft-hearted as a woman, was weeping like a child. I gave him unreservedly the bereaved father went on and he has given me nothing to regret. I must go home. I must set my house in order to receive my son, the captain. They went down of the house together, Bradford Waters' face set and firm. Men looked at him shyly upon the street and greeted him briefly. They knew how deeply he had loved his son and feared a breakdown of his self-control. Men are always cowards in the face of grief but their caution was unnecessary. Waters returned their civility with a poise of manner almost stern. What had he to weep for? He had laid his son upon the altar and he had proved an acceptable sacrifice. Other men might weep for craven sons who had left the fighting to others or who had trembled under fire. As for him he must be strong. He must walk among men with a high head and a step that showed him worthy the father of such a son. Davies left him at the door of his house. He heard him say as he entered, you must look sharp, Martha, and have everything in good order. The captain is coming home. The light was fast fading from the room where Waters sat down but a ray of gold came in through the window and touched the pictured face of the dead soldier in its place on the mantle. The father rose and taking it down to his breast. I gave you to them, boy, he murmured and they took you but they cannot, they can never take the memory of you from me. Someone knocked and a moment later Martha came in saying, a gentleman to see you, Mr. Waters. With perfect self-possession he passed into the next room where in the dimness a man stood awaiting him. I have dared to comb Bradford even Van Doren's voice because I knew and we both loved the boy. I thought maybe we could shake hands over the memory of a brave soldier. Waters' form trembled like an aspen. He paused in silence and the moment was full of import. It was to say what the course of his whole future life would be, whether the iron of his nature would be melted or annealed by the fire through which he was passing. He took a step forward and grasped Van Doren's outstretched hand. I am glad you came, Stephen, he said. He was a brave boy and you loved him too. No one could help loving him. He was one man among a thousand who was fine enough for the sacrifice. Whether my son be alive or dead, may I always have as little right to sorrow for him as you have for yours tonight. Stephen Van Doren's voice was low, earnest and impressive and it broke down something that had stood up very hard and stern in Bradford Waters' spirit. The tears welled up into his eyes and fell unheeded down his cheeks. He rung Van Doren's hand. You must stay and talk to me of him, of both of them. Our boys fought on different sides, Stephen, but they were both ours. In a time like this, before an example of bravery, we forget sides and differences and only remember our boys and our love for them. For a while they sat and talked of the dead and of him of whose whereabouts they as yet knew nothing and Waters' heart was lightened and softened. You must go away, he said at last to his visitor. I have another thing that I must do. Maybe after all, Stephen, there is a deeper meaning in this disease. May God grant it was the fervent response. When you hear from Bob, let me know at once. You know he was Tom's friend, he added, almost joyously. As soon as Van Doren was gone, he gave the servant some directions and then set out for Nathan Wood's house, which was no less than his own a place of bereavement. The entire household was grief-stricken. The two girls had mingled their tears and sought vainly to comfort each other in their sorrow. Mary was fairly exhausted from her grief, and Nanny, seeing that, recovered herself sufficiently to minister to the weaker girl. When Mary found out that her father was below and asking for her, she sprang up with wild eyes and fluttering heart. Oh, he has come to reproach me, she said. He will never forgive me. There is no reproaching his face, Mary. I think he wants you to be with him when Tom comes home. Nanny's voice reassured her, and together they went down hand in hand. When his daughter came into the room, Bradford Waters held forth his arms, and with a cry that was half grief, half joy, she flung herself into them. Father, father, she sobbed, what shall we do without him? What shall we do without him, my dear? It has taken him, and we must give him ungrudgingly. Nanny was leaving the room, but with a new softness, a quality his voice had never known, he put out his hand to her. Come, my other daughter, he said, you loved him too. For the three then there was no past, no difference, no wrong. There were all members of one family bound more strongly by a great love, and a great grief. There was a strange similarity apparent in the attitude of Nanny and Bradford Waters towards Tom's death. While Mary thought almost solely of the brother she had lost, they both seemed to say, we are glad to give him, since we may give him thus. Come, let us go home, said Waters, there is much to do. Mary, come. Nanny, you must go with us. We must go and make ready to receive the captain. And together they went with him to receive the captain. The strange idea took Bradford Waters to prepare for his son's homecoming as if the dead could know. Perhaps there did remain to him some of the mysticism to which his New England birth and ancestry gave him right. It would not have assorted illy with his bleak nature. Perhaps he believed that Tom would know. However it was, he had determined that all should be quite as the young man would have liked it, had he come home with conscious eyes to see and light with pleasure at what he saw. To Mary the house was very desolate and a rush of sad emotions swept over her as she looked at the familiar things arranged by an alien hand. Tom would hardly know the place now if he could see it, she told her father. But he replied, Never mind, it shall all be set right before he comes. He shall find nothing to his distaste. The saddest duty they had was the arrangement of his room. The old man still followed his strange whim and had the chamber arranged as if a living guest were to occupy it. The bed was laid as Tom would have had it laid and the fresh sheets turned back as if to receive his tired form. The place was the late Goldenrod, always a great favorite with him. But on his pillows were the marks of tears which Nanny had shed as she smoothed their soft whiteness and knew that his brown head would never press them again. To her a great change had come. In spite of the pride and fortitude which bore her up, the light and spontaneity had gone out of her life. She might laugh again, but she would not laugh again. The room was filled with a very lovely ring. In spirit she was already Tom's wife and she was now as much widowed as any woman who had followed her husband to the grave. That she bore her burden better than Mary was largely due to the practical strength of her love for Tom. Had he lived deep for him but she would wait for him believing that no such love as hers was given to mortals to wither and die without fruition. This love held her so utterly above ordinary opinions and conventions that she did not think to ask what would be said of her entering her lover's house as one of the family. It was nothing to her. It was a matter of course. There was a certain joy in feeling and in seeing hour after hour that Tom's father and sister leaned more and more upon her strength. It was on the third day after the news of the battle that Tom's body was brought home. One mute mourner accompanying it nigger ed. Those were strenuous times and there was no opportunity for fine courtesies for escorts and official Paul bearers even for that brave one. But the flag was wrapped around him the flag he had fought and died for. His father was very calm as he looked at the boyish face so cold and still before him. Death had been kind to the soldier and had come quickly leaving him almost unaltered. He lay as if he had fallen asleep with bright dreams of a purposeful tomorrow. There was none of the horror or dread of battle impressed upon his marble countenance. Nothing that could cause the woman who loved him best of all to shrink from him. Bradford Waters stooped and kissed his son's brow. There was a smile on his own lips. Even Mary forgot to weep. This was the majesty the beauty of death. Nanny hovered over him as she would over a flower. They were alone together these three when a knock hesitating fell upon the door. Bradford opened it to find without the negro Ed. He silently motioned him to enter. They told me to ginyu dis when you were settled, he said. He handed Waters a letter. It was from Colonel Bassett Tom's commanding officer and ran. Dear sir, I wish I knew how to pay tribute to the finest man and most gallant gentleman I wish I might have shown him the respect that I feel and come with his body to see it laid in its last resting place but this is war. I would condone with you, sir but that I know the father of such a son must be proud to have had him die where and as he did. It was a soldier's letter and though Waters read it with trembling voice his eyes glowed and he looked at the still form as if to say I would not have had it otherwise. Ed was still standing waiting for the father to speak but Waters said nothing. The negro shifted uneasily then he said anxiously Is you mad at me, Mr. Waters? Has the Colonel said anything? There wouldn't have sent me home with him but I begged because I kinder thought you'd rather have somebody that knowed him bring him back. Waters reached out and grasped the black man's hand. Why, God bless you forever and ever, he said. The privacy of the family even with its dead could not long be maintained. Dorbury had suspended business. This hero was theirs as well as his family's. They filled the sidewalks. They surged at the doors. They would see him. They would bring their flowers to lay beside his beer. The young man who had helped to send him forth and had cheered his departure Bradford Waters should not be selfish in his grief. The boys from the factories and warehouses came and also from the shops those who had known him and those who had not. All men know a hero and the father said let them come in he will be glad to see them of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 of the Fanatics This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Rita Boutros The Fanatics by Paul Laurence Dunbar Chapter 23 A Troublesome Secret For a long time curiosity was rampant in the little country district not very far from Cincinnati. It was the proverbial rural locality where everyone knows or wishes to know the business of everyone else and is offended if he doesn't. In this particular place the object of interest was a white farmhouse set forward on the road and fronting ample grounds both of field and garden. It was the home of John Metzinger a prosperous German husband and a merchant. They were pleasant, easygoing people warm-hearted and generous. Their neighbors had always looked upon them with favor until one day it was early in August the eye of suspicion fell upon the house. Those who had lived near the Metzingers and those who merely passed upon the road to and from town began to point questioning fingers at the place and to look as scants at it. The gossips shook their heads and whispered together. It all began with one woman who had unceremoniously dropped in on the couple dropping in consisting of pushing open the door and entering unannounced by the formality of a knock. The easygoing neighbor had pursued this course only to find the door of an inner room hastily closed and the good wife profuse in embarrassed expotulations. Mrs. Metzinger was not good at dissimulation and her explanation that the room was all torn up for she was house-cleaning served but to arouse her visitor's suspicion. In her own words as she told it many times later she said with fine indignation think of her saying to me that she was clean in house and she with a spick and span a white apron on as ever you see says I to her ain't you picking out a funny time to clean Mrs. Metzinger she says with that Dutch broga hers oh it cleans any dimest place gets dirty then I says calm like because I've always liked that woman I should think you'd get your apron dirty and all of a sudden she jerked it off and stood there grinning at me but that was what give her away for lo and behold her dress was as clean as my brand new calico then I says well never mind I'll just come in and help you that woman got right in my way and wouldn't let me go in that room all the time jabbering something about not troubling me right then and there thinks I there's something wrong in that room she closed her remarks as one who says there's murder behind that door her hearers were struck by her tragic presentation of the case and they too began to watch for signs of guilt in the Germans these were soon plentiful none was more convincing than that a room that had always been open to the light had now its blinds closed someone had said too that they had seen the doctor's gig at the door one night and had waited for him to come out but on questioning him as any man has a right to do who sick doctor he had sprung into his vehicle put whip to his horse and dashed away without answering this in itself looked dark all men refused to be questioned about his patience the little scattered community for three or four miles and even further up and down the road was awestruck and properly indignant such communities have no respect for reticence meanwhile the trouble went on and the Metzger's grew in disfavor what had been friendly greetings degenerated into stiff nods or grew into clumsily veiled inquiries while their neighbors lost sleep asking each other what horror was going on behind those closed doors the simple couple went on about their duty and kept their counsel it was really not so much the horror that the community resented but that the particulars of it were being kept from them if the Metzger's could have told their story it would have proved after all a very short and simple one it would have been to the effect that late one night towards the end of July they had been awakened by the trapping of feet and a knocking upon their door going thither they had found four men unkempt and mud-stained who bore between them another evidently wounded they had brought him and laid him upon the sofa and then with promises that were half threats had left him in their care they came then to know who their visitors were their noble men their promises to respect the farmer's stock had not been needed to secure attention for their wounded comrade for the good wife's heart had gone out already to the young fellow who lay there so white and drabbled with blood John Metzger would have told though his good wife would never have mentioned it how all that night and the next day Gretchen had hovered over the wounded man bandaging his arm and doing what she could to ease the pain while the sufferer muttered strange things in his sleep and tossed like a restless child they could not get a doctor until the next night for they knew that all must proceed with secrecy and when the physician came the fever had already set in and the chances for the man's recovery seemed very slight they could have told too of the doctor's long fight with the fever and what the gossips did not know how one night two physicians came and amputated the wounded arm at the elbow then of the long fight for life through the hot august days of the terrible nights when death seemed crowding into the close room and the sufferer laid gasping for breath but they told nothing silently they went their way grieved by the distrust of those about them but unfaltering in their course and when then Doren first looked up weakly enough into the German woman's face his eyes full of the gratitude he could not speak both she and her John were repaid for all that they had suffered the woman fell upon her knees by the bedside saying thank God, thank God he will get well now Sean and Sean who was very big and very much a man pressed his wife's hand and went behind the door to look for something not there with the cooler weather of autumn came more decided convalescence to the young trooper but the earliest snows had fallen before he was able to creep to the door that looked out upon the road he was only the shadow of his former self Mrs. Metzinger looked at him full of pity I guess you better let the doctor ride by your home now they will want to hear from you not yet, not yet Mr. Robert said the woman impressively you don't know fathers they was used like mothers pretty new I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry he was used like mothers pretty near and mothers always wants to know if he is well she is glad and he thank God for that if he is dead she wants to cry and cry offer those leader shoes that he used to wear he shall know he shall know Mrs. Metzinger I'm very soon for I'm going home to him and his joy will make him forget how long he has waited he thought his soul Robert had divined more by instinct than by any outward demonstration of his hosts that his secret stay in the house had aroused in their neighbors some sort of feeling against these people he was perfectly sure that should he write to his father he would come to him in spite of everything and at any stir or unusual commotion about the house what was only smoldering now might burst into flame although it rung his heart to do so living within 60 miles of his father he kept his lips closed and gave no sign his heart had gone out to these people who had sacrificed so much for him and he wanted to do something in return for them at first because of his very weakness they had foreborn to question him about his home and people and when he was strong enough to act he had unconsciously accepted this silence as his sacrifice without divining that he was not the real sufferer not the real bearer of the burden he had promised that he would go home soon but the case had been a severe one and it was December before he dared to venture out beyond the gate sometimes when the days were warm and bright he would sit wrapped up on the porch at the side for the need of secrecy gone the Metzingers were openly and humanly unhumble they bowed proudly even jauntly to their detractors while the priest and the Levites passed by on the other side there were no good Samaritans about save the Metzingers themselves and their little devices might have gone unobserved but that the priest and the Levites were curious people and at last came over to question who is the sick young man they questioned he is a friend of ours from Duvall Mrs. Metzinger answered them we'd like to talk to him they volunteered no he must not talk to peoples not yet was the answer why don't he wear his uniform Robert wore a suit of chants jeans it was youest ruint and ospoit mit blood but they looked at Robert's scans and the gossip which for a while from inaction had faltered sprang up anew who was he why had they kept the secret so long the good people saw with dismay what they had done they had only aroused the trouble which they had hoped to LA then Doran saw their trouble and determined immediately to relieve them I'm going home now he told them one day you are not yet so strong oh yes I am I'm quite a giant now what you think Sean is he strong enough to take and stay here so long as he wants but I am going my good friends it's best for us all why I have seen how the neighbors look at me and I have seen how they look at you you shan't hurt yourselves any longer does he snot right we kept nothings for the neighbors we mined our own business Mrs. Metzinger's husband said something under his breath only a word it was but it made his wife gasp and cry Sean for shame on you I'm going Robert went on either with your consent or without I don't know how I'm ever going to thank you you've both been so good it's nasty in a case like this to think of pay I can't do it decently but I'm going to do it it's the nearest way a brood of a man can come to show in his appreciation no pay said John not once sent said his wife they had some company Gretchen put in Robert smiled on they were so like big children I'm not going to let you two cheat me out of showing my gratitude by any such excuse Gretchen wept and John caused his wife to exclaim again but it was of no use and just at dusk the old cariol took him away to the station still in his host's suit the empty sleeve turned up and the stump of arm flapping at his side it was about an hour after John had gone with Robert to the station that Mrs. Metzinger heard footsteps and going to the door saw several men without we want that man that stay in here said the leader he's just gone to his home in Dorbury in Dorbury why we thought what side was he on Mrs. Metzinger drew herself up in dignified anger and said I don't think God has any side deacon Carvel then she slammed the door and the deacon and his committee went away feeling small and glad that it was dark while Mrs. Metzinger rocked out her pious anger until the floor cried again end of chapter 23 chapter 24 of the fanatics this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Rita Butros the fanatics by Paul Lawrence Dunbar chapter 24 Robert Van Doran goes home there was no Blair of trumpets no popular acclaim to greet Robert Van Doran's homecoming he entered Dorbury alone and unwelcomed weary and sick at heart it was half past eight o'clock when his train drew into the familiar station and the winter night had settled heavy and black a familiar form came towards him as he walked down the platform and sadly changed as he was he saw the light of recognition in the man's eyes the next instant he was looking at the stern lines of an averted face he shuddered and hurried on as rapidly as his weakness would allow although he had often in his moments of convalescence pictured dimly how he would be received at home yet the actuality was so much stronger and harsher than any anticipation of it could be that he was quite unmanned for the first time it came to him that he was an alien in the land of his adoption and even upon the dark streets he shrank from the people he met because he knew his face would be to them as a lepers and even the empty sleeve the badge of honor to so many of them would read only to these people unclean, unclean he was bending his steps towards his father's house absorbed in bitter thoughts when a sort of divination rather than the appearance of things roused him from his reverie he looked around upon the place the houses, the lawns and then a lighted window caught his eye and he realized that he was passing Bradford Waters' house I wonder if she is back at home he said I caused her so much grief he passed through the gate and crept up to the window the light shone through a thin shade but he could see nothing within the house after a short while however he heard the sound of women's voices and one was hers without warning all the pent-up feeling of the past years burst forth in the cry Mary what's that? cried someone within but there was no answer saved the hurried tread of feet across the floor aware of what he had done he was hurrying away when the front door was thrown open and he saw her before him standing in a flood of light then he could not go he stood transfixed until she walked down the steps to him crying Robert Robert I was sure you would come and all he could do was to bow his head and murmur thank God she took him by the hand and led him into the house he unresisting here is Robert she said to Nanny did I not tell you he would come yes and I am glad with you her greeting of Robert was tender almost sisterly as soon as she could do so tactfully she left the room and Vandoren's glance followed her questioningly he could not understand her subdued manner her sad face Mary saw the look in his eyes and asked do you not know then no he answered what is it Tom Tom not dead dead yes killed yes at Mission Ridge nearly a month ago and she told of all that had happened while he sat like one dazed finally he broke in Tom dead I living why is this why this choice of the brave instead of the lukewarm the soldier instead of the raider Robert Robert you are not yourself I weep for my brother but you I have you still for answer he raised his empty sleeve oh Robert you don't know I love you here are two arms yours he kissed her cheek silently and then a sound made them start apart and stare into each other's faces with parted lips someone was on the step there was but one person whom it could be quick quick said Mary opening a door into the next room in here and Robert hurried in just as Bradford Waters entered finding Mary troubled and embarrassed he stood looking at her with a sad face and he said Mary you grieve me very much has all the past been so hard that you cannot forget it has not the past month proven that I am a changed man and that you need hide nothing from me yes father forgive me and going to the door she called Robert then Doran came in with a defiant look on his face which vanished outside of Waters outstretched hand why Mr. Waters he stammered confusedly yes yes I know my boy but I'm glad to see you back Robert Robert grasped the old man's hand and rung it warmly I'm so glad you'll reconcile to me you didn't like me before no more of that no more of that I always liked you but I didn't like your principles I've seen sorrow though and I look at things differently Mary has told me and it grieved me much you know then that the captain has come home yes would to God that I might have come like that tut tut have you been home no I was on my way there when I heard Mary's voice and stopped you must go to him at once now he will be overjoyed do you think I dare go to him myself I'm afraid he thinks me dead I have no doubt let Mary go with you to him go on Mary hastened to put on her hat and cloak and together the two went out leaving the old man standing by the mantel looking at them with strange tenderness Robert turned at the door and looked back you'll never know what you have done Mr. Waters to make my home coming less than a tragedy to me he said huskily it was Tom not I said waters gently the house looked very dismal as Mary and Robert approached it and the latter's heart failed him as my father seemed to grieve much he asked he has been absorbed and preoccupied but his faith was like mine we knew you would come back I have heard of the faith that is stronger than death but I always thought it a meaningless phrase until now bless you both Steven Van Doran was drowsing by his library fire when Mary was admitted but with the courtesy of his kind he rose and went nimbly to meet her apologizing meanwhile for his dressing gown and slippers but my dear child he exclaimed what brings you here at this hour Mr. Van Doran Mary faltered her face all aglow stop he exclaimed whether the dead can come to life or not no girl can show a face like that unless she has seen her lover what is it I have seen him he turned the hall Van Doran took a step forward and then stood trembling but Robert had thrown the door open and rushed to his father father my boy this was in the days before men grew too old to embrace their fathers and bearded cheeks and lips met the father's arms were about his son and the empty sleeve fell under his hand he held it up and then pushed his son from him his head drooped sadly for a moment but there was a look of exaltation on his face father father don't let that grieve you I lost it honorably Steven Van Doran's head went up like a bulls when he sensed resistance grieve me he cried and then turning to Mary he said now my dear I can show your father that and talk to him upon more nearly equal terms oh hi boy you've won your spurs if you haven't got them to us of the newer land an empty sleeve when gallantly won is what the Victoria Cross is to an Englishman Robert flushed and moved away a pace further from his father but you do not know all all you said it was one honestly that is enough the young soldier looked appealingly at Mary I shall have to tell you all he said I will go Robert she said it was wrong for me to stay so long but this meeting has given me such joy as I have never known before she turned towards the door you must not go he cried detaining her it is for you also to know it belongs to you to me to you yes how you remember that night of nights he asked her softly do they know of it no I have never dared to tell them so wild a story I will tell it now then you may Robert they will believe you everyone will then briefly Robert told his father of the strange meeting with Mary that had resulted in his wound I don't know what you will say he ended and I don't know what it means it means God said his father solemnly he sent her think of it as an old man's fancy if you will but he lighted one of his own tortures at the moment that you might see each other's faces oh Robert cried Mary then it was for me yes darling father forgive us but Mary is glad why Mary child you show more sense than that great hulking one armed hero hero father the man who is old enough to have done a noble deed and is not old enough to know it he should be sent into a closet like a child he does know it he must know it Robert you must see it hero was the word running through young Vandoren's brain and he did not understand he felt Mary's arms about him he felt his father's hand pressing his own and his thoughts grew hazy hero how could he be a hero when he was lying helpless when the best fighting was going on when though he dared not say it he did not even know if his heart were holy with the cause his father's voice broke in upon his reverie Bob you are the well look here don't you see what kind of a man he must be who dares to ride away from his comrades and into the face of the enemy and alone to save a woman yes don't you see Bob said Mary eagerly why I loved her said Robert I loved her and forgive me father more than my cause unless you had had that in you that made your cause strong and noble you could not have done it even for love have I pleased you I am proud to be your father and Mary I didn't want to tell you are you hurt hurt with the sort of a hurt that a woman she started impulsively towards her lover and then paused abashed never check a good impulse said old Van Doren I am now looking at the portrait of my grandfather the two young people improve the opportunity the old man showed consideration in the length of time he spent admiring the portrait but a hurried knock on the door recalled their attention a servant with a frightened face entered there's a lot of men at the door he said what do they want asked Van Doren sternly they say that there is a rebel in here and they want him go back to them and say said the old man his voice ringing like a trumpet that there is no rebel here but a soldier and the son of a soldier and if they want to see him he is at their service when he knows their business with him the servant retired the hounds have begun to bail ready said Robert his face set and dogged though he patted Mary's hair as she clung fearfully to him the hounds said his father bringing from his desk a brace of pistols that had seen service you mean the curves the hounds know their true game can you use your left hand as well as my right the father tried vainly to hide his satisfaction as he handed his son a weapon outside a clamor arose which grew louder and louder and the servant came flying back they say you must come out so they are afraid to chance it when there's a man's chance said Robert come father let us go to them you are right they are curves not hounds after all Mary moved forward with them no dear stay here I will not Robert I have no fear for myself I am going with you if you die do not want to live I am going think of your father do you think of my brother would he have me do less the cries were growing fiercer every moment and the father at the door cried come on and stepped out as if eager to meet a crowd of enthusiastic admirers they passed along the hall threw open the front door and stepped out into the blaze of light which fell from the chandelier within at their appearance a horse cry rose from the lips of the mob for mob it was low ignorant infuriated there he is the rebel rebels too good for him copperheads the name traitor coward they stood calmly upon the steps the three Robert pale but dauntless his father is fixed as a statue and Mary just behind them like a spirit of justice with eyes unbound when their attitude had somewhat quieted the tumult Steven Van Doran spoke and his voice was calm and hard well gentlemen he said what is it that you want of us we want your son we want that damned copperhead that's joined the rebels and been killing our boys that's what we want came the reply in fifty voices there is no traitor and no copperhead here Van Doran went on my son it is true is here and he bowed to Robert as if he were delivering a complimentary address but he is none of the things which you name he is a man who has fought for his convictions and has returned here where he has as good a right as any of you he is here I say and if any or all of you want him damn you calm and take him the old man's voice had risen and at the moment both he and Robert as if by a preconcerted signal raised their pistols and leveled them at the foremost ranks of the mob intimidated at this defiance the crowd fell back just then a rock hurdled past Van Doran's head and crashed through a window the noise was like an electric shock to the rebels failing energies and with the cry come on rock them they started forward again those behind forcing the front ranks try not to kill any of the fools the father whispered briefly to his son they were both pressing their triggers and the forward men were on the first step when a new cry waters waters check their advance and a man with flowing white hair who had been thrusting his way through the crowd also mounted the step the mob thought it had found a new champion and again yelling waters waters rushed forward but waters turned and face them waving his arms back back you cowards he cried they paused in amazement as he backed slowly up the steps when they took in his meaning they attempted another rush but he stood above them and suddenly from beneath his coat he tore a long whip with leaden tipped thongs back he cried wielding it with terrific force into the faces and over the heads of the leaders take this this is for dogs back to your kennels I say his face was terrible and the men in front quickly turned and began fighting their way to the rear others followed and a panic seized upon them when waters stood alone and the mob at a safe distance began suddenly together someone shouted if it wasn't for your son's sake waters we'd kill you waters indicated that he wished to speak and they became silent with the silence of watchful beasts if it were not for my son's sake he said I gave him for the cause of right and decency and I am willing to give myself what right has any of you who joined so cowardly in attack as this to take upon his lips the name of a brave man let never a man who was in this mob tonight utter my son's name again or by the God who rules over us I will kill him a breath like a shutter passed over the rabble and waters went on I have lost and I have the right to demand the full worth of my sacrifice and you who know my loss have no right to deny me this he moved up beside Robert and putting his hand on his shoulder said this man shall stand to me in lieu of the son I have lost and his empty sleeve shall be the sign of an eternal compact between us the badge of honor which it is he is mine not yours mine by the blood of my son mine by the void in my heart touch him if you dare go home and he began moving down the steps his whip grasped tightly in his hand go home I say or I'll whip you there the mob fell back and just then the orderly tramping of feet was heard and a rush was made in an opposite direction as the police arrived on the scene late and reluctant the four turned and went silently into the house they sat silent too in the library all too tense for speech until water said come Mary let us go you need have no fear about further trouble Bob the captain will be about Steve I disagree with you very much in your last article in the diurnal you are all wrong but I'll talk to you about that tomorrow good night come Mary it is strange how fanatical some man will be on a subject end of chapter 24 chapter 25 of the fanatics this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Rita Butros the fanatics by Paul Laurence Dunbar chapter 25 conclusion in the after days it was as Bradford Waters had said and Robert Vandoren experienced no further trouble at the hands of the mob indeed no man was willing to be known as having been a member of the party when it was talked about in public men turned their faces away and did not meet each other's eyes in so small a town it was inevitable that many of the participants in such an affair should be known but no name was ever mentioned and the matter was not pressed however there was something suspicious about the manner in which some men avoided Bradford Waters and kept silent when other spoke his son's name in the close councils which took place between the two families formerly so far apart Robert had suggested that perhaps it would be better for him to go away from Dorbury to some place where he was not known but both Waters and his father strenuously objected to that no said the latter there are times when concessions must be made to the prejudices of people there are other times when it is no less than righteous to ride them down your father is right had I lived in the south with my early training and bent of thought I should have had no better sense than to stand up for my principles just as he did I should have resented any southerner's question of my right to do so the trouble with us all is that we will not allow others the right which we demand for ourselves I think the trouble with us all is that we talk a great deal about free thought and free speech meaning that others shall have both as long as they think and speak as we do no Rob you stay right here Dorbury's got to accept you just as you are and Robert stayed there were those who looked to scans on him and those who could not be reconciled to him but no one troubled him as the war drew to a close and the continued victories of the union filled the people with enthusiasm they even began to grow friendly towards him but he was slow to receive their advances he was much with Mary and the stream of their love that had been so turbulent now flowed smoothly and sweetly together they tried to cheer nanny cheer is hardly the word either for she had never lost a certain lightness of spirit that would not let her be entirely cast down but they tried to bring back the old gaity of her manner that had been her chief charm she was now back and forth between the waters and her own home and was full of the sweetness of good words and good works on every hand she was called little miss nanny and men had already begun to pay to her that delicate deference which is given to a woman who will never marry she was always and would always be miss nanny I wish nanny Mary said to her one day that I could give you a part of my happiness nanny laughed you poor child she said don't you know that I am very happy I am happier than anyone could ever imagine I have a lover who will always be young and a love that cannot grow old don't worry about me I am blessed beyond most women so they let her go her way and their hearts ceased to ache for her as they saw how cheerful she grew with the joy of doing good so nanny began and so she went on through the years until the end like a fair flower dying away in its own perfume there was no selfishness in her subdued sweetness for when the soldiers came back one was dearer to them than their dead captain's sweetheart the horror of the war has been written of the broken homes and the broken hearts but many a life was made sweeter for the fiery trial through which it passed Steven Van Doran was stern and implacable until the end Robert was with him when the news of the surrender came a shiver passed over his body as if he himself were the confederacy which was dying he took his son's hand and said with a smile well a principal has been tested and failed we must submit to the inevitable from now on it is the union and he opened his window to hear the bells and whistles that proclaimed the people's rejoicings the war was ended but there were gaping moons to bind up and deep sores that needed careful nursing the country had been drenched with fraternal blood and the stench of it was an ill saver in the nostrils of both north and south Grant was a hero but men were asking what is McClellan? the homecoming soldiers worn and weary with the long campaign were being dropped along the wayside from every train some homes were hung with evergreens for gladness and others were draped with cypress for those who would never come back Lowerbury had its share of joy and grief there were returns and there were messages from those who would not return from lovers, husbands, fathers and brothers but above the note of sadness was one of joy for joy is more persistent than grief if shorter lived a little after Appomattox Robert and Mary were married and went to live in a little home of their own where the two fathers were destined to come many an evening thereafter to fight over the war talk politics and wrangle as heartily as ever down in Virginia wounded and broken and sore her heart bleeding for her lost cause and her lost sons her fields devastated and her resources depleted a solemn tone characterized the Thanksgiving for the war's end Walter Stewart thanked God for the triumph of the union but wept for the grief of his state just about the time that Robert and Mary were united he and Dolly were married in the little vine-covered church by the rector who had looked a scans at him a few years before and they were happy with the happiness of youth Nelson Etheridge had come back safe Dr. Daniel, now with a major stripes walked much in the garden with Emily from whom, before going away he had gained a certain promise Stewart had indeed come to his own again and he would have been a delight to his father's eyes could the old colonel have seen him writing about the plantation among the Negroes who remained and directing the repair of the damages which the war had made he would never go back to Dorbury now but his memory oft reverted to the old scenes and old acquaintances his description of Nigger Edd had so pleased Dolly that it resulted in the receipt of the following letter by that gentleman one day in Dorbury my dear Edd you will remember me as one of the boys who used to run around the streets after you years ago and later as one of the first when you were in command if you will come down here where there are lots of your people I'll give you a position on my plantation where you won't be teased let me know if you will come it will be much better than going about ringing an old bell Walter Stewart with this letter Edd also marched into the office of one of Dorbury's young lawyers one day the lawyer had been with the first I want you to read this and answer it Mr excuse me Lieutenant the young fellow took it and his face flushed as he read it aha said Edd now you answer it please sir all right the young fellow scribbled for a moment and then turned saying I think you'd better make it a telegram Edd what for? shorter more expressive less yet the young man picked up the slip of paper and read slowly and carefully Mr Walter Stewart Steward House, Rockford County, Virginia you be damned Edd started as if he had been shot and then said hastily oh no Lieutenant I reckon I won't send that a telegram's too expressive how dare he send for you the young man broke in you belong to Dorbury, you're a part of it yes cause I is but I want to be expressive and cautious too Jess you write and tell him something about me wanting to tame my official position this advice was taken and the result was that Walter threw the household into convulsions over an epistle couched in the most elegant language which informed Mr Stewart that while he appreciated the very kind offer the writer, Edd couldn't write a line preferred to retain his official position in view of the fact that the emoluments thereof had been materially increased and it was true there were men who had seen that black man on bloody fields which were sick with the wounded and dying and these could not speak of him without tears in their eyes there were women who begged him to come in and talk to them about their sons who had been left on some southern field wives who wanted to hear over again the last words of their loved ones and so they gave him a place for life and everything he wanted and from being despised he was much petted and spoiled for they were all fanatics End of Chapter 25 End of the Fanatics by Paul Laurence Dunbar This has been a LibriVox recording