CHAPTER XXXV
THE CONFESSION
WE bore the bodies out by the way of the cabin entrance, taking them both into the main house. Dunn remained with his mother, thoroughly broken down by this revelation, and Lucille joined him. Donald himself, forgetful of the feud, went to Maria with the news of her husband's death, and brought her and the eldest boy back with him to sit beside the body. There remained nothing for me to do, and, depressed and lonely, I returned to the deserted library, and waited.
I was still a prisoner, and although I might easily have escaped, a sense of honor held me more securely than bonds. I wondered what Donald intended to do with me. Without doubt he understood by now my connection with Jean, and he might not feel so lenient toward me. Where was Jean? Could she be avoiding me, ashamed of her avowal, and fearful lest I should have taken her hasty words seriously? This would not seem true to her nature, and surely she could not so misconstrue my character. Yet Donald might have convinced the girl it was better we should never meet again. The whole game came to me in a flash. Donald had reason to fear Dunn, and not me. My marriage to Jean Denslow was a service which he was willing to repay. Previous to my appearance the love between these two was hopeless, the girl's father favoring Dunn's suit, and forcing her to immediate marriage. I had blocked that by pure accident. Delay was inevitable, for the form of a divorce would have to be gone through with before Dunn could again claim her. All this was to the advantage of Donald. His only immediate desire would be to get rid of me, leaving him in possession of the field. It was not pleasant to think about; to realize that the girl was being played with in this manner; and that I was utterly helpless. If she cared for me the situation would be different, but my love was of no service while her heart belonged to another. Played with? Beyond question she was part of the play, acting her role at Donald's dictation, as anxious as he was, that I should disappear from the stage.
I had reached this gloomy conclusion when the man himself came in, closing the door behind him, and crossing the room to stand with his back toward me, looking out of the window. Finally he turned and looked me, his own face in the shadow.
"King." he said gravely, "as a Confederate officer it is no doubt my duty to hold you as a prisoner of war. I suppose that when Dunn recovers from his present shock, and his old nature returns, he will make some sort of report of this matter and endeavor to get me into trouble. The fellow dislikes you cordially, and from all I hear, with good reason. However, what he thinks does n't affect me. and I am going to give you a horse and safe passage into your own lines—you and your wild Irishman."
"I thank you very much, Colonel Donald," rising to my feet, and speaking rather stiffly.
"Not at all, Lieutenant. I believe I owe you my life, but that counts even less with me than Jean's desire. I have promised your release to her."
I could say nothing, and he went on gravely.
"I have just been given the details of what occurred at Denslow's plantation, and your connection with the affair. It makes a very peculiar story. I had heard it hinted at before, but had no reason to suppose you the man. May I ask, do you propose taking advantage of this situation in any way? My own relations with Jean give me the right to ask this."
"I am aware of that, Colonel Donald, and will answer frankly. I mean to make every amend in my power. I respect and admire Miss Denslow sincerely, and will never stand in the way of her happiness. I pledge you my word to this, and ask your confidence."
"You certainly have that, King," he said heartily. "I feel that I can trust you both. This is an occasion when the Blue and the Gray can clasp hands," and he held out his own. "Your horses are at the steps, and the more promptly you get away the better. It may be we shall never meet again, but I wish your remembrance of me to be a kindly one."
"It could not be otherwise."
We passed out into the hall together, and the light rested on his handsome, genial face. It was indeed easy to understand how she had learned to love him. I endeavored to speak, but the words seemed to choke me—I was about to leave behind all my inspiration and hope. At the foot of the stairs he stopped, his hand pressing my arm.
"Jean wishes to speak with you before you go," he said calmly. "She is in the parlor."
Then he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there alone facing the closed door. The blood surged to my face: I could feel the trembling of my fingers as they grasped the knob. I had not expected, not even hoped for this. She was standing waiting me, in the centre of a room full of sunshine—a slender, white-robed figure, with smiling lips and smiling eyes. I stopped irresolute, still grasping the door, wondering what it was I should say to her. Yet she gave me short time for thought.
"I asked Colonel Donald to have you come to me before your departure," she said firmly, "so there might be no misunderstanding between us."
"You refer to the words spoken yonder, Miss Denslow?" and it seemed to me an icy hand gripped my heart. "There was no misunderstanding, I assure you. I realize that what you said was merely to save life; spoken on the spur of the moment."
Her eyes fell, the blood flooding her cheeks.
"It was not that I meant, Lieutenant King, it was something very different. I have not really deceived you, but—but I have permitted you to deceive yourself. I thought I could let you go away without any explanation, but I—find I cannot, and Colonel Donald thinks I had better confess the truth."
"I hope you also think so."
"Yes, I—I believe I do, only I hardly know how to begin, how to make it all clear. When you told me once that you cared for me, I said that I loved Colonel Donald. You remember that?"
"Yes," eagerly, "was it not true?"
"It was true, but—but not in the way you thought. Listen to me: I wish to tell you a little—just a little—about my own life; then you will understand."
She paused with eyes cast down, her bosom heaving.
"My birth took place fifteen miles east of here on Clear Creek in the mountains. Long before then my family had become involved in a feud which has cost many lives. My father was not of a nature to keep this up, but was compelled to defend himself, and for some years the other side was in the ascendant, and used their power remorselessly. When I was but a child our home was burned to the ground, and my mother, with me in her arms, driven to the mountains. My father was away at the time, and the exposure of the night cost my mother's life."
I could see the tears in her eyes at the memory, yet she continued speaking.
"It seemed as if this loss of his wife temporarily crazed my father. It seemed to change his entire disposition, and he lived only for revenge, and to drive the other faction from this region. For the time he appeared to lose all interest in me, and passed his days and nights in the mountains with the few he could gather to his cause. I was taken to the home of an aunt, my mother's sister. I must have been a lovable child, for I won her affection, and that of her husband. They insisted upon adopting me as their own; and my real father had no home, no ambition other than revenge, he consented, and I became legally Jean Denslow. No girl could have had a happier life than mine, or greater kindness and care. But it is true, I love Colonel Donald, for he is my father."
It seemed to me I could not speak, the words rushing to my lips choked me. What could all this mean, this confession, this acknowledgment? In confusion, in eagerness, I succeeded in blurting out,
"But Dunn? You were engaged to Dunn?"
"Yes," her eyes uplifting to mine. "It was the wish of my foster father, and then I knew no better."
"But now? Since then you have learned your mistake? You do not love him?"
"You forget, I am a married woman."
I sprang forward, clasping her hands, a sudden confidence mastering me.
"Jean, tell me the truth—all the truth! What is it your heart says?"
Shall I ever forget what I read in the depths of those blue-gray eyes, or those words in which she answered me?
"I love my husband."
THE END