War; or, What happens when one loves one's enemy/Chapter 30
XXX
THE SACRIFICE
WE could hear Evelyn crying and raving and Jon's voice, deep and kind and persuading. Up and down, up and down. It had an effect upon Dave. At first he just looked at me—not through me—with his face between his hands. That was wonderful, too—to see a son of yours who has only laughed, so far, with his first wo in his young face. At last, with a sigh, his eyes left me and saw nothing. But I noticed a slow change in him. His eyes grew wide, his nostrils stiffened, he drew his breath between his teeth. He was at the open window hearing what Jon and Evelyn were saying. For, even I, considerably further away, could hear a good deal of it, but not enough to make sense—which must have carried to Dave. Finally, as if he understood something for the first time, he swelled up, then relaxed and let his head droop to his arms on the table. Jonathan talked louder and louder, and Evelyn was almost shrieking now. For a while I thought it was all on account of our going.
At that time it came to me in small bits which made no sense—what they were saying out there. Afterward I understood it well. It is that I tell you now—not exactly what disjointed phrases came to me at the time, but the completed conversation as time and after-events made it.
They had talked about those past days between them before Dave came home, the joy and the sorrow of them.
Now she was telling—had told—Jon all—all that she had made me swear to keep secret.
She knew the strange man who had looked in the door—and the signs he made. He was an officer of the Knights. He had seen that Dave, who was thought to be Mallory, was not sick, never had been. Dave, himself, had said so. Dave would be thought to have deceived them with the pretense of illness. Mallory must, at once, prove his apparent faithfulness, disappear from here and turn up in Stuart's cavalry or run the risk of the secret silent "execution" the Knights visited upon deserting spies.
"And, Jon, dear, I am so sick! I shall die on the way. And no one will know it. I shall lie in the woods and rot and never reach Stuart—and Dave will still be in danger, for he will still be here, and he, not I, is thought to be Mallory. Nothing I can now say will change that. No one will believe me. They know Mallory only as a man. And it must be—to-night. The signs said so. So, you must help me across the line. I can not reach there alone. You can still return in time to join your command if we start now. You know the password. I have my uniform. I'll put it on."
And she must have started away.
"Wait—wait!" says Jon. "Something must be thought of—done—but not that. I am bewildered—crazy. I can't think yet. Wait! No—not a word to Dave. If he knew he would go—oh, yes!—go as Mallory. I know Dave! For that would mend all!"
"That," says Evelyn, "is why I must go now. Only when I die on the way, as I am sure to do without you, don't you see that I have helped nothing? Mallory will still be here in the person of Dave."
"I see," says Jon.
"That is what you must think of—if you can't go with me. How my death will—can be made—to cancel all. Do you think it can? If you were not going away, too, you could tell them—swear that I am Mallory—let them find me—dead—"
"God!" says Jon.
"God—" repeats Evelyn. "Yes—they must find Mallory. But then they'd know that I was not he—that I—I am—was—"
"A woman!" says Jon. "They would uncover your body—touch it with loathsome fingers—laugh—your dead eyes would be staring up at them—your lips would be smiling—your mouth—your hair would be fallen damply over your face—yes, they would laugh at their mistake and go away and let you lie for the carrion birds—and even then Dave would not be saved!"
"Stop!" shrieks Evelyn. "What's to be done—what's to be done? I can not go. I dare not die. Daddy?" she whispers at last very low.
"No!" thunders Jon. "He deserves least of all to be the sacrifice. He has had least of you. And they wouldn't believe him a traitor."
"Then who—Jon, dear, will go as Lucas Mallory? Some one must—for Dave's sake!"
"I," says Jon.
"Oh, my poor Jon—my poor old Jonthy! To think—No, no! Let me die. It will be best that way."
"That way," says Jon, as if through his closed teeth, "accomplishes nothing but your death. The trouble is still there. You dare not die. That much is certain. Mine is the only way."
There was another silence, and then Jon went on:
"You will tell them that I am Mallory. That I shall go with my men to the Union front. Then I shall—"
It was a long time before anything more was said.
"I have the courage now for the word! Desert! When we are before Stuart I will desert to him and enlist as Mallory. Tell them so."
He hurried it all out terribly as if he was afraid he'd never get it out otherwise.
"That is what you must tell them with the code to-night. That I, a Union captain, am leading my men toward the Confederate front so that I can step over to them. That I am—that—kind—of a—Union man! God Almighty! God, God Almighty!"
"Oh, my poor Jon—my poor old Jonthy!" sobbed Evelyn again.
"Peace," says Jonathan, more quiet now. "It is decided."
"Signal to-night yet," says Jon, "the last signal, that Lucas Mallory has gone to join Stuart. To look for him there."
"Yes," says Evelyn, "and after the war is over, soon, soon, then I will not seem so bad. I shall confess—in his arms. Some things which are tragic now we shall be able to laugh at then. Then, we'll tell him and I'll take my chances with him—but not now. I'm too sick. I should die telling him, seeing his eyes flame."
We could hear her break down in sobbing. And, then, Jon:
"Kushy, kushy," he half sung, "you are not well enough for such terrible emotions. Kushy, kushy!"
Then there was pleading and promising about something I couldn't hear.
"Yes, yes, yes," says Jon, as if he were pronouncing his own death sentence, "that is better—my treason—than Dave's—and your separation—better than that you should die. I have decided. There is no other way. Be at peace."
Then there was some talk which just missed reaching me, but which, I think, reached Dave. I turned to catch it better; I heard—barely heard—old Jon say:
"Then, so it shall be. We will be within touch of the Confederate lines in less than a week. Then! But, I mean my brother to have what I am buying for him at such a fearful price. Do you understand? Will you play fair now? He must have you!"
"I understand," says Evelyn. "And I will play fair, hereafter. It won't be long, dear Jon, the war is almost over. Then all will be right. There will be no Unions or rebels—or treason—only us—always together!"
"Then, I am ready to say good-by. I shall probably never look upon your face again. After to-night I shall probably never look upon that of my brother. Let me see you for the last time on earth."
Then a silence.
"My God!" I heard Jon say, and, then again, "my God! Who would think that you—beautiful, wonderful—you could be the cause—"
I closed my eyes and could imagine Jon looking into that face which could be so wonderful, as he turned it to the moon.
And, then, suddenly, I turned upon Dave—something made me do it—and such a Dave I had never seen before. Ach! It's wonderful what an effect the mind has upon the body—and so quick!