# My Lady of the South/Chapter 15

CHAPTER XV
ON GUARD WITH JEAN
IN complete amazement I heard these words, too surprised for the moment to utter a syllable. It was fear, then, which had driven her here. Yet this fact did not in any way lessen the act as proof of her confidence. In need she had turned to me for help, believing in, and trusting me. Yet surely she must have been frightened at a shadow; the man who had killed Navarre had fled, dropped from the open window; the thought that he had dared return to the scene of his crime was incomprehensible.
"You say the assassin is still here?—in this house?" I questioned. "Are you sure?"
"No, not sure, but 1 have every reason to believe so. Certainly some one is in this house other than I know. One of the servants caught a glimpse of him, and I have seen that which has aroused my own suspicions. Lieutenant King, I am not a nervous creature, given to hysteria, but a mountain girl accustomed to see deeds of violence, and have been taught to rely upon myself for protection. I have not dreamed this, but I actually believe there is some presence in this house seeking evil."
"But, Miss Denslow, how can this be possible?" I urged earnestly, convinced by the expression of her face ​that she was deeply moved. "Surely every inch of the house could be searched, the negroes would do that."
"They have done that, unwillingly enough, I fear, yet thoroughly, under my own supervision, but I do not believe I know all the house."
"Not know all! What can you mean?"
"This house was built in time of feud, and in a feud country. Judge Dunn was then on the bench, and had made many dangerous enemies by his decisions. He was always a man to arouse animosity by his arbitrary manner and abrupt speech. As a girl I heard this house contained a hidden room, and secret passages, so arranged as to facilitate escape in time of peril or attack. Calvert Dunn has confessed as much, but he and his father alone know the secret. I have asked Lucille, but she has no information, and it would be useless to question the Judge."
"Where is he now?"
"Where you saw him last, occupying his chair in the library, his body perfectly helpless, his mind apparently as active as ever, but more bitter than before because of his physical weakness. I do not think he has slept for two nights, or that he has uttered a word, except to curse the servants who brought him food."
I had the full picture of the situation clearly before me now—the superstitious, unwilling darkies, knowing just enough to be frightened at their own shadows; the characterless and colorless Lucille, suffering from a headache and locked safely away within her own room; that vindictive old man, seated helpless in his chair, her strange ​eyes glaring out across the library table, and Jean Denslow left alone in the big house to cope with its mystery, the night shadows closing in. The sight of her standing there before me, her slender figure barely perceptible in the gloom, was an appeal irresistible. Whatever of service I could give would be offered with glad heart, while not a thought remained as to my own safety. Instinctively I extended my hand, and, in the sudden response of comradeship, she slipped her own into my grasp, the slight fingers trembling to my touch.
"I—I believe I am actually afraid," she confessed, as if almost ashamed to make such acknowledgment. "I never felt so before, and hardly understand myself. This is so different from a real danger—this—this haunted feeling."
I do not recall what I said, but I know 1 retained her hand in mine, and must have spoken words of encouragement, for when we emerged from that dark hole of a cellar into the narrow hallway, already lighted by a hanging lamp, her eyes were smiling, and the grasp of her fingers had grown firm.
"I shall want weapons, Miss Denslow," I said, as we stood looking up and down the main hall, "for whoever this visitant may prove he will be of flesh and blood, and not impervious to a bullet. You can trust me armed?"
"Oh, yes; I will get your own revolvers. They were left in the library."
She was back in a moment, and I snapped the belt about my waist, feeling renewed confidence as I found both weapons still loaded.
​"And now I am ready for the worst; even anxious to go in search for trouble. What is it you wish? Shall I visit the Judge and try to learn the house secret, or explore for myself?"
"No," she answered, her fingers nervously pressing the sleeve of my jacket. "I am convinced either course would be useless. I merely wish you to remain with me, and watch."
"At least let me assure myself that no one is concealed on this floor," I insisted, "as we can then choose better our point of guard."
She did not object, although it was clear enough she considered the precaution valueless. However, the manner in which she followed me about, anxiously scanning the dark corners, evidenced the state of her nerves and determined me to make the search a thorough one. Lamp in hand I explored every nook and corner, peering under furniture, and into closet recesses, until absolutely convinced that not even a rat could have escaped my scrutiny. Having thus completed the lower floor, not even forgetting to test the walls in hope of thus locating the secret room, I was for following the same course above, had she not begged me to desist, her voice trembling, her face pathetic as she pleaded. Through the partially opened door I caught a glimpse of the Judge at the library table, his head bowed forward as if he slept, but I did not venture to enter the room.
"Miss Denslow," I said at last, standing at the foot of the stairs, "if it is true that any one is hiding in the house, as you suspect, the fellow must be the murderer of ​lieutenant Navarre. Naturally I wish to make that man prisoner. I want him to come here where I can get my hands on him. Are you willing to sit here in the dark, thus helping me to draw him into the trap?"
Her eyes lifted to mine in a single searching glance.
"Yes," she said quietly; "I know I am nervous, strangely so, yet I am not afraid."
I blew out the light, placed two chairs back in the denser shadow underneath the circular staircase, and made her sit down in the one nearest the wall. Her hand was cold, trembling as I touched it, and I whispered a few words of courage into her ear, but she made no effort to respond. So silent was everything I could hear her light breathing, and the slightest change of posture seemed to start the echoes. Peering out around the stairs, I could see nothing except the darker shadow of furniture, dimly visible by reason of the little glimmer of light stealing forth from the partially opened door of the library, its light flickering giving everything a ghostly aspect. Perhaps we had been sitting thus for ten minutes, in a stillness so profound as to be painful, when I felt the girl's hand steal along the arm of my chair, and press my sleeve. The movement, unconsciously made perhaps, was eloquent of her distress of mind, and, obeying the first impulse, I reached across and clasped her fingers within my own. She made no effort to withdraw, and we sat thus in the dark, like two lovers, listening intently, neither venturing to speak. How the time dragged, the minutes seeming like hours under the continuous strain of expectation. I had much to consider, yet my mind did not ​work with its accustomed clearness, nor could I divorce my thoughts from the girl at my side, who was exhibiting such confidence in me. The slight pressure of her hand now warm and throbbing, the soft inhalation of breath continually reminded me of her near presence.
Was she right or wrong in her suspicion? Had overstrained nerves caused her to believe the house haunted? Or had the assassin, dissatisfied with his previous work returned tn complete his task? I was not convinced either way, yet the fellow must be mad to run such risk of discovery. Still, if he understood the situation, that the girl had been left alone, his venture would not be particularly dangerous; he had no reason to fear her or the negroes. Yet if he knew all this, he must also be aware that Colonel Donald and Calvert Dunn would soon return, and that he must act quickly in order to escape. A great clock at the rear of the hall boomed out nine strokes, causing us both to start nervously at the first unexpected sound. I counted the strokes to make sure of the hour.
"Do you know when the others are expected back?" I asked in a low whisper, turning my face toward her barely perceptible outline.
"No; they were unable to say, but they surely must be here before morning."
"Perhaps it is cruel of me to insist upon your remaining here in the dark. You could go into one of the rooms with a lamp, and lie down and rest."
"Oh, no," the clasp of her hand tightening, "I am far too nervous; I prefer being here with you."
​There was that in both tone and action to urge me forward.
"It is odd you should trust me so wholly," I ventured, "a Yankee and a stranger, and one under such grave suspicion of crime."
She did not answer, or appear to distinguish my words.
"Why should you trust me, Miss Denslow?"
"Indeed I do not know," as if the thought had but just occurred to her, "only the act is natural to me. I either trust fully, or not at all. I have been like that from a child, the servant of ﬁrst impressions."
"And your ﬁrst impression of me was favorable?"
"Had it not been," she acknowledged frankly, "I would certainly never be here."
"Yet you have not forgotten my uniform?"
"No, although there are times when I seem to forget," her voice hesitated, yet finally concluded, "and times when I wish you would not remind me of it."
"I do not," I returned hastily, "remind you of the color I wear with any purpose of making it a barrier between us. I fail to understand why it should be. I respect and honor you for your loyalty to the cause you have espoused. and surely you can believe me equally sincere in my principles. We are what we are in such matters very largely through birth and environment, but we remain men and women just the same. our hearts and natures unchanged."
"Yes, I know. I have learned that," but with a bit of doubt in her tone, "only my education has not been of the kind to make this an easy lesson. I was brought ​up to hate my enemies; to ﬁght them bitterly, and to the death. That was the feud spirit, and we took this feeling with us into the war. The people of the mountains enlisted for North or South the better to ﬁght out their old grudges. and I cannot wipe out in a day the bitterness implanted in me from babyhood."
"Yet you were educated in a Northern seminary. Surely you found friends there?"
"A few, but even there we of the South clung together. We are a clannish lot, Lieutenant King, narrow in our prejudices, and unforgiving. I sincerely wish I could take a broader view."
"And you do already. You are here now with a Yankee whom you trust. Peculiar conditions have brought us into sudden intimacy. Under other circumstances I could never have known you as I do now; years of ordinary intercourse would not have made us so well acquainted. We are really friends, are we not?"
Perhaps my voice and manner were too ardent. for her hand slipped from mine, and I heard the sharp indrawing of her breath.
"I— am hardly ready to promise that. You are not justified in asking so much. I feel kindly toward you; I believe you a gentleman, and trust you as one. But I do not know you, Lieutenant King, and—and," her voice grew ﬁrmer, "all my friends are on the other side."
"Oh no, they are not, Miss Denslow; I am your friend in spite of every difference between us. So long as I live there will be one heart under a blue uniform you may ​feel confidence in. I do not even believe you are as hard-hearted as your words would indicate. Shall I be entirely forgotten as soon as this episode is over? Will you not retain some kindly memory of me?"
"I could not be indifferent to the claim of gratitude."
"Nor can you refuse friendship while I show myself worthy—can you?"
She remained silent, a silence I did not understand, yet I was unwilling to accept it as a negative.
"You gave me your hand a few moments ago because you were frightened and nervous: it was a comfort then for you to feel the nearness of one upon whom you relied for protection. Will you not give me the same hand now in token of friendship?"
It seemed to me 1 waited a long while, my own heart beating like a trip-hammer, as she sat there motionless in the dark. Then there was a slight rustle of her loose sleeve, as her hand slipped hesitatingly along the arm of my chair. I held it for a moment in silence, not daring to utter the mad words which came thronging to my lips.
"I thank you," I said at last, "your friendship will mean much to me."
"I do not know why I am so foolish," she confessed, as though the words escaped her control. "Somehow you make me do things, even against my will."
"Is this against your will?"
"No; I think not; really I do not know. Our acquaintance has been so unconventional I scarcely realize my own feelings. I—I haven't liked Yankees, you ​know, and it is pretty hard to learn to like even one Yankee."
"But you are going to try?"
I could hear the breath between her half-opened lips.
"I don't think I shall have to try—very hard. Somehow you do not seem like a Yankee at all."
"Good; I am not going to seem like one—at least not in the sense you mean."
If I could have read the expression in her eyes I might have dared more, but, in that darkness, her words barely audible from the cautious whisper in which we conversed, my courage failed. Already I had gained much, more even than I could justly have expected, and I might make a great mistake at any attempt to go further. Besides she was in my care, she had trusted herself to me, and were I to take unfair advantage of the situation it might cost me all I had already gained of her good-will. This consideration was sufficient to induce me to speak of other things, the war, the relation of Colonel Donald to the Confederacy, and her early life in this region. I think she was glad to talk, even in a cautious whisper, as a partial relief from the strain of waiting there in uncertainty and darkness, and she spoke with a girlish frankness, affording me glimpses of her character. Yet the time came when we both relapsed into silence, and I sat motionless, listening for any sound, my eyes on the thin line of light streaming through the crack left by the nearly closed library door. I felt little apprehension of any other presence in the house, believing the girl's overwrought nerves ​responsible for her fear. The testimony of the superstitious negroes, frightened as they were by the tragedy of Navarre's death, carried small weight, and Miss Denslow, left alone, might easily imagine all kinds of evils. Yet there was nothing to do except remain and watch. In the long silence her breathing became heavier, more regular; convinced she slept, I ventured to discover the truth by touching her gently with my hand. Her head rested against the cushioned chair-back, her cheek pillowed upon one hand, and she was sleeping like a child. I tiptoed forward and peered into the library. Judge Dunn sat just as before, his posture unchanged, his head bent forward upon the table. Suddenly my ears caught the creak of a board sounding from the top of the stairs. I was not even certain I actually heard it, yet I stepped aside into the deeper shadow of the coat-rack, every nerve a-tingle, my hand reaching for the revolver at my belt.