# The Red Mist/Chapter 18

CHAPTER XVIII
UNDER DEATH SENTENCE
IT WAS dreary waiting, for every unusual sound reaching me brought with it a throb of fear. That my fate was already practically settled I knew, but how long the delay might be remained a problem. All I could hope for was that final action might be postponed until the morrow, thus giving me the protection of the night in which to put my plans into execution. Again and again I reviewed all the circumstances, so far as I understood them, seeking to convince myself that this time would be permitted me. Yet it was all guesswork, and I doubted my own conclusions. Colonel Pickney was evidently a stern and resolute officer, yet with a kindly expression in his face, yielding me some hope of delay. He would do his duty undoubtedly, but was not a man to take pleasure in the execution of such a sentence involving a human life. He would naturally postpone the inevitable as long as possible, in the hope that I might change my mind, or that some conditions might arise to relieve him of the unpleasant responsibility. He might even decide the matter of sufficient ​importance to send me to headquarters at Charleston, or hold me under guard to await the arrival of some higher officer. Fox, I felt convinced, would use whatever influence he possessed to delay action, and there was a faint hope in my mind also that Noreen might even make a plea to higher authorities in my behalf. I dare not believe she would, but the vague dream of such a thing recurred again and again to my mind.
Of course I had no conception that her thought centered on me, or that there was any depth of personal feeling in the slight interest she had already displayed by her request to Captain Fox. This was no more than the natural expression of a tenderhearted woman. We had been playmates and friends; this fact alone was sufficient to justify an effort on her part to prevent my dying an ignominious death. Besides, my capture had occurred through an attempt to serve her. This was her plea for me, and no other; this was the excuse with which she justified her interest in the case. The fact that she was legally my wife was to be kept secret—was to be forgotten forever, if possible. At first she had been frightened at the situation, fearful lest I urge our relationship as an excuse for being with her; but now she was reassured by my silence. Believing the secret safe in my keeping she was willing to venture a word in my behalf, actuated by dictates of humanity.
​This was the conclusion to which I came, and, indeed no other solution appeared probable. But even this did not evidence a dislike of me, a desire to punish, or a deep feeling of animosity. This knowledge alone brought me a real comfort, and a strengthening of courage. I listened at the door, my ear pressed against the iron, distinguishing the tramp of the guard in the corridor without, and occasionally the low rumble of words, as though there were two sentries on duty. To learn all I could I dragged the box to a position below the window, and standing on it, managed to gain a narrow glimpse without, the vista revealing a flap of dirty tent cloth and part of an army wagon backed up against the building, leaving barely enough space for the guard to pace back and forth the length of his beat. I could see his blue-clad legs, with the white stripe, cross and recross in front of me. I tested the strength of the iron grating with my hands, but the bars were firmly imbedded and immovable.
The afternoon brought me two visitors. The first was an infantry captain, quick spoken and immaculate of dress, who merely looked me over much as an entomologist might examine a strange bug, commanding me to stand up, and turn around, so as to yield view of my profile. From certain questions asked I supposed him endeavoring to identify me ​with some suspicious character with whom he had previously come in contact. What conclusion the man reached, or what report he made to Pickney, I am unable to say, for he stalked out again as silently as he had entered, and the guard banged the door shut. The sun must have been well down in the west when Fox returned. I had been expecting him, trusting to his friendly interest, and with a fleeting hope that Noreen might commission him to bring me some further message. Yet the moment I looked into his face, shadowed by the fading light, I realized that he brought no encouraging news. My heart sank, but I kept a smile on my lips.
"I expected to be out of here before now," I said meaningly, "yet I judge from your expression there is no reprieve."
"And no hope of one, Wyatt," he answered regretfully. "The evidence against you is too strong. The delay in convening a court has been caused by the scarcity of officers in camp. Our forage trains are just beginning to return, but it is now so late that Colonel Pickney has decided to hold you prisoner until morning. I waited until the order was issued before coming here. The court-martial is set for eight o'clock."
"I am thankful for even that delay. There is, I presume, no doubt as to the result?"
​"None, so far as I can learn. You are a soldier, Wyatt, and may as well face the truth. I have urged mercy on Colonel Pickney, until he finally ordered me to drop the subject. He is a strict disciplinarian, a bit of a martinet, indeed, and inclined to take the advice of a regular army officer in such matters, rather than rely on volunteers. Has Raymond any special reason to dislike you?"
"Only that I impersonated him in this masquerade."
"Bah! that was mere chance, the selection of his name from the army list. The fellow is naturally vindictive enough, but surely could not harbor personal dislike over so small a matter." He paused hesitatingly, as though doubtful of the propriety of pressing an inquiry. "I trust you will pardon me, Wyatt, but I have wondered if there was not some trouble existing between you relative to the friendship of Miss Harwood."
"That would appear impossible," I replied, somewhat surprised, "for my being with her was entirely accidental."
"Yes, so she insists; but I know Raymond is deeply interested in the girl. Someone told me he actually proposed to her at West Point, and sought this detail in hope of meeting her again. The occurrence which aroused my suspicion that he felt a ​personal grudge against you was this—I know he promised her to use his influence to have you sent to Charleston for trial, but instead he urged Colonel Pickney to exercise his own authority. I chanced to be in the next room, and overheard."
"You told her?"
"No; I have not seen the young lady since. It is rather a delicate matter to become involved in. I felt that I had better consult with you first. He has not been here?"
"No."
"He informed Pickney that he intended to come. He apparently desired to know just how you chanced to assume his name, and procured the necessary uniform, but I thought he might have some other object."
My mind worked rapidly. That Raymond was treacherous was probably true, and that, whether he actually knew it or not, he had reason to suspicion my relationship with the lady was equally a fact. Yet really he knew nothing, nor was it my privilege to enlighten him. I felt no pangs of jealousy, for, from what little I had observed, Noreen had treated him with marked coldness. There could be no great degree of intimacy between them, or she would have chosen him in this emergency rather than Captain Fox. But she had revealed to neither officer the fact ​of our marriage; it was not so much as suspected and it would be treachery on my part to even whisper it in confidence. Her reticence and silence were sufficient to close my lips, for it would not serve her in any way for me to reveal the story to Fox. While I liked the man, and had abundant confidence in his discretion, yet, if I was destined to die, the secret had better perish with me, while if I did escape, she would respect me the more if I thus established my purpose of protecting her from the gossip of the camp.
"How is it, Wyatt?" he asked, as I failed to speak. "Should Miss Harwood be informed of the lieutenant's action?"
"By no means, Captain. If the man exhibits bitterness toward me, it can have no bearing upon her. She is naturally interested in saving the life of an old playmate, and I imagine understands pretty well Raymond's character, without your information. I doubt if she really trusted the fellow even when she made him a messenger."
"So do I, for later she went herself."
"To Colonel Pickney?"
"Yes, an hour ago, after Raymond returned with his report. I was at the hotel, and saw her slip out the side door, with a shawl thrown over her head. The lady evidently did not wish to be seen, and had ​waited until the lieutenant had gone to his room. Colonel Pickney has headquarters in the big stone house opposite the court yard—"
"The old Carter place."
"Yes; I had forgotten you knew the town. It can be seen from the hotel porch, and I had the curiosity to watch. She was inside nearly half an hour, and returned by way of the side street. Then she sent for me."
"She told you the result of her interview?"
"It was not even mentioned, but I knew she had met with no success. She seemed distressed, but was anxious that you should know at once the seriousness of your position, and the only hope of escape offered you."
My heart was beating fiercely at this direct evidence of her interest in my affairs. She had even humbled herself to beg for me a chance; perhaps, to Colonel Pickney she had even confessed the truth in hope of changing his decision. But the effort had proven useless; he had named terms, which she evidently considered unworthy.
"What hope?" I asked coldly. "You mean the terms offered me before?"
He bowed gravely, but without speaking.
"And did Miss Harwood request you to urge my acceptance?"
​"By no means. Her purpose was to acquaint you with the conditions, to relieve your suspense, and permit you to realize her friendliness. I was to tell you this frankly, but not to urge any decision upon you."
"And I thank you, Captain Fox, and beg you to express to her my appreciation of her kind loyalty. Her interest has brought me happiness even here. But I cannot accept the terms offered by Colonel Pickney. I will give him no information relative to General Jackson's command. My former decision was final. My life is of small account in this struggle, and its preservation would be no excuse for treachery."
Fox grasped my hand firmly in both his own.
"I am glad of your decision, Wyatt," he said earnestly. "I had no doubt of what it would be; nor do I think she had. Is there anything I can do? Any comfort I can add?"
"Only one; I would ask of Miss Harwood a single favor. It is that she write my mother the conditions of my death—a woman can do that best."
He took an envelope from his pocket, and a pencil.
"How should such a letter be addressed?"
"Mrs. Margaret Wyatt, Goldsboro, North Carolina."
"I can promise you it shall be done. I sincerely wish, Wyatt, we had met under pleasanter ​circumstances. This is a sad ending to what might have been a lasting friendship; I confess I have learned to like you, my boy."
"And I you, Captain Fox," I responded earnestly, feeling deeply his friendliness. "My experiences of war have not made me bitter, and I know there are real men on both sides. I am simply doing my duty, as you are doing yours, and there is no enmity between us. And," in spite of every effort at control my voice faltered, "you will tell Miss Harwood how much her message of kindness meant to me."
"I certainly will, my lad—is that all? It may not be possible for me to come again."
"There is nothing else; Jackson will learn the truth through other sources—good-by, and may God guard you."
"Good-by."
Our hands clung, our eyes met, and then he turned away, without venturing to glance back; the door closed behind him, and I stood staring at it through blurred vision. I was still standing there motionless when the iron barrier opened again a few inches, and the hand of a soldier pushed a tin containing food along the floor.
"Here's your supper, Johnny," growled a voice indistinctly, "an' I guess you won't be bothered any more tonight."
​It was already quite dusk in the cell, but outside the grated window a campfire burned, and the red glare found way through the bars, and rendered the interior visible. I sat on the box, and choked down what food I could, endeavoring to drive away the feeling of depression in which Fox had left me. I needed now strength and courage to front the one chance left.