# My Lady of the South/Chapter 29

CHAPTER XXIX
THE TESTIMONY OF A WITNESS
I COULD hardly see the expression of the man's face in the miserable light of that smoking lantern when he leaped forward gripping me by the shoulder so fiercely that for the instant I thought it an attack. His voice alone reassured me.
"A woman!" he cried. "Are you sure?—did you see her?"
"Yes," I answered, beginning to understand his suspicion. "I saw her twice—it was the haggard face of an insane woman, with gray hair, and the wildest eyes imaginable. I was trailing her just now through this tunnel."
"She escaped this way? You are sure she went this way?"
"No, Daniels, not sure," and I began to experience compassion for him. "I last saw her face a few minutes ago in the front chamber up-stairs. Before I could get outside she had disappeared, and I searched the entire second floor without finding any trace. She could leave the house in no other way except along this passage, as the lower hall is under guard. What is it you suspect?—that it may be your wife? Did she know of this entrance?"
​"Yes," he almost sobbed, his head lowered, "she knew. I heard of it from one of ther workmen, and talked of it with her, but I can't believe it of Maria; I can't believe it. If she has ever done such an act she's insane." He stared about into the darkness, apparently dazed. "Who else saw her? Did any one else see her?"
"Only Jean Denslow."
"She saw her, and said nothing?—there was no recognition?"
"There was not a word said, Daniels. Miss Denslow appeared horrified at the face, but I am sure there was no recognition."
He buried his face in his hands, swaying on his feet like a drunken man, and I could hear his heavy breathing. I had never before supposed the man capable of such feeling, and his total surrender touched me deeply. Perhaps here and now was the opportunity to end this century feud, to bring the warring factions to some mutual understanding.
"See here, Daniels," and T grasped him by the arm, compelling him to lift his face to the light. "I am not ready to think this was the work of your wife. But there ought to be some way to settle it. Would Jean Denslow know her?"
"Yes."
"Then come with me to Jean Denslow. You are surely not afraid to meet her, and she will tell the truth."
"But you say ther house is under guard."
"True; but the soldiers don't know you. Miss ​Denslow is here alone; both Donald and Calvert Dunn are absent. I pledge you my word no harm shall befall you if you will go with me at once. If this strange woman is your wife Jean Denslow will know it. If not, then we must all unite to find out who she is. No matter what bitterness of hatred this feud has put in your heart, you don't want these cowardly murders charged against you. You are a fighting man, Daniels; now meet this thing square."
I could read the struggle in his face, yet I must have spoken the right words, for he managed to say at last:
"I'll go to her with yer, Leftenaut, I'll go; but I never thought I'd ever go ter one o' thet breed on no mission o' peace, an' blame me if I would to nary one but her. I allers reckoned she was squar, an' I ain't got no fight with her, but thar'll be hell ter pay if I run up agin any o' ther rest o' 'em. Yer'll bear thet in mind, sir."
"All right, Daniels," I responded, glad to get this much consideration out of him. "I am risking trouble, as well as you. The fact is I am practically a prisoner, but the girl has opened a way for my escape during the absence of the others. If they arrive before I get away, my game is up. In such case we shall have to stand together." He was gazing down the black passage. "Come on, there is no use hunting in that direction. You came from there, and if the woman escaped through this tunnel she is beyond reach now. Will you go with me to Miss Denslow? Give me your hand on it."
He was not yet satisfied, but the desire to find his wife, ​to learn the truth, was strong enough to overcome even the feud spirit, and, after a moment's hesitation, I felt the grip of his fingers. An instant I stared into the cool gray of his eyes in uncertainty; then turned and retraced my steps along the passage. The way was clear, the fire-screen standing open as I had left it, and the two of us crept out into the deserted hall, seeing no one. I peered cautiously down the stairs, finding O'Brien still on guard at the door. In a moment he glanced upward, saw me, and stepped instantly back to where he could take a quick survey of his surroundings. Apparently satisfied that he was alone, he came to the foot of the stairs, and asked in a stage whisper,—
"Did ye git her, sor?"
"No, not yet, but I need to speak with Miss Denslow. Do you know where she is?"
"She wint insoide the loibrary, sor, an' that 's the last I've seen of her."
"Get word to her to come to the front room up-stairs, but don't let any one else hear you."
I steered Daniels into the apartment designated, leaving the door open. The man seemed to have lost his nerve, from the way his hand trembled, although his eyes retained their deadly glint, and I knew he would prove dangerous enough if occasion warranted. I made him sit down in the nearest chair, and took my own position between him and the open door. I was not armed, and I doubted if he was any better fixed, except for the knife which he had picked up from the floor of the tunnel. But I no longer felt any fear of a personal contest with the ​fellow: tough and sinewy as he was, my knowledge of boxing made me more than his match, and I was determined that if any trouble started I should strike the first blow.
We may have been there ten minutes, our eyes on the door, myself standing rigid and expectant, but Daniels fidgeting nervously and evidently half suspicious that he was being made the victim of some trick. Twice he half arose to his feet, an oath on his lips, yet I succeeded in quieting him, although he sat on the very edge of the chair, ready to spring at the slightest alarm. I could not wonder at his trepidation under the circumstances, for he was in the home of hereditary foes, with only my word as assurance of safety. I heard the soft pressure of feet on the stairs, and then the swish of a dress in the hall. Daniels was on his feet instantly, crouching like a wild animal, but I held him back with a grip upon his arm.
"Stay where you are," I whispered sternly, "it is only the girl coming."
For the first second she appeared to perceive me only, her eyes searching my face in one quick, questioning glance; then she saw Daniels, and she reeled back against the side of the door, flinging out her hands, the expression of her face picturing startled recognition.
"You!" she burst forth, before I could speak,—"Lieutenant King, what is this man doing here?"
I caught the extended hand, drew her within the room, and closed the door. She seemed to yield to me without effort at resistance, but still stared into Daniels's face ​with inexpressible horror. Never before had I realized the depth of dread and hatred engendered by this death war. To her mind this man was a fiend, a murderer, a devil incarnate, from whom she shrank in unutterable horror. But I held her close to me, determined she should remain and listen, confident her woman's heart would respond to the human plea.
"Miss Denslow, wait," I urged eagerly, "wait and listen to my explanation. Daniels is not here to do injury. No doubt you have been taught to consider him as a deadly enemy, cruel and vindictive, but he is only a man who has been driven to acts of violence by the conditions of birth. He possesses all the feelings natural to humanity, and is here now in peace. Will you listen to me? Will you hear the story?"
She clung to me closely, still shrinking back from him, her eyes leaving his face to study mine, and as instantly softening in expression. That she trusted me was apparent, and my heart leaped to the knowledge with a fresh courage.
"Yes," slowly, almost reluctantly. "I will listen, but—but make him stand where he is."
"He shall not move until I am done. Miss Jean, and I can explain all in few words. You had scarcely left me alone, when this door was pushed open and I saw, reflected in the mirror there, the awful face of that woman who seems to haunt this house. I sprang toward her, but tripped and fell, so that when I reached the hall she had vanished. I searched every room on the floor vainly. Although my own escape depended on my getting away ​at once, I did not dare leave you comparatively alone here with that creature at large. I found O'Brien on guard below, and set forth myself to explore the tunnel once more. Half way through I met Daniels. It does n't make any difference what happened between us down there, nor how he came to be there; but I told him about this woman, that you, as well as I, had seen her, and he wanted to ask you something. Will you answer him?"
She looked at the man, wetting her lips, her eyes opened wide in bewilderment.
"Yes," she said, "I will answer."
Daniels was trembling like a leaf. I could see his hands shake, and he spoke with difficulty.
"Wal, Miss," he said, forcing his words out, "I reckon yer don't think none too much o' me, an' I 'spect I hev done some pretty blame mean things, but they were n't a darn bit meaner than what's been done ter me. When I went off ter ther war I hed a cabin up on Lost Crick, whar I thought it was safe, an' I left a wife an' three kids thar awaitin' my comin' back. Las' night I got a chance ter ride thet way, an' I found some hell-hounds hed burnt ther cabin, an' either murdered ther woman an' ther kids, or else drove 'em inter ther hills. I could n't git no trace o' them high er low, an' I nat'rally laid it up agin your people. Now, Miss, maybe I'm tough, but I'm man enough ter care a heap fer my wife an' ther kids jist ther same, an' I started out ter find what hed become o' them. Thet's what fetched me yere, an' I come fightin' mad. I reckon yer know what we-uns are in ther ​mountings, an' how hard we hate. Wal, I never hated no worse than I do now; an' if half I'm feared of is true, thar's sure goin' ter be hell 'round yere whin I do turn loose."
She stood staring at him with white face and parted lips, apparently only partially understanding the man's broken speech, yet, with womanly instinct, grasping the one essential fact—the strange disappearance of his wife and children.
"Mr. Daniels," she broke in impulsively. "I have been taught to fear you, but I am not afraid now," and she looked quickly from his face into mine. "You seem to think that we—that Jem Donald—has burnt your cabin, driven your family out; but it is not so; I know it is not so. I—I am just as sorry as any one to hear this; indeed I am, for I have met your wife; she—she was kind to me once, years ago."
The man choked, much of the sternness gone from his haggard face.
"Yes, she told me 'bout thet, an' it was because you'd know her thet I kim yere ter question yer. Ther Leftenant says you saw ther woman who has been murderin' in this house. If yer did, I want yer ter tell me ther truth—was it Maria?"
The girl's hands went to her throat, as if the unexpected inquiry had taken her breath, and for the moment she remained mute, her eyes on his, her slender form trembling. Then she conquered herself with an effort.
"Yes, I—I saw the face!" she answered, shuddering; the very memory seemed painful; "an awful face, scarcely ​human; it was white and haggard, with wild black eyes, and wisps of gray hair dangling on either side. It seemed to me like a vision of hate, and I cannot banish the recollection from my mind. But—but I never saw that face before—never; as God hears me, it was not your wife."
A long moment the mountaineer looked at her, apparently seeking the truth in the girl's eyes; then he collapsed into the chair, shuddering as he buried his face in his hands.