# My Lady of the South/Chapter 12

CHAPTER XII
I FACE FATE
SHE did not scream as she saw me, but her face went instantly white, and her hands were suddenly flung out in startled surprise.
"You—you here?"
The tension I had been through, the knowledge of what was concealed behind that door, gave me control of myself.
"Yes," I answered swiftly, "I made my escape from the store-room, and have been trying to find a way out of the house, but have not fancied a drop to the ground."
She stared in my face, her eyes wide from amazement.
"You have been in there?—in my room?"
"Is this your room?"
"Yes—why did you go there?"
"Merely because it was the first door I found unlocked."
"But it was not unlocked; see, I have the key here in my pocket."
"Yet you must have been mistaken, for the door was certainly unlocked when I came, even standing very slightly ajar."
From the expression of her face I doubted if she believed me, yet no sound but that of her rapid breathing ​came from between her slightly parted lips. I felt obliged to continue speaking.
"I was endeavoring to escape, as I have explained, but now have decided otherwise and ask you to aid me."
"Ask me? Why should you ask me?"
"Because I feel that you sympathize with me; that you still have faith in my statements. A few moments ago I overheard you attempt my defence in the library."
"I—I do not think I defended you," the color coming back into her cheeks. "Indeed I do not remember what I said."
"You said you believed I was all I claimed to be, and that my behavior while with you was that of a gentleman."
"I—I could not say less," she confessed wonderingly, "but that does not imply I would connive at your escape. We are not friends, but enemies."
"War enemies possibly, but that is all I will ever admit. Nor will I ask of you any assistance which you cannot render in all honor to your cause."
"What is it you do ask?"
"That you will go with me now directly to those gathered in the library. I want to tell them my story, and let them judge as to its truth."
She hesitated, one hand pressed against the side wall, and I felt that her slight form was trembling, as she studied my face with widely opened eyes.
"Go to them? Do you suppose they will ever believe you?"
"I do not know; I hope I can make them. Yet it is ​not so important to me what they decide, for the one thing which impels me to such action is my desire to retain your confidence and faith."
"Mine?"
"Yes; we have not known each other long, and I am a Yankee, your war enemy, yet I sincerely desire your good opinion. I am ready to face those people in order to retain what little I already possess. You have openly defended me before them, and I cannot run away leaving you to believe me a coward, or worse."
That I was deeply in earnest she appeared to comprehend, her eyes drooping behind their long lashes, but she seemed to find difficulty in speech.
"I—I do not quite understand," she admitted at last, almost reluctantly. "You must not do this believing that I can help you, or—or that I am even inclined to do so. I believe you are a soldier, an honorable man, yet I am unreservedly against your cause. You surely appreciate this; know that it was my trick which imprisoned you."
"That has left no sting, Miss Denslow," I returned warmly. "That you outwitted me was natural enough, and I hold no malice. The one question now is, will you go down with me to the library? "
"May I enter my own room for a moment first?"
"I should prefer not; we have been here several minutes already, and I am afraid of discovery. I wish to go down voluntarily, with you alone."
She hesitated, her lashes again lifting, her eyes plainly puzzled at so strange a request.
"I begin to consider you a very odd man," she said ​slowly, "but perhaps I shall understand it all better when I hear what you have to say to the others."
"Yes," I replied soberly. "I think you will understand then."
She turned about, glancing slightly back toward me across her shoulder.
"You may come," she acknowledged, "for I am sure of one thing—I am not at all afraid of you."
My mind was full of a strange conflict as I followed her slender figure down the circular staircase to the lower hall. No doubt I was in for a stormy time, nor could I hope to clear myself entirely of suspicion. Circumstances pointed directly at me as the murderer of that man above, and I realized how exceedingly weak was my defence. Yet this voluntary surrender would surely have weight, even upon those prejudiced minds, and I had faith—strong, abiding faith—that Jean Denslow would believe the truth of my statement. Somehow, just then, to retain the confidence of this girl meant infinitely more to me than all the rest. How quietly she accepted my plan, and undertook the carrying out of her part in it, never once glancing back to learn if I was really following. Yet there must have been a bit of the dramatic in her composition, for no stage picture could have been more deftly arranged than the simple form in which she managed our entrance. Stepping softly within the library, and drawing slightly to one side, so as to reveal me standing erect in the doorway, she announced clearly:
"Lieutenant King."
I caught it all in one swift glance—the book-lined ​walls, the glass front of the cases reflecting back the glow of the clustered lights suspended from the ceiling; the heavy mahogany centre table; a wide sofa, with a man and a woman seated upon it, both with dark eyes and hair, and strongly resembling each other, the man wearing a Confederate uniform, the woman attired in some clinging brown material, which rustled, as both instantly rose to their feet in surprise; behind the table, sunk low down within his cushioned chair, his deep-sunken eyes staring across at me, as if he saw a vision, was Judge Dunn; while to his right another man—big, burly, his hair closely cropped, and iron-gray, leaned forward as if to spring, one hand gripping the arm of his chair, the other as instantly plucking forth a revolver from his belt. Even as the ready weapon flashed deadly in the light, I spoke, my hands held up, as I took a single step forward into the room.
"I am not here as an enemy, gentlemen; if I were I could have easily shot first from the hall. I merely wish to be heard, and, as evidence of good faith, I will deposit my weapons on the table."
You could have heard a pin drop as I advanced, unclasped my belt, and laid it before them; the two sank back upon the sofa, while the big fellow, still leaning forward, as though braced for a spring, slowly returned his revolver to its sheath, yet without once removing his eyes from my face. No one among them uttered a word, although the Judge was sputtering as if endeavoring to gain control of his language. I had plainly the advantage of surprise, and comprehended the value of retaining it.
​"Now, gentlemen," I began, running my eyes searchingly over their surprised faces, "I have come to you voluntarily to make a statement. In one sense I am your prisoner, yet, had I chosen to do so, I could have been well out of your hands by now. Under these conditions I have some reason to believe you will listen to me quietly, realizing that I speak the truth. I could have no other object in thus coming to you. I am a Federal officer, detailed upon the staff of General Rosecrans, and temporarily in command of scouts. Day before yesterday I was ordered to take two men and examine this neighborhood, for the purpose of discovering. if possible, the rendezvous of a guerilla leader known to us as Big Jem Donald." l gazed directly into the eyes of the giant who was now leaning back in his chair. "Are you the man?"
He smiled slightly, his entire face changing its expression.
"You may assume so for sake of argument. Go on."
"Understanding that Judge Dunn had some connection with this band of raiders, I left my men asleep this morning, and ventured here alone, hoping to discover opportunity for investigation. In the shadow of the grape trellis I unexpectedly encountered a young lady, who offered to permit my searching the house. While prosecuting that search I was suddenly locked into a store-room, and made prisoner. Thus far my story is perfectly familiar to you; that which follows may be of interest."
I paused an instant, and before I could resume, the deep voice of Donald interrupted with a question.
"Who were the men with you?"
​"Two scouts, Daniels and O'Brien."
The slight smile deserted his face, the lips becoming sternly set.
"That is why we have distrusted you; doubted your purpose," he explained shortly. "What do you know regarding this man Daniels?"
"Very little; I met him first a week ago, and then merely as his commanding officer. I understand he is a native of this region, and, for that reason, was selected to guide us on this scout."
"Well, before you go on, I will tell you something about Bill Daniels," the voice low, quiet, convincing, "something which may possibly justify our action toward you, if we are guilty of any mistake. Daniels was born within five miles of this spot; he was born into a feud which has cursed this mountain region for many years. My father was involved in it, and it cost him his life; when I grew up to manhood I made every effort in my power to reach a just settlement of the difficulty. I refused to go armed; I refused to retaliate for injuries done my property. I appealed to the courts, instead of fighting it out with the rifle. But those fellows could n't understand that sort of thing; they held me a coward, and started in to drive me out of the country. This Daniels was the leader, and he had with him a lot of midnight assassins. Before I learned the uselessness of courts, my house was burned, my crops destroyed; and my wife, weakened by exposure, died. I was twice shot from ambush, and three men, allied with my interests, had treacherously been done to death. It was then I became ​a fighting man. It took three years to rid these hill, of their vermin; it cost blood and money, but when we were done, those mountain roads yonder were safe to travel over. This man Daniels was captured, tried, and condemned for murder, with Judge Dunn here on the bench, The atrocity of his crimes was almost beyond belief, and he was sentenced to death. In some way he escaped from prison and disappeared. The war broke out; but knowing him to be alive, knowing the threats he had made, and that the people here required my protection, knowing here still remained in the region those who would through ties of blood, harbor him if he returned, and even assist in his vengeance. I durst not volunteer into the Confederate service. Influence gained me an independent command in this section, thus enabling me to serve both country and friends at the same time. I am Jem Donald, but am not a guerilla; I am a commissioned officer under the Confederate Government."
I bowed silently, impressed by the man's earnestness, and his evident strength of character, but feeling that he had not finished.
"Not until yesterday did I know Daniels had actually returned. His presence would not be so serious, but my command is just now badly scattered, and he comes backed by a force of Federals."
"If I had my way," broke in the officer on the sofa, "I'd hang this whole scouting party, and have done with it."
I turned and looked at him, instantly recognizing the voice. He was Calvert Dunn.
​"A kindly thought," I returned coldly, "and one worthy of a soldier. Miss Denslow, I do not really mean to question what has been said, but should feel better satisfied to hear your corroboration. Is this story true?"
Her eyes met mine frankly.
"It is perfectly true," she said simply, "only Colonel Donald has told but a small portion of it."
"Then, Colonel, I feel greater confidence in relating the remainder of my own tale. I have absolutely no connection with Daniels except that of command, nor have I any sympathy with lawlessness and murder. I escaped from the room in which I was confined perhaps an hour ago, by way of the cellar. Finding the door leading to the garden securely locked, I was driven to the main hall, seeking passage from the house. While hiding there, I overheard sufficient of your conversation to become alive to the fact that my situation, if again captured, would be a most serious one. You were about to proceed to where I was supposed to be still imprisoned, but first one of your number, a young officer, I judge, went up stairs to procure his revolver."
I paused as though in question, and Judge Dunn said gruffly,
"A friend of my son's, Lieutenant Navarre, and he is a long while about it."
"When this officer disappeared I sought in vain for some available exit from this floor. Finding none I hastily decided to slip up the stairs after him, and try a drop from one of the second-story windows. Just beyond the head ​of the stairs one of the rooms was lighted, and I supposed that to be where he was. I turned to the right, and tried the first door. I stepped inside; the window was wide open; on the floor at my feet lay the dead body of Lieutenant Navarre."