# By Sanction of Law/Chapter 30

Lida had taken her maid into her confidence and won the girl's support to her plan. It was this. Bennet would dress as one of the farm hands, wearing a wide brimmed palmetto hat pulled well down over his face, leave the house and be piloted to the secret cave, after his face had been blackened.
Already Lida and the girl had been over to the cave and made it comfortable with a good meal there to welcome Bennet. From there, at night, when the coast was clear, the couple would make their escape and flee.
In twenty minutes after leaving the clothing, Lida again knocked at the door. This time a deep brown-skinned Bennet greeted her. "Will I pass?" he asked as he stood before her. Lida looked at him in his garb, inspecting him from head to foot.
"You look like a native," she confessed. "I don't like you that way and you'll have to get out of it as soon as you get to the cave. I want you as you are to me.—Just you."
Bennet touched her hand gently to his lips. "Hurry," she warned. "We've only a little while. They'll be coming back. When you leave the yard go straight to the field at the back of the house. There's where the hands are at work. Walk along by the fence to the end of the lane. When you get there a girl will be waiting. Follow her."
Bennet again kissed her hand. "I don't like to do this, Lida, Mine. It's not fair—but I suppose it's best."
​"It is best." She stamped her foot impatiently. "You must do as I say this time."
Bennet was led to the floor below and guided to the rear of the house. Lida pointed to the direction he was to take. She watched him leave the yard and walk toward the field. She stood watching for several minutes and then returned to the house, hurried into a light wrap and was about to leave the house when she came upon her father. He was staring vacantly about him and murmuring under his breath. Lida went up to him.
Colonel Lauriston looked at her without recognition. "Daddy," Lida called gently. "Daddy," why won't you—" she got no further. Colonel Lauriston began to murmur something about sheep in the pasture and passed her by, going to his own room. Lida's eyes filled with tears as she went down the steps of the veranda, then turned the corner of the house and started for the rear and down the field, following Bennet at a distance. One hand she held close to her breast just over her heart.
Bennet reached the end of the lane, passing the place where the hands were at work but giving no heed to him, except to glance at him casually from the middle of the field where they were. At the end of the lane stood Chloe, Lida's maid. Before Bennet overtook her she started off through the woods. For some distance she followed a beaten path. Bennet noted this but after going about a quarter of a mile the path was lost on the carpet of dead oak leaves and pine needles over which they walked.
​Birds were singing in the shadows. As they passed deeper and deeper into the forests, with their blazed pines oozing turpentine pitch into a box hole cut into the tree the woods became more and more quiet. On they walked till Bennet began to wonder where they were, when suddenly he heard a waterfall and through the trees he could see the glistening spray some one hundred feet at his right. At the base of the falls where the copse opened into a narrow bit of green meadow through which the rivulet from the falls ran trailing off to the Edisto River, the girl halted. The water was falling over a sheer cliff in three steps from the higher land above, draining a pond some miles away. The cliff seemingly having been formed ages ago when some cataclysm of nature caused a fault in the rocky bed by which the land below dropped.
At the base of the falls, stood a tall poplar tree whose roots seemed to have dipped into the little stream for sustenance. This poplar tree grew close to the cliff and some thirty-five feet up its limbs reached over and touched the cliff just where the water passed. By a process of erosion with the swaying winds these limbs and water had dug into the cliff behind the white sheet of water and hollowed out a cave. Moisture had softened the rock and clay till it crumbled and fell into the little pool at the base of the falls. Lida, in one of her play days of girlhood, in exploring the woods had climbed this tree and discovered the cave. Since then it was her cave and she spent many a day behind the water shed, making the cave wider and deeper as she dreamed of primitive days when Indians inhabited this section.
​As if by inspiration, when she heard her brother make his threat, she was reminded of this cave and thought it an ideal place for hiding. When she awoke in the morning she hurried to make preparations to take Bennet there. She and her maid had made two trips to the place and had refurnished it from her girlhood days, providing a camping outfit and a table and chair.
When Bennet reached Chloe she pointed to the trees. "See that tree," she said. "You'all hav to clum up to wher 'at hole is. Thas yo' home fur now. Miss Lida'll be here soon. She'll tell you'all de rest."
From the tree there hung a grapevine rope, leafy and heavy with green grapes, this entwining about the limbs of the tree above and losing itself in curtains of Florida moss. After giving her instructions the girl wheeled and was gone. Bennet looked at the tree and after stepping off some fifteen or twenty feet ran toward it and leaped as high up the trunk as he could, climbing up the remainder of the distance, with the help of the grapevine rope. As he reached the heavy limb extending into the cave he paused to view the sight within.
Here was a cave, well lighted from the sun shining through the spray, about as deep and as high as a large room. Far back in a corner was a book shelf with a few volumes on it, while on the opposite side at the wall was a camp table covered with food. Between the two was a cot covered over with a couple of horse blankets.
"Well, of all things," he exclaimed. "Who'd have thought such a thing possible. As dainty a room as could ​be wished for.—And this is hers." He almost felt it too sacred to enter. "Well, well, well," he exclaimed. He was still admiring the place when he heard a voice from below:
"Well, hurry and get in. I'm coming up."
Bennet looked down and beheld Lida standing at the foot of the tree gazing up at him. He stepped into the cave and awaited her. Practice had made her adept at climbing up, and a pair of knickers, and puttees gave her the freedom to climb. She was soon standing by his side, her cheeks pink and a bewitching roguish smile on her face. Bennet reached a hand to help her into the cave.
She stepped to the center and stood, arms akimbo, turning from side to side viewing the three walls with pride. "Well, what do you think of it?" she asked admiringly.
Bennet looked at her, then about the cave and at her again. "A true fairy bower," he exclaimed. "Who'd ever think there was such a place. I never dreamed there was outside of story books of younger days."
Lida smiled joyfully. "And they'll never find you here. No one—not a soul except Chloe knows of this place, and she only knew of it today.
"What a wonderful place for my Fairy Sweetheart," Bennet exclaimed looking at the girl in her trim suit, from her puttees to knickers and open-throated blouse.
"It is a darling place," Lida added with pride. "Everything at hand for comfort. Grapes within reach—water for bathing and drinking and, with a camp cooking ​outfit, a very happy time could be spent here." At the words suggesting happiness, Bennet's face clouded.
"It would be a happy place for you were it not for me," he said sorrowfully.
"What do you mean?" Lida asked.
"I mean that by my loving you I've brought trouble to you. I can't bear to see you suffer," Bennet returned.
"Why, I'm not suffering. Can anyone suffer who loves really and truly? And does not love counterbalance any suffering? It is a joy to suffer for the man I love. It makes love all the dearer. It is what makes life worth living now. Why I've only lived since I've known you."
"If all these experiences have been yours what must mine be, to whom you are life itself—to whom you are dearer than life?" Bennet's voice was low and vibrant with feeling. "It is I who have learned to live since loving you. Your love has opened the world to me—made me realize that I'm a real part of the universe. I understand better now, the light of the stars at night; the light of the moon, and the very darkness itself since your love has come into my existence. I can better sense the motion of the universe about us because of your love, and My Heart, My Heart, O, how I love you!"
He had taken the girl into his arms and her head lay confidingly and contentedly on his shoulder. The world itself seemed forgotten. They stood silently after the speech for some minutes, each dreaming and looking into space. Bennet was the first to be recalled back to the present.
​"Won't they miss you at the house?" he asked.
"Why should I care? I'm with you. That's enough."
"Yes, but you know we must get away tonight or tomorrow at latest. We have to plan for that."—After a moment's pause Bennet continued. "And yet, Dear Heart, I wonder if I'm right in taking you away from all you've known and loved in your growing years?"
Lida turned to him. "You just said you loved me."
"Yes, it is this love,—the very strength of it that makes me hesitate to ask you to leave all and go with me—to make such sacrifices as you are making, to endure what I am bringing on you."
Lida stood away from him suddenly. As she did so a small silver and pearl handled revolver dropped from her bosom. Bennet, surprised, stooped to pick it up. Lida also reached for it at the same time. Their hands met warmly. Bennet grasped the weapon. He held it before him in his open palm.
"What's this for?" he asked.
"Lida's face flushed as she laid a hand on his shoulder. "That was to save you, Dear. I—I—didn't want any harm to come to you."
Bennet looked at the girl so intently that her eyes drooped. "The only one who could have wished me harm would be your brother or Marley. Would you have shot them for me?"
Lida leaned her head on his breast and clutched the lapels of his coat as she began to weep. "I love you more than anything else in the world. I would kill even—to—save you."
​Bennet placed his arm about the girl and comforted her. He looked at the face below his own and then at the revolver in his hand while into his mind came Kipling's words about the female of the species. He lifted the girl's face till their lips touched in a lover's embrace. Then he handed the revolver to her and pulled one of his own from his pocket. "That's enough protection for me," he said. "I don't believe I need that as long as I have two good hands," he added.
"You'll be careful, always, won't you, Truman?" she warned solicitously.
"Yes."
"For my sake, Truman, you'll always be careful?" she asked again.
"Don't you worry, Little Girl. I'll take care of myself. Better be getting back to the house. They'll be missing you."
"Oh, I forgot all about your breakfast. You must be starved," she turned to the table.
"Well, there is a decided emptiness somewhere about me. Hadn't thought of it before, though," he laughed.
"You poor boy. And Chloe and I brought food here for you this morning." She turned to the little table and lifted napkins from the luncheon. "Come," she said, "Let's eat."
Bennet lost no time in placing the table where he could sit on the cot and Lida on the chair. "All the comforts of home," he said. "God bless our home," he added.
The two sat and soon devoured the food, both being ​hungry and like two children at play over this meal. When the meal was finished, Lida gathered the dishes together. "I'll leave them here we may want them again," she said. "I'll wash them though, and you can dry them. Come on," she invited. Bennet jumped to the task with relish. Leaning over the cliff, Lida allowed the water to wash each dish then handed it to Bennet who dried each as it was handed to him.
"This is great fun," she smiled as she handed him the last glass. "Like camping out, or living as the early settlers and pioneers did. What a glorious time they must have had."
"Yes, and many a hardship," Bennet added.
"All for us, though, and the land we have," Lida observed.
When the table had been tidied Lida decided to return to the house. It was after noontime then and hurriedly sliding down the grapevine rope she looked up to give a last warning to Bennet. "Be careful now," she said. "I'll be back before sundown."
With that, after blowing a kiss to Bennet from the tips of her fingers so daintily that Bennet was almost tempted to descend and get a real one, she turned and was soon lost in the shadows of the trees. Bennet turned to his hiding place, and being drowsy, took one of the books from the shelf and started to read. He was not occupied long with this, however, before his eyelids drooped and he stretched out on the couch, sound asleep.
It was far into the afternoon before he awoke again. ​When he did so it was without opening his eyes. With his eyes closed his first consciousness was that someone was watching him. He kept his eyes closed for a moment or two longer as if to make sure that his sense was right. With the surety that some eyes were staring at him he slowly opened his to see Lida standing over him.
"Oh, what a sleepy head! I thought you'd never wake."
"Why should I wake with such a sweet guard as you watching over me," he bantered.
"Yes, but I might have been someone else—some enemy."
"Never mind what might have been. It was you and I'm glad," Bennet said thankfully.
She seated herself beside him, placing her hand in his. Her face clouded. "I'm afraid I can't go with you tonight, Dear." Bennet's heart sank into a dungeon of gloom.
"I thought you'd realize I was bringing too much trouble on you."
"It's not that, Dear. I'm going, but not for a day or two. Daddy's not well. I think his mind's weakening," she explained sorrowfully.
Lida then related her experience of the morning when she met Colonel Lauriston and he failed to recognize her. "He's been woefully upset," she continued. "He hates to think of my loving you and marrying you. It has worried him so that I think his mind is breaking."
"Heart of Mine, even though we love as dearly as we do, I think we'd better separate—at least for a time.—Time, perhaps, will right things."
​"Time will never righten things to the extent that my father or my brother will change. I know you're white so far as blood, bearing and character are concerned. And the rest makes no difference to me. Down here, though, people see things differently and time will never change them.
"I don't want to live down here. I want to be where you are. I want to be where my love is—and that's with you. I don't want to leave Daddy, just yet, though. I may never see him alive again when I leave," she prophesied.
"I think it best for your sake that I go back alone. It will be sad for me.—Life will be gone but the memory of you will always be with me. Can't we let the love we feel remain in our hearts,—can't we treasure each other though far apart, for having known and loved each other? I have never intended that my love should bring you harm—that it should cause you a moment's pain."
"You'll cause me more pain by leaving me. Life will be dark and drab without you."
"Still I don't think I'm worthy of all the sacrifice you're making."
"Am I the only one making sacrifices?" she asked.
"Aren't you making sacrifices for me? Your family opposes the match as well as mine. You are sacrificing them, why should I cling to mine. We have our own lives to live. We have our own ways to make in the world. You, yourself have said that. I'm willing to make my sacrifices for you, just as you're willing to make them for me."
​"After all, how much difference is there between us? None in reality. It's just a matter of pride and narrowness. Loving you I have not lost anything. Rather have I gained," Bennet concluded.
"Yes, and my life has been enriched by your love.—No, let's think about other things. I can't leave my father just yet. He just sits about and stares and stares. He won't eat. And this afternoon I came across him in the barnyard praying to a calf.—Wait a few days to see if he gets better, then we'll go. You'll be perfectly safe here," Lida assured.
"Oh, it's not my safety that I think about," Bennet explained.
Lida looked out through the curtain of falling water. I must go back to the house now. I've brought you something more to eat and I'll come back before dark with news. By the way, they're scouring the whole of creation for you. Ellie went to Mrs. Gorton's this morning when he got up and got your bag. He brought it to the house and has it in his room. The whole countryside has been called on to find you.—And here you are," Lida chuckled gleefully.
"Oh, why didn't you wash that stain off your face?" she asked. "I don't want to see you that way. I want you to be as you are."
With that she took a napkin from the lunch basket and held it under the spray then stepped over to where Bennet was sitting and began removing the stain.
"Naughty Boy," she said playfully. "Don't want to ​wash his face, eh. Well, I'll do it for you." After removing all the stains she looked at Bennet tenderly. "There," she said, "You look like the man you are, not like someone else."
She soon started down the ladder again and on reaching the ground called:
"I'll be back before dark. Cheer up. Don't be lonesome."