# The Fanatics/Chapter 19

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CHAPTER XIX
JUSTICE
After the arrest of Walter, the doctor and Sam rode back over their tracks one as disconsolate as the other. It was not a pleasant duty that loomed up before them in the all too near future. Walter was gone. He would be missed and questions would be asked. Then what?
"Oh, Lord," sighed the doctor, "Sam, what are we going to do? What are we going to say to them when they ask for him?"
"Well, hit don' seem dey's nuffin else fu' me to do but to tell de trufe."
"My Lord, you are in desperate straits, that's always a man's last resort. Now, for my part, I'd a good deal rather lie if it would do any good. But the devil's going to be raised, and they'll be sure to find out. Biff! there goes my reputation. I tried to persuade your master to let me take this business on my hands. It would have been a good deal better to have faced Forsythe and have shot him or been shot than to face these bereaved women. But I'm in for it ​now, so come along, Sam. You take a hint from me. If I decide to tell the truth, you tell it. If I decide to lie, you fall in and outlie the devil and stick to it."
As they neared the Stewart home, the spirits of both of them sank lower still. The sun was now overhead, and was fast drying the dew-laden grass by the roadside. The day was clear and bright, or they might have taken for an apparition the white faced figure that stepped out in the road before them.
The doctor drew in his horse with an exclamation, and Sam's eyes threatened to leave their sockets.
"Where is he? Where is he?" cried Dolly. "What has happened to him?"
The dumbfounded men gazed first at the misery-distraught woman, and then, helplessly at each other.
"Oh, don't keep me in suspense. Tell me, where is Walter?" She had thrown aside all reserve and false modesty, and stood before them, self-confessed, a woman distressed for the safety of her lover.
"Why—why—Miss Etheridge," stammered Daniel.
"You tell me, Sam. I command you to tell me the truth. I see in Dr. Daniel's eyes his intention to hide something from me."
​The slave looked at his companion for guidance, but getting no help from him, he mumbled, "Mas' Walter, w'y, he went wid de lootenant."
"Went with him? What do you mean? Was he hurt? Have you deserted him? Oh, doctor, please, please tell me. It was for me that he went into this."
Daniel dismounted, and throwing his bridle over his arm, he began leading the girl towards the house.
"I'll tell you the truth," he said, and as briefly and gently as possible, he related what had taken place.
She heard him through in silence, and then asked, "What will they do with him?"
"That I cannot tell, Miss Etheridge, but I don't see how they can do much when the truth is known."
"But will the truth be known?"
"I cannot vouch for that, either, but whatever I can do to make it known, shall be done. I am going up home to arrange my affairs, so that I may be away, and then I shall start for Colonel Braxton's headquarters, whither he will be taken."
"Will you take a letter for me?"
"With pleasure."
"Thank you, doctor, thank you for your ​kindness to him and to me. I will have the letter ready when you return. Good-bye until then."
She was hastening away, but he detained her. "I am going up to the house," he said.
"You must not, I will break it to them as you cannot."
"But do you think it quite right?" he asked with a look of relief that belied his anxious tone.
"I can do it better than you. So do not wait for me. Mount and lose no time." She hurried on, and he rejoined Sam.
"It's all right, Sam. Just keep your mouth shut. The telling will be done for us better than we can do it.
"By Jove," he said later, as he left the servant at the gate and rode on past. "If I could find a woman who loved me like that, I'll be hanged if I wouldn't risk it. I would."
With swift, but reluctant steps, Dolly made her way homeward and sought out Emily and her mother. Her face was pale and drawn with pain and her girl-companion saw at once that something was wrong.
"What is it, Dolly?" she asked hastening to her.
"Let me sit down, I don't know what you will say to me, Mrs. Stewart, and you, Emily, how you will feel towards me."
​"Nothing can ever change us towards you, Dolly, so be calm," said Emily, putting her arms around her.
"I should have told you last night, but he wouldn't let me, he was afraid you would be worried."
"Is it about Walter?" exclaimed his mother. "What has happened to him?"
"He is at Colonel Braxton's headquarters, under arrest."
"Under arrest?" cried the two women.
"But Dolly," said Emily, "how could they arrest him? He was paroled."
"Oh, you will think that I am a wicked, heartless girl, for it is all my fault."
"Your fault? How?" Emily's tone was colder, and she withdrew her arm from Dolly's waist.
"Don't leave me, Emily, till you understand. There was a personal encounter last night between Walter and Lieutenant Forsythe, and it resulted in a meeting between them this morning."
"A duel?"
"It would have been, but they were both arrested by a squad this morning and taken away."
"Why did you not tell us this before, Dolly, so that we might have stopped it?" said Mrs. Stewart sternly. ​"Walter forbade me and I could not violate his confidence."
"There are times when even a violation of confidence might be justifiable."
The girl raised her tear-stained face to the older woman's. "You do not understand," she said. "He was involved on my account, and he trusted me. Suppose I had violated this trust, told you and the matter had been stopped by you? What would they have said? His mother intervened to save him. Mrs. Stewart, Walter's honor is as dear to me as to you or Emily, and I could not do that."
"Forgive me, child, you are right, but this is very hard."
"I know it. But though I could not save him then without dishonor, I shall try to help him now, by writing the whole story to Colonel Braxton."
"Who will take it?"
"Dr. Daniel is going to the camp to intercede for Walter, and will call for my letter soon. I will go now and write it. Do try to be calm. They can't be hard upon him when they know what a hero he has been."
Mrs. Stewart patted the girl's hand gently and said, "His mother and sister will try to be as brave as ———"
"His sweetheart," cried Dolly, blushing, and ​taking the grey-haired woman in her arms, she kissed her and sped from the room. Emily laughed.
"Why, daughter, how can you laugh at such a time?" asked her mother.
"Because I feel so sure that Walter is safe, and will come back to us unharmed and without dishonor."
"Don't be sanguine, dear. The conditions of war are very different from those of peace."
"I know, mother, but would you have had him do less?"
"I don't know, and, yes, I do; your father's son could have done no less."
It was not long before Dr. Daniel came hastening back, but quick as he was, Dolly Etheridge was ready with her letter.
"I want you to forgive me," he said, "for my part in this affair, but you must understand that I am not greatly to blame. I begged Stewart to let me chip in, but he's an awfully proud fellow, you see, and he wouldn't let me do it. I was particularly anxious to get a chance at Forsythe. But your son, Mrs. Stewart, said it was his quarrel, and I could only play second fiddle. To be sure, I might have locked him in his room and gone as proxy, but I didn't think he'd like it."
"Why that would have been horrible," exclaimed Emily.
​"Yes, but you'd have had your brother with you now."
"We should not have wanted him at that cost," was the sister's reply.
"No, Walter has been perfectly right," added the mother.
"Perhaps I did the best thing, after all," said the doctor ruefully; "but it's pretty hard to soo such a chance escape never to return."
"Had you any quarrel with Lieutenant Forsythe?"
"Oh, no, no special quarrel. It was just general principles with me. I really believe the Confederate army would have voted your son a medal if he had rid them of a hound who gained his position through the worst influence, and holds it through duplicity. But I mustn't stand here chattering all morning. I am quite ready to take your letter, Miss Dolly, and I am sure it will do as much good as you want it to do."
Miss Etheridge handed him her missive with a blush. "Bring him back with you," she said.
"Well, I won't promise to do just that, but if I don't, I'll bring you good news anyhow, and I won't spare any time in getting this into the proper hands. Good-morning to you, ladies, and good cheer," and the good doctor leaped into his saddle and cantered away, leaving behind him a cheerier household than he had found.
​It was ten miles to his destination, but he made short work of it, sent his message through the lines and received safe conduct to the colonel. This officer was a grizzled veteran who had seen service in the Mexican war, and who was bent on doing for the raw material that he had in hand what years of service had done for him. He was as kind of heart as he was brusque of manner. To him, Dr. Daniel came with his own story and Dolly's letter, which the colonel read grimly.
"You are a friend of the prisoner's, I suppose?"
"Yes, I haven't known him long, but I have learned to like him right well."
"Do you know that this liking of yours and your connection with the affair is likely to involve you in difficulty?"
"Well, now, I hadn't thought of that, but it doesn't matter in the least."
The colonel bent industriously over the paper in his hand, and a smile flickered through his grey mustache.
"Are you acquainted also with Lieutenant Forsythe?"
Daniel straightened himself up angrily. "I know Forsythe."
"I said Lieutenant Forsythe."
"Beg pardon, colonel, but———"
​"Enough, suh. Who is this Miss Etheridge?"
"She's a daughter of old Nelson Etheridge, of Rockford, sir."
"Who was related, I believe, to the Etheridges of Mecklenbu'g county?"
"Well, sir, I'm not just up on genealogy, and all that sort o' thing, but I dare say you're right. Most all Virginians are related, you know. It's become a state habit."
Again the colonel had recourse to the papers to hide his amusement. When he looked up again, he said,
"I shall have to detain you, Dr. Daniel, until I look further into this case. Discipline has been altogether too lax here of late, and while disaffection has not become common in Virginia, there is altogether too great a tendency towards it."
"I hope you don't feel any doubt about me, colonel?"
"It isn't a matter of personal feeling."
"Of course not, I ought to have known that. In fact, I did know it, and yet I feel that you are saying, What is an able-bodied fellow like that doing at home? Well, I'm not home for choice or for all time. Yet there are some things to be done before I can go where the rest of the fellows of my age are. There are women and children to be looked after and dosed. Until now, there have been things outside of the army that ​I could do for Virginia, but as soon as a breathing time comes, I shall be where I should be."
The colonel's eyes were very bright as he looked at the young man, but he only said, "No doubt," and called an officer to take Daniel away.
"There's a man who would make a good fighter, but a damned bad soldier," was the veteran's mental comment. "He's too free and easy."
"Bring in the prisoner, Stewart," was his command to the orderly.
The appearance of Walter was hardly that of a felon when he came into the presence of the commanding officer. His eyes were clear, his head high and his step firm. There was no sign of fear in the manner in which he met his judge's gaze.
"Your name is———?"
"Walter Stewart."
"And you were until first taken, a soldier of the Northern army?"
"I was."
"You were taken when within the Confederate lines, and were paroled when you might have been dealt with as a spy."
"My business within your lines was perfectly clear."
"That does not alter the case. You were paroled and violated the parole."
​"I do not feel that the latter is the case, sir."
"What?" cried the colonel sternly. "Do you dare to deny it?"
"I deny none of the facts of the case, sir, I only question their construction."
"You have no right to question, suh, you are a prisoner to be judged. The case to my mind is perfectly clear against you."
"You are the judge," said Walter calmly.
"You were found, suh, in the very act of an encounter with a Confederate officer, after having assaulted him on the night before. We consider, suh, that you have violated your parole, and broken your word of honor."
"When Virginia thinks that by protecting a defenceless woman, a man tarnishes his honor or forfeits his word, I begin to feel sorry for my father's state."
"Suh, you are not the gyardian of Virginia's honah."
"I am the custodian of my own, though."
"Then you should have seen better to it than to have broken your parole. You know the consequences."
"I am not afraid of the consequences. I am willing to abide by them. But I do not think that I have violated my parole. I have not taken up arms against the Confederate states, unless they are warring against their own ​defenceless women. Nor have I given aid or comfort to your enemies, unless you consider as an enemy, a woman who has never by word or deed shown anything but allegiance to the South she loves."
"Ahem!" said the colonel.
"Furthermore, my quarrel, my encounter, was not against your government, but against the injustice of one man. It was not an encounter involving national views, but a purely personal encounter."
"In troublous times like these, no encounter with an officer of ours can be considered as personal."
"I hope, sir, that you have not also suspended the rule in regard to respect for women."
"You are pleased to be impertinent, and yet I answuh that I hope Virginia will never be guilty of that." Walter bowed.
"I understand that you are a son of the late Colonel Stewart, a Virginia gentleman?"
"I was never more his son than now."
"I doubt that. I knew your father."
"My father, placed in the same position I was, would, I believe, have acted as I did."
"Without doubt—I beg your pardon," the colonel checked himself. "But yours are rules of civil life, and your laws are for civilians; at present, we are under military rule."
​"Having been a soldier, I understand that. I am in your hands."
"Sergeant of the guard, you will hold the prisoner under arrest until further orders. I will look into your case and consider it further. Retire. A moment, sergeant." The non-commissioned officer paused just out of ear-shot of Walter, and the colonel whispered, "Treat him well, sergeant, he's a Stewart cleah through."
After the dismissal of Walter, Lieutenant Forsythe was brought into the colonel's presence. The conference between him and his superior officer was short and decisive.
"Lieutenant Forsythe, you gave as your reason for entering the house of Miss Etheridge, that you were on a search for her brother."
"I did."
"You were not aware that her brother had been for some time in the Union army?"
"I had received reliable information that led me to believe that he had returned and was in hiding at home."
"After gaining entrance into the house, why did you insist upon Miss Etheridge's accompanying you in your search?"
Forsythe hesitated and turned color under the colonel's glance.
"I wished to be able to watch her face and so tell when I was upon the scent."
​"Why, when you had the chance to search the house without her, did you not do it?"
"I was sure her brother had been given time and opportunity to escape."
"Now, Lieutenant Forsythe, will you tell me by whose orders you went upon this search for Nelson Etheridge?"
"I thought that the capture of an enemy———"
"Will you answer my question?"
"Upon no one's specific orders, but———"
"No buts about it. I am answuhed. Were you ever a suitor for Miss Etheridge's hand?"
"I consider that a personal question, sir."
Forsythe saw that the hope for him was gone and he could be no worse off by taking a stand on dignified effrontery.
"Oh, you consider it a personal question?"
"I do, and one that has nothing to do with my service."
"And as such, you refuse to answuh it? Very well. You have no doubt understood the rules of this command in regyard to the treatment of women?"
"Yes—but———"
"That will do, Lieutenant Forsythe. A court martial will attend to your case."
The lieutenant saluted and was taken away under guard. Walter and Dr. Daniel were then summoned.
​"Young man," said the colonel to the former, "I regret that I find cause neither to hold nor to punish you. I regret, too, that you have chosen a course alien to your father's traditions and beliefs. But that, of course, is not my affair. I advise you, in the future, however, to keep cleah of collisions with our officers, or the next time you may not get off so easily."
Walter felt it the part of wisdom to make no reply, and so merely bowed.
"You, Dr. Daniel," said the colonel, turning to the physician, "will always find a welcome here, and whenever, if ever, you choose to throw your lot in with us, I hope to have you in my command."
"Thank you, colonel, thank you, sir."
The two men were conducted safely away from camp and set on their homeward way.
"By Jove, Stewart," said the doctor heartily, "I wish you weren't a Yankee!"
"I'm hardly a Yankee, doctor, as you use the term. But knowing Ohio, and knowing Virginia through such men as you, I am more than ever for the Union that will keep two such states together, let that Union be bought at whatever price it may."
The two men clasped hands across their saddle bows. The physician took Walter's praise as ingenuously as a child.
​"I wish," he said, "that more Northerners knew as Southerners."
"If the two sections did know each other better, a deal of blood might be saved."
It was a grave ride home, but the rejoicings at the end of the journey compensated for all the serious thought along the way.
"Bless you, Dr. Daniel," said Mrs. Stewart fervently.
"Oh, don't thank me, Mrs. Stewart. I'm not a drop in the bucket. It was Miss Dolly's letter that fixed everything."
"Dolly's letter!" cried Walter.
The girl blushed, and the doctor added, "Maybe I'm telling tales out of school."
"You shall tell me about it, Dolly," said Walter with glowing eyes. This was perhaps only an excuse to lead her away from the rest for a walk in the arbor. What excuse Dr. Daniel gave for leading Emily in an opposite direction matters not, but it must have been satisfactory, for Mrs. Stewart found the housewife's excuse of her work to leave them, and the doctor stayed to supper.