The Duke of Stockbridge by Bellamy, Edward, 1850-1898

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH

SOME REAL FIGHTING

At sight of his commander the soldier who had been about to lay hands on Mrs. Edwards to thrust her out of his path to the cellar, giving over his design, slunk into the store to join his comrades there, and was followed by the faithful Keziah. Mrs. Edwards, who had faced the ruffian only in the courage of desperation, sank trembling upon a settle, and the children throwing themselves upon her, bawled in concert. Without bestowing so much as a glance on any other object in the room Perez crossed it to where Desire stood, and taking her nerveless hand in both his, devoured her face with glowing eyes. She did not flush or show any confusion; neither did she try to get away. She stood as if fascinated, unresponsive but unresisting.

"Were you frightened?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied in a mechanical tone corresponding with her appearance.

"Didn't you know I was here? I told you I would come back for you, and I have come. You have been sick. I heard of it. Are you well now?"

"Yes."

"Reuben told me you came on foot through the snow to bring word so he might warn me the night before the Lee battle. Was it that made you sick?"

"Yes."

"What is that, Desire? What do you mean about sending him warning?" cried Mrs. Edwards amazedly. Desire made no reply but Perez did:

"It is thanks to her I was not caught in my bed by your men that morning. It is thanks to her I am not in jail today, disgraced by the lash and waiting for the hangman. Oh my dear, how glad I am to owe it to you," and he caught the end of one of the long strands of jetty hair that fell down her neck and touched it to his lips.

"You are crazy, fellow!" cried Mrs. Edwards, and starting forward and grasping Desire by the arm she demanded, "What does this wild talk mean? There is no truth in it, is there?"

"Yes," said the girl in the same dead, mechanical voice, without turning her eyes to her mother or even raising them.

Mrs. Edwards opened her mouth, but no sound came forth. Her astonishment was too utter. Meanwhile Perez had passed his arm about Desire's waist as if to claim her on her own acknowledgement. Stung by the sight of her daughter in the very arms of the rebel captain, Mrs. Edwards found her voice once more, righteous indignation overcoming her first unmingled consternation.

"Out upon you for a shameless hussy. Oh, that a daughter of mine should come to this! Do you dare tell me you love this scoundrel?"

"No," answered the girl.

"What?" faltered Perez, his arm involuntarily dropping from her waist.

For all reply she rushed to her mother and threw herself on her bosom, sobbing hysterically. For once at least in their lives Mrs. Edwards' and Perez Hamlin's eyes met with an expression of perfect sympathy, the sympathy of a common bewilderment. Then Mrs. Edwards tried to loosen Desire's convulsive clasp about her neck, but the girl held her tightly, crying:

"Oh, don't, mother, don't."