as she heard his departing footstep on the porch the poor girl threw herself down upon her knees and lifted her hands.
"the south and—and—he, mistaken, but still—ah, where is my duty? the ship and rhett sempland! i love him. i cannot let him go! it would be wicked. god pity me! but how, how to prevent it? if i can only delay him until to-morrow, i can tell the general everything, and—is there a way, is there a way, o god?"
she thought deeply, every atom in her being concentrated on the problem which tore her between love and duty, devotion to the cause of the south and those other appeals, which, finding lodgment in her heart, moved her so profoundly. she wrestled with the question as to where her duty lay as jacob wrestled with the angel of old, and if she did not conquer, at least she decided.
determining on a desperate course of action, she rose to her feet and sharply struck a bell by her side on the table. the house was an ancient mansion when it had been rented by her aunt and herself three years before. it dated back to colonial times. there was a strong room in it, the windows of which were barred. it would make a safe prison for any one. he should be put in there and be kept there until morning. he would be safe there. no harm would come to the ship, and when the general knew, he would forgive her. she would tell him the first thing in the morning.
it would cause her lover pain and grief, this summary action of hers, but she could explain it to him, too; and he would forgive her also and she would reward him with herself! there was compensation in that, she thought proudly and tenderly.
"cæsar," she said, as the aged butler made his appearance in response to the bell, "send joe and sam and cato to me. boys," she continued, as three stalwart young negroes presented themselves before her soon after, "mr. sempland is coming here to-night to see me. i—he—" she found it somewhat difficult to explain. "general beauregard wants him detained here. i cannot let him get away. show him into the strong room on the other side of the house when he asks for me, and then lock the door on him. don't let him get out under any circumstances until to-morrow, but on no account are you to do him any hurt. you hear? you understand?"
"ya-as, miss fanny, i specs we does," answered cato, the oldest and most intelligent of the three.
"cæsar, you lead him into the strong room. say i will meet him there in a moment. he won't suspect anything, i reckon. the rest of you stay in the passage, and as soon as he enters lock the door upon him. don't neglect that! he'll try to get out. he may break the door down. but you must keep him there, even if he attempts to kill you—unless i say for you to release him."
the three slaves were devoted to their young mistress and, accepting her orders without a question, they at once began their preparations to carry them out. as they were talking together a light step sounded on the porch. there was a ring at the door. the men hurried to their places of concealment. miss fanny glen hid in the dark drawing-room, as cæsar shuffled along the hall to the front door.
"your mistress has sent for me," said sempland. and from where she stood in the drawing-room, fanny glen's heart leaped at the tones of his voice.
"yas, suh," returned the darky, obsequiously ushering him through the hall. "step right dis way, suh, mass' sempland. miss fanny done axes you to go in dis room at de end ob de passage, suh. an' she tol' me she gwine be wid you in a minute, suh."
the room was one which sempland had never entered before. it was small, furnished like a library or office, with several large closets and an old iron safe, and had two grated windows and one heavy mahogany door. it had formerly been used as an office and as a treasure room. seeing the visitor safe within, cæsar calmly withdrew, and as he adroitly coughed violently in the passage sempland did not hear the ponderous key turning in the old-fashioned lock. he waited a few minutes, and then, as time was precious, he looked around for a bell. seeing none he walked to the door, laid his hand upon the knob, and tried to open it. it did not give.
"locked!" he muttered in surprise.
raising his hand he struck a light blow on the panels, but there was no reply. then he called out and received no answer. he struck and called again and again, his voice rising to a shout while his hands were bleeding from the blows he had rained on the hard surface. finally a voice came to him faintly through the door.
"wat's de matta, suh?"
"open this door instantly, you black dog! where is miss glen?"
"she's a-comin', suh."
"i wish to see her immediately!" he cried imperiously, kicking and battering again upon the door in furious rage, which was stilled the instant he heard her voice outside.
"mr. sempland?"
"what is the meaning of this action, this outrage, miss glen?" he cried. "you sent for me. i came. why am i locked in here? open the door! i must leave immediately!"
"you are locked in here by my orders, mr. sempland," said fanny glen, nervously.
"impossible! for what reason?"
"because i—i—"
"by heavens, this is maddening! you don't know what you do! i am ordered to-night on a hazardous expedition. i must be at my post in ten minutes. let me out instantly!"
"i know," returned the girl.
"well, then, why don't you open this door? i will say nothing of this—"
"i cannot."
"why not?"
"i—i—do not wish you to go out on the david."
"what is it to you? how dare you interfere? you said i had done nothing but lie in prison," he replied. "i will show you to-night."
"not to-night."
"this is madness! think what you are doing!"
"i can't help it."
"why not?"
"because i—i—"
"in god's name, what do you mean?"
"i will not have you take the risk. it is certain death to you, and the admiral's ship—" said the girl, so softly that he could scarce hear her. "you will forgive me when you understand. i shall release you to-morrow. mercy! have pity on me, i am almost crazy!"
"do you know that you will dishonor me? if you care, let me go."
"there is another reason. i will not have the wabash blown up. there is a—a—"
"another man?" shouted sempland. "you are a coquette! let me out, i say! i will get out! my god, was ever a man in such a situation?"
he beat and hammered on the massive door until his bruised hands bled again. he shook it in its frame like a madman. he was exhausted by the violence of his efforts and of his passion. through it all the girl stood in the hall frightened nearly to death. what mad scheme had she entered upon? had she strength enough to carry it through? the three servants were terrified also, their eyes rolling in their sockets, their hands nervously fingering their weapons. suddenly another voice, cæsar's, broke through the turmoil, reaching even the ear of the desperate man on the other side of the heavy mahogany door. he stopped to listen.
"miss fanny," said the butler, "dah's a sojah man at de do', an' he wants to know if mass' semplan' is heah."
"tell him, no," said fanny glen, resolutely. "say he left a half-hour ago."
"my god!" groaned sempland. "i am a disgraced and ruined man! listen to me, fanny glen! i swear to you, on my honor as a gentleman, if you do not instantly open this door i'll blow my brains out in this room!"
"oh, you wouldn't do that?"
"i will, so help me god!"
there was conviction in his voice. the girl listening in the passage heard the click of a raised revolver hammer.
"don't!" she cried in greater terror than ever, "i will open!"
he heard a brief whispered consultation, the key was turned in the lock, and the door was suddenly flung open. sempland darted toward it on the instant and recoiled from the terrible figure of the little woman barring him with outstretched arms. if he had suffered within, she had suffered without the room. such a look of mortal agony and anguish he had never seen on any human face. she trembled violently before him. yet she was resolute not to give way, determined to keep the door. clustered at her back were the three trembling negroes armed one with a knife, another with a pistol, another with a stout club. he would have swept them out of his path in an instant had it not been for the girl. she stood before him with outstretched arms, her attitude a mixture of defiance and appeal.
"the door was suddenly flung open."
"the door was suddenly flung open."
"it is too late," she said, "you were to go at seven. it is past that now. saved, saved!"
he could do her no violence, that was certain. he stood silent before her, his head bent toward the floor, thinking deeply. her heart went out to him then, her soul yearned to him. she had hurt him, he must hate her—and she loved him.
"will you not come in and speak to me for a moment?" he asked her quietly enough at last.
she signed to the men, stepped forward, the door was closed, and locked behind her, and they were alone.
"did you think to be of service to me?" he burst out, as she drew near and then paused irresolute, miserable. "you have ruined me for life! i begged that detail. i volunteered. i must get out! they may wait for me. it may not be too late. for god's sake unlock that door!"
she shook her head, she could not trust herself to speak.
"i don't understand you. if it is—love—for me—"
she stared at him beseechingly, mute appeal for mercy, for help, in her lovely eyes.
"you are condemning me to death, to worse than death. i am going!"
"you cannot!"
she came nearer as she spoke. suddenly he seized her, drew her close to him, held her with his left arm, and there was happiness for her in his touch. she was as a child before his strength. with his right hand he presented his pistol to her temple. he took advantage of her weakness, but only in the service of a higher cause than love of woman, in answer to a greater demand than even she could make. she offered no resistance either. what was the use?
"boys!" he called out sharply. "are you there?"
"yas, suh," answered cato.
"i have your mistress in my arms, my pistol is at her head. if you do not instantly open the door, i shall kill her where i stand!"
"cato, i forbid you to open!" cried fanny glen, in a ringing voice, still making no effort to struggle and looking up into the infuriated man's face with the expression of a martyr and an angel. he saw and recognized, but persisted; it was his only way.
"open instantly!" he said again, "unless you would see your mistress die!"
that was a threat the men could not resist. in a second the door was opened. the awe-struck faces of the blacks peered into the room.
"throw down your arms, here at my feet, you black hounds!" shouted sempland. "quick! or i fire!"
instantly knife, pistol, and bludgeon clattered on the floor at his feet.
"out of the way now! leave the hall! i want a clear passage!"
"kill me! kill me!" cried the girl, "and have done!"
he released her in a moment.
"you have dishonored me," he cried. "i fear it is too late. i wouldn't hurt a hair of your head. but i love you, i love you!"
he strained her to his breast, pressing a passionate, burning kiss upon her lips. he wasted a few precious seconds, but he could not help it. she threw her arms about his neck and returned his kiss. he could feel her heart beating against his own.
"i cannot let you go!" she cried. "stay with me and i am yours!"
"i must go!"
he tore himself from her and ran down the passage into the street. she thought she would have fainted at that instant, but something—suspense, the faint possibility of success, doubt—nerved her to action. after a few moments of awful uncertainty she followed sempland along the hallway, out through the door, and into the night. he was not to be seen. she knew where he had gone, however, and she bent her steps toward the government wharf. she went slowly at first, but finally ran at her greatest speed.
