Chapter 31
"She loves you--She is going to marry you?"
"Yes."
The wood stood very quiet. The shaft of light drew up among the boughs.
Stafford leaned against the trunk of the beech. He was breathing heavily; he looked, veritably, a wounded man. "I will go now," said Cleave. "I had to speak to you and I had to warn you. Good-day."
He turned, the leaves crisp beneath his footfall. "Wait," said Stafford.
"One moment--" He drew himself up against the beech. "I wish to tell you why I--as you phrase it--lied to you. I allowed you to rest under that impression which I am not sure that I myself gave you, because I thought her yet trembling between us, and that your withdrawal would be advantageous to my cause. Not for all of Heaven would I have had her turn to you! Now that, apparently, I have lost her irrevocably, I will tell you that you do not love her as I do. Have I not watched you? Did she die to-day, you would go on to-morrow with your _Duty_--_Duty_--_Duty_--! For me, I would kill myself on her grave. Where you and I were rivals and enemies, now we are enemies. Look out for me, Richard Cleave!" He began to laugh, a broken and mirthless sound. "Look out for me, Richard Cleave. Go!"
"I shall," said Cleave. "I will not keep a watch upon you in such a moment, nor remember it. I doubt neither your pa.s.sion nor your suffering. But in one thing, Maury Stafford, you have lied again. I love as strongly, and I love more highly than you do! As for your threats--threatened men live long."
He turned, left the forest glade and came out into the camp lying now beneath the last rays of the sun. That evening he spent with Ewell and his staff, pa.s.sed the night in a friendly tent, and at dawn turned Dundee's head toward the Blue Ridge.
CHAPTER XVIII
McDOWELL
At Stanardsville he heard from a breathless crowd about the small hotel news from over the mountains. Banks was at last in motion--was marching, nineteen thousand strong, up the Valley--had seized New Market, and, most astounding and terrific of all to the village boys, had captured a whole company of Ashby's! "General Jackson?" General Jackson had burned the railway station at Mt. Jackson and fallen back--was believed to be somewhere about Harrisonburg.
"Any other news?"
"Yes, sir! Fremont's pressing south from Moorefield, Milroy east from Monterey! General Edward Johnson's had to fall back from the Alleghenies!--he's just west of Staunton. He hasn't got but a brigade and a half."
"Anything more?"
"Stage's just brought the Richmond papers. All about Albert Sydney Johnston's death at s.h.i.+loh. He led the charge and a minie ball struck him, and he said 'Lay me down. Fight on.'"
"Fort Pulaski's taken! The darned gunboats battered down the wall. All of the garrison that ain't dead are prisoners."
"News from New Orleans ain't hilarious. d.a.m.ned mortar boats bombard and bombard!--four s.h.i.+ps, they say, against Fort Saint Philip, more against Fort Jackson. Air full of sh.e.l.ls. Farragut may try to run forts and batteries, Chalmette and all--"
"What else?"
"Looks downright bad down t' Richmond. McClellan's landed seventy-five thousand men. Magruder lost a skirmish at Yorktown. All the Richmond women are making sandbags for the fortifications. Papers talk awful calm and large, but if Magruder gives way and Johnston can't keep McClellan back, I reckon there'll be h.e.l.l to pay! I reckon Richmond'll fall."
"Anything more?"
"That's all to-day."
The village wag stepped forth, half innocent and half knave. "Saay, colonel! The prospects of this here Confederacy look rather _blue_."
"It is wonderful," said Cleave, "how quickly blue can turn to grey."
A portion of that night he spent at a farmhouse at
Behind them in the east grew slowly the pallor of the dawn. The stars waned, the moon lost her glitter, in the woods to either side began a faint peeping of birds. The two came to Conrad's Store, where the three or four houses lay yet asleep. An old negro, sweeping the ground before a smithy, hobbled forward at Harris's call. "Lawd, marster, enny news? I specs, sah, I'll hab ter ax you 'bout dat. I ain' heard none but dat dar wuz er skirmish at Rude's Hill, en er skirmish at New Market, en er-nurr skirmish at Sparta, en dat Gineral Jackson hold de foht, sah, at Harrisonburg, en dat de Yankees comin', lickerty-split, up de Valley, en dat de folk at Magaheysville air powerful oneasy in dey minds fer fear dey'll deviate dis way. Howsomever, we's got er home guard ef dey do come, wid ole Mr. Smith what knew Gin'ral Was.h.i.+ngton at de haid. En dar wuz some bridges burnt, I hearn, en Gineral Ashby he had er fight on de South Fork, en I cyarn think ob no mo' jes now, sah! But Gineral Jackson he sholy holdin' de foht at Harrisonburg.--Yes, sah, dat's de Magaheysville road."
The South Fork of the Shenandoah lay beneath a bed of mist. They crossed by a wooden bridge and came up again to the chill woods. Dim purple streaks showed behind them in the east, but there was yet no glory and no warmth. Before them rose a long, low mountain ridge, a road running along the crest. "That certainly is d.a.m.n funny!" said Harris; "unless I've taken to seeing sights."
Cleave checked his horse. Above them, along the ridge top, was moving an army. It made no noise on the soft, moist road, artillery wheel and horse's hoof quiet alike. It seemed to wish to move quietly, without voice. The quarter of the sky above the ridge was coldly violet, palely luminous. All these figures stood out against it, soldiers with their muskets, colour-bearer with furled colours, officers on foot, officers on horseback, guns, caissons, gunners, horses, forges, ordnance wagons, commissary--van, main body and rear, an army against the daybreak sky.
"Well, if ever I saw the like of that!" breathed the orderly. "What d'ye reckon it means, sir?"
"It means that General Jackson is moving east from Harrisonburg."
"Not a sound--D'ye reckon they're ghosts, sir?"
"No. They're the Army of the Valley--There! the advance has made the turn."
Toward them swung the long column, through the stillness of the dawn, down the side of the ridge, over the soundless road, into the mist of the bottom lands. The leading regiment chanced to be the 2d; colonel and adjutant and others riding at the head. "h.e.l.lo! It's Richard Cleave!--The top of the morning to you, Cleave!--knew that Old Jack had sent you off somewhere, but didn't know where.--Where are we going? By G.o.d, if you'll tell us, we'll tell you! Apparently we're leaving the Valley--d.a.m.n it all! Train to Richmond by night, I reckon. We've left Fourth of July, Christmas, and New Year behind us--Banks rubbing his hands, Fremont doing a scalp dance, Milroy choosing headquarters in Staunton! Well, it doesn't stand thinking of. You had as well waited for us at the Gap. The general? Just behind, head of main column. He's jerked that right hand of his into the air sixteen times since we left Harrisonburg day before yesterday, and the staff says he prays at night most powerful. Done a little praying myself; hope the Lord will look after the Valley, seeing we aren't going to do it ourselves!"
Cleave drew his horse to one side. "I'll wait here until he comes up--no, not the Lord; General Jackson. I want, too, to speak to Will.
Where in column is the 65th?"
"Fourth, I think. He's a nice boy--Will. It was pretty to watch him at Kernstown--V. M. I. airs and precision, and gallantry enough for a dozen!"
"I'll tell him you said so, colonel! Good-bye!"
Will, too, wanted to know--he said that Mr. Rat wanted to know--all the fellows wanted to know, what--("I wish you'd let me swear, Richard!") what it all meant? "Mr. Rat and I don't believe he's responsible--it isn't in the least like his usual conduct! Old Jack backing away from cannons and such--quitting parade ground before it's time!--marching off to barracks with a beautiful rumpus behind him! It ain't natural! Mark my words, Richard, and Mr. Rat thinks so, too, it's General Lee or General Johnston, and he's got to obey and can't help himself!--What do you think?"
"I think it will turn out all right. Now march on, boy! The colonel says he watched you at Kernstown; says you did mighty well--'gallant for a dozen!'"
General Jackson on Little Sorrel was met with further on. Imperturbable and self-absorbed, with his weather-stained uniform, his great boots, his dreadful cap, he exhibited as he rode a demeanour in which there was neither heaviness nor lightness. Never jovial, seldom genial, he was on one day much what he was on another--saving always battle days. Riding with his steadfast grey-blue eyes level before him, he communed with himself or with Heaven--certainly not with his dissatisfied troops.
He acknowledged Cleave's salute, and took the letter which the other produced. "Good! good! What did you do at Charlottesville?"
"I sent the stores on to Major Harman at Staunton, sir. There was a good deal of munition." He gave a memorandum.
One hundred rifled muskets with bayonets.
" " Belgian " " "
Fifty flintlocks.
Two hundred pikes.
Five hundred pounds cannon powder.
Two " " musket "
Five thousand rounds of cartridge.
Eight sets artillery harness.
Ten artillery sabres.
One large package of lint.
One small case drugs and surgical instruments.
"Good, good," said Jackson. "What day?"
"Monday, sir. Virginia Central that afternoon. I telegraphed to Major Harman."