Love under Fire Part 41

"Why? Are you not willing to hear me say 'I love you'?"

Her eyes lifted to mine for just an instant, and I felt the soft pressure of her hand.

"Not now; not here," and she drew away from me slightly. "You cannot understand, but I feel as though I had no right to love. I bring misfortune to every one. I cannot help thinking of Captain Le Gaire, and it seems as if his death was all my fault. I cannot bear to have you say that now, here," and she shuddered. "When we do not even know how he was killed, or who killed him. It is not because I do not care, not that I am indifferent. I hardly know myself."

"Billie," I broke in, "I do understand far better than you suppose. This affair tests us both. But, dear, I do not know what five minutes may bring. We shall be attacked again; I expect the alarm every instant, and I may not come out alive. I must know first that you love me--know it from your own lips."

She was silent, it seemed to me a long, long while. The three soldiers went by carrying the dead body, and Miles came to the foot of the stairs, saw us, and pa.s.sed along without speaking. Outside was the dull, continuous roar of musketry, mingled with an occasional yell. Then she held out both hands, and looked me frankly in the face.

"I am going to be honest," she said softly. "I have loved you ever since we were at Jonesboro; I--love you now."

I knew this before she spoke; had known it almost from the beginning, and yet her words, the message of her uplifted eyes, gave me a new conception of all love meant. A moment I gazed into the blue-gray depths where her heart was revealed, and then my arms were about her, and our lips met. Surely no one ever received the gift of love in stranger situation. On the stairs leading down into that gloomy cellar where a murderer hid, his victim borne past as we talked; all about us silence and gloom hiding a mysterious crime; above us the heavy feet of men treading the echoing floor, and without the ceaseless roar of battle, volleying musketry, and hoa.r.s.e shouting. Yet it was all forgotten--the fierce fighting of the past, the pa.s.sions of war, the sudden death, the surrounding peril--and we knew only we were together, alone, the words of love upon our lips. I felt the pressure of her arms, and crushed her to me, every nerve throbbing with delight.

"Sweetheart, sweetheart," I whispered, "you have kept me in doubt so long."

"It has only been because I also doubted," she answered,--"not my love, but my right to love. To a Hardy honor is everything, and I was bound by honor. Dear, could you ever think a uniform made any difference?--it is the man I love." She drew gently back, holding me from her, and yet our eyes met. "But we must not remain here, thinking only of ourselves, when there is so much to be done. Remember what is down there, and what scenes of horror surround us. You have work to do."

The way in which she spoke aroused me as from a dream, yet with a question upon my lips.

"Yes," I said, "and we are in midst of war--in this are we yet enemies?"

"I am a Southerner," smiling softly, "and I hope the South wins. My father is out yonder fighting, if he be not already down, and I would do my best to serve his cause. Do you care for me less because I confess this?"

"No."

"But now," she went on, more softly still, her words barely audible, "my heart is with you here; with you, because I love you."

We both glanced up swiftly, startled by the sound of heavy steps in the upper hall. A man's head was thrust through the half-opened door at the top of the stairs. Apparently he could not see any distance through the gloom, and I hailed him, although still retaining my clasp of the girl's hand.

"What is it, my man?"

"Sergeant Mahoney told me to find the lieutenant."

"Well, you have; I am the one sought. What's happening?"

"They're a-comin', sorr," his voice hoa.r.s.e with excitement, and waving one hand toward the front of the house, "an' thar's goin' ter be h.e.l.l ter pay this toime"

"You mean the gray-backs? From the front? What force?"

"Domn'd if Oi know; Oi wasn't seein' out thar--the sergeant told me."

I could not leave Billie down there alone, nor the door open. Whoever the crazed a.s.sa.s.sin was, he must still remain somewhere in the cellar, watching for an opportunity to escape. But I was needed above to direct the defence. It seemed to me I thought of a thousand things in an instant,--of my desire to clear up the mystery, of my orders to hold the house, of Willifred Hardy's danger,--and I had but the one instant in which to decide. The next I made my choice, at least until I could discover the exact situation for myself.

"Come," I said soberly.

I closed the door, and faced the trooper.

"You remain here with the lady. Don't leave her for a moment except as I order. Keep your revolver drawn, and your eyes on that door. Do you understand?"

"Oi do, sorr."

"She will explain what you are to guard against. I'll be back to you in a moment, Billie."

I caught one glimpse out through the south windows as I pa.s.sed the door of the dining-room--moving troops covered the distance, half concealed under clouds of smoke, but none were facing toward us. On the floor, behind the barricades, a dozen of my men were peering out along the brown carbine barrels, eager and expectant, cartridges piled beside them on the floor. At the front door I encountered Mahoney, so excited he could hardly talk.

"What is it?" I questioned swiftly. "An attack in front?"

"It's the big guns, sorr; be gorry, they're goin' to sh.e.l.l us out, an'

whar the h.e.l.l was them reinforcemints, Oi'd loike to know!"

"So would I. If it's artillery we may as well hoist a white flag. Here, my lad, let me look."

A glance was sufficient. Just within the gate, barely beyond reach of our weapons, with a clear stretch of lawn between, was a battery of four guns, already in position, the caissons at the rear, the cannoneers pointing the muzzles. Back of these grim dogs was a supporting column of infantry, leaning on their muskets. There was no doubting what was meant. Angered by loss, Chambers had dragged these commands out of the battle to wipe us clean. He was taking no more chances--now he would blow the house into bits, and bury us in the ruins. What should I do?

What ought I to do? The entire burden of decision was mine. Must I sacrifice these men who had already fought so desperately? Should I expose Billie to almost certain death? Surely we had done our full duty; we had held the house for hours, driving back two fierce a.s.saults. The fault was not ours, but those laggards out yonder. I would tell Mahoney and Miles I was going to put out a white flag; that further resistance was useless. Miles! With remembrance of the name I recalled where the man was--down below searching for the murderer. I sprang back, pa.s.sing Billie and her guard, and flung open the door.

"Miles," I cried into the silent darkness, "we need you up here at once."

There was just a moment of tense waiting, and then a gruff voice sounding afar off,

"I can't, sir, I've got him."

CHAPTER XXVI

THE LAST STAND

I had no time to answer, no opportunity to even realize what was meant.

There was a fiendish roar, a crash that shook the house to its very foundations, sending us staggering back against the walls. I remember gripping Billie closely, and seeing her white face, even as I warded off with uplifted arm the falling plaster. The soldier was on his knees, grovelling with face against the floor. A great jagged hole appeared in the opposite wall, and I could see daylight through it. My ears roared, my brain reeled.

"Lie down," I cried, forcing her to the floor. "Both of you lie down!"

"And you--you!"

I caught a glimpse of her eyes staring up at me, her arms uplifted.

"I am going to stop this," I answered, "and you must stay here."

I stumbled over the rubbish, with but one thought driving me--the dining-room table, its white cloth, and the possibility of getting outside before those deadly guns could be discharged again. I knew the house was already in ruins, tottering, with huge gaping holes ripped in its sides; that dead men littered the floor; and the walls threatened to fall and bury us. Another round would complete the horror, would crush us into dust. I gripped the cloth, jerking it from the table, stumbling blindly toward the nearest glare of light. There was a pile of shattered furniture in the way, and I tore a path through, hurling the fragments to left and right. I smelt the fumes of powder, the odor of plaster, and heard groans and cries. The sharp barking of carbines echoed to me, and a wild yell rose without. There were others living in the room; I was aware of their voices, of the movement of forms. Yet all was chaos, bewildering confusion. I had but the single thought, could conceive only the one thing. I was outside, gripping the white cloth, clinging with one hand to the shattered casing. Some one called, but the words died out in the roar of musketry. The flame of carbines seemed in my very face, the crack of revolvers at my ears. Then a hand jerked me back head first into the debris. I staggered to my knees, only to hear Mahoney shout,

"They're coomin', lads, they're coomin'! Howly Mary, we've got 'em now!"

"Who's coming?"

"Our own fellars, sorr! They're risin' out o' the groun' yonder loike so many rats. Here they are, byes! Now ter h.e.l.l wid 'em!"

His words flashed the whole situation back to my consciousness. The house still stood, wrecked by cannon, but yet a protection. To the left our troops were swarming out of the ravine, and forming for a charge, while in front, under the concealment of the smoke, believing us already helpless, the Confederate infantry were rushing forward to complete their work of destruction. We must hold out now, five minutes, ten minutes, if necessary. I got to my feet, gripping a carbine. I knew not if I had a dozen men behind me, but the fighting spirit had come again.

"To the openings, men! To the openings!" I shouted. "Beat them back!"