The Courier Of The Ozarks Part 45

A superst.i.tious fear fell upon the whole force. The old man must have been the devil, they argued, and he had helped the Yankees to escape.

CHAPTER XXII

MARK CONFESSES HIS LOVE

It was a day or two after the appearance of the fugitives from Powell's force that Mark Grafton returned to the La Belle. He seemed tired and careworn, but reported that his trip had been entirely successful.

When told of the disastrous defeat of Powell's force, he was astounded.

"Had I expected such a result," he exclaimed, "I would have gone with him. Ran into an ambuscade, did he? I believe, if I had been with him, I could have prevented that, for I am used to fighting just such fellows, and am up to all their tricks."

"You seem to have a good opinion of yourself," remarked Grace, somewhat sarcastically.

What she said, and the tone in which she said it, cut Mark to the heart.

"Your rebuke is just, Grace. No man should boast," he said, as he turned away.

That night Mark lay thinking. That Grace had changed, he could plainly see. It must be because he had refused to tell her his secret. "I must go away, and never return," he sighed. "It is the only way. If I could only stay near her, to see her every day, to be her slave, I would be contented."

Then the thought of Big Tom came into his mind. He knew there was real danger from that source. No one knew better than he what the guerrillas of the State were fast becoming--bands of robbers that preyed on friend and foe alike. He felt that Mr. Chittenden's being a Confederate would not save him. To go away and leave Grace exposed to such a great danger would be to him a torture.

Sleep did not visit him that night, and when morning came he was no nearer a decision than he was the night before. He arose; white and haggard. The lines in his face showed what he had suffered.

That night also seemed to have changed Grace. She came to him and, holding out her hand, said: "Mark, I'm sorry I spoke as I did last night. Forgive me." Then, looking at him, she cried: "Foolish boy! I believe you took to heart what I said. Mark, did it hurt you so?"

"There is nothing to forgive, Grace," he replied, gently. "I pa.s.sed a restless night, but it was not what you said that caused it, but the thought that I had already remained here too long; and yet it is hard to go from those who are so kind to me."

"Why go at all?" asked Grace. "You belong here. Did we not bring you back from the very brink of the grave? I have heard father say he wished you would always remain. He has taken a great fancy to you."

A great light came into Mark's face. He took a step toward her, as if he would clasp her in his arms. "Grace! Grace!" he cried, then stopped and turned deadly pale.

"Mark, what is it? Are you sick?" asked Grace, anxiously.

"No; I did turn a little faint, but I am over it now. I will think over what you said."

He did think it over, and came to the conclusion that he must go; for, if he stayed, the time would come when he would have to confess his love for Grace. He trembled when he realized how near he had come to telling her. But it was not many hours before he was telling her.

A man came riding into the valley from the north. He was burning with fever, and reeled from side to side in his saddle. He was lifted from his horse, and carried into the house.

"I am afraid I am done for," he said, faintly, as he was gently placed on a bed. "I was told I would find a crippled Confederate soldier here, called Mark Grafton, who sometimes acts as the bearer of dispatches. Is he here now?"

"He is," answered Mr. Chittenden.

"I must see him--see him before it is too late. I feel the hand of Death upon me."

Mark was called, and the sick man, between gasps, told his story. He said his name was Paul Dupont, and he was the bearer of important dispatches to General Hindman. "I was sick at the time they asked me to carry them, and tried to beg off, but they said the dispatches were so important they could only be trusted to a brave and trusty man, and they knew I was one. 'Carry them as far as Judge Chittenden's, on the La Belle,' they said; 'then, if you are not able to go farther, deliver them into the hands of a crippled Confederate soldier there, by the name of Mark Grafton.' I can go no farther. The hand of Death is already on me. You will find the dispatches sewed in the lining of my coat. Take them and deliver them into the hands of General Hindman."

"To Hindman!" gasped Mark.

"Yes--don't fail!" whispered Dupont, as he sank back on his pillow, exhausted. He closed his eyes; his breath came shorter and shorter, and he soon pa.s.sed away, without speaking again.

Mark stood as one confounded. A sacred trust had been committed to him--one that took him where he never wished to go--into Arkansas. No one except himself could realize the dangers that he would run.

When Mr. Chittenden heard of the dead man's request, he said: "Mark, will you go? Those dispatches mean much; they may mean the redemption of the State. But the danger--Mark, I hate to see you go."

Mark thought a moment, and then, drawing himself up to his full height, his face set and determined, he answered: "I will go. It is a sacred trust--it is for my country."

Mr. Chittenden and Mark searched the effects of the dead man, and found the dispatches as stated. They also found he had about one hundred dollars in Federal money and two thousand dollars in Confederate money on his person. Among the papers found was a pa.s.s from General Hindman, asking all good Confederates to aid the bearer all possible.

"No doubt Dupont was a trusty spy for General Hindman," said Mr.

Chittenden. "Mark, you are stepping into dangerous shoes; yet, if you were my son, I should bid you go. As for the money, keep that; no doubt it was given Dupont for expenses, and you are now in his place."

Mark's preparations were soon made, but the roll which he strapped behind his saddle was much larger than he generally took. When he was ready, he sought Grace, to say good-bye. She was not in the house, and knew nothing of what had taken place.

He sought her in her favorite nook by the side of the La Belle, and there he found her gazing pensively into the water. Mark thought there was a look of sadness on her face. She looked up in surprise as he rode up.

"Going away so soon?" she asked.

Dismounting, Mark hitched his horse, and, going up to her, said: "Yes, Grace, I am going again, and on one of the most dangerous missions I ever undertook. I have come to say good-bye. If I never see you again, G.o.d bless you!"

The girl turned pale. "Why go, Mark, if it is so dangerous?"

"It is my duty."

"Mark, don't go!" Tears were gathering in her eyes.

He looked at her, his whole face eloquent with love. All the resolutions he had made were forgotten.

"Grace, I must say what I have told myself a thousand times I would never say. Grace, I love you--love you better than I do my own soul, and because I so love you, it is better that I go away and never return."

"I don't understand," she murmured. "You said things the other day I didn't understand, and you made me angry."

"Grace, you are fit to reign a queen in some palace. I am poor and unknown. But it is not my poverty that has kept me from declaring my love. It is because I am unworthy of you--because I have deceived you in some things. Grace, I am not worthy to kiss the earth you tread on."

A death-like pallor came over the face of the girl. "Mark, for the love of Heaven, tell me--tell me! Are you married, or have you committed some heinous crime?"

"Married! Why, Grace, I never thought of love until I saw you. I knew not what love was. Neither am I a criminal. Things are done in war that would be criminal in times of peace."

"Then why do you say you are so unworthy? Mark, it's that terrible secret you are keeping from me! Mark, tell me what it is?" She put her hands on his shoulders, looking yearningly in his face.

Mark Grafton shook like a leaf. "Grace! Grace!" he cried, "don't tempt me! You know not what you ask."

"Then you refuse to tell me?" She had taken her hands from his shoulders; there was an angry flush on her cheeks.

"I can't, Grace! Oh, G.o.d! if I could!"