The Victim: A romance of the Real Jefferson Davis Part 79

The girl laughed.

"And I'll demand of him an explanation--"

Before he could protest Socola walked into the room and grasped Jennie's hand.

"Captain Welford," she laughed, "has just accused you of hobn.o.bbing with the enemy on the streets--what explanation can you offer?"

"Need I explain?" he asked lightly.

"Miss Van Lew _is_ a suspicious character."

"That's my excuse, I fear. She is a character. I've been curious to know if she is really sane. I stopped her on the street and asked her a question. Is it forbidden in Richmond?"

He spoke with easy convincing carelessness.

Jennie smiled.

"Captain Welford evidently thinks so--"

"And you?"

"I am quite satisfied with your explanation--"

d.i.c.k took a step closer and faced his enemy.

"Well, I'm not Signor Socola--if that's your name--"

"d.i.c.k!" Jennie interrupted angrily.

The Captain ignored the interruption, holding the eye of the man he hated.

"You spoke to that woman in low quick tones--"

"Your imagination is vivid, Captain--"

d.i.c.k squared his jaw into Socola's face.

"It's vivid enough to see through you. I'm going to wring your neck before we're through with this thing--"

Jennie thrust her trembling figure between the two men and confronted d.i.c.k.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Jennie thrust her trembling little figure between the two men and confronted d.i.c.k."]

"How dare you insult the man I love in my presence, d.i.c.k Welford?"

"Because I love the South better than my life and you do, too, Jennie Barton--"

The girl's eyes flashed with rage.

"Leave this room, sir!"

d.i.c.k still faced Socola.

"Get out of this town to-night--or I'll wring your neck, you d.a.m.ned spy!"

"Leave this room, d.i.c.k Welford!" Jennie repeated.

The Captain turned and left without even a glance over his broad shoulders.

"I couldn't strike him in your presence, dear," Socola apologized.

"You behaved splendidly. I'm proud of your perfect poise and mastery of yourself. Our Southern men splutter easily."

Socola took her hand and pressed it.

"You don't believe this?"

"I'd sooner doubt my own heart--I'd sooner doubt G.o.d--"

"I'll prove to you that I'm worthy of your love," he murmured gently.

He knelt that night and tried to ask G.o.d to show him the way. His heart was rising in fierce rebellion at the deception into which he had entrapped himself. And yet never had his country's need been so bitter and the service he was rendering so priceless. He rose at last with face stern and pale. He would fight to the end.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

THE TURN OF THE TIDE

The death of Jackson was to Jefferson Davis an appalling disaster. He had never seriously believed the Southern people could win their unequal struggle against the millions of the North backed by their inexhaustible resources until the achievements of Lee and Jackson had introduced a new element into the conflict. So resistless and terrible had become the effective war power of Southern soldiers led by these two men whose minds moved in such harmony with each other and with their Chief in Richmond that the South at last was in sight of success.

The impossible had been accomplished. Anything now seemed possible.

Jackson's death had destroyed this new equation of war.

Davis' faith in Jackson was in every way equal to Lee's and Lee but once refused to follow Jackson's lead in his veto on his Lieutenant's plan to annihilate Burnside's army at Fredericksburg.

When the report reached Richmond that Jackson was dying Davis was inconsolable.

The whole evening the President of the Confederacy shut himself in his room--unable to think of anything save the impending calamity. When the end was sure he sent with his own hand the handsomest flag in Richmond in which to wrap his body.

When Davis gazed on the white, cold, rugged features, the tears were streaming down his hollow checks. He bent low and the tears fell on the face of the dead.

When an officer of the Government came to the President's Mansion where the body lay in state to consult him on a matter of importance, the Confederate Chieftain stared at his questioner in a dazed sort of way and remained silent.

Lifting his haggard face at last he said in pathetic tones: