The Young Lieutenant Part 17

Somers did not please; but he could hardly refuse the offer without exciting the suspicion of the family, which he felt might be fatal to him. It would be better to depart with the member of the Fourth Alabama, and part company with him by force of stratagem when they had left the house.

"I won't keep you waiting but a minute. I called here to see my friends; but none of them seem to know me. You are Mr. Raynes, I presume?"

continued the soldier, addressing the old man.

"I am; but I don't remember to have ever seen you before," replied the farmer.

"You never did, sir; but I will venture to say that my name is well known in this house," added the soldier with a mysterious smile, which caused Somers to dread some new development that would compromise him.

"Ah!" said Mr. Raynes, ever ready to welcome any one who had the slightest claim upon his hospitality.

"I am well acquainted with your son, Owen; I suppose I shall not be disputed here, when I say that he is the best fellow in the world. Don't you know me now?" demanded the tantalizing rebel, who appeared to be very anxious to have his ident.i.ty made out in the natural way, and without any troublesome explanations.

"Really, I do not," answered Mr. Raynes, much perplexed by the confident manner of the visitor.

"This is Sue, I suppose?" pursued the soldier, advancing to the maiden, and extending his dirty hand; which, however, was not much dirtier than that which she had so eagerly grasped before. "Don't you know who I am, Sue?"

"I do not, sir," she replied rather coldly.

"When I tell you that I belong to the Fourth Alabama, don't you know me?"

"I do not, sir."

"And when I tell you that I am the intimate friend of your brother Owen?"

Allan Garland stood by the door; and, of course, it was not he; therefore she could not, by any possibility, conceive who he was; and she said so, in terms as explicit as the occasion required.

"I live in Union, Alabama, when I am at home. Don't you know me _now_, Sue?" persisted the perplexed visitor, who, perhaps, began to think he had entered the wrong house.

If the veritable Allan Garland, however little his photograph resembled him, had not stood by the door, she would have been rejoiced to see him, and to recognize in him her unknown friend and correspondent. As it was, she did not know him; and she was candid enough to express her conviction without reserve, in spite of the disagreeable effect which her want of perception seemed to produce upon the mind of the stranger.

"This is very strange," said the soldier, taking off his cap, and rubbing his head to quicken his faculties, which seemed to have led him into some unaccountable blunder. "Will you be kind enough to inform me who lives in this house?"

"Mr. Raynes," replied Sue, quite as much mystified as the stranger seemed to be.

"There is some mistake; but I can't make out what it is," said the stranger.

"I cannot wait any longer," said Somers, who had been riveted to the spot by the astounding revelation to which he had just listened.

He had been almost paralyzed by the words of the rebel, in whom he promptly recognized the young man whose name and antecedents he had borrowed for the present occasion. His first impression was to take to his heels, and to run away; but a certain worldly prudence prevented him from adopting this doubtful policy. If you attempt to run away from an angry dog, he will certainly bite you; whereas, by facing him boldly, you may escape all injury. This fact, which Somers had fully exemplified in his own experience before he left Pinchbrook, was the foundation of his action. Seeing that the stranger was perplexed and annoyed by the failure of the family to recognize him, even after he had told them everything except his name, he decided that he might safely retire under the plea of haste.

"I beg your pardon, sir, for this intrusion," said the soldier, blushing with mortification as he retreated a pace towards the door. "You will excuse me, Miss Raynes, for my unwarrantable familiarity; but I have made a blunder, or you have," he added rather bitterly. "Perhaps, when Owen comes to introduce me, you will know me better."

"Owen's friends are my friends, young man; and you are as welcome as my son would be, whoever you are."

"Thank you, sir; but, with many regrets for this intrusion, I will take my leave."

"No, no, my young friend," interposed the old man. "You must not leave us in this manner. It is true, we do not recognize you; but you are none the less welcome on that account."

"Thank you kindly, sir. I have deceived myself into the belief that I was better known here than I find I am. It was weak in me to thrust myself across your threshold without an introduction; and, if you will pardon me, I will leave you, with the promise to come again with Owen."

"Not yet, sir; at least, not till you have told us who you are."

"Excuse me; but I must go now," replied the young rebel with an exhibition of gentle dignity, which quite won the heart of Somers, as it did that of the family.

"Pray, give me your name, sir," interposed Sue, whose woman's curiosity could no longer endure the silence which maidenly reserve had imposed upon her, especially as the stranger proposed to depart without solving the mystery.

"You'll excuse me, Miss Raynes, if I decline for the present. My comrade is in a desperate hurry, and it is not reasonable for me to detain him any longer."

"But, young man, you wrong me, you wrong my daughter, and above all, you wrong my son, who is your friend, by leaving in this manner," said Mr.

Raynes earnestly. "You actually charge us with a want of hospitality by this abrupt withdrawal."

"You will pardon me, sir, for saying it; but after the description I have given of myself, if you do not know me, I am compelled to believe that it is because you do not wish to know me."

"That is very unjust, and we do not comprehend the force of the remark."

"Why, sir, I have written to you, and to your daughter, and your daughter has written to me; and now you seem never to have heard of me. I have told you that I reside in Union, Alabama; and that I am a friend of Owen."

"We know a young man from that town very well, though we never saw him.

His name is Allan Garland; but it is impossible that you should be the person."

"I must go, comrade," said Somers desperately, as he rushed out of the door.

"Wait a moment!" exclaimed Mr. Raynes, grasping him by the arm; for the old farmer seemed to think his presence was necessary to the perfect unraveling of the mystery. "It seems to me you ought to know this young man, if none of us do."

"I do not, Mr. Raynes; never saw him before in my life," protested Somers, feeling very much like a condemned criminal.

"My name is Allan Garland," quietly continued the dignified young rebel.

"I am, undoubtedly, the person to whom you allude."

"Impossible!" exclaimed Mr. Raynes, still holding Somers's arm with the grasp of a vise.

"Impossible!" almost shouted the fair Sue, more excited than she would have been, if, through patient reading, she had arrived at the last chapter of a sensational novel, where the pin is pulled out and all the villains tumble down to perdition and all the angels stumble upon their apotheosis.

"Impossible!" chimed in Mrs. Raynes, who had preserved a most remarkable silence, for a woman, during the exciting incidents we have transcribed.

"May I be allowed to inquire why you think it is impossible?" calmly demanded the gentle rebel, who, in his turn, was amazed at the singular course of events.

Sue did not know what else to do; so she sat down in a chair, and laughed with hysterical vehemence at the strange aspect of the affair. The old man opened his eyes, and opened his mouth; but he did not forget to hold on with all his might to the arm of the unfortunate lieutenant, who was just then picturing to himself the interior of a rebel dungeon; which view suddenly dissolved into an indistinct representation of a tree, from a stout limb of which was suspended a rope, hanging down over a cart--these latter appurtenances being symbolical of the usual rebel method of hanging a spy.

The affair, which had been growing desperate for some time, had now actually become so to poor Somers. He placed his hand upon his revolver, in the breast-pocket of his coat; but some prudential considerations interposed to prevent him from using it. The house was on a line of rebel sentinels. Whole divisions of Confederate infantry, artillery and cavalry, were encamped around him, and any violent movement on his part would have been sure to result in an ignominious disaster. The doughty old farmer, who was not less than six feet three in his stockinged feet, held on to him as a drowning man clings to a floating spar. It was not possible to get away without resorting to violence; and if he offered any resistance to what, just then, looked like manifest destiny, the rebel soldier would become an ally of the farmer, and the women could call in the sentinels, if nothing more.

"Really, Mr. Raynes, you are very unkind to detain me, when I tell you that my leave has nearly expired," said Somers, when he had fully measured the situation; which, however, was done in a t.i.the of the time which we have taken to transcribe it.

"Young man, there is some _mistake_," said Mr. Raynes, placing a wicked emphasis on the word, which went to the very core of the scout's heart.

"This man says he is Allan Garland, and you say you are Allan Garland.

One of you is an impostor. Neither of you shall go till we determine which is the one. Sue, bring out your photograph again."

"Oh, dear!" gasped Somers, as in a fit of momentary despondency, he gave himself up for lost, when the maiden went for the picture.