Chapter 13

FOR THE CAUSE

Captain Gurley pushed open the rickety gate impatiently, and strode up the walk to "Page Hall" with jingling spurs and clanking saber. The rambling old house, with shutters askew, bore mute testimony to the fallen fortunes of its owner. The paint was peeling off the tall pillars, and the boards of the gallery shook ominously under Gurley's weight.

"Miss Page done say yo' was ter walk inter de pawler, Marse Cap'in," said the old darky, bowing and scraping on the threshold of the open door, "an' Miss Nancy'll be down d'reckly."

Gurley followed the old man in to the big, square room, and waited with what patience he could muster for Nancy's appearance. When she finally entered the room she was dressed for walking.

"Do you think the authorities would allow me to send a telegram, John?" she asked, after a few words of greeting.

"I don't know, Nancy; Colonel Smith is very strict. But I can ask him. Is it important?"

"Aunt Metoaca has just received a letter from our cousin, Mrs. Green, saying that her house was burned to the ground, and she is homeless. So Aunty wants to telegraph her to go to our house, and that we will return to Washington at once."

Gurley's face fell. "Oh, don't say you are going away. I am sorry about Mrs. Green's misfortune; but surely your servants can take care of her in your absence?"

"Mrs. Green is a cripple, and we fear the shock and exposure at the time of the fire may make her ill. Aunt Metoaca also feels that she should be with her cousin in case she is financially embarrassed by her loss."

"I will escort you to the telegraph office, Nancy, and try and arrange to have your despatch sent at once. But I call it beastly hard luck," grumbled Gurley, as they sauntered through Miss Page's garden and into the main street of the town. "I have hardly seen a thing of you; you spend your entire time with Bob Goddard...."

"Reading to him," supplemented Nancy calmly. "It is the least I can do, John, when you think that he was injured in trying to protect me."

"I wish to gracious my eyes had been blinded by the explosion of that pistol," exclaimed Gurley bitterly. "Then perhaps I might have enjoyed some of your society."

"For shame!" Nancy stopped and glared indignantly at her companion. "Do you think my society compensates for a ruined career? Think of being doomed to a life of dependence upon others--in darkness for the rest of your days!"

"It must be horrible," agreed Gurley contritely. "I spoke hastily, Nancy, and without thought. Doesn't the surgeon hold out any hope that Bob may recover his sight?"

"He has advised Major Goddard to consult Doctor Boyd, and I think he expects to return to Washington soon to be under the latter's care."

"I sincerely hope he recovers. Goddard is too fine a fellow to have his life blasted by such a fate," said Gurley earnestly, ashamed of his churlishness. "I did hope, Nancy, that you would remain in Winchester for the fox-hunt on the 28th. Colonel Young has secured three red foxes, and a large pack of hounds from the people in the neighborhood. It promises to be great sport. Do postpone going away until March."

"I wish I could, John, but I fear it is out of the question. Is this the place?"

"Yes; this way."

The sentry in front of the house paused and inspected them carefully, then, recognizing Gurley, allowed them to pass. Gurley held the door open for Nancy, and stepped after her into the room. She glanced with interest at her surroundings; the bare walls, worn pine furniture, the operators' tables with their telegraph equipments, the shelves of batteries, and at the half dozen men who filled the room. Seeing a woman in their midst all conversation ceased, and the officers rose and hurriedly pulled on coats and removed hats. Considerably embarrassed, Nancy hesitated, and Gurley came to her rescue.

"Colonel Smith," he said, saluting a tall gray-haired officer who stood by the stove, "this is Miss Newton. She has a pass from President Lincoln to Winchester, and is visiting her relative, Miss Lindsay Page. Miss Newton desires to send a telegram to Washington for her aunt, Miss Metoaca Newton, who is also visiting Miss Page."

"I already know your aunt, Miss Newton." The colonel advanced and shook hands warmly. "What is the message you wish to send?" He listened attentively to Nancy's explanation. "If that is all, Miss Newton, I will have the despatch sent to Washington as soon as the wires are free. Wilson, will you clear that table and give Miss Newton some paper and ink. Now, if you will sit here," pushing a chair before the table, "you can write your despatch at your leisure."

"Thank you, Colonel!" Nancy bowed gravely to the officers who made way for her, and, seating herself, she toyed with the pen a moment.

The officers reseated themselves and resumed their interrupted chat, glancing covertly at Nancy as often as they could. Colonel Smith and Gurley were standing by the window so deep in conversation that neither noticed the flight of time.

Nancy wrote down Mrs. Green's temporary address in Washington; then paused to compose her message. The telegraph instruments kept up an incessant clicking. Almost subconsciously she listened to the instrument nearest her; apparently the sender was having trouble in getting his message over the wire. A dash--two dots--another dash--then quickly the instrument woke to full life, and Nancy realized with fast beating heart that she was reading off a despatch of vital importance with the same ease as the Union operator who was receiving it. Her lessons in the War Department in Richmond were not wasted.

With a desperate effort Nancy controlled herself, and sat with impassive face as she dallied with her pen. The instrument stopped sounding, the despatch was given to a waiting orderly, and Nancy wrote a few words on a fresh piece of paper and signed her aunt's name. Then she rose.

"I hope this message is not too long," she said, handing the paper to Colonel Smith. "It took me some time to condense my aunt's message."

"It is all right. I will see that it is sent myself. Please give my compliments to your aunt," and the gallant colonel escorted her to the door.

"I have to see Colonel Edwards a moment, Nancy," said Gurley, as they started to retrace their steps to Miss Page's. "Do you mind going to his house with me?"

"Oh, no."

"This way, then. Do you see much of Captain Lloyd?"

"No," Nancy was devoutly thankful for the fact. "Why do you ask?"

"His face puzzles me--an elusive likeness to some one I have known formerly, and whose name I cannot for the life of me recollect. I have an idea the fellow avoids me."

"Perhaps ..." A man in nondescript clothes slouched along the sidewalk just ahead of Nancy. As he stepped back to allow her room to pass he straightened up and looked her squarely in the face. Nancy's voice died in her throat.

"What did you say, Nancy?" asked Gurley, whose attention had been diverted by the bolting of a horse down the crowded street.

Nancy's lips were dry and she moistened them with her tongue before answering. "Perhaps Major Goddard can tell you something about Captain Lloyd. They seem to be warm friends."

"That's a good idea. I will ask Bob the next time I see him alone." They stopped before an old mansion which Colonel Edwards had taken for his quarters, and Gurley led the way inside the broad hall. "Now, Nancy, if you will wait in this side room," conducting her across the hall, "no one will disturb you here."

"Don't be long, John."

"I won't," and Gurley carefully shut the door behind him as he went out.

Nancy walked over to the window, raised the curtain and looked out into the street. The stranger in nondescript clothes was standing in front of the house talking to the corporal of the guard. He produced a soiled paper, at sight of which the corporal signed to him to enter. Nancy, sure that she had been seen by him, dropped the curtain into place and returned to the mantel. She drew out a piece of paper and a small pencil and, leaning on the mantel, wrote rapidly. She had just finished when the hall door was cautiously opened. Quickly she crumpled the paper in her hand; then, seeing the intruder's face, she stepped into the center of the room. The man entered and closed the door gently behind him.

"George!" Nancy's voice was no more than a whisper. Are you mad? Suppose you are recognized?"

"It is not likely to happen. Don't be so worried, Nancy," the Confederate moved swiftly to her side and caught her outstretched hand in both of his. "One of Young's spies was captured inside our lines. I am using his pass and his clothes. Believe me, I am running no unnecessary risks. Tucker told me you were here. I laid my plans carefully, so as not to involve you if my disguise is penetrated. Have you any news for us?"

"This despatch has just come for Sheridan; it is of vital importance," Nancy unrolled the paper. "It is in cipher. I have not had time to translate it, so just jotted down the words and put the key at the bottom."

"Good." The Confederate took the paper and concealed it about his person. "General Lee has recommended arming the blacks."

"What!"

"It has become a military necessity," briefly. "Columbia has surrendered to Sherman; we have evacuated Charleston, and the Yanks under General Gilmore are occupying the city. All the ammunition and provisions stored there and in the vicinity were destroyed." Nancy uttered an exclamation. "We are in such straits we cannot find money to replace the loss," went on Pegram bitterly. "Our currency," he shrugged his shoulders expressively, "in Richmond gold is 4,400 per cent, premium; the women and children are suffering daily privations there which----"

"George, can't you take me with you to Richmond?" broke in Nancy passionately. "I will gladly endure all and every privation; for I am sick, _sick_ of worming secrets from trusting friends, and spying upon those who shelter me."

George Pegram looked at her aghast. "Nancy, Nancy, what are you saying?" Then, glancing more keenly at her, "You are over-wrought, child. You won't feel the same after a good night's rest."

"_Rest_, did you say? I feel as if I could never rest in peace again. I tell you, George, I am living under the shadow of the gallows. At night I dream the noose is fastened about my throat, and wake myself feeling for the rope."

"Poor child!" He stroked Nancy's hair soothingly. "You have done us inestimable service. Lee told me that he had the greatest admiration for your ability and pluck."

Nancy smiled wanly. "Thanks, George, for telling me that. But I fear my days of usefulness are over; I am already suspected. Captain Lloyd, of the Secret Service, is dogging my footsteps, waiting and watching for a fatal slip on my part, so far without success. But you know the fate of the pitcher that went too often to the well."

"I will back your quick wits against any man's. But I never thought to find you lacking in courage, Nancy."

Stung by his tone, she drew back. "How dare you say such a thing! I am not afraid to face danger. It's--it's--this life of deceit that is killing me."

"The end justifies the means, Nancy. Remember your oath to a dying man."

"I have remembered," proudly, "and in keeping it have forgotten sex, and played the part of a man. But," more calmly, "I can be of little use now that I am suspected."

"You are wrong, Nancy. We are fighting against time now. Soon, very soon, the Confederate States of America will be recognized by the foreign powers. Lee has come to the conclusion that Petersburg and Richmond must be abandoned; that only in the mountainous regions upon the borders of Virginia and North Carolina can the war be protracted. He wishes to get his army safely out of Petersburg. Therefore, it is imperative that we know Grant's plans so that we can checkmate them. Your place is in Washington, Nancy. Your father gave his life for the Cause, would you do less?"

"He died an honorable death--while I----" Nancy's voice broke; then in a different tone: "You must go, George, every moment may increase your danger. Tell General Lee I am still fighting for the Cause."

"For the Cause!" echoed her companion. "It claims us all! God bless you, Nancy."

He threw his arms about her and, stooping, pressed his lips to her white cheek; then stood transfixed as the hall door swung slowly open, disclosing a Union officer facing them on the threshold. Nancy's lips moved, but no sound escaped her. Her terrified eyes stared unblinkingly at the newcomer.

"Is any one here?" asked Goddard slowly.

Nancy's muscles relaxed and she leaned limply against the Confederate. She had forgotten that Goddard was blind. A slight pause--then she spoke.

"It is I, Nancy Newton. I was so surprised to see you without your bandages that it quite took my breath away. Nor did I realize you were strong enough to leave your quarters."

Goddard's sad face had brightened, and he made a hesitating step forward. "My orderly brought me over here, as I wished to say good-bye to Colonel Edwards. I am practicing finding my way about alone." He turned directly toward the Confederate, who, watching with breathless interest, was waiting to take his cue from Nancy.

"Won't you sit by me over here?" Nancy went forward, and gently piloted Goddard to the sofa by the window. She turned and nodded her head toward the open door, and with catlike quickness the Confederate stole from the room, closing the door behind him. Nancy's knees shook under her, and she sank on the sofa by Goddard, trembling in every limb.

"I have waited in my rooms all day long, hoping you would come." Goddard reached over, and felt about for Nancy's hand, and she placed her cold fingers reluctantly in his. "Are you having a chill?" he asked, alarmed.

"Oh, no; my hands are always cold," with well-simulated lightness; then she hastened to change the subject. "I am glad you are so much better."

"Thanks. Doctor Scott is very much encouraged by my improvement, and insists on my going to Washington to-morrow. He says I must see Doctor Boyd."

"And he is right."

"I know." Goddard hesitated. "I should have gone last week, but--but--I could not bear to leave you."

Nancy flushed warmly. "Aunt Metoaca and I return to Washington on the same train with you. So you see we will not be separated--yet."

"God! how I wish it could be never, my darling!" The words seemed wrung from Goddard. His face laid bare his secret. Then pulling himself up abruptly: "I--I--ask your pardon--Miss Nancy--pay no heed. For the moment I forgot--my blindness. What I would ask in happier circumstances cannot be spoken now."

Nancy's answer was drowned in the sudden rush of feet outside, and the shout: "Corporal of the guard, this way!"

The door was dashed open, and Lloyd, followed by a file of soldiers, strode into the room.

"Arrest----" He stopped short and gazed blankly at Nancy and Goddard. One searching look around showed him they were the only occupants of the room.

"What is the matter?" demanded Goddard, much startled.

"We are searching for a rebel spy who entered Winchester with a false pass. The corporal thinks he saw him enter this room thirty minutes ago."

"I beg pardon, Captain; it might have been Major Goddard that I saw. It is dark in the hall, and I did not see clearly," interrupted the bewildered corporal.

"How long have you been in this room, Bob?" asked Lloyd sternly.

Nancy's fingers closed convulsively over the edge of the sofa. Goddard's sightless eyes were turned for an instant in her direction.

"Nearly three-quarters of an hour, Lloyd," was the tranquil answer.