Part 9 (1/2)

”Hmm; Charlotte Oliver. Are you sure you have the name just right?”

”Why haven't I got it right?”

”Oh, I don't doubt you have; though I didn't know but it might be Charlie Toliver or something.”

I dilated. ”Who told--did Ned Ferry tell you that story?”

”He did. Or, to be accurate, Lieutenant Ferry-Durand. My dear Richard, we cannot be witty and remain un-talked-about.”

”I--I believe it yet! You are Charlotte Oliver!”

She became frigid. ”Do you know who and what Charlotte Oliver is?--No? Well, to begin with, she's a married woman--but pshaw! you believe nothing till it's proved. If I tell you who and what I am will you do what I've asked you; will you promise not to stop at Lucius Oliver's house?” She softly reached for my hand and pressed and stroked it. ”Don't stop there, dear. Oh, say you will not!”

”Is it so dangerous?”

”General Austin believes it is. You're being used to bait a trap, Richard.”

I laughed a gay disdain. ”Who is Lucius; is he Charlotte's husband?”

The reply came slowly. ”No; her husband is quite another man; this man's wife has been dead for years. No, Charlotte Oliver lives in--hark!”

The sound we had heard was only some stir of nature in her sleep. ”I must go,” I said.

”Oh, no, no! I cannot let you!” She clutched the hand she had been stroking.

”Coralie! Coralie Rothvelt!”--my cry was an honest one--”you tempt me beyond human endurance.”

She threw my hand from her. ”I know I do! I'm so unworthy to do it that I wouldn't have believed I could. You thought I was Charlotte Oliver--Heavens! boy, if you should breathe the atmosphere Charlotte Oliver has to live in! But understand again, for your soul's comfort, you haven't tempted me. Go, if you must; go, take your chances; and if you're spared ever to see your dear, dear little mother--”

”My mother! Do you know my mother?”

”Tell her I tried to keep my promise to her.”

”You promised her--what did you promise her?”

”Only to take care of you whenever I had the chance. Go, now, you must!”

”And was care for me your only motive in--”

”No; no, Richard, I wanted, and I still want, you to take care of me! But go, now, go! at once or not at all! Good-bye!” She laughed and fluttered away. I sprang upon my horse and sped into the forest.

Another mile, another half; then my horror and dismay broke into gesture and speech, and over and over I reviled myself as a fool, a traitorous fool, to be fooled into confession of my errand! I moaned with physical pain; every fatigue of the long day now levied payment, and my back, knees, shoulders, ached cruelly. But my heart ached most, and I bowed in the saddle and cried--

”What have I done, oh, what have I done? My secret! my general's, my country's secret! That woman has got it--bought it with flatteries and lies! She has drawn it from my befouled soul like a charge from a gun!”

For a moment I quite forgot how evident it was that she had gathered earlier inklings of it from some one else. Suddenly my thought was of something far more startling. It stopped my breath; I halted; I held my temples; I stared. What would she do with a secret she had taken such hazards to extort? Ah! she'd carry it straight to market--why not? She would give it to the enemy! Before my closed eyes came a vision of the issue--disaster to our arms; bleeding, maiming, death, and widows' and orphans' tears.

”My G.o.d! she shall not!” I cried, and whirled about and galloped back.