Part 17 (1/2)
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, blus.h.i.+ng 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.”