Part 42 (1/2)
”Oh, I can remember that,” he said drily.
For a few moments I sat brooding, head between my hands; then, of a sudden impulse, I swung around and laid my heart bare to him--told him everything in a breath--trembling, as a thousand new-born fears seized me, chilling my blood.
”Good G.o.d!” I stammered, ”it is not for myself I care now, Colonel! But the thought of him--of her--together--I can not endure. I tell you, the dread of this man has entered my very soul; there is terror at a hint of him. Can I not stay, Colonel? Is there no way for me to stay? She is so young, so alone----”
Hope died as I met his eye. I set my teeth and crushed speech into silence.
”The welfare of a nation comes first,” he said slowly.
”I know--I know--but----”
”All must sacrifice to that principle, Carus. Have not the men of New York stood for it? Have not the men of Tryon given their all? I tell you, the army shall eat, but the bread they munch is made from blood-wet grain; and for every loaf they bake a life has been offered.
Where is the New Yorker who has not faced what you are facing? At the crack of the ambushed rifle our people drop at the plow, and their dying eyes look upon wife and children falling under knife and hatchet.
It must be so if the army is to eat and liberty live in this country we dare call our own. And when the call sounds, we New Yorkers must go, Carus. Our women know it, even our toddling children know it, G.o.d bless them!--and they proudly take their chances--nay, they demand the chances of a war that spares neither the aged nor the weak, neither mother nor cradled babe, nor the hound at the door, nor the cattle, nor any living thing in this red fury of destruction!”
He had risen, eyes glittering, face hardened into stone. ”Go to your betrothed and say good-by. You do not know her yet, I think.”
”She is Canadienne,” I said.
”She is what the man she loves is--if she honors him. His cause is hers, his country hers, his G.o.d is her G.o.d!”
”Her heart is with neither side----”
”Her heart is with you! Shame to doubt her--if I read her eyes! Read them, Carus!”
I wheeled, speechless; Elsin Grey stood before me, deadly pale.
After a moment she moved forward, laying her hand on my shoulder and facing Colonel Willett with a smile. All color had fled from her face, but neither lip nor voice quivered as she spoke:
”I think you do understand, sir. We Canadiennes yield nothing in devotion to the women of New York. Where we love, we honor. What matters it where the alarm sounds? We understand our lovers; we can give them to the cause of freedom as well here in Tryon County as on the plains of Abraham--can we not, my betrothed?” she said, looking into my face; but her smile was heart-breaking.
”Child, child,” said Willett, taking her free hand in both of his, ”you speak a silent language with your eyes that no man can fail to understand.”
”I failed,” I said bitterly, as Willett kissed her hand, placed it in mine, and, turning, entered the open door.
”And what blame, Carus?” she whispered. ”What have I been to you but a symbol of unbridled selfishness, asking all, giving nothing? How could you know I loved you so dearly that I could stand aside to let you pa.s.s? First I loved you selfishly, shamelessly; then I begged your guilty love, offering mine in the pa.s.sion of my ignorance and bewilderment.”
Her arm fell from my shoulder and nestled in mine, and we turned away together under the brilliant autumn glory of the trees.
”That storm that tore me--ah, Carus--I had been wrecked without your strong arm to bear me up!”
”It was you who bore me up, Elsin. How can I leave you now!”
”Why, Carus, our honor is involved.”
”_Our_ honor!”
”Yes, dear, ours.”
”You--you bid me go, Elsin?”