University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

Meanwhile the hurts of Mellichampe had all been
carefully attended to. Tarleton, so far, had kept his
pledged word to the maiden. He was removed to a
chamber in the house which gave temporary shelter to
the family, and the surgeon of the legionary colonel had
himself attended to his injuries. They were found to
be rather exhausting than dangerous. A slight sabre-stroke
upon his head had stunned him for the time, but
afforded no matter for very serious consideration. The
severest wound was the cut over the left shoulder, which
had bled profusely; but even this required little more
than close attendance and occasional dressing. A good
nurse was more important than a skilful surgeon, and no
idle and feeble scruples of the inferior mind stood in the
way to prevent Janet Berkeley from devoting herself to
the performance of this duty to her betrothed.

The intelligence of Mellichampe's true situation was
conveyed by Tarleton himself to Mr. Berkeley, in the
presence of his daughter. It seemed intended to, and
did, reassure the maiden, whose warm interest in the
captive was sufficiently obvious to all; as her tearful and
deep apprehensions on his account, and for his safety,
had been entirely beyond her power of concealment.

Tarleton dined that day with the Berkeley family.
His manners were grave, but gentle—somewhat reserved,
perhaps, but always easy, and sometimes elegant. He

spoke but little, yet what he said contributed, in no small
degree, to elevate him in the respect of all around. His
air was subdued, when he spoke, to a woman-mildness;
and his words were usually uttered in a low, soft tone,
little above a common whisper, yet sufficiently measured
and slow in their utterance to be heard without difficulty
by those to whom they were addressed. What a difference
was there between the same man sitting at the hospitable
board, and, when leading forward his army but a
few hours before, he rushed headlong, with kindled and
raging spirit, upon the tracks of his flying foe! There
was nothing now in his look or language which could
indicate the savage soldier. Was he, indeed, the same
bloodthirsty warrior, whose renown, by no means an
enviable one, had been acquired by the most wanton
butcheries in the fields of Carolina? This was the inquiry
in the minds of all those who now looked upon
him. Certainly a most remarkable alteration seemed, in
the eyes of all who before had known him, in a little
time to have come over the spirit of the fierce warrior;
and it is somewhat singular and worthy of remark, that
he gained no distinction, and won no successes of any
moment, after this period. His achievements were few
and unimportant; and two repulses which he received at
the hands of Sumter, followed up, as they were, by the
terrible defeat which he sustained at the Cowpens, finished
his career as a favourite of fortune in the partisan
warfare of the south. His name lost its terrors soon
after this among those with whom it had previously been
so potent; and, though his valour was at all periods above
suspicion, yet, in his reverses, it became the fashion to
disparage his soldierly skill, even among those whom he
commanded. It was then discovered that he had only
contended, hitherto, with raw militiamen, whom it required
but little merit, beyond that of mere brute courage, to
overthrow; and that his successes entirely ceased from
the moment when that same militia, taught by severe and
repeated experience of defeat, had acquired, in time,
some little of the address of regular and practised warfare.
There was, no doubt, much that was sound in this
opinion.

But—the dinner was fairly over, and Tarleton withdrew,
after a few moments devoted to pleasant conversation
with the now composed Rose Duncan, from whose
mind all the terrors of the previous combat, in which she
had shared so much, seemed entirely to have gone. She
was only a creature of passing impressions. To Janet
he said but little; but his eyes sometimes rested upon her
with an air of melancholy abstraction, which gave to his
otherwise pale features an expression of feeling and nice
sensibilities, which his profession might seem to belie.
But, before he took his departure, he led her aside to a
window in the cottage, and thus addressed her, in the
style of one sufficiently her friend and senior to speak
firmly and directly, even on a topic the most difficult and
delicate in the estimation of a maiden.

“I have given Captain Barsfield his orders touching
our prisoner, Miss Berkeley,—perhaps it would not be
unpleasing to you to know what those orders are?”

She looked down, and her desire to hear was sufficiently
shown in her unwillingness to speak. He proceeded,
after a brief pause, in the course of which his lips
put on the same sweet smile of graciousness which had
won the heart of the maiden before; while, at the same
time, it commanded a something more in the way of return
than a mere corresponding deference of manner.
So foreign to his lips was that expression—so adverse to
his general character was that smile of gentleness, that,
even while it gratified her to behold it, she looked up to
the wearer of it with a feeling little short of awe.

“Mr. Mellichampe is in no danger—no present danger
—as my surgeon informs me; but he must be kept
quiet and without interruption until well, as he appears
feverish, and his mind seems disposed to wander. The

better to effect this object, I have ordered that, except my
surgeon and his assistant, none but your father and yourself
shall be admitted to his chamber. I have made this
exception in your favour, Miss Berkeley, as my surgeon
at the same time informs me that he will need the offices
of a careful nurse—”

“Oh, sir—” was the involuntary exclamation of Janet,
as she heard this language; but Tarleton did not allow
her to proceed.

“No idle objections, my dear young lady—no false
notions of propriety and a misplaced delicacy at this moment.
I know sufficiently your secret; which is no
secret now to any in our troop. Your duty commands
that you attend this young man, and none but the feeble
mind will find any fault with you for its performance. In
matters of this sort, your own heart is the best judge,
and to that I leave it, whether you will avail yourself of
the privilege which I have granted you or not. The
youth is in no danger, says my surgeon, but he may be
if he is not carefully nursed. Pardon me for so long detaining
you—I shall do so no longer. My orders are
given to secure you at all times admission to the chamber
of Mr. Mellichampe, should you desire it.”

“But, oh! sir—what of Captain Barsfield? These
charges—”

“Are slight, no doubt, but must be inquired into. Mr.
Mellichampe is the prisoner of Captain Barsfield, and
must await his trial. I can do nothing farther, unless it
be to promise that all justice shall be done him.”

“But may he not be put in other hands, Colonel
Tarleton, than those of Captain Barsfield? Oh! sir—
I dread that man. He will do Mellichampe some
harm.”

“Fear not—Captain Barsfield dare not harm him—
he has quite too much at venture. It is for this very
reason, with the view to the perfect security of the prisoner,
that I have made Barsfield his keeper. His fidelity

is pledged for the security of his charge, and I have
dwelt upon the responsibility to him in such language as
will make him doubly careful. But you do Captain Barsfield
wrong—he has no such design as that you speak of
—his hostility to Mr. Mellichampe is simply that of the
soldier towards his enemy. Unless in fair fight, I am
sure he would never do him harm.”

Janet shook her head doubtfully as she replied, “I
know him better, sir,—I know that he hates Mellichampe
for many reasons—but I may not doubt the propriety of
your arrangements. I will, sir, take advantage of the
permission made in my favour, and will myself become
the nurse of Mr. Mellichampe. Why should I be afraid
or ashamed, sir? Am I not his betrothed—his wife in
the sight of Heaven? I will be his nurse—why should I
be ashamed?”

“Ay—why should you, Miss Berkeley? Truth and
virtue may well be fearless, at all times, of human opinion;
and they cease to be truth and virtue when the fear
of what men may think, or say, induces a disregard of
that which they conceive to be their duty. With me you
lose nothing by the declaration you have just made. It
is one I looked for from you. The confidence of virtue
is never unworthy of the source from which it springs,
and it doubly confirms and strengthens virtue itself, when
it shows the possessor to be resolute after right, without
regard to human arrangements, or the petty and passing
circumstances of society. It is the child's love that is
driven from its ground by the dread of social scandal.
The only love that man esteems valuable is that which
can dare all things, but wrong, in behalf of the valued
object. This is your love now, and you have my prayer
—if the prayer of a rough soldier like myself be not a
wrong to so pure a spirit—that it be always hallowed in
the sight of Heaven, and successful beyond the control
of earth.”

He took a respectful parting, and, on leaving her to

rejoin the party, his manner changed to that of the proud
man he commonly appeared. An inflexible sternness
sat upon his pale and stonelike countenance—the lips
were set rigidly—the eye was shrouded by the overhanging
brow, that gathered above it like some heavy cloud
over some flaming and malignant planet. He spoke but
few words to the rest of the family. A cold word of
acknowledgment to Mr. Berkeley—a courteous bow
and farewell to Rose Duncan, whose confidence was
now half restored, the din of battle being over—and a
single look and partial smile to Janet, preceded his immediate
departure to the edge of the forest, where, during
the dinner repast, his temporary camp had been
formed. From this point he threw out his sentinels and
sent forth his scouting parties. These latter traversed
the neighbouring hummocks, and ransacked every contiguous
cover, in which a lurking squad of rebels might
have taken up a hiding-place, in waiting for the moment
when a fancied security on the part of the foe should invite
to the work of annoyance or assault. Such was the
nature of the Indian warfare which the “swamp fox,”
with so much general success, had adopted as his own.
Tarleton knew too well the danger of surprise, with a foe
so wary in his neighbourhood, and accordingly spared
none of those precautions to which, in ordinary cases,
hitherto, he had been rather indifferent. He cited Blonay
before him on reaching his camp—examined him closely
as to the route they were next day to pursue, and concluded
by warning him to be in readiness with the dawn
of day.

“You shall be well rewarded if we succeed,” were
his concluding words to the scout—“well rewarded if
you are faithful, even though we do not succeed; but if
you fail me, sirrah—if I catch you playing me false—
the first tree and a short cord are your certain doom.”

The Half-Breed touched his cap, and, without showing
any emotion at this language, retired from the presence
of the legionary.