125. CXXV.
THE ABDUCTION.
A shower of balls hissed around me, as I rode on with the
rear-guard, falling back toward the Rapidan.
I was at the side of Mordaunt, who commanded the rear, and
he slowly retired, in obedience to orders, showing his teeth, as
the enemy pressed him, at every step. Near by was Harry
Saltoun, covered with dust, but “gay and happy” as before.
“A tough business, keeping these fellows back, Surry,” said
Mordaunt, coolly. “I don't like this part of a soldier's work—
falling back in face of an enemy—nor do the men like it.”
“You are right.”
“The genius of the South is for attack. We do wrong in not
invading.”
“And Jackson agrees with you.”
“That is a great compliment to my understanding, for your
general is `the foremost man of all this world!' ”
The sun was disappearing now, and the enemy proceeded more
cautiously. Mordaunt had much less trouble in keeping them
back—his command retired slowly in column of fours, ready to
meet any assault with the sabre—and we talked.
“I have one or two things to tell you, Surry,” Mordaunt now
said, as he rode on; “and first, do you know that we made a
curious blunder in imagining that there was any love-affair between
Harry and Miss Grafton?”
“Ah?—and yet I remember what he said one day to me—how
he looked.”
“After that fight above Barbee's, was it not?—last November?”
“Yes; when I uttered the name of Miss Grafton he colored to
the eyes.”
“Are you certain?”
“Perfectly.”
“See how treacherous is the memory, Surry! You did
not pronounce that name at all, my friend—you spoke of his
“nurse,” under the impression, doubtless, that, in compliance
with my request made in that note when Harry was wounded,
Miss Grafton had nursed him.”
“Did she not?”
“No—he has told me all, not only what took place at Elm
Cottage, but even his conversation with you.”
“What took place?”
“He was nursed during his illness by another young friend of
ours.”
“You mean—?”
“Miss Henrietta Fitzhugh.”
“Is it possible! Now I see it all. How very stupid I was to
thus jump at my conclusions!”
“Not at all. Your supposition was the most natural in the
world, and it was mine also.”
“Well! well! So the youngster has gone and fallen in love
with that little witch, has he?” I said. “I might have known
that he would—she just suits him—and you see, after all, Mordaunt,
I was right in declaring in our talk together at your
house, that there was very little probability of any love-affair
existing between him and Miss Violet.”
“I confess that you were right and I was wrong,” replied
Mordaunt.
“So Harry is a victim to Miss Henrietta's bright eyes; and
she—does she love him?”
“At least they are engaged to be married,” said Mordaunt.
“Good!” I laughed. “Everybody seems about to be married
these times! And so that is what you had to tell me, Mordaunt?”
“Only a part.”
And the face of the speaker became overshadowed. For
some moments he preserved a gloomy silence, then he said:
“What I have now to inform you of, friend, is far less agreeable.
Violet Grafton has disappeared from Elm Cottage.”
“Disappeared! What do you mean, Mordaunt?” I exclaimed.
“I mean exactly what I have said, Surry. The young lady is
gone, and no one can tell whither, except that her route led in
the direction of Maryland. There is even something worse.
Her companion was the woman Parkins!”
And Mordaunt's face grew cold and threatening as he spoke.
“Listen,” he said; “a few words will explain every thing.
An hour after you left me on your return from beyond the
river, one of my men who had been scouting toward Manassas,
and stopped at Elm Cottage on his return, brought a note to me
from Mrs. Fitzhugh, inquiring whether I knew any thing which
could take Miss Grafton to Maryland, and asking the character
of this woman Parkins. The note informed me that the young
lady had set out several days before, in the direction of Maryland,
traveling in a small vehicle driven by that woman; and, in
spite of all Mrs. Fitzugh could do, she had not been able to extract
from Miss Grafton the object of her journey. She maintained
complete silence upon every thing connected with it—
only declaring that she was compelled by a sense of duty to
go.”
“Good heavens, Mordaunt!” I said, after listening to this
statement; “as sure as fate, that devil Fenwick is at the bottom
of this scheme.”
“You are right,” muttered Mordaunt, and I could see his face
grow pale, his eyes flash. “There is no manner of doubt about
it. And to think that I was yonder—perhaps within a few miles
of her—perhaps passing in front of some den in which she was
a prisoner! Surry!” he exclaimed, hoarse with passion, “when
I next encounter that man, I swear by all that is sacred, that I
will never leave him until I see his black heart's blood gushing
out before my eyes, and his face cold in death!”
There was something ferocious in the tone and look of Mordaunt,
as he spoke—he breathed heavily—his brow was covered
with icy sweat.
“You understand, now,” he said more coolly. “The young
girl is his power at last—the victim of some devilish plot—
and I am here, chained at my work—I cannot go to her succor.
But, if God spares my life, I will be by her side before many
days. Then I'll settle my account with that human devil, once
for all!”
“And you could do nothing when that news reached you!
You could only rage and submit!” I exclaimed.
“No—something is done,” was his reply. “I have sent Achmed
to Elm Cottage, to strike the trail and follow wherever it
leads.”
“Achmed! Did you make a good selection?”
“Yes. I see you do not know the boy. He is like a sleuth-hound
in pursuit of his adversary; and, if any thing can be discovered,
he will discover it. Besides, he has an additional
motive besides his love for me—you know what I mean?”
“Yes, his love for the girl.”
“That will spur him on, night and day; and, if any trace of
her route is left, he will discover it. He set out in an hour after
I received the note from Mrs. Fitzhugh, and by this time he is
following like a bloodbound on the trail.”
Mordaunt's information plunged me into deep and gloomy
thought. Once more that cunning and unscrupulous foe had
thus risen to the surface, from that ooze of darkness in which he
had been concealed so long—again, Fenwick was actively pursuing
his love and vengeance, in spite of that sword-thrust, which
would have put an end to any other human being—pursuing his
aims, too, with a cunning and success which he had never before
equalled? Truly, the sleepless enmity of this secret foe was
something supernatural almost—partaking of the implacable ire
of the mythologic deities! What would be the result? Would
the lion yield to the serpent—the eagle be pierced to the heart
by the vulture? Would Mordaun's life be made dark at the
moment when the discovery of his son had changed his whole
nature, and come like a burst of sunshine to light up his gloomy
life?
“It is impossible!” I murmured; “the Almighty would not
permit such an enormity!”
An hour afterward I had left Mordaunt to join General Stuart
again, having first received a promise from him that, if any intelligence
reached him in relation to Miss Grafton, he would send
me word. When I pressed his strong hand, the nerves were as
firm and collected as ever—but upon his swarthy face I saw the
ineradicable traces of love, and approaching vengeance.
Rejoining Stuart on the road to Raccoon Ford, I found him
giving orders to General W. H. F. Lee to fall back with his
column in the direction of Gordonsville, to protect the Central
Railroad from Stoneman's great cavalry raid. How vigorously
and successfully this work was accomplished is known to all. With
a small and half-armed body of cavalry, mounted upon broken-down
horses, Lee met, repulsed, and drove back to the Rapidan
the great force of Stoneman. With any thing like an equal
body of cavalry, he would have cut off and captured the whole
command.
Before midnight I had crossed at Raccoon Ford with Stuart,
and we were galloping toward Chancellorsville.
Hooker had passed the Rapidan at Germanna Ford, and was
hastening on in the same direction.
