University of Virginia Library

48. CHAPTER XLVIII.
STARTLING INTELLIGENCE.

It was late at night, and the company which usually assembled
at the mansion occupied by the President, had
departed. But Randolph was still laboring in his office,
alone, for one after another the secretaries had retired exhausted
to their couches.

At length he threw down the pen, and rising erect, strode
backwards and forwards, pausing occasionally at the different
windows and gazing out at the moonlit lawn, redolent
of the perfume of roses. The scene was silent and peaceful.

“How calm and quiet, now!” said he, while a melancholy
smile rested on his manly lip. “But soon the incessant
tramping of armed men, and the rumbling of artillery carriages,
will frighten peace from the land! I did my utmost
to avert it. When the tempest is expended, the trees that
are not riven rise again. Our young Republic is flexible:
and it is the mission of our race to rule the world. We
have too much intelligence to destroy ourselves. Yes—this
hurricane will expend itself, and only sweep away the noxious

plants among us. We will rise again! Ha!” he continued,
hearing footsteps behind him, and on turning he was
confronted by Alice and Edith. “Come, fairies!” said he,
taking each by the hand, “my labor for the day, or night, is
at an end. Give me your smiles, as a guerdon—I have been
working for you and for all. But your father, Edith—how
is he?”

“Much better, sir. The doctor thinks he may venture to
travel in a day or two.”

“It is well. For we must all abandon this place before
many days.”

“Ah, father, I feared so!” said Alice. “But I had conceived
a project in the event of the prolonged illness of Mr.
Langdon—”

“What project was that?”

“Oh, merely to defend him with my troop!”

“A project that, for the commander of the Caps!” said
Randolph, smiling. “Why, Alice, this place—I mean our
encampment—would be untenable with three hundred thousand
men to defend it.”

“But would they molest Mr. Langdon?”

“It would not be well to tempt them.”

“Tempt them!” said Edith.

“Ay, you baggage!” said Randolph. “And who would
not be tempted that saw you?”

“Edith!” said Alice, “that is the first gallant speech I
have heard my father utter for a whole week. But do not
fear him!”

“Fear him. I love him!”

“Then I will be your father, while my friend is ill. And
you must obey me.”

“Oh, I will be as obedient as a daughter!”

“Then follow my example,” said Alice.

“No,” said Randolph, “not exactly. This is the first
injunction—weigh well the arguments that may be advanced
by a certain General, who loyally acknowledges the authority
of the Chief Magistrate of his country, in favor of a
speedy union.”

“I am very attentive,” said Edith.

“The difficulty, father,” said Alice, “may be this: the
loyal General does not—”

“Peace!” cried Edith, placing her hand on the lips of

her friend. “I shall remember all you have said, sir; and
will certainly listen very respectfully to whatever he may
have to allege on his own motion. But pray do not incite
him to anything!”

“No. Let him fight his own battles, say I!” was the
mocking response of Randolph.

“But, father,” said Alice, very gravely, “we come to impart
a very serious matter. The words whispered in the
ear of Wiry Willy by Major S—”

“And so you have learned that secret. But did not
Willy say he had previously imparted it too me? So you
see it is no secret at all.”

“But there is a secret, father, of which you have had no
intimation.”

“I doubt it. Listen to me. I am perfectly aware of
the treasonable purposes of Summers on coming hither. I
have intercepted all his secret despatches for the despot,
which I have here in my private drawer,” he continued,
taking a key from his vest pocket and exhibiting the papers.
“Nevertheless, I have continued to employ him, for he is
an intelligent and expeditious penman. But I had another
object, which I confess has not been attained. I cannot understand
his real character. He will not look at the future.
I cannot tempt him by the glittering inducements of a lofty
career.”

“The secret, father, which we came to impart, will elucidate
the mystery.”

“Then what is this secret?”

“Summers is a woman?”

“A woman! That, then, is the solution! I thought it
remarkable that I should be so baffled in the discovery of
the motives of a man. A woman!”

“Yes, father—he confessed the secret to Edith.”

“And I promised not to divulge it,” said Edith, “unless
it should seem to be demanded as an imperative duty. The
words of Major S— at the guillotine have convinced me
that I ought not to withhold it longer. And since you have
incontestable evidence of his treachery, I unburden my bosom
without the slightest remorse.”

“A woman! Ha! ha!” continued the President, laughing
heartily. “I confess she was more than a match for
me!”

“And, father,” said Alice, “you have been keeping her in
your employ when you had proof of her guilt! Every day
you were exposed to her murderous steel, or still more diabolical
poison!”

“I was interested in my experiment! But I was never
in danger. Her purpose of mischief was circumvented.
Our old friend Dr. Durnell confederated with me, and after
administering chloroform, her pockets were searched, and
the poison discovered—”

“The wicked creature!” said Alice.

“The infamous wretch!” exclaimed Edith. “And to
make me a confidante!”

“For what purpose she carried the poison,” continued
the President, “we could not know; and you can do nothing
more than conjecture. It might be her intention to commit
suicide. No matter. It was certain the poison could do
no one any possible good; and so our wag of a doctor
emptied the vial of its deleterious contents, and substituted
a very innocent powder. Nevertheless, she is a woman!
I will dismiss her immediately. There shall be no women,
no such women, about my offices. Let her be sent for.”

The doorkeeper, answering the bell, was despatched to
the clerk's apartment with a peremptory summons, and soon
after Summers came in, and seemed surprised to find the
young ladies with the President.

“Summers,” said the President, handing him the intercepted
notes, “make me a copy of these in intelligible
English.”

“Sir—your Excellency—these—are in characters, invented
for the purpose of baffling all not in possession of the
key.”

“I will furnish the key,” said Randolph, which he did, in
a moment, with his pen.

Then Summers felt that her perfidy was exposed. Unable
to utter another word, she folded her arms on her breast
and fixed her eyes on the floor.

“I know not what to say, Summers,” continued Randolph.
“That you are my enemy, may be proof of your
fidelity to Ruffleton; and fidelity is a quality I admire. I
have known your purpose to betray me for some time, and
was content to forestall your attempts, still hoping that
interest, if not inclination, would produce a change. It was

without avail. Your life is forfeited, but I pardon you on
account of your sex.”

At the last word Summers started, and fixed her eyes reproachfully,
if not fiercely, on Edith.

“I have kept your secret,” said Edith, “as long as I
could do so without self-reproach.”

“Your pocket-book—give me your pocket-book, Summers!”
demanded the President.

It was delivered promptly, while a half contemptuous
scowl seemed to animate the features of the culprit.

“Oh, don't suppose I mean to deprive you of your money,”
said Randolph, smiling. “You shall have your wages. I
am in quest of something else,” he continued, examining the
book. “But I find nothing here. Yes! what is this in the
vial? Silent! I will find out!” Turning to the salver,
Randolph emptied the contents of the vial into a glass, and
pouring in some water, raised the tumbler to his lips and
swallowed the mixture.

“Dead! dead!” cried Summers. “Nothing on earth can
save him! You may kill me—but I have destroyed the
enemy of the man I love! Yes! I love Ruffleton!” she
continued, confronting Edith. “You may betray that
secret also! And if he should love others, no other can
serve him so well as the lost Flora has done! Call in the
guards! Let me die—I fear not death. Edith Langdon!
once I thought you were the cause of Ruffleton's coldness.
If it had been so, ere this you would have been cold in
the grave. But the first hour convinced me of the mistake—”

“I am obliged to you!” said Edith. “Your keen penetration
was not at fault. Without at all meaning to put an
estimate on your standard of appreciation, you will allow
me to say that I would much rather be cold in my grave
than to have my affections centred on Ruffleton—the diabolical
monster!”

“Enough of this!” said the President. “Summers, the
venom was extracted by the good Dr. Durnel. I have
swallowed only a dose of sugar. Return to your room.
In the morning I will send you beyond the lines, so that
you may go in safety to your paramour. Tell him my time
has not yet come, if, indeed, he counselled my assassination.”

The young ladies lingered some time after the departure

of Summers, promenading with the President, when suddenly
the hoofs of approaching horses were heard.

“At this hour,” said Randolph, pausing and listening,
“the approach of horsemen is a little extraordinary. It
must be some of the Generals.”

“It may be an attack,” said Alice. “It was here that
Major Snare perpetrated his attempt. We will remain,
father, with your permission.”

“Which predominates—fear or curiosity? Answer me
that, before I respond to your very ingenuous petition.”

“The former,” said Alice.

“For my part, the latter,” said Edith.

A moment after the door was thrown open, and Generals
Blount, Crook, and Valiant entered.

“I hope your Excellency, and the fairest of the fair,”
said Crook, “will pardon our intrusion. This is the second
time we have gallopped up to the mansion to-night.”

“General Crook,” said Alice, “was never yet accused
of an intrusion by any fair lady. He may scourge the Abolitionists,
quarter himself upon the hypocritical Quakers, or
demand millions of indemnity from a city that harbors clerical
negro-stealers and licentious editors; but, in war, all
this is very fair!”

“Cease, parrot!” said the President. “Now, General,
the news!” he added, turning to Blount, who, with less
gallantry than gravity, remained mute under the fire of
Edith's eyes, beaming now with curiosity.

“Messengers have arrived with intelligence that a junction
of the Western armies has been formed at Cumberland:
and that the combined British and Abolition forces
are marching eastward along the Pennsylvania line. They
are, at this moment, nearer to Washington than ourselves.”

“Where are they?” asked the President.

“General Line was at Emmitsburg, some fifteen hours
ago, when the express started.”

“How far is that?” asked Edith.

“Nearly a hundred miles,” said Blount.

“They will hardly reach us to-night,” said the President.
“General,” he continued, “this movement indicates that
Ruffleton intends to put his army in motion immediately.
Sir Charles Hunt and General Line would not expose themselves
to our blows without an assurance of succor from the

main army of fanatics. Never! We might beat them, it
is true, before the succor could arrive; but then Ruffleton
would interpose between us and the Capital.”

“Do you hear?” said Valiant, addressing Crook, “we
shall be overruled!”

Valiant and Crook had been decidedly in favor of an
attack upon Sir Charles Hunt and General Line, without
awaiting the motions of Ruffleton.

“I do not say, gentlemen,” continued Randolph, “that
we will not fight these Western foes; they may begin the
attack, and then, with anything like equal numbers, it would
not do to yield them the prestige of success. My opinion
is, that you should march away with all expedition, and
occupy Westminster. That position will be a temporary
defence of the Capital. I will retain 50,000 men with which
to watch Ruffleton.”

“I concur fully with your Excellency,” said Blount.
“Not a moment must be lost, Generals. Brief adieus and
then away.”

“I'll begin here,” said Crook, kissing both the maidens,
and then hurrying up stairs to take leave of Mr. Langdon.
He was followed by Valiant, while Blount remained with
the President.

“General,” said the President, “prompt action is quite
as imperative now as prompt decision. I had, however,
anticipated such an exigency in the event of this manœuvre.
In ten minutes I will have the necessary orders signed;
and in the meantime you can utter your adieus to the
ladies.” Saying this, Randolph turned to his papers.

Blount, giving an arm to each of the ladies, led them into
the great saloon, then silent and deserted, but illuminated
by the silver rays of the moon, streaming in from several
windows.

“Is it to be a sad or merry parting?” asked Alice. “If
the former, pray take leave of us singly, that we may not
witness each other's tears.”

“You are in a merry mood,” said Edith.

“And you?” said Blount.

“My equanimity remains. There have been so many
partings and meetings during the hurly-burly of the last
few weeks, that I am becoming accustomed to them. I
doubt not we shall meet again.”

“And in sunshine, I trust.”

“I predict in thunder, lightning, and in rain,” said Alice.
“Ruffleton is on the other side of an impassable gulf, but
on this side of it we have still a formidable suitor.”

“His Lordship?” asked Blount.

“Yes—his Lordship!” said Edith; “he has proposed to
open negotiations for my hand. My heart is not thought
of. He has intimated a disposition to treat on the basis of
an alliance of interests. Imprimis: My father is to throw
his weight in the Northern scale, and I am to relinquish all
predilections for the Republic. The equivalent is to have
conferred on me the title of her Ladyship immediately, with
the presumptive reversion of her Grace, if a certain uncle
over the wide water should happen to die without heirs.
Think of that, Master Brook!”

“Oh, that is only half the story!” said Alice. “His
Lordship's Machiavelism is infinite in resources. He has
tempted me with a glimpse of one of the most magnificent
phantoms that ever flitted athwart the dreams of an American
maiden. If I will bring my father to the relief of the
crumbling monarchies, he shall not only reign himself, but
my liege Lord, who is to be one of the heavy-cheeked
Princes of England, will succeed! Think of that and
tremble, ye champions of American liberty! The insensate
fool!” she continued, her lip trembling with momentary
passion. “But with him, as with others, diplomacy is a
game, and all the objects of life are made subsidiary. Armies,
people, states, and even poor simple maidens, are
coldly advanced on the board, or remorselessly removed
from it, like so many pawns and rooks. I told his Lordship
as much; and I said he had confronted one American lady
at least, who could not be moved in that manner!”

“And did he not say that you were not the only one?”
asked Edith.

“Oh, yes! He called you, too, incorrigible, Edith. But
mind you, he made no accusation against the sensibility of
either of us. He attributed everything to our education.
He charged the Bishop with making heroines, Republican
matrons, Spartan dames, and everything else which we had
been taught to consider grand and glorious.”

“Nor did he slander him,” said Edith.

“Farewell—farewell!” said Blount, upon hearing Crook

and Valiant promenading impatiently on the porch. “The
President calls. We shall meet again before the lapse of
many days. But not here. Yes, let us be merry, if we can,
in the midst of disasters, if they must come.”

“And come they must,” said Afice.

“But they will pass away,” said Edith, “and we shall
then have a clearer atmosphere.”

“God grant it!” said Blount. “And I think he will.
And you will be the priestesses at the altar of Patriotism,
to keep alive the holy flame. Adieu!”

The ladies retired to their apartments, and the General
returned to the President's cabinet.

“Be seated a moment, General,” said Randolph, upon
placing in his hands the documents he had been preparing.
“I understand that you fully approve the policy of occupying
Westminster?”

“I regard it as a necessity,” said Blount. “Without
doing so our retreat would be cut off.”

“True, General,” said Randolph. “And by getting in
the rear of Ruffleton, we could not intercept his communications
so long as he has fleets in the bays and along the
ocean coast. He would be rejoiced to leave us behind, on
the deserted Pennsylvania line! He would proceed southward,
conquering and to conquer! The North expects it
of him; and the South looks for us to face the invader. We
might, I think we would, gain one or two victories, by suddenly
marching against Sir Charles and Line; but then before
we could reap the fruits of them, Ruffleton would be
thundering in our rear! He would be but a single march
behind us. No! we are not prepared to meet the foe in a
decisive battle this far North, and particularly when there
is such a disparity of numbers. Our new levies are in the
depôts, drilling for the campaign; and if we can have
100,000 recruits in the District of Columbia, a week hence,
my expectations will be more than realized.”

“In everything we agree!” said Blount. “It would be
madness to seek an engagement here with at least four to
one against us. A defeat would dampen the spirits of our
brave men, and might lead to a long train of disasters. It
is bad enough at best. I see no other alternative but to
retire before a foe of such numerical superiority. When
Ruffleton shall have followed us into our country, and

departed far from his own, we shall be better able to
strike him a fatal blow. The Capital must fall into his
hands!”

“It fell into the hands of the British. Rome, Paris, Vienna,
Berlin, Naples, Moscow, Lisbon, and Madrid have
shared the same fate. Abandoned by the Government, the
Capital is no more than any other untenable city. But
Ruffleton cannot hold it long, and we must not provoke
him to destroy it—or Baltimore. Go, General. I think
Hunt and Line will pause at Emmitsburg.”

“I do not think they will attack me at Westminster.
But if they do, you will, of course, keep Ruffleton at bay
long enough to give me an opportunity to repel the assault.
Adieu.”

Blount was soon after gallopping away.