A Little Traitor to the South: A War Time Comedy with a Tragic InterludeBrady, Cyrus Townsend
History
A Little Traitor to the South: A War Time Comedy with a Tragic Interlude
Brady, Cyrus Townsend
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
"Open this door instantly, you black dog! Where is Miss Glen?"
"She's a-comin', suh."
"I wish to see her immediately!" he cried imperiously, kicking and
battering again upon the door in furious rage, which was stilled the
instant he heard her voice outside.
"Mr. Sempland?"
"What is the meaning of this action, this outrage, Miss Glen?" he
cried. "You sent for me. I came. Why am I locked in here? Open the
door! I must leave immediately!"
"You are locked in here by my orders, Mr. Sempland," said Fanny Glen,
nervously.
"Impossible! For what reason?"
"Because I--I--"
"By heavens, this is maddening! You don't know what you do! I am
ordered to-night on a hazardous expedition. I must be at my post in ten
minutes. Let me out instantly!"
"I know," returned the girl.
"Well, then, why don't you open this door? I will say nothing of
this--"
"I cannot."
"Why not?"
"I--I--do not wish you to go out on the _David_."
"What is it to you? How dare you interfere? You said I had done nothing
but lie in prison," he replied. "I will show you to-night."
"Not to-night."
"This is madness! Think what you are doing!"
"I can't help it."
"Why not?"
"Because I--I--"
"In God's name, what do you mean?"
"I will not have you take the risk. It is certain death to you, and the
admiral's ship--" said the girl, so softly that he could scarce hear
her. "You will forgive me when you understand. I shall release you
to-morrow. Mercy! Have pity on me, I am almost crazy!"
"Do you know that you will dishonor me? If you care, let me go."
"There is another reason. I will not have the _Wabash_ blown up. There
is a--a--"
"Another man?" shouted Sempland. "You are a coquette! Let me out, I
say! I will get out! My God, was ever a man in such a situation?"
He beat and hammered on the massive door until his bruised hands bled
again. He shook it in its frame like a madman. He was exhausted by the
violence of his efforts and of his passion. Through it all the girl
stood in the hall frightened nearly to death. What mad scheme had she
entered upon? Had she strength enough to carry it through? The three
servants were terrified also, their eyes rolling in their sockets,
their hands nervously fingering their weapons. Suddenly another voice,
Caesar's, broke through the turmoil, reaching even the ear of the
desperate man on the other side of the heavy mahogany door. He stopped
to listen.
"Miss Fanny," said the butler, "dah's a sojah man at de do', an' he
wants to know if Mass' Semplan' is heah."
"Tell him, no," said Fanny Glen, resolutely. "Say he left a half-hour
ago."
"My God!" groaned Sempland. "I am a disgraced and ruined man! Listen to
me, Fanny Glen! I swear to you, on my honor as a gentleman, if you do
not instantly open this door I'll blow my brains out in this room!"
"Oh, you wouldn't do that?"
"I will, so help me God!"
There was conviction in his voice. The girl listening in the passage
heard the click of a raised revolver hammer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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