United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
were stained with it also--only I knew that lump never came from mine.
These thoughts swept across my mind in lightning-like flashes, but
brought no solution to the problem. Then Major Hardy suddenly appeared,
closing the door, and mopping his face with a handkerchief. His eyes
met mine.
"By Gad, Galesworth," he began, "woman is the hardest creature to
comprehend on this foot-stool. I've been trying to understand them for
fifty years, and am still in the primary class. You'd never have thought
that girl of mine cared anything for Le Gaire to hear her talk last
night, yet, now the fellow is dead, she is crazy. Lying in there on the
bed, crying, and won't say a word. Only thing she asked me when I came
in was what he had been killed with. I said it looked as if he had been
struck from behind with a pistol butt, and then she collapsed. Couldn't
get a thing out of her--just cried, and begged me to go away; said she'd
be all right, if left alone. Blamed if I know what to do with a woman
like that--over such a fellow as Le Gaire too! By Gad, I supposed Billie
had more sense. When she wouldn't talk to me I proposed sending you in
to explain matters. You should have seen her eyes, Galesworth, through
the tears. Mad! I never waited to hear what she was trying to say. I
reckoned the best thing to do was to leave her alone a while."
"You explained nothing?"
"No--what was there to explain?"
"Major," I said, every nerve braced for conflict, "with your permission
I am going in there and have a talk with your daughter--may I?"
"Certainly, as far as I am concerned, but I don't envy you the job."
"I'll assume all risk, but I am not willing to leave her like this.
Perhaps I understand the situation better than you do. You stay where I
can call you if necessary, and look after the search for whoever got Le
Gaire. Bell and Miles are out on the roof trying for the attic. I won't
be gone long."
I have gone into battle with less trepidation than I approached that
door, but never with greater determination to bear myself as became a
man. Billie was going to know the truth just as clearly as I could tell
it to her. I could not convince myself it was love for Le Gaire which
had so affected her. I doubted if she had ever loved him. The fellow had
played upon her sympathy, her pity, and circumstances had conspired to
cause her to believe I was his murderer. This was amply sufficient to
account for her feeling of horror, her evident desire to escape further
contact with me. Hardy had been blind and blundering--had made things
worse, rather than better; now I must see what I could do. I rapped at
the panel, and thought I heard a faint response. A moment later I stood
within, and had closed the door behind me. She was on a couch at the
opposite side of the room, but arose to her feet instantly, her face
white, one hand sweeping back the strands of ruffled hair.
"You!" she exclaimed incredulously. "Why have you come here? I supposed
it would be my father."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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