The Coward: A Novel of Society and the Field in 1863Morford, Henry
History
The Coward: A Novel of Society and the Field in 1863
Morford, Henry
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
Mrs. Brooks Cunninghame, hearing the threat directed at her promising boy,
had mustered common-sense enough to hurry him away from the scene of
action. Captain Coles and Miss Hayley had meanwhile come up, and "H. T.,"
turning once more before he reached the alley, reached the spot at the same
moment. For the first time, in broad daylight, Margaret Hayley met the
strange man face to face, and her cheek whitened--why, even she perhaps
could not tell--at that expression or resemblance which she traced there.
If there was any answering expression of agitation or surprise on the face
of the man with the initials, she failed to read it, and her eyes in a
moment sank from a survey which seemed so profitless. They were at that
time very near each other, and Captain Coles and "H. T." not more than six
feet apart. Their eyes met, and that indefinable something passed between
them before another word was spoken, which includes antagonism, if not
deadly hostility. There was no reason to believe that they had ever met
before the preceding evening; there was no reason to believe that they
could ever have an interest in conflict; and yet those two men were foes,
and would remain so until one or the other should be thoroughly conquered.
"A go-ahead fellow, I should not be afraid to stake my life!" said one of
the gentlemen who had just come up, alluding to the hero of the hour and
seeming to address any one who might choose to answer.
"Ya-a-as!" slowly and doubtingly said Captain Hector Coles, caressing his
beard and throwing almost insufferable arrogance into a manner which
naturally had quite enough of it. "Ya-a-as, go-ahead enough, apparently,
but not a bit of a gentleman. Rough as the bear he just knocked over, and
looks as if he might have come from among something of the same breed!"
"No, not a gentleman, probably!" said "H. T.," with a sneer in his tone
quite as little disguised as the other's arrogance. "But he is something a
good deal better, in my opinion, and something a good deal rarer--a _man_,
every inch of him!"
"At any rate," said another, who had not yet spoken, "I would give a
hundred dollars to have blundered into an introduction to that splendid
girl as he has done, even if it cost me a hand worse scratched than his."
"He has _had_ worse scratches! Did you notice the scar on his cheek, coming
away down here to the neck?" said one of the ladies who had witnessed the
whole affair, addressing Margaret Hayley.
"No--has he a scar?"
"A terrible one. I think he must have been a soldier, at some time or
other."
"I believe that he has the noblest gift ever conferred by God upon
man,--that of courage!" answered Margaret. "If he was a slave or a savage I
could love and respect him for that, as I should despise him if he was a
king without it!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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