29 With Friendly Foes

When I heard the shots fired at Elinor, as she has told in her letter to Madam Arlington, although I never dreamed that she was the target, putting herself in the place intended for me that my life might be saved, I knew that the time for me to escape, if I would escape at all, had come. I had not expected the skirmishers so soon, but it was opportune, and I believed Elinor to be safe in the brick house.

I kicked the lock so hard that it flew from its fastenings and to the other side of the room. Then I ran out and I saw the flash of the firing toward the hills where Elinor had told me the Northern skirmishers lay. I heard, too, the crack of the rifles and shots of men. It was quite a lively skirmish, I said to myself, and the hotter the better for me. Varian’s men would be too well occupied to pursue a single escaping prisoner.

I ran toward the west, dodging here and there among the tents, and in five minutes I was out of sight and hearing, having made my escape with an ease that astonished me.

I waited in the woods about an hour, and hearing and seeing nothing, I made a wide curve to the eastward, intending to find the Northern skirmishers if I could and join them; but I searched the woods, naturally without discovering any trace of men who did not exist. It was while I was seeking thus that I heard a light footstep. I stepped behind a tree, and was soon able to tell by the sound that only a single person was approaching. I waited, hoping it to be one of the sharpshooters for whom I was looking, and my amazement was unbounded when I saw that it was Elinor. I ran forward to meet her, and she fell fainting in my arms, as she has told.

She soon revived, though for a long time she was weak and trembling. I shall not attempt to describe this reunion under such strange circumstances, nor what we said to each other, since there are words too sacred to be related to others, but I was surprised at the state bordering upon hysteria into which she seemed to have fallen. It was not thus that I had known Elinor; she had been always of the bravest; her spirit was akin to that of Madam Arlington, and usually she was firmest when the most danger threatened; but now she trembled, and clung to me as a frightened child clings to its father.

“I know it is very foolish and weak of me, Henry,” she said; “but I was at the door of the house when the skirmishers began to fire, and it suddenly occurred to me then to escape too. Oh, you do not know how that man Varian frightens me!”

“It was a most happy thought,” I said, “now that we have met, and I shall take care that neither of us falls into Varian’s power again.”

We walked slowly through the woods, she supported upon my arm until her strength came back presently. Then we talked a little about our future course. I still believed in the existence of the Northern skirmishers, Elinor not having told me better, but as I saw no sign of them I concluded that they had made a hasty flight from dangerous territory. I had no hope now of escaping to the Northern lines, as we were well within the region held by the South, and I wished to find some Southern officer, independent of Varian’s command, to whom I could surrender Elinor and myself. Elinor agreed with me that this plan was best, and, keeping it in mind, we walked on until daylight. The rain ceased, fortunately, before dawn, and when the sunlight came at last our clothing soon dried. I found a farmhouse, and knocking boldly at the door, requested food for a lady and myself. I was prepared for the surprise of its inmates, and explained at once that I was an escaped prisoner wishing to surrender to a Confederate commander. Then I asked if they could refer me to any Southern posts in the vicinity.

They received us with courtesy. We experienced in all our wanderings only sympathy and consideration from the country people whom we met, no matter what their position in regard to the war. A number of Confederate posts were in the neighbourhood, they told us, when we had eaten the food that they set before us. General Varian with a considerable detachment was eight or ten miles farther back; if we turned southward we would find, about ten miles distant, a second force under Colonel Burton; but if we continued straight ahead we would overtake a small body of Virginians under Captain Pembroke.

“Who?” I asked with eagerness.

“Captain Charles Pembroke,” was the reply.

“Then we shall surrender to him,” I said, and the look of relief on Elinor’s face was answered, I know, by a similar look on mine. Pembroke was a native of the Valley of Virginia, and it was the best of fortune that he should be stationed so near his home. When we were ready to start, the farmer approached with a horse saddled and bridled.

“The lady looks faint and ill,” he said, “and she shall ride. This is my wife’s horse and saddle, and they are at her service.”

I could not decline the offer, as Elinor, even after the rest and food, was scarcely strong enough to walk, and I had, moreover, fear of pursuit. So I accepted it with thanks, meaning to see that he secured his horse again.

“You said straight to the eastward, did you not?” I asked.

“I’ll guide you,” he replied, and he walked on before. I knew Elinor’s face was again the potent charm to secure us help when we needed it most. We reached Pembroke’s post in an hour and a half, merely a village of tents in an open field, and the sentinels, in accordance with my request, notified their captain at once that a man and woman wished to surrender to him. Pembroke came out of his tent, the same smart, trim youngster that I had known in Washington, but now much browner, and I do not think I can ever forget the look of intense surprise upon his face when he saw us. I was inclined to laugh at his perplexity, despite our precarious position.

“Is it really you, Miss Maynard?” he asked.

“No, it is not Miss Maynard, but Mrs. Henry Kingsford, if you please,” she replied brightly. “Permit me to introduce to you my husband, an old acquaintance of yours.”

He stared at us in increasing surprise and perplexity. Then he laughed.

“It’s as you say, of course, Mrs. Kingsford,” he replied; “but you two certainly have the most original style of wedding trip that I’ve ever known.”

Poor old Pembroke! I knew what he concealed under that laugh and jest. I added quickly that we surrendered to him, and our fate was in his hands.

“Then you are my guests for the present,” he said. “Chance does not often send me such welcome friends, and I shall make the most of the opportunity. I shall abandon my tent at once to Mrs. Kingsford. As I am commander, I took the best, of course.”

I told him that Elinor would most appreciate just now, the companionship of her own sex, and was there any woman present?

“Only one,” he replied, and he called in a loud voice, “Mary Ann!” “Mary Ann is the cook,” he said. Mary Ann, a gigantic coloured woman, appeared, and with one cry of “Bless my soul, honey!” she took Elinor in her arms and carried her into the tent. I had no further fears for my wife, and I went with Pembroke. He led the way to another tent, where I freshened myself a little, and made some improvements in my toilet. Pembroke with great delicacy refrained from asking any questions, although I saw that he was burning with curiosity.

The morning was brisk, cool white frost appearing on the hillsides. The camp fires invited, and I said, indicating the nearest, “Shall we sit there?”

“Yes,” he replied. “It is built of rails from my father’s farm, and we are entitled at least to a part of its warmth.”

He ordered camp stools, and then I related our whole story, as I knew it—for Elinor’s part was yet hidden from me—omitting nothing, and telling him why I was so anxious that we escape from Varian’s hands. He listened with the deepest interest and attention.

“I think you were wise in coming to see me,” he said, when I concluded. “Varian is evidently wild over the loss of Elinor. Perhaps there are some who can understand his feelings. I have to hold you, of course, as a prisoner of war, but I shall despatch you at once to Richmond, where you can secure a speedy exchange, and where, at any rate, you will be out of Varian’s power. I can send Elinor at the same time to my mother and sister in Richmond. The women folks of our family could not remain in this war-trodden region, and they have gone there to stay until better times come, as come they must.”

There was a sad smile on his handsome face. I said again to myself, “Poor Pembroke!” and I trusted that he would recover in time from his own secret blow, although he had been from the first without hope. I knew, too, that I would never find a truer or more gallant friend, and already my faith in him had proved the fine metal of which he was made.

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