"Go!" she said. "For once, you have told the truth, when you said you were not worthy of me. All the rest you have said are lies--lies. You love me, you say, better than your own soul, and yet you refuse to tell me what it is that would keep me from you. If you loved me, you would trust me, confide in me. By your actions you have shown yourself unworthy of the love of any true woman. I have loved you as a sister--nothing more--but even that love is gone now. Go! I never want to see you again," and she turned from him.
A moment Mark stood; then he said, gently: "Grace, good-bye. It is best that you feel as you do, for I now know that it is only I who will suffer. I love you, Grace, and always will, but it will be a pure, a holy love. Nothing you can say or do can take from me the blessed privilege of loving you. Grace, will you not say good-bye?" No answer.
Mark turned wearily, and mounted his horse. As the sound of the horse"s hoofs came to her, Grace started as if from a dream. She looked. He was already riding away. She rushed toward him, with outstretched arms.
"Mark! Mark! Come back!" she cried. "It was I that lied. I love you! I love you!"
He did not hear, or, if he heard, did not heed, for he rode on without looking back. She watched until he had disappeared in the distance; then, pressing her hands to her heart, sank down. The wind rustled through the trees, and sent a shower of withered leaves down upon her.
"Like my hopes," she murmured, "withered and dying; yet, even in death, they are beautiful!"
She noticed the imprint of Mark"s foot where he had stood when he declared his love. A leaf, all orange and gold, with a splash of red in the center, had fallen and half concealed the imprint. She stooped and picked it up.
"He said he was not worthy to kiss the earth on which I tread," she whispered, and she pressed the leaf to her lips; then, with a shudder, she threw it from her, for she noticed her lips had touched the splash of red, which to her looked like blood.
CHAPTER XXIII
INTO THE LION"S MOUTH
For a few miles after leaving Grace, Mark rode as if pursued by an enemy. Wild thoughts rushed through his mind; but at length he became calmer.
"No, no," he soliloquized, "I cannot leave Grace to the vengeance of Hobson, and I am sure he will seek vengeance as soon as he recovers from his wound. But am I not leaving her? Well do I realize the danger I am running. It is doubtful if I ever come back. An ignominious death may await me. I have put duty above love. But, Grace, if I live, my duty, after this, will be to guard and protect you. Unseen and unknown, I will be near you. To see you from afar will be heaven."
Mark soon halted by a pool of clear water, and undid the roll behind his saddle, from which he took various articles. Soon no one would have known him as the young man who had ridden away from the La Belle. He looked ten years older; the color of his hair was changed, and a fine mustache adorned his upper lip.
He studied his face for a while as he leaned over the clear water. "It will do," he said. "But what if I meet Colonel Clay?"
For three days after that Mark rode without an adventure, but on the fourth day he was chased by a squad of Federal cavalry. A lucky shot killed the horse of his foremost pursuer, and he escaped. Skirting the flank of the Federal army, he reached the headquarters of General Hindman at Van Buren, on the Arkansas River.
Here, behind the Boston Mountains, Hindman had gathered an army estimated at from twenty to thirty thousand men. Opposed to him was General Blunt, with an army of not over seven or eight thousand men.
Hindman thought that by a swift movement he could crush Blunt before he could be reinforced, and then, meeting any reinforcements which might be marching to his relief, whip them in detail, thus wresting Missouri from the grasp of the Federals.
He was now only waiting dispatches from Missouri informing him of the number and position of the Federal troops in the State, and the number of recruits he could reasonably expect to join him, once in the State, and where.
It was these dispatches that Mark Grafton was carrying. If captured with them, Mark well knew what his fate would be. There were other reasons, known only to himself, which made it extremely perilous for him to enter the Confederate lines.
It was late in the afternoon when Mark was challenged by the outposts of the Confederate army. He stated that he was a courier from Missouri, with important dispatches for General Hindman, and demanded that he be conducted to headquarters at once. It was dark before headquarters were reached, but Mark was granted an immediate audience with the General.
"What is your name?" asked the General, as Mark handed him the dispatches.
"Grafton--Mark Grafton."
"I was expecting dispatches, important ones, but from another source. I wonder what these can be?"
He opened them and, glancing at them, exclaimed: "Why, these are the very dispatches I was looking for! I expected them to be delivered by a man named Dupont. How did you come by them?"
"Dupont is dead," replied Mark, solemnly.
"Dupont dead! Great G.o.d! How did he die? Was he captured?"
"No." Mark told the full particulars of Dupont"s death, and how in his dying moments he had committed the dispatches to him.
"Poor Dupont!" sighed Hindman. "He was my most trusted spy, and he died in the discharge of his duty."
Then, scrutinizing Mark closely, he said: "You have made good time in coming from Chittenden"s. Have any trouble?"
"Only once. I put one Yankee cavalryman out of commission."
"Good! How would you like to take Dupont"s place?" asked Hindman, abruptly.
"General, I would make a poor spy. I could be identified too easily,"
and Mark touched his crippled arm.
"Where did you get that?"
"In one of the little partisan battles in Missouri," answered Mark, without hesitation.
"I am sorry," answered Hindman. "I wished to send some dispatches back with you."
"I can take them," promptly answered Mark. "And, if you wish, I can act as dispatch-bearer for you in Missouri. I am well acquainted in the State, and am known to most of the guerrilla leaders. It is through them I receive and deliver my dispatches. I am careful never to enter a Federal camp. I am at present staying at Chittenden"s, and will cheerfully execute any commission you may send me. I have carried dispatches for Colonel Clay several times."
"Just the thing. Consider yourself engaged," cried the General. "I recall now that I have heard Colonel Clay speak of you. I am sorry the Colonel is away on special duty."
Mark was not the least bit sorry, but his looks did not show it. Clay would not have known him in his disguise, and would have denounced him as an impostor.
"General, one thing more," said Mark. "Mr. Chittenden, in looking over the effects of Dupont, found several little trinkets that his family might wish to have. There was also one hundred dollars in Federal money and two thousand dollars in Confederate money on his person. Here is everything."
"You can keep the Federal money. The Confederate will be of little use to you in Missouri. Here is another one hundred in Federal money, but remember this money is a sacred trust, and only to be used for expenses when on business for the Confederacy."
"It will be so considered," said Mark as he took the money. "General, will it be possible for you to have your dispatches ready by morning.
Mr. Chittenden wished me to get back as quickly as possible. He is in trouble."
"Trouble? What trouble?"
"Why, haven"t you heard? The valley of the La Belle has been raided by a force of Federals, the provisions and forage he had gathered captured, and four or five hundred recruits coming from the central and northern part of the State taken prisoners and paroled."
"I had not heard of it," said the General, greatly excited. "When did it happen?"
"Only a few days before I left. But that is not all. Just as the Federals left, Major Powell came up from Arkansas with a train to get the provisions and forage and escort the recruits. He pursued the Federals, but fell into an ambuscade and his command was cut to pieces."
"Do you know who commanded the Federals?"
"Yes, a Captain Lawrence Middleton."
"The devil! He had much to do with frustrating our plans last summer."