A Daughter of the Union by Lucy Foster Madison
CHAPTER XIV
A VICTIM OF DECEIT
"I do not know," began Madame in her soft voice, "whether I have told youthat I have a brother. Have I?"
"No, Cherie."
"I have, petite, in the Confederate Army. He is very dear to me. A fewdays ago I learned that he was wounded and ill. He is not far fromthe city, and he lies in a rude hospital tent without clothing or thenecessary food and medicine. Is it not hard, little one, to think of beingin the midst of plenty while my only brother is destitute?"
"Yes," answered Jeanne with ready sympathy, "it is."
"I thought that you would think so," and the lady smoothed her hairgently. "Suppose that it were your own brother, Dick. I know that youwould do almost anything to help him, and I feel the same about Auguste. Itried vainly to get a pass to go to him to take him some necessities,but ma foi! That beast of a Yankee General will not give me one. I amdistressed. I suffer, but of what avail is it? I come to you, my littleone, for aid."
"To me?" Jeanne looked her surprise. "What can I do, Cherie?"
"You are so brave. You have so much cleverness. Could I do it I would notask it of you. But what would you! I am a coward. I faint at the leastnoise. I lose my wits; and so, child, I want you to take some medicineand food to my Auguste."
"I to take it? Why how could I do it?"
"'Tis easy to one who has the courage, petite. I would send Felicianewith you. 'Tis only to elude the sentinels some dark night and once beyondthem the rest is nothing. Feliciane knows where a boat is hidden on LakePonchartrain, and she would row you to the other side where you wouldbe met by one of my brother's comrades who would receive the things.Then you step once more into the boat, and Mais! there you are safe andsound in the city again."
"Why could not Feliciane go alone?" questioned Jeanne.
"My child, she has not the intelligence. One must demand nothing of thesecreatures that calls for the exercise of reason. Will you go, my pet?"
"Would it be wrong, Cherie?"
"Wrong to carry food to a wounded soldier? Why should you think so, child?"
"Then it is nothing against the government?"
"No; I would not ask it of you if it were. Will you please me, Jeanne?Your uncle would like it too."
"Yes, Cherie, I will," said Jeanne after a moment's thought. "If it isonly to take some food to a poor soldier it cannot be wrong. When do youwish me to go?"
"Dearest, to-night. There is no moon and it will be easier to elude theguards. I may use your basket, may I not? It will not be so heavy tocarry."
"If you wish," assented Jeanne. "But it will not hold much."
"I only want to send a few, a very few things. Just what he needs mostto put heart into him, poor fellow! And then when you come back, we willplan our journey to your home. Oh, we will have the grand time!"
The day wore away. Madame Vance talked volubly about the girl's home andasked her so many questions concerning it that Jeanne was wrought up tothe highest pitch. At last the darkness fell. With it came a drizzlingrain and to the tenderly nurtured girl it seemed that this would put astop to the enterprise; but no.
"Could anything be more fortunate," cried Madame who was in the highestspirits. "Nothing could be better for our purpose. Ah, petite, you willoutwit the Yankee soldiers yet."
Jeanne looked troubled. The matter had not presented itself in that lightbefore.
"I am not doing wrong, am I, Cherie?" she asked dubiously. "It is nothingagainst the government, is it?"
"To be sure not. How quaint you are to ask that again! Would I have youto do wrong?"
The preparations were finally completed. Robed in dark waterproof garmentsJeanne took the basket given her by her father and, accompanied byFeliciane, a mulatto woman, set forth, again upon a mission. But thistime the girl was downcast in spirit, and had not the lofty exaltation ofan approving conscience.
The two walked in silence through the dark streets of the city. Thewoman glided swiftly along as if accustomed to the journey, making manydevious windings and turnings. Jeanne's progress was slower and themulatto often had to pause to wait until she could catch up with her.
"Missy be keerful hyar," whispered the woman, when at length the outskirtsof the city were reached. "Keep close ter de trees."
Jeanne obeyed. The sentinel's lonely figure could scarcely be discernedin the darkness. Unconscious of their proximity the man was singingsoftly to himself as he patrolled his post steadily. To the girl itseemed as though her heart beats must betray their presence. The blacktouched her hand gently and, as the guard turned to retrace his steps,they glided silently past him, and were lost in the darkness. The skiffwas found, and the strong steady strokes of the woman soon pulled themout upon the waters of Lake Ponchartrain.
"We got by all right, lill' missy, didn't we?" chuckled she.
"Yes," assented Jeanne. "Is it far, Feliciane?"
"A long way," was the response. "We won't git back 'tel de mohnin'."
"Until morning?" echoed Jeanne in dismay. "Will we have to be out in thisrain all that time?"
"Yes, honey. It's bes' fer it ter rain. De Yanks can't see yer den. Missusshe laikes fer it ter rain when she go."
"Does she ever go?" asked Jeanne sitting up very straight. "I thought thatshe was afraid to go."
"De Madame ain't 'fraid ob nuffin," was the emphatic reply. "She usen tergo often. She done carried heaps ob things ter de rebs."
"But it has been because of her brother, Feliciane," said Jeanne, gentlytrying not to condemn her aunt too severely.
"Huh brudder? What brudder? She ain't got no brudder. What you talkin''bout?"
"Oh, Feliciane, aren't we carrying food and medicine to her poor woundedbrother, Auguste?"
"What makes you think dat, chile? Massa Auguste killed long time ago whende wah fust beginned. 'Couhse we ain't takin' things ter huh brudder.We's carryin' news ter de Massa Gin'ral dat de Yanks gwine ter 'tack him."
"Then," said Jeanne bitterly. "I have been fooled. I will give no aid tothe enemy. Turn this boat back, Feliciane."
"Not ef I knows myself, honey. I done want no whoppin'. Madame Vance sentme, an' I'se gwine ter do what she say. What'd yer kum fer ef yer didn'twant ter holpe dem?"
"Because I did not know what I was doing. Madame told me it was to takefood to her wounded brother."
"She's a great one fer pullin' de wool ober de eyes," chuckled thenegress. "Missus kum nigh gittin' ketched de las' time she kummed, soden she sent you."
"Oh!" Jeanne sat very still, her heart heavy with what she had heard.Truthful herself, the knowledge that her aunt could stoop to suchduplicity filled her with anguish. Her eyes were fast opening to thefact that the sweetness of the lady and her honeyed words masked a cruel,treacherous nature, and unaccustomed as she was to deceit of any sortshe was weighed down by the discovery.
"Feliciane," she said coaxingly. "I will give you more money than you everhad in all your life before if you will turn this boat back."
"No, missy. Yer can't hiah me ter do nuffin ob dat kine," came therelentless tones of the darky. "Feliciane knows what's good fer huh, an'she's gwine ter do it."
"Well, my basket shall not go at any rate," cried Jeanne and she caught itup to throw it overboard. But the darky seized her arm in a strong gripand took the basket from her.
"Be quiet, missy," she said, "er I'll hab ter settle yer. An' missus won'tkeer nuther. She done laik yer nohow."
Jeanne could do nothing in the woman's powerful clasp, and was compelledto relinquish her hold on the basket. Placing it behind her the negresstook the oars again and resumed her rowing. Silence fell between the twoand steadily they drew nearer to the farther shore. At last after whatseemed hours to Jeanne the keel of the boat grated upon the sand and thewoman sprang out and drew the skiff upon the bank.
"Come," she said to Jeanne and the girl mechanically followed her.
"Halt! who goes there?" came the challenge.
"A frien'," responded Feliciane. "Done yer kno
"Feliciane," exclaimed a voice joyfully. "You are a jewel. Have youanything for us? Who is with you?"
"Yes, sah; heah in dis basket missus sent. It's all erbout a 'tack whatde Yanks is a-gwine ter make on you folks. Missus kum moughty nigh bein'kotched de las' time, an' so she sent de lill' missy with me."
"Well, here are some letters. You won't be more than able to get back bydaylight. Are you too tired to make it to-night, Feliciane?"
"No, sah. Missus 'spects me ter do it."
"Well, good-bye. Thank your mistress for us, and tell her the boys in graywill soon drive the Yankees out of the city, and she won't have this todo much longer."
"I'll tell huh, sah."
Jeanne still silent went back to the boat. Every hope that she had heldthat there was really a wounded brother of Madame's had died during theinterview, and the lady was meeting with that fierce arraignment in themind of the girl that youth always gives when for the first time the maskof hypocrisy is torn from a loved face.
The dawn was streaking the gray sky with crimson when they reached thecity again. The rain had ceased and the stormy night was to be succeededby a fair day. Jeanne's face showed white and stern in the gray of themorning as she walked slowly by the black's side. Her lips were compressedtogether in a straight line for she had determined that Madame Vanceshould render an account of her duplicity to her.
Presently Feliciane uttered an exclamation of alarm, and thrust thepackage that the rebel had given her into Jeanne's hands.
"Run, missy, run," she cried. "De Yanks am a-kumin'."
Involuntarily the girl quickened her steps, but she had gone but a shortdistance when she was caught by the shoulder, and brought to a standstill.
"You are under arrest," said the gruff voice of a soldier. "Give me thatpackage you have."