IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.

Auckland Star, Volume XXVIII, Issue 22, 27 January 1897, Page 6

IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.

A Tale of the American War.

BY E. WERNER.

CHAPTER 1

A, SOLDIER'S HONOtJR.

The rays of the noonday sun were boating down with the ecorching glow known only to th« Southern States. In the hot, quivering; air, every object aeemed abeeped in radtonfc light, and even the forest atlorded no cooluea?, for it. tos, was pervaded by th& sultry atmosphere, and beneath the huge trees the "burning breath of noon waa •till felb.

Under one of these trees, whose brancheß, ueary with foliage, extended a long distance, two young men had flung themselves on the ground, apparently for a Bhorb rest. Boeh won) the uniform of the Union army, one being a lieutenant and the other a Burgeon. The latter, who had a slender figure somewhat below the middle height, expressive featwrea and dark hair, lay in a comfortable attitude on the turf, listening calmly to his companion, who bad started up and was pacing hurriedly to and fro. The powerful forss, thick fair hair and blue oyes unmistakably revealed German ancestry. Bui a cloud shadowed the frank, youthful face, and tho» voice trembled with passionate etridhion. *• I must go, cost what it may 1 Since I knew that Harrison and his daughter were On the plantation, I havtt had no rest. Say tfhab you please, John, I am going.' • My deaf William, you are on the eve of doing a very foolish fthine,' said the surgeon, without changing' his comfortable position. 'I advise you, as a friend, to drop il; the affair may be your death.' • What do I care for that 1 Certainty I will have ab any coat. A brisk ride will bring me there in two hours, and I can return before suoseb. I'll venture it at any peril.' « And risk a bullet through your brain. Yoa have probably forgotten that we are engaged in a war, and that it is desertion for an officer to be absenb from his regimonb wibhout leave. Court-martials are sometimes disagreeable in such cases, and ib would ba unfortunate if Lieutenant Roland should go oub of the world by lynchlaw.'_ The sarcasm of these words succeeded in producing an impression where sensible arguments might have failed. William Eoland started and answered more qui.Dbly :

• What fancy have you taken into .your bead? Of course, I don't mean to go without) leave. The colonel will not refusei it; ire are doing nothing here. I must 6ee and speak to Florence once more, even though 1 hazard my life to do it !' ' You lovers are always ready to risk your lives,' said the young surgeon, carelessly. ' Your feelings are for ever at bo.iling point. A strange condition of affairs. Let mo feel your pulse.' •Cease this jesting,' cried William, furiously. 'Can't you curb your spirit of mockery even here? Bub how could 1! expect sympathy or appreciation from you where affairs of the heart are concerned ?'

'From-the heartless American,' retorted! John.' ''Of- course, heart and feeling arej the prerogatives of the German, Youi bave taken ouh a patent on them, and consider yourselves aobually insulted if; othßrlSjsa£tpi6':elsiai a little of tho article' too. Here we are back again at the old i point of dispute, over which wo wrangled sufficiently as boys—the honour of our ditioront nationalities.'

• In which you usually came off worst.' • Yea; you had an abominable way of cudgeling German supremacy into ihb; and as you were the stronger, I generally yielded to your palpable arguments. • Bat when there, was anything which required brains and reflection, John Maxwell was summoned. Then you submitted to my tiufchorioy, and, at the utmost), appeared en the ecene when there was a drubbing to be given. Don't look so gloomy, Will; lebua discuss biie matter sensibly. What do you really expect to accomplish by this wild ride into the enemy's country? You don't •yen know whether Misa Harrison wishes to see you—whether 'she did noS agree when her father dismissed you so unceremoniously.' • No, no 1' William impetuously retorted. ' Florence ha 9 been deceived—forced ; sbe baa nob received any of my lebtora, as I have not had a single line from her. Her father was alwaya opposed to our engagement ; we fairly extorted his consent. He pave it reluctantly, and promptly availed himself of the excuse afforded by the war to recall his promise.' John Maxwell shrugged his shoulders. ' Well, you can hardly blame him. He, a seccisionist and slave-baron, and you wifch your humanistic ideas. You harmonise like fire and water, and you were always a thorn in the flesh to \m nephew, the charming Edward. You stole from under his very eyes the wife on whom he had set his. heart. He'll nsvar forgive you. Conditions were imposed utthe outbreak of the war ?' • Yes—fihameful ones. I was to deny my convictions, deaort and betray the cause I serve and fig-hfe in the ranks of the enemy against our army. I rejected the diebonourablo demand as it deserved.'

• With the most reckless bluntness to the millionaire and future father-in-law. The Harrisons really are noo so very much to blame. You would b» an extremely troublesome son-ialaw. I should have considered the matter a little. Where a bride and n fortune are at stuke—'

• You would have pracbised treason ? John, don't make youraelf worse than you are. Even you would have been incapable of it. 1 'Who talks of treason? You merely needed to have remained passive and not fought at all, either for or against_ the Union ; that would have beon the wisest course.' 'And a cowardly, pitiful one into the bargain. Am I alone to lag behind, when e«ery one springs to arms? Let us drop the subject Our views on this point are Very widely sundered.' •They are on all points,' said Maxwell, dryly. ' 1 stick to it—this visit to the plantation is as useless as it ia dangerous, but I don't flatter myself in the least with tba hope of detaining you. You'll have your own way under nil circumstances.' 'Of course, I fchall. I'm going to the colonel at once to ask for leave of absence. Will you accompany me ?' The young surgeon sighed. Ho wao probub'y loath to resign his comfortable resting place, yeb he rose slowly. 11 wi?h Colonel Burney would put you nnder arrest for three day?, instead of giving you leave of absence,' he eaid, emphatically. ' But, unfortunately, you are a favourite, and besides it's an eetablished fact.that, if a man wants to commib

a folly, everybody hastens to help bim. Sc let! U8 gO.' The regiment tti which the two young men belonged wag stationed in the next village. After sevare battles and arduous marcheß a short respifca bad been granted, but the men were to move in a few days. Constant buatlo pervaded the-usually quiet hamlet and was specially noticeable Bround the colonel's quarter?. When Roland and Maxwell entered, they found several officers there. The commander hitnpelf, a man advanced in yetvra, with a grave but kindly face, stood among a group of hia subordinates, apparently discussing something with fchem. . ' I am glad you have come, doctor ! h«i said to the surgeoD, ' I waß just going to send for you. Lieutenant Davis has re ported tbab two of hia men are ill, and the symptoms appear vi*ry grave; he fears fever, and begs to havo medical assistance as soon as possible. YOu will ride over to the outposts.' . •I'll go ab once,' replied Maxwell. *I hope it will prove a fatae alarm, as has happened several times, bub wall aoon ascertain.'

'Certainly; I am especially anxious to have reliable information concerning the nature of the disease. The .outbreak of an epidemic would be extremely inconvenient just now. When do you expect to be back V 'In three houfa, if necessary. Bui I had intended to ask leavo of absence until evening on accounb of another mabfcer, which I should like to abtend to ab the same time.'

•Of course, if you wish.' said Burney, abßontly. ' Only send me same good newß.'

• The beab ia my power. Ab any rate, thero ib no time to lobQ. I will go at once.' The colonel nodded assenb, and the other officers now joined in the conversation. The iubjecb was discussed in all its bearings. If these caees were really the firsb in an impending epidemic, the matter was very gerious.

At last Maxwell took his leave; but, in the acb of going, approached bin friend, who was standing silently at the window. 1 Do you still persist in your resolve?' he asked, under bis breath. ' Certainly. As booh as I get my leave I shall ride oror.' 1 And perhaps ba shot on the way ! Good luck to you.' 'Thanks for the kind" wish,' said William, angrily. ' Perhaps it will be fulfilled." I Hardly. Men who, like you, are for over butting their heada against a wall, generally hare uncommonly good fortune. Where the rest of us crack our skulls, they push the stones apart. Farewell, Will. 1 He left the room. Doctor Maxwell d.\d not ipoil his friend by pretty speeches ; that was evident. He took leave of the young officer who might ' perhaps be short ou the way ' as carelessly aa if there vraa nothing in prospect save an ordinary ride. William scarcely heeded it; his mind w»3 filled with other thoughts, and ho availed ■ himself of the first pause in the conversation to approach the colonel and request a brief private interview. Burney opened the door of a small room adjoining, and the two men entered. ' Well, Lieutenant Koland, have you anything important to ask ?' said the colonel, when they were alone. I 1 merely wished to request a short leave of absence,' replied the young man, with apparent calmness. ' There is a family matter to be arranged which is of the utmost importance to me.' 'And which you can arrange while on the march V •At least I hope so. 1 intend to visit relatives who live on a plantation only a few miles from here. I have just loarnod that I was in their immediate nsighbourhood.' The request was nob singular, and was easily granted, yet oometlhing in the young man's faco attracted the colonel's attention, and he enquired : ' What is the name of the plantation y.au desire to visit?' William hesitated a moment, then slowly answerod : 'Springfield.' Burney Rbarted. 'Springfield? That is beyond our outposts. Are you not aware that it ie in the enemy's country ?' . ' I know it.1 ' And yet you wish to go there? It won't do. I cannot permit it.' ' I took a similar and far more dangerous ride a week ago on staff duty,' repliod William. • That was in tho service : duty required it; but this is a private affair, and I cannot permit one of my officers to risk his life for such a matter. No, Lieutenant Roland.' Tho young officer seemed to have expected this refusal. . Ho advanced a step nearer and dropped the strictly formal tone used heretofore. 'Colonel, the interview I seek at Springfield is of infinite importance to me. I will be perfectly frank with you. 1 suppose you know the relation in which I stand to Mr Harrison's family 2' 1 The wealthy owner of the neighbouring plantation, our moat bitter enemy. Yes, I have beard of it. It was said that you were engaged' to his daughter, and at tho outbreak of the war madaa sacrifice for your convictions.' ' I did not make it; it was forced upon me. Mr Harrison broke my engagement to his daughter, without permitting me even an explanation. The outbreak of hostilities prevented my hastening to my fiancee. I was forced to join my regiment. The letters I sent remained unanswered. I do not even know whether they reached her hand.". For months I suffered the tortures of uncertainty. This morning an accident revealed that Miaa Harrison, who, I supposed, had long since fled to some place of safety, was still at Springfi9ld. It is the last, the oniy possibility of obtaining any certainty. I beseech you to grant it.' The colonel's eyes rested with evident sympathy ou tho young man, who was indeed his favourite, and whose ill-repressed emotion showed how keenly ho suffered from this atate of uncertainty; but he shook his head.

1 Even should I grant you the leave of absence, and you reached the plantation unharmed, who will guarantee that Harrison, after whut. haa occurred, will nofc see in you merely an officer in the enemy's service and deliver you up ?' ' Deliver ms up?' cried William, hotly. 'Th 9 man who waß betrothed to his daughter—the man whom ho once called son?'

•Everything ia pos»iblo in those timeß. Surely you must know hia character.' 41 expect any acfe of hostility toward ma but not treachery. I "ball be safe in his house.'

*We will hope bo ; bub another and a graver peril threaten* you there : If you are still regarded a« a son of the house, every effort will be made to win you over to their cause. Suppose that—you should nob return ?'

William started as if an insult bad been hurled at his faco.

'Colonel, I am an honourable man.' '1 know it; bub you ate human. You are young and passionately in love. Eves the strongest natures auccumb to such a conflict. Ab that time you had no choice, you say. Probably it will be so now. And when the prize ia before you, when your affianced wife weeus and pleads, and the whole happiness of your life depends on a single word—avoid the temptation. Lieutenant Roland—l advise you as a friend.'

The young officer had turned pale, but his voice sounded firm and resolute aa he replied :

'I bag ot you to grant mo the leave of absence—on my word of honour.'

Burney pacad up and down the room several times in silence ; at last he pauß6d.

1 At the utmest, I could grant you only the afternoon. Kou must return ab sunset,

and it is a lonrg distance. You will have barely three hours ab Springfield.' • A single ou«> would euffica for the conversation on which my whole future depends—l repeat my request.' •So be ib then.. With caution, ib may perhaps be possibly to avoid the peril which threatens you on the way. I shall rely upon your prudorici'.' ' Depend upon it, colonel.' Burney approached the young man and, putting hie hand on hia eboulder, said with deeD earnestness :

'Till eunseb then. Ib is now nooa. If Lieutenant Roland hay not returned by oighG o'clock this evening I shall believe that ha is either dead or dishonoured.'

William's eyes flashed, bub they met his commanding officer's gaze steadfastly.

•Believe the former, that hour I will be here.'

If I am alive at

'Then go—on your word of honour.' • On my word of honour.' William saluted and loft the room. The colonel gazed after him a few seconds, then said in a low tone :

1 Poor boy ! I would teti times rather have sent him bo meet the enemy than iuto this temptation,'

CHAPTER 11. AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR.

It waa the afternoon of the Bnme day. The sun was lower in the west, but the beab had not yet lessened, and all the blinds in the Bpacious mansion of Springfield were closed. The extensive estate bad, as yet, been spared the devastation of war. It was in the immediate vicinity of one of the principal recruiting stations in the South and owed it to this circumstance alone that, for the present ab least, it could afford its inmates absolute safety.

A pleasant dusk prevaded the Bitting.;* room, whose doors opened upon the wido terrace. The glaring sunlight in thi% garden outside could not find its way into1, the apartmenb, whose doorways were protected by blinda and curtains ; and a little fountain, whose jot rose amid a circle of tropical plants, dilfnned ios cool, glittering drops through the sultry atmosphere. A youag girl of perhaps eighteen was half reclining in a rocking-chair. Her little head with its wealth of dark bair waa flung wearily back, her eyes were closed, and the long black lashes formed a sharp contrast to bhe pretty but somewhat pallid face. Her thin white dre»3, which, though intended only far housewear, waa trimmed with rich lace, harmonised with the costly furniture of the room. In fche dreamy twilight, tho dainty whiKerobed figure was as charming as one of llvo fragrant blossom's nodding over the edge c\f the fountain.

One of the doors loading into the interior' of the house was softly opened, and an old negro appeared on the threshold.

Noiselessly closing ib again, he cautiously approached hi* young mistress, but eho started from her light slumber and eat erect.

1 What is ib, Ralph? Doaa my father want me ?'

'No, miss, master is still asleep ; but Mr Harrison has come back and asks if ho can ace Miss Florence.'

' Edward ?' The young lady hesitated a moment, then, sinking into her former attitude, she said faintly : ' Let him come.'

Ralph withdrew ; and directly after, a young man, fine-looking, but with aa arrogant, Kelt-conscious manner, entered the room.

'How is my unolo?' ho asked quickly. 1 What I heard from the servants outride did. . not sound very consoling. la he worse ?'

' I fear bo,' replied Florence, oofbly. 1 Ht? had a bad night-, and the increased weakness is alarming. He fell asleep an hour ago, and I used the opportunity to get a little rest.'.

E(lward > Harrison drew up a chair and eat down. ■

' Exouse me if I disturb you. I have just dome.from the city. My friend, Captain iWil(ion, accompanied me,; and the justice of tho peace, with the other witnesses, will arrive at the appointed time. All tine preparations are made, so that tho wedding can take place thia evening.'

A Blight tramonr ran through the young girl's frame, and there was a tone of fear in her rodeo as she asked :

' Today— must, it bo ?'

' I thought wo had arranged it. Surely you consented.' • Yes ; but I hoped you would allow me a little time —a few months or weeks. What is the use of this liorce liaste ? Why should the wedding take plao beeide my father's sick-bed?'

* Because it is your father's last wish and will, as you know from his own lips. He wants to know that you will be safe and sheltered in a husband's arms when danger assails as, and be baa my promieo that I will protect you and hia proporty to my last breath.'

' As soon aa it becomes youra—l don't doubt it.'

Edward's brow contracted angrily. A dark frown shadowed his face.

• What does that mean, Florence? Do you doubt ray love ? You know that it is bestowed on you alone, not on your estates, which in th.c. storms of war may be destroyed, like bo many which have already been ruined. You muat trust) me. I shall certainly not sacrifice you to any principle, aa others have done.'

The allusion was distinct enough. Florence's head drooped, but her tone betrayed rising indignation, as sho replied :

' Was I sacrificed ? You say so, and to does my father, but I have never hoard it from VVilliam'B lips, and you were always his enemy. I cannot understand hia giving up the struggle so quickly, not even making an attempt to change* my views, and sometimes I fear—'

She did not finish the sentence, but her eyes, which rested with unmistakable suspicion on her cousin's features, expressed the thoughb which ahe did not utter in words. But there was no change in his countenance, and the answer was equally unmoved and cold.

' Surely you read the letter in which he broke with your father ? Was not that plain enough ? He knew the price that would enable him to potscaayou. lb would have cost him only a single word to call you his ; yet, instead, he delivered a political lecture, on manly honour, duby, conviction and the rest ot the neb phrases. Well, he followed hia coisvictiona and — gave you up.' The young girl's palo face began to flush, and her lips were closely compressed. This was the goad which had conquered her resistance, forced hor into the new bond ; it produced its effect now.

' Yes, he gave me up,' she repeated, bitterly. * Well—l have given him up, too.'

• And cannob you yeb shake off the memory? You have been candid with me, Florence, cruelly candid. I was forced to hear from your lips thab that other still held the firßb place in your heart, thab only filial duty won your consent to my suit. Be it so ! I vrill venture the risk, even with this statement. I will cope with thij arrogant Gorman, who does not; know wha^ love is, who has never felt the full pulse of genuine passion. For nm, no price ia too high for the prize of possessing you. 1 would overthrow ail that ntood between up, were it even what I held highest. Resist as you may, I thall yet win you —you and your love.' There was really a touch of genuine passiou in the words, and the ardent gazv which rested on the young girl proved that Edward Harrison was nob playing a mere game of calculation. Florence unresistingly left the hand ho had seized in hia clasp. She was half-unconsciously under the thrall of this man, whom she feared, for whom no voice in her heart pleaded, yeb vvlu. sxerted an almost demoniacal power over her.

•I believe you, Edward,' she eaid, in a

low tone. ' I will be ready this evening,' Edward raised her hand to his lips nod "• Thanks ! And now ono favbut niore* Gaptain Wilson asks permiaeion to pay'his respects to you. Will you receive him t 'Not now. I musb go to my father The captain will excuse Die if I receive biai later.' . , + 'As you please. And when may I see my uncle?' 'Aa soon as he wakes. lam expacting the doctor. He promised to come toward evening and bring Doctor Blackwood, who is to reach the city this morning. Perhaps he can (jive me hopo.' 'Hope? You know as well as I that lb ia only v question of tims, a ehorb addition to the days of life. The physicians havo left us no doubt on thab ecore. Bu6 1 won't detain you from the sick-room now. Farewell. I shall hope to see ffiy undo id half an hour.' He kiased her hand again, and iefo the room. . j Florence remained alone. She, too, had risen, and now, slowly approachine the fountain, bent over its basin. The sultry air oppressed her tiil her breathing almosb failed. Perhaps it was a!eo the burden of droad of the coming hours and fche torturing decision which they must bring. The water leaped and splashed. The fragrance of the Howers Bbole softly and sweetly to her. While bcr eyes mechanically followed the falling drops, their pattering and the fragrance wove a dreamy haze ef remembrance about her and led her back inbo the pasb—this lost year, which at firub had promised her so much happiness, only to bring her such bitter suffering. Even this brief period of bliss had at first cost a struggle* She was obliged to conquer a prejudice of her father, who had long intended to wed her to his nephew and would hear of no other marriage. He considered the young officer who had won hie daughter's love aa an insolent intruder, who was destroying the pence of his household ; and fche political opinions of the two men, which were strongly opposed to each other, also threatened danger. Nevertheless, for the time, Mr Harrison, conquered by the fcoars and entreaties of htß only child, yielded, though with reluctance; and Edward, who had jasb returned from a long journey, found himself confrouted with it fact oeainsb which bis fierce jealouey was powerlessi Bub he knew how to maintain his influence over his uncle, and never ceased to stimulate his averaion to the son-in-law who had beon forced upon him. Ab last, the outbreak of the war furnished the long-desired opportunity for an open breach. Harrison imposed conditions which ho knew the young officer would never accept and, on his refusal, withdrew his promise. In this way h* had a semblance of justice on his side, and Roland's refustl was described under tho most hateful colours. Florence was neibhor energetic ,uor independonb. She had been brave co loucr as William stoad ab her sido and she n>as sure of his love and protection. Alone she was unable to contend witjh her father and Edward, and now followed the former's serious illness and Edward's passionate en treaties, for the latter was determined to secure her hand ab any cost. At last, supposing herself deserted by the man sho loved, she yielded to bbese creature* and gavo up her resistance.

{To be Continued.)