The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, December 20, 1903, Page 9

1 This is the first installment of “A Little Traitor to the South,” the thrilling new war comedy with & tragic interlude, by Cyrus Townsend Brady. Both the book and the author are names to comjure with. This novel is really a little masterpie and you will get it complete in three numbers of The Sunday Call. - ) . g (Copyright, 1808, by T. C. McClure.) I CHAPTER L HERO VERSUS GENTLEMAN. F there was any person that Miss 7 Glen especially detested and she was determined she ot submit it was & master- And if there ever was—if ap- ed for anything—a earth, certainly § at that moment, was ras two was had not . s0 harged f g Rhett ¥ he was 1 sure Rhett Semp- not yet had not xistence of a recipro- reast to that sir arned had sprung ck of admis- n he for the ered the un- love Rhett P ¥ etter, she she wes s g = : When she discov moment doubted Bempland her views astery of Pen would probab t least for meke her a willin events only o women & lifetime enly can elapse before from adormments to shackles ~he anger that Miss Fanny Glen felt st this particular moment gave her a tempOrary reassurance as to some ques- tions which had agitated her—how much she cared, after all, for Lieuten- ant Rhett Sempland, and did she like him better than Major Harry Lacy? Both questions were instantly decided the negative—for the time being. Fhe hated Rhett Sempland, per contra, at that moment, she loved Harry Lacy. For Harry Lacy was he about whom the difference began. Rhett Sempland, confident of his own affection and hope- ful as to hers, had attempted, with mesculine futility and obtuseness, to prohibit the further attentions of Har- ry Lacy. Just ss good bdlood, au fond, ran In Lacy's veins as in Rhett Semp- byt Lacy, following in the foot- steps of his ancestors, had mixed his with weater that is mot water because it is fire rooked the pregnant hinges how long, For some an hour of ut cessation, many a d all the vices—as they train. One of wed en the oldest names he Carolinas had b dragged th ust by this latest & :nerate scion thereof. Nay, in that é Lacy had w ed—shameless, beast-1ik therefore, the Civil War came s a godsend, as it had to many another man in like circumstances, for It efforded another and mc con- genial outlet for the wild passion beat- ing out from his heart. The war sang of arms and men—ay, as war has sung since Troia's day, of women, toc d not give over the habits of a rich, though ehort. had been but he leavened them. temporar- obliterated them even, by splendid ts of arms. Fortune was kind to Opportunity smiled upon him. as it running the blockade off rleston. or passing through the en- s lines with dispatches in Virginia, r heading & desperate attack on Little Round Top in Pennsylvania, he always “von the plaudits of men, often the love sen. And in it all he seemed to - & charmed life. hen the people saw him intoxicated on the streets of Charleston that winter of '63 they remembered that he was a hero; when some of his more frightful transgressions came to light, they re- called some splendid feat of arms and condoned what before they had cen- suljgd. >w he happened to be in Charles- tor was because he had been shot to pleces at Gettysburg and had been eert down there to dfe. But die he would not, at least not then. He would wpot have cared much about living, for e realized that, when the war was of w be, over, he would speedily sink back te that level to which he babitually de- scended, there belng nothing to engage his energies, but his acquaintance with Miss Fanny Glen had altered him. Lacy met her in the hospital and there he loved her. Rhett Sempland met her in a hospital, too. Poor Semp- land had been captured in an obscure skirmish late in 1861. Through seme hitch in the matter he ‘had been held prisoner in the North until the close of 1863, when he had been exchanged, and, wretchedly ill. he had come back to Charleston, like Lacy, to die. He had found no opportunity for dis- tinction of any sort. Thers was no glory about his situation, but prisen life and fretting had made him Bhow what he had suffered. At the hospital, then, like Lacy, he too had fallen In love with Miss Fanny Glen. By rights the hero, not of this story, perhaps, but the real hero, was much the handsomer of the two—it is always so in romances; and romances—good ones, that is—are x of life.. Such a combin beauty with unshakable ¢ city was not often seen as Lacy exhlb- ited. Sempland was homely. Lacy had French and Irish blood in him and he empland was a mlixture and English stock. Yet if women found Lacy charming they in- ctively depended upon Sempland. There was something thoroughiy at- ive in Sempland, and Fanny Glen unconsciously fell under the spell of his strong personality. The lasting impres- th La could . not make, d had effected, and the girl was powerfylly under his influence —stubbornly resistant. nevertheless, She was fond of both men. She loved Lacy for the dangers he had passed, and Sempland because she could not showed gion which n of aba Semp already help it: which marks the relative qual- ity of her aff¢’tions. Whieh one shs loved the better until thé gnoment at which the story opens she could got have told lobody knew anything about Fanny Glen. At least there were t tacts ¢ in possession of the general pub- wcerning her. These, however, sufficient. One was that she was The men in the hosplital called The other was that she . The women of the city could not exactly see' why the men thought so, which was confirmation strong as proofs of Holy Writ! were good her an angel was beautif had come to Charleston at the eak of the war accompanied by an elderly womsn of unexceptional manner and appeara.ce Wwho ¢ herself s L 3 Glen, and described herself as Miss < Fanny ‘Glen's aunt. They had taken & house {n the fashion- poor at any rate— and.had instalied themselves therein with their sla The Ze no ‘attempt to enter i the social life of the city and only be: came prominent when Charleston” be- gan to feel acutely the hardships of the war which it had done more than.any other section to promote. Then Fanny Glen showed her quality. A vast hospital was established and the young women of the city volunteered their services. The corps of nurses was in a state of constant fluxion. Individuals came end went. Some of them married pa- tients, some of them died with them, but Fanny Glen abided. Not merely because she stayed while others did not, but perhaps on account of her innate capacity. as well as her tactful tenderness, she became the chief of the women attached to the hospital. Many a sick soldier lived to love her. *Many enother, more sorely stricken, died blessing her. - In Charleston she was regarded as next in fmportance to the general who commanded the troops and who, with his ships, his forts, his guns and his man, had been for two years fighting off the tremendous assaults that were hurled upon the eity from the Unlon fronclads and ships far out to sea. It was a point of honor to take, or to hold. Charleston, and the Confederates held 1t till 1865! Fanny Glen was a privileged charac- ter, thercfore, and could go anywhere and do anything, within the lines. Under other circumstances there would have been a thorough inquiry by the careful inhabitants of the proud strict Southern city into her family relation- ships; but the war was a great leveler, people were taken at their real value when trouble demonstrated it, and few questions were asked. Those that were asked about Fanny Glen were not an- swered. Tt made little difference then. Toward the close of 1863, however, there was en eclipse ir the general hospital, for Fenny Glen fell ilL She was not completely recovered early in 1864, when she had the femous interview with Rhett Sempland, but there was not the slightest evidence of invalidism about her as she eonfroat- ed him that.afternoon in February. Wounded pride, outraged dignity, burning indignation, supplied health enough for & regiment of convalescents. The difference between the two culmin- ated in a disturbance which might apt- 1y be called cyclonic, for Sempland on nearly the first occasion ‘that he had been permitted to leave the hospital gaygty and passionate: had repaired to Fansny and there Tiad repeated, standing erect end looking down upon * her bended: head,- what he had said so’often with his,eyes:and oficerat least with his lips, from thiswbed in the ward—that he loved her and’waztsd her {of his wife. Pleasant thing it was for her to hear, too: And Fanny Glen had mot rejected him; neither had she acceptéd him. he had pleaded for time, she had hesitated and would have been lost had Sempland been as wise as he was brave, Perhaps he wasn’t quite master of him- self on account of his experience in war, and his lack of it in women, for he instantly conceived that her hesita- tion was due to some other cause than maldenly incertitude, and that Harry Lacy, of whom he had grown mightily jealous, was at the bottom of it. He hated and envied Lacy, More, he despised him for his weaknesses and their consequences. The two had been great friends once, but a year or two before the outbreak of the war they had drifted apart. Sempland did not envy Lacy any tal- ents that he might possess, for he was quite confident that the only thing he himself lacked had been opportunity— Fate had not been kind to him, but the war was not yet over. Consequently, when he jumped to the conclusion that Fanny Glen preferred Lacy, he fell into further error and made the frightful mistake of depreciating his rival. Assuming with masculine inconsis- tency that the half acceptance she had given him entitled him to decide her future, he actually referred to Lacy’s well-known habits and bade her have nothing to do with him. Glep's . house CHAPTER IL SHE HATES THEM BOTH. “You are,” he sald at last, “a lonely, unprotected young girl. Where youcame from or what you have been doesn't matter to me. T know what you are. And that is why T love you. You have no father or brother to advise you. I must do it and I will, much as it pains me. If you won't take my affection you must my counsel”’—he ecalled it counsel, but only an expert could have distin- guished It from command—*you do not know this man Lacy. He is a dissolute, abandoned—"" “‘Stop!” cried the girl. “To me he is° always 8 gentleman—a hero.” “The man is brave enough, I'll admit. And he has done some fine things.” @Gangers by being made prisoner.” By that large part-of her advantage. unkind remark she .Jost a say,” he returned wincing under her cruel thrust, but persistent, *“but we are not discussing me, now, but Lacy.” “Speaking of wickedness, you would better discuss yourself, I think, than him.” “I will not be put off in this w, Miss Fan—" b “Miss Glen, please,” she interrupted, but he paid no attention. “Lacy is well enough as a soldier, There is much to commend in him. He has the manner of a gentleman when he wishes to display it, but nevertheless he is not a fit person to be entrusted with the future of a lovely, pure, inno- cent young girl like you.” “Shdme! Shame!" cried the girl, “You may cry ‘shame’ upon me,” he went on calmly, “and I realize, of course, that T am censurable in speak- ing thus of my rival.” *You flatter yourself.” ‘How is that?” 'You are no rival of Major Lacy’s.” “No? Well, then, as a friend.” “Of his?" “Of yours.” Nor are you a friend of mine.” ‘“Well, then, as an enemy, a fool, any- thing! I want to tell you that nothing but unhappiness awaits you if you en- courage him. Iknow him, I tell you. I know what sort of & man he is. Un- stable as water, fickle, dissipated— “I'll hear no more!" cried the girl pas. sionately, turning her head, attempting to leave the room. “Excuse me,” sald the man coolly, preventing her by occupying the door- way. “You shall hear me! And hear this first of all. I am not saying any- thing about Major Lacy which is not & matter of ' public knowledge and which I have not sald to him directly, and which I would not repeat in his presence.” A You tell me that—" ‘You do not believe me?” 'No.” “I beg to assure you, Miss Glen, upon my word of honor—and it has not been goubted heretc hat I told him these very things not longer than I was going to tell you.” Py SHE FLASHED w4 SamtR oy “What did he say?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. “‘He laughed. Said that the South had need for such as I,” he replied with sturdy honesty. “but that he would take great pleasure in killing me when the war was over if we were both spared.” ““Well, sir, was not that a fine reply " “It was. It was a gentleman’s an- swer. 1 admired him for it and told him so. At the same time T told him that he must cease his attentions to you.” “By what right do you dare”—— cried the girl almost choking with sud- den and indignant protest. “No right. Unless my love for you, with a desire to serve you, greater than everything save my devotion to that flag yonder, can excuse me."” “And that cannot. Unless love be re- turned it entails no rights whatsoever.” “And you do not love me?” “Love you?" eried the girl scornfully. “I know yeu don’t, but won't you?” he pleaded. “I won't.” “Won't you try?’ “No."” You do not disilke me?” hate you.” “Do you love Lacy?” “I will not allow you to question me.”. “You must answer me,”’- sald the man, taking her almost savagely by the arm, and in spite of herself she thrilled at his touch. % ““You hurt me,” sald the “Nonsense! You hurt me more than 1 do. Db you love this man?” “Why not? He has his failings, his weaknesses, but he fights against them, he tries to overcome them. The whole South knows him, loves him for his deeds, pities him for his fallings. ‘And P “Yes? You what?’ “You shall see. Meanwhile besfore you depreclate a fellow soldler, why don’t you do something yourself? You are mot in the same class.” “I wouldn’t say that, Miss Glen, if I were you,” exclalmed Major Lacy, quietly entering the long room through one qof the long windows opening on you told your little tale?” A our. 3xposed me to this young lady ™ “I have.” “And condemned me as- an utter scoundrél, a blackguard?” Not quite. I told the truth,” replied Sempland calmiy, “‘just as I said to you I would, and. for that I am ready to answer in any way you please. 'We can settle the matter when the war is over.” ¥ “Very well. What did you say, Miss continued Lacy, turning to the Glel girl “I told him it wasn't true,” burst out the girl impetuously. “Ah, but it is,” said Lacy softly. am all that he says, and more.” “But look at what you have done.” “But little after all. I heard you reproaching Sempland for what he had not done when I came in. That isn’t fair. No braver man lives than Rhett Sempland. Why, did it not take courage to defy me, to tell me to my face that I was a scoundrel, a black- guard? And it took more courage to defy custom, convention, propriety, to come here and tell you the same things. No, Miss Glen, Sempland only lacks opportunity. Fortune has not been kind to him. In that settlement after the war there will be struggle, I'll warrant you.” “See! He can speak nobly of you,” cried Fanny Glen, turning reproach- fully to Sempland. “I never said he was not a gentle- man, could not be a gentleman, that is, when he was—when he wished to be one, that is, as well as a hero. He has good blood in him, but that doesn’t alter the case. He isn't a fit match for you. or for any woman. I am not speaking for myself. ' I know my case is hopeless. " “Gad!” laughed Lacy, ““you have tried . then and ' lost? It's my turn then. Miss Glen, you have heard the worst of me this afternoon. I have been a drunkard, a scoundrel. I have fallen low, very low. But sometimes I am a gentleman. Perhaps in your presence I might always be. I can't tell. I'm not sure. Will you take me for your lover, and in: geod time your husband, under such circumstances? Faith, I'm afraid it'll not be ‘for bet- ter, but for worse.” - Sempland sald nothing. He would not interfere now. , Fanny Glen must answer for herself. He clenched his teeth and strove ta control himself. In spite of his efforts, however, the blood flamed into his dark face. Fanny Glen grew very white, her blue eyes “p N halt | _shone like stars in the pallor of he: “Yes, while other men have escaped an hour ago. And‘l informed him that' the veranda. “Ah, Sempland, bave face under her fair hair. - She hesi- tated. She looked from one to the other. Bhe ceuld net speak.; BNe was toe consciqus.of. that-stérn iron fig- ure. . Yet she would have given worlds to say, ‘yes” to Lacy’'splea. & “ChooBe, Miss 'Glen, %! saldiLacy at last. . It was hard for ‘him’tozwalt for anything. .“You stand bctv*g: us, you see. I wi ;you if youzdo not take me, you, will ‘take . Sempland. . iLook at bim . (he -atiled . satirically)—he al- ways gets. what .he wints'*He I8 the wvery !ingarnation) of “buildeg tenacity and resolution. "If I 'don't"get you he eertalnly Will.'W . ' v B “How dare.ypu com upon me?” A0, YT is mige’ A=l 178 chd ;‘?v?e'.n!‘iq, it you ’lp‘ould\va, 1o do better’ than’ L., Choose'h love him—orimat T/ " ik The girl stdred trom 'm in indignant begtiderfient, an {deal’ lover. %, x & stern master m r She made a half step toward the hand- somer and slighter man, and a half turn toward the homeller'and stronger. In her heart of hearts she found in that moment whom she preferred. And as love is wayward, In the knowledge came a surprise for her—and it brought shame. Lacy was handsome and gal- lant and distingulshed, in spite of all, but Sempland was strong—e maa in- deed. “Oh,” she cried, locking at him, “if you only had done something greal . » “What!"” he cried, his face alight. But she turned instantly away. In Ber words Lacy, subtler and more used to women, read her preference and his rejection. But he smiled bravely and kindly at her in spite of his knowledge. “Major Lacy,” she said, giving him her hand, “I esteem you, I honor you, I respect you. I do not belleve what this—what has been sald about you. But I.do not love you.” She drew away from him. “You were mistaken. There is no cholce between you, for I love neither of you. I dg not love any- body. I hate you both!'“she flashed out inconsistently. “Now gol I don’t want to sea either of you again.” She buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. “T will do something to deserve your pralse,” sald Sempland in his deep voice, turning away. “Miss Glen,”, sald Lacy most gra- clously (Fanny Glen's ‘presence seemed to call all that was good in him to the surface), “no one has respected me, or trusted me, or honored me as you have, for years. Sempland cannot rob me of that even though he should win you. Good-by, and if it be not grotesque from me, may God Dbiess you!" iy 2 CHAPTER ML HOW THE OPPORTUNITY WAS PRESENTED. “Well, Sempland,” said Lacy, with astonishing courtesy and forbearance uhder all the circumstances, as he over- took the older man plodding along the shaded street, “you don’t seem to be in much greater favor with the young lady than L” “Lacy,” returned the other, “you &id well this evening. You are mot good encugh for Miss Glen, I still think. Nobody is for that matter, but you less than others. My opinion of you, you know—" “Faith, all the world may know it apparently!” “That's unjust. I have never men- tloned it to any one and should net have expressed it to Miss Glen had it not been to save her. But you showed the stuff that was in you, that used to be in you, to-night. It was fine. I thank you for having said——"" he paused. “What?" asked Lacy. “Why, that about my not haviag had a chance, you know.” , “Oh, that was a trifle”” “] know. But not many men would have sald it at the time.” “I tell you what it is, Sempland. I like you. I always have lked you. When I—er—dropped out of the old set, you know, before the war, I didn’t mind giving up any one so much as you. And 1 was sorry for you to-night. You hadn’'t had a chance. God knows I love the girl, but I am not the man for her. I would break her heart in a month. You don’t know women, I take it, but 1 think she will be yours in the end. I give her to you." “She is not yours to gtve.” “No, I know she lsn't. But I with- draw in your favor.” «] don't want that sort of a fair fleld, Harry,” went on the other man, un- consclously dropping into the familiar form of boyhood, which caused Lacy's face to flush with pleasure; “I am sure she loves you. I thought it was I at first, but sincs this afternoon I have changed my mind. Why can’t you be different? You are not a fit man to marry any honest woman now, and when T thought of your record I doubt- ed that you ever would be. I was sure you would not, but—see here, old man! Throw the past aside! A fellow that's got it in him to do what you have done for the South—why can’t you con- trol yourself? Turn over & new Jeat. I love her, too. She’s more to me than life itself. but her happiness is more