  DR. CARY WRITES A LETTER TO AN OLD FRIEND The vows of a considerable part of the human race are said to be writ in water, but it is by no means only that sex to whom the poet has attributed this quality, which possesses it. Quite another part of the race is liable to forget vows made under conditions that have changed. And Major Leech was of this number. He no sooner found himself free and guarded by a power strong enough to protect him than he forgot the oaths he had sworn so volubly to Andy Stamper that night when he stood in the darkness of the deserted plantation; and he applied himself with all his energy to repair his fortunes and revenge himself. His enemies were in his power. With them free he might have to undergo trial himself; with them under indictment for offences against the Government, even if they were not convicted, he was free to push forward his plans. It was too great a temptation for him to resist, too good an opportunity for him to pass by; and perhaps even Andy Stamper did not blame him, or even expect him to forego it. The story the returned captive told of his wrongs was one strange enough to move hearts even less inclined to espouse his cause than those of the authorities into whose ears he poured it, and almost immediately after his arrival the machinery of the law was set in motion. His grudge against Captain Thurston was as great as that against the residents of the County—indeed greater; for he professed some gratitude for Jacquelin Gray and Stamper, and even In a little while he had his grand jury assembled, and the prisoners were all indicted. An early time was set for their trial. Dr. Cary was among those indicted. In this state of the case, it appeared to the Doctor that the time had come when he could no longer with propriety refrain from applying for help to his old friend, Senator Rockfield, who had asked him to call on him. It was no longer a private matter, but a public one. It was not himself alone that was concerned, but his nearest friends and neighbors; and in such a case he could no longer stand on his pride. Already the prison was in view; and the path seemed very straight, and the way of escape seemed blocked on every side. Step by step they had been dragged along; every avenue shut off; all the old rights refused; and it looked as if they were doomed. So Dr. Cary sat down in prison and wrote a letter to his old college-mate, setting forth the situation in which he found himself and his friends, giving him a complete statement of the case and of all the circumstances relating to it, and asked that, if in his power, the Senator would help him. He told him that unless some action were taken promptly he saw no escape, and that he seemed doomed to a felon’s cell. The Doctor told his friend that, while he had been present for a little while with the masked mob that broke into the jail, he had been so for the purpose of trying to dissuade them from any act of lawlessness; and the part he had taken could be proved by a hundred witnesses. But all those who had been arrested were indicted “I can give you no idea,” he wrote, “of the condition of affairs here, and shall offer no proof except my word. Unless you and I have changed since we knew each other man to man in that old time long ago, no other proof will be necessary; yet if I should attempt to give you a true picture, I should strain your credulity. “I think I can say, with Cicero, it is not my crimes, but my virtues that have destroyed me. “But if you wish to know the whole state of the case, I would ask you to come down and see for yourself. Unfortunately I shall not be able personally to extend to you the hospitality of my home; but if you will go to my house, my wife and daughter will show you every attention, and do everything in their power to promote your comfort. “Lying in jail as I am, under indictment for a scandalous crime, with the penitentiary staring me in the face, I perhaps should not sign myself as I do; yet when I call to mind the long and distinguished line of men of virtue who have suffered the same fate, and reflect on my own consciousness of integrity, I believe you would not have me subscribe myself otherwise than as, “Your old friend, John Cary.” This letter reached Senator Rockfield at an auspicious time, one evening after dinner, when he was resting quietly at home, enjoying a good cigar, and when his heart was mellow. It happened that certain measures were pending just then, to secure which the Senator’s influence was greatly desired. It also happened that a number of other measures of a very radical character had lately been proposed; and the Senator had gone somewhat deeply into the subject, with the result of unearthing an appalling state of affairs in the whole section from which this letter came. Moreover, Captain Middleton happened The Senator’s part in the release of the prisoners that shortly followed Dr. Cary’s letter was not known even to Dr. Cary for some time, and was never known generally. Senator Rockfield read Dr. Cary’s letter all through twice, and then leaned back in his big chair and thought profoundly. The letter dropped from his hand to the floor, and his cigar went out. His wife, seeing that something was moving him deeply, watched him anxiously, and at length asked: “What is it?” For answer, the Senator merely picked up the letter, handed it to her across the table, and again sat back in deep thought. She read it, and looked at him more anxiously than before, her face paling somewhat. His face, which before had been soft with reminiscence, had grown stern. He was conscious that she was looking at him, and conscious of her thoughts as she was of his. Suddenly he rose to his feet. “Where are you going?” she asked, though in reality she knew. “To send a telegram.” “I will call John.” “No, I am going to see Secretary ——.” He folded the letter and put it into his pocket. At the mention of the name, the light sprang into her eyes—the light of contest. She knew that it would be a crucial interview, and that her husband’s future would depend on it. “Shall I ring for the carriage?” “No, I will walk. I want to cool myself off a little.” He stopped as he reached the door. “He was the first gentleman of our class,” he said. He went out. A half-hour later, Senator Rockfield was admitted to the study or private office of the Secretary who had the direction of matters affecting the South and who controlled everything which related to it. He was a man of iron constitution, a tremendous “Ah! Senator. Glad to see you,” he said, with a smile which he could make gracious. “I was just thinking of you. I hope I may consider your visit a token of peace; that you recognize the wisdom of our position.” He was speaking lightly, but the Senator did not respond in the same vein. His face did not relax. “No, far from it,” he said. Without noticing the chair to which the Secretary waved him, he took Dr. Cary’s letter from his pocket and laid it on the table under the Secretary’s nose. “Read that.” The Secretary’s face clouded. He took up the letter and glanced at it; then began to read it cursorily. As he did so his face assumed another expression. “Well, what of this?” he asked, coldly. He looked at the Senator superciliously. His manner and the sneer on his face were like a blow. The Senator’s face flushed. “Just this. That I say this thing has got to stop, by G—d!” He towered above the Secretary and looked him full in the eyes. He did not often show feeling. When he did he was impressive. A change passed over the other’s face. “And if it don’t?” “I shall rise in my seat to-morrow morning and denounce the whole administration. I shall turn the whole influence of my paper against you, and shall fight you to the end.” “Oh! you won’t be so foolish!” sneered the Secretary. “I will not! Wait and see!” He leant over and took up the paper. “I bid you good-evening.” He put on his hat and turned to the door. Before he reached it, however, the other had reflected. “Wait. Don’t be so hasty.” The Senator paused. The Secretary had risen and was following him. “My dear Senator, let me reason with you. I think if you give me ten minutes, I can show you the folly——” Senator Rockfield stiffened. “Good-evening, Mr. Secretary.” He turned back to the door. “Hold on, Senator, I beg you,” said the Secretary. The Senator turned, this time impatiently. “What guarantee have I that this letter is true?” asked the other, temporizing. “My word. I was at college with the writer of that letter. He was my dearest friend.” “Oh! of course, if you know yourself that those facts are correct! Why did you not say so before? Take a seat while I read the paper over again.” The Senator seated himself without a word, while the Secretary read the letter a second time. Presently Senator Rockfield leant over and lit again the cigar he had let go out an hour before, and which he had carried all this time without being aware of it. He knew he had won his game. When the Secretary was through, he laid the letter down and, drawing a sheet of paper toward him, began to write. “When do you want the order issued?” he asked, presently. “Immediately. I am going South to-night.” “It will not be necessary. I will issue an order at once that the prisoners be admitted to bail. In fact, I had intended to do so in a few days, anyhow.” The Senator looked politely acquiescent. “But I am very glad to do it at once, at your request. You see, we are obliged to rely on the reports of our agents The Senator looked grimly amused. “No doubt they are.” “I will send you a copy of the order to-morrow. I hope you will take it as a proof that we really are not quite as bad as you appear to think us.” He began to write again. The two men parted ceremoniously, and the Senator, after sending a telegram South, returned to his home. As he entered, he found his wife anxiously awaiting him. “I won,” he said, and she threw herself into his arms. The effect of this interview was immediately felt in the old County, and after a short time Dr. Cary and the other prisoners confined with him were admitted to bail, and eventually the prosecutions were dismissed. But this was not until after the event about to be recorded. |
|
