CHAPTER XXII

THE MOB AT THE ELMS-SIMONSON SHOT BY ROD CLARKE

A

LL the afternoon rails and other fuel were piled on the roaring fire, and the flames leaped madly toward the

heavens.

At first the kind-hearted neighbors rushed to The Elms to help stay the conflagration, not dreaming that it was a festal bonfire. To all inquiries the Doctor made the same reply:

"I'm celebrating our victory yesterday at Fredericksburg -10,208 Yankees killed; 2,145 Yankees missing. Glory be!" About 8 o'clock in the evening, a timid tapping on a side door was heard at The Elms. Dr. Culpepper, still excited, shirt-collar open and sleeves rolled up, little resembling the fastidious Quoth Horace of happier days, leaped and opened the door. Only the dim outline of a woman was visible.

"Please, Dr. Culpepper," a low and tremulous voice entreated, "may I come in?"

The Doctor's chivalry was instantly to the fore. "Certainly, certainly, maid or madam, step right in." The visitor entered.

"Whom have I the honor of " He saw her face. It was Marjorie Gildersleeve. For a moment his whole being was convulsed. A fierce oath leaped to his lips; then, after a moment, he managed to control himself.

"Damn your turncoat father! I beg your pardon, Miss Marjorie. No Culpepper ever showed disrespect to a woman, not even to the kinswoman of an enemy. Miss

Marjorie, won't you have a seat by the fireplace? It's rather nippy out to-night. I didn't know you'd returned from Cincinnati."

Marjorie had thrown back the shawl that covered her head and was standing before the irate Doctor, very white, while the light from the overhanging chandelier transformed her golden hair into a nimbus such as the early masters used to paint about the heads of saints and angels.

"Or," as an after-thought, "perhaps you'd better come with me and I'll take you up to Vergie's room; of course you came to see her."

"No-yes-O Dr. Culpepper, I've come to see both of you. See! I just grabbed a shawl and came flying. Do get Vergie and run for your lives!"

It was an honest, earnest speech, but exceedingly unfor

tunate.

"Miss Marjorie," proudly drawing himself up to his full height, "you forget that I'm a Kentuckian. No Kentuckian ever takes to his heels! Please be seated and I'll call Miss Culpepper."

The dauntless Kentuckian had spoken as calmly, and with as great courtesy and gallantry, as though he had been at a state ball at Versailles, and had said to Madame de Maintenon, "Pray, be seated. I shall immediately apprise His Imperial Majesty of your arrival."

"But you don't understand, Dr. Culpepper!" cried Marjorie, now growing desperate. "A mob's coming. They mean to kill you. A moment's delay may be fatal. Oh, the very air is shrieking 'Murder, murder!' ever since you built the bonfire this afternoon. They hate you, hate you-and they've guns and revolvers, and they'll kill you, and—and Vergie. You're brave-of course you are; all Southerners are heroes! But for Vergie's sake, your own and only daughter's sake"

"You needn't be concerned for me, Miss Gildersleeve." It was the deep, clear, resonant voice of Virginia Culpepper who had come into the room, unobserved, just in time to hear the latter part of the conversation.

"O Vergie- !”

"Miss Culpepper, please!"

Marjorie's eyes instantly filled with tears. "Miss Culpepper," Marjorie cried, crossing the room to take Vergie's hands, that she might the more effectively plead with her.

"Do not touch me, please." So Fate might have spoken, could his sculptured lips have broken into articulate speech. "But, Doctor and Miss Culpepper, may I not come to you on an errand of mercy? May I not be the bearer of a message of salvation? Why, I'm almost a member of your family-your daughter, sister!"

"Pardon me, Miss Marjorie; no Gildersleeve will ever be my daughter."

"Or my sister!"

Rendered desperate, Marjorie bowed her head and wept," her hair laughing with golden ringlets that refused to be confined, while her alabaster flesh glowed like a Grecian vase of sculptured marble.

"God help me," her voice trembling with fear and sorrow. "You must at least hear my message. A neighbor rushed into our house only a moment ago—a few minutes ago. He told Papa you were to be mobbed at 8 o'clock. Out of love for you I forgot everything except that you were in deadly peril. I flew to you through winter's cold, without coat or cloak or bonnet-only this shawl, which belong to a servant, and which I seized as I ran, fearing you might be taken unaware and murdered before I could get here. Now, I can do no more. But as you value your lives, however much you may hate me--though God knows I never wronged either of you-heed my warning and

Her voice was drowned by a bedlam without-shrieks, and hisses, and stamping of feet.

There was a furious pounding on the door.

"Who's wanted?" Dr. Culpepper inquired.

"Yuh're wanted," a tempest of voices replied. "Yuh're wanted, yo' ol' Coppehhaid, Knoight uh thuh Gol❜n Zurgl', doubl'doid Raibul! Come on out'n hyar foh wuh dreg yuh out'n!"

Softening his voice: "All right, boys-wait a minute and I'll come. I know you've got the dead wood on me this time."

Already Vergie, with the instinct of a born soldier, had extinguished the lights, shoved Marjorie unceremoniously into a corner out of the range of possible bullets, handed her father a double-barreled shotgun and a brace of revolvers, and found for herself a vicious-looking weapon that had belonged to Harold. The Doctor proudly observed Vergie's coolness, and that neither hand nor voice trembled. Thus armed, and the mob without becoming more and more vehement, the Doctor called:

"Now, boys, tell me what you're going to do with me."

"Wuh're gwine tuh treat yuh tuh uh full un vahried program uv 'musements," replied the spokesman. "Fust, wuh're gwine tuh gib yuh uh thrushin'-thut's fuh thuh waiy yuh've treated yuh're boy, Hor'ld. Thun wuh're gwine tuh gib yuh uh foine coht uh tah 'n' futhuhs-thut's tuh evun up ol' Ams Ahmuntrout's 'count. 'Membuh w'en' yuh whaled uhway un nah'ly knocked 'iz daylights out'n wuth uh bah uv ahrun? Folluh'n thiz yuh're tuh huv uh free roide on uh rail tuh th' Pos' Orfus 'n' beck-un 'mumbrunce o' thuh thoings yo've soid 'n' done 'gin ouh sojer boys 'wun thuh've ben hum on fuhloughs. Thun wuh'll close thuh 'formunce wuth uh gren spucteklur piece 'tituled "Yuh Murruh Hengin' uh Ol' Doc Culpaipuh'-'n' mum'ry

uh th' brave men w'ot fell ut Fred'rucksbu'gh yist'day, whose crule daith, ut thuh han's o' thu dam' Raibuls, yo've ben cel'braishunin' ul' th' a'ternoon."

There was more "information," but it was drowned by the shrieks of the mob, and the discharge of firearms. As soon as the spokesman could be heard, he demanded, “Ah yuh ruddy?"

"Ready!" responded the Doctor. "Just step inside, gentlemen, and I'll treat you to the best I've got. You know the Culpeppers are never wanting in hospitality."

"No; yo' come on out. Wuh doan' wun' tuh huht th' wummenfolks."

"Don't mind me, honorable sirs." It was the voice of Vergie Culpepper, loud, clear, defiant. "Wherever you may find my father, you'll always find his daughter."

There was another roar from the maddened mob and a renewed pounding at the door, front, sides and rear. It was evident they had surrounded the house, and that an assault was imminent.

Once more above the tumult came the voice of the leader: "Doan' put us tuh th' needces'ty uv tah'rn down yuh house ovuh yo' haid. Yuh've gut tuh come, yuh doubl'doid, hissin', damn' ol' Coppehhaid. Air yo' comin'?"

"Yessir, I'm coming. I'll show you scoundrels that the Rebels up North are not inferior to their victorious brothers yonder on the glory-lit field of Fredericksburg," and with that he reached for the bolt that fastened the door.

But Vergie, with woman's instinct of preservation, now flung herself between her father and the door. "No, Father, you shan't go. They'll kill you."

"Get out of my way, Daughter," the Doctor thundered. "No Kentuckian ever showed the white feather."

There came another volley of firearms, followed by a crash of broken and falling glass.