BUTLER FINDS A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE IN HIS DISTRESS.
Allen Musgrove had heard enough of Butler's history from his daughter and from Galbraith Robinson, to feel a warm interest in that officer's safety; and now his personal acquaintance with the prisoner still further corroborated his first prepossessions. The old man took the earliest opportunity to indicate to Butler the concern he felt in his welfare. From the moderate and kindly tone of his own character, he was enabled to do this without drawing upon himself the distrust of the officer of the guard. His expressions of sympathy were regarded, by Macdonald, as the natural sentiments of a religious mind imbued with an habitual compassion for the sufferings of a fellow creature, and of one who strove to discharge the duties of a peace-maker. His visits were looked upon as those of a spiritual counsellor, whose peculiar right it was to administer consolation to the afflicted, in whatever condition; he was therefore permitted freely to commune with the prisoner, and, as it sometimes happened, alone with him in his chamber.
This privilege was now particularly useful; for Mary having, on the morning after her midnight interview with John Ramsay and Robinson, communicated to her father the incidents of that meeting, and put in his possession the letter which the sergeant had given her, and having also repeated her message to him accurately as she had received it, Musgrove took occasion, during the following day, to deliver the letter to Butler, and to make known to him all that he had heard from his daughter. This disclosure produced the most cheering effect upon Butler's spirits. It, for the first time since the commencement of his sufferings, opened to his mind a distinct view of his chance of eventual liberation. The expectation of having his case represented to Cornwallis inspired him with a strong confidence that justice would be done to him, and the covert malice of his enemies be disarmed. In this hope, it occurred to him to take some instant measures to satisfy the British commander-in-chief of the groundless character of the principal accusation brought against him by the court-martial,—that which related to the pretended design to deliver up Philip Lindsay to the wrath of the Republican government. For this purpose he resolved to make an appeal to Lindsay himself, by letter, and frankly to call upon him to put at rest this most unjust and wicked accusation. He knew that however strong Lindsay's antipathy to him might be, the high sense of honor which distinguished the father of Mildred might be confidently and successfully invoked to furnish such a statement as should entirely satisfy his accusers of the gross injustice of the charge. "I will write to him," he said, "and throw myself upon his protection. I will require of him to detail the whole history of my intercourse with his family, and to say how improbable even he must deem it, that I could be so base as to plot against his peace. And I will appeal to Mildred to fortify her father's statement, to show that this wicked accusation rests upon a story which it is impossible could be true."
Whilst Butler's thoughts were still occupied with this resolve, Mary Musgrove entered his apartment, bearing in her hands a napkin and plate which she had come to spread for his dinner, and as the maiden employed herself in arranging a small table in the middle of the room, she cast a few distrustful glances towards the sentinel who paced to and fro opposite the door, and then, seizing on a moment when the soldier had disappeared from view, she whispered to Butler—
"You have seen my father, sir?"
Butler nodded his head.
"He has told you all?"
Butler again signified a silent assent.
The tramp of the sentinel showed that he was again approaching the door; and when Mary turned her eyes in that direction, she beheld the watchful soldier halting in such a position as to enable him both to see and hear what was passing in the room. Without showing the least perturbation, or even appearing to notice the guard, she said in a gay and careless voice,—"My father and Lieutenant Macdonald,—who is a good gentleman—think it belongs to Christian people to do all the good we can for them that providence has put under us; and so, sir, I have been to gather you some blackberries, which I thought, may be, you would like, sir."
The sentinel walked away, and Mary smiled as she saw her little stratagem succeed.
"Bring me some paper," said Butler cautiously. "You are a considerate girl," he continued, in a louder voice, "and I thank you for this good will." Then finding that the sentinel did not immediately return, he whispered—"I wish to write to Robinson—you shall take the letter and read it to him."
"I will do my best," replied the maiden; and again the sentinel interrupted the conference.
Mary, having arranged the table, left the room. In a few moments she returned, bringing with her the family Bible.
"If you would like to read, sir," she said, "here is a book that a body may look at a long time without getting tired of it. We have only got this, and the Pilgrim's Progress, and the hymn-book, in the house; but my father says this is worth all the others that ever were printed, put together; and especially, sir, when one's in distress, and away from their friends."
An expression of pleasure played across Butler's features as he took the heavy volume from the girl.
"A thousand thanks to you, my pretty maiden," he replied. "I doubt not I shall grow both wiser and better under your tutoring. This kindness almost reconciles me to my fate."
"John is doing all he can for you, and he is a good helper to Mr. Robinson," said Mary, in the same cautious whisper that she had first spoken in, as she retreated from the room. Butler opened the book, and found a sheet of paper folded away amongst the leaves; then closing it, he threw it upon his bed.
In due course of time, Mary Musgrove returned with a few dishes of food which she set out upon the table, and, in one of the successive visits which were employed in furnishing the repast, she took from beneath her apron a small ink-horn and pen, which she placed, unobserved by the sentinel, in Butler's hand. Having done this, she retired, leaving the prisoner to despatch his meal alone.
After dinner, Butler threw himself upon his bed, where he lay with the Bible opened out before him, with his back turned towards the door; and, whilst Mary Musgrove was engaged in removing the furniture of the table, he found means to write a few lines to Philip Lindsay. He took the same opportunity to pen a short letter to Mildred; and then to set down some directions for Horse Shoe Robinson, the purport of which was that the sergeant should take the two letters and depart, with all despatch, for the Dove Cote, and to put both into the hands of Mildred, with a request that she would procure him the necessary reply from her father. Horse Shoe was also directed to explain to Mildred such particulars of Butler's history as were necessary to be made known for the accomplishment of the object of the mission.
When these papers were finished they were folded up into a small compass, and in the course of the evening put into Mary's hands, with a request that she would herself read the instructions intended for the sergeant, and apprise him of their contents when she delivered the papers to him.
So far all had succeeded well, and Butler found additional reason to dispel the gloom that hung upon his spirits, in the prospect that was now opened to him of enlisting strong and authoritative friends in the scheme of his liberation.