AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL
Miss Sue hastened to procure the photograph, which she had placed in her mother’s room after it had been fully discussed by herself and the supposed original. At the same time, her father conducted Somers into the room again; and, being fully conscious of his desire to get away, he kept a watchful eye upon him, though he removed his grasp from the arm. The rebel soldier looked on in utter amazement at the singular proceedings of all the party, and seemed utterly unable to comprehend the meaning of them.
“Here is the picture,” said Sue, returning with the photograph in her hand; “but I don’t see that it looks any more like you than it does like the other gentleman;” and she proceeded to institute a comparison between the new claimant and the picture.
Somers began to cherish a faint hope again, and to be very grateful for the general truth, that photographs do not always look like the originals. This encouragement, slight as it was, gave our hero a new inspiration, and in a measure restored his impudence; which, under the pressure of circumstances, had begun to give way.
“I am sure it does not look at all like you,” continued Sue, after she had patiently balanced all the points of resemblance, and all the points of disagreement.
“You should remember that the picture was taken more than a year ago; and that I have been an invalid for ten months of the time,” suggested the rebel soldier.
“That may be; but I am sure this picture could never have been taken for you.”
“Let me see it, if you please?”
Sue handed him the card, and he glanced at it with an expression of great curiosity.
“Where did you get this picture?” demanded he.
“It was sent to me by the original,” replied she.
“This is not my picture.”
“That is just what the other gentleman said; and I am perfectly willing to believe both of you.”
“But I sent you a picture of myself, though this is not the one.”
“Well, that is very singular.”
“If you will remember, there were two in the same letter; the other was a young man whom Owen was acquainted with, and who desired something to remember him by. He is in a Mississippi regiment now.”
“Dear me! what a blunder!” exclaimed Sue, laughing heartily. “I am sure I took the best looking of the two for Allan Garland’s.”
“Perhaps that is not very complimentary to me; but where is the other picture?”
“I put it in Owen’s room. I told him what I had done with the two pictures; but he has been at home so little, that I suppose he never looked at them. I will get the other.”
“We are beginning to get a little light on the subject,” said Mr. Raynes, when his daughter had left the room.
“And I think you will let a little light through my body with a bullet-hole,” added Somers, whose last hope was gone again, though his impudence still remained.
“Be patient, young man; we shall soon see the mystery explained, and be able to inform you whether you are Allan Garland or not.”
“I am sorry to put you to so much trouble, Mr. Raynes; but you will remember that I was very much opposed to coming into your house at all; that I was literally dragged in by yourself and your daughter.”
“And you will also remember that I saved you from arrest, when you gave your name as Allan Garland, of the Fourth Alabama. I think I have imparted to you some very valuable information; and I intend to see what use is to be made of it, before I take my eyes off you.”
“You are very affectionate, Mr. Raynes; and, in behalf of the great Southern Confederacy, I thank you for the zeal and loyalty which you have displayed,” replied Somers boldly; for it was plain that nothing but the most brazen impudence could save him.
“You are a bold youth, and it is plain that you have brilliant talents; I hope they have not been abused.”
“They have been, and will continue to be, used in the service of my suffering country.”
“I like you, and I hope everything is all right about you; but I cannot see your object in coming here under an assumed name.”
“Then you have decided the case against me—have you?” said Somers, glancing at the rival Allan.
“Perhaps I was a little too fast,” added the old man, mortified to find that his character for strict justice had been compromised by this hasty avowal.
Sue was absent a long time; and it was clear that the photograph had been mislaid. Somers was in hopes she would not be able to find it; though he had but a meager expectation of over-throwing the claims of his rival to the name of Allan Garland. It was a hot day, and the windows of the house were all open. His legs seemed to promise the only satisfactory solution of the problem; and while he was considering the propriety of jumping out through one of the open windows, and trusting to them for safety, Sue returned with the photograph.
“This looks more like you than the other; and more like you than it does like the other gentleman,” said Sue.
The rebel soldier took the card, and acknowledged that it was his photograph; at the same time, he was compelled to allow that it was but an indifferent likeness of himself. His hard service in the army had changed his appearance much. Sue gazed at the picture, and at the original, and her father did the same; but both of them were in doubt.
“There, sir! I have waited patiently for you to end this farce,” said Somers, in deep disgust apparently. “You have looked at the pictures, and you are not satisfied yet. I can stand it no longer; I am tired of the whole thing. You have treated me very handsomely, and I am grateful to you for your kindness to me; but I cannot and will not remain any longer.”
Somers spoke decidedly, and was fully resolved to use his pistol, if occasion required. He was not willing to remain for a decision to be made between him and the other claimant.
“I will go with you, brother Allan Garland,” said the rebel soldier facetiously; “I think between us we can readily decide which is the right man.”
“I am ready.”
“But we desire to be satisfied, especially in regard to this young man, who was suspected of being a deserter, and for whom I feel that I am responsible,” said Mr. Raynes.
“I can do nothing for you, sir,” replied Somers.
“But I can do something for you; and I propose to take you to the sergeant where I found you, and let the military authorities decide,” continued the old man, whose ire was roused, as he moved towards the impudent young man.
“I propose that you shall do nothing of the kind,” answered Somers, drawing the pistol, and cocking it for use.
“Don’t, father, don’t!” exclaimed Sue, rushing between Mr. Raynes and the active youth, pale with terror.
Somers would have been very unwilling to use his weapon on the old man. He pitied him, and could not help thinking of the terrible blow which was in store for him when he should hear that his only son had been killed. He hoped that something would interpose to prevent any violence, and he expected much from the gentle dignity of the young rebel.
“I am sorry that you compel me to draw this pistol,” added Somers; “yet nothing but the duty I owe to myself and my country would permit me to use it upon those who have treated me so kindly.”
“I will be responsible for him,” said Allan Garland—the real one; for there could be no doubt that he was what he claimed.
“You shall not go near him, father! He will kill you!” cried Sue, terrified, as her father attempted to push her aside, and advance upon the armed young man.
“Come! brother Allan,” said the soldier: “we can best end this scene by leaving the house.”
As they approached the door, a hand was placed on the handle outside; but the old man had taken the precaution to fasten it, in order to insure the safety of his prisoner. A heavy knock succeeded.
“Who is that?” gasped Sue, afraid that any newcomer would only complicate the difficulties of the moment, and that the bold youth would be compelled to use his pistol.
“Perhaps it is Owen,” replied the old man, a little calmer than before.
“I hope it is.”
The words sent a shudder through the frame of Somers, as he again thought of Owen Raynes, cold and dead in his oozy grave in the swamp.
“Open the door,” said a voice from without.
Allan Garland drew the bolt, and threw the door wide open.
“Why, Allan, my dear fellow!” exclaimed a young man who stood at the outside of the door in his shirt sleeves, as he grasped both of the rebel soldier’s hands, and proceeded to make a most extravagant demonstration of rejoicing. “I am glad to see you!”
“Owen, my dear boy!” replied Allan Garland, as he returned with equal warmth the salutation of the newcomer.
“Where did you come from, Allan? I had given you up for lost?”
“I escaped from the Yankees the next day after I was taken, and have been beating about the woods ever since.”
Somers was thrown all aback by this arrival, which was certainly the most remarkable one that had taken place during the day. He couldn’t help feeling very much like the hero of a sensational novel; and realized the very original idea that truth is stranger than fiction. He could not exactly account for the presence of Owen Raynes, whom he had satisfactorily buried in the swamp, and whose clothes he had the honor to wear at that moment. He did not believe in things supernatural, and it never occurred to him that the form before him might be the ghost of Owen.
“I am glad you have come just as you did, Owen,” said Mr. Raynes.
“So am I; otherwise I might not have met Allan. But who is this?” he added, glancing at Somers.
“Your most obedient servant,” replied Somers, trying to pass him in the narrow entry.
“Stop, young man!” shouted the old man. “Don’t let him go, Owen!”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Allan Garland, of Union, Alabama; and he is a private in the Fourth Alabama,” replied Allan with a smile, as Owen placed himself between Somers and the door.
“What!”
Mr. Raynes, being the oldest man present, was entitled to the position of spokesman; and he made a very prolix statement of all the events which had transpired since he first saw the pretended Allan Garland.
Owen Raynes was a very good-natured young man, and the recital of the affair amused him exceedingly. He did not fly into a passion, being a very amiable and reasonable rebel; and seemed to regard the whole thing as a stupendous joke.
“Then your name is Allan Garland, is it?” demanded he, with a broad laugh still playing on his lips.
“That is my name at present,” replied Somers.
“But have you no other name?”
“None worth mentioning.”
“Good! To what regiment do you belong?”
“To the Fourth Alabama, Colonel Jones; but I have already told your respected father all the facts relating to myself, and some relating to you.”
“Say, is this a joke, a sell?” demanded Owen.
“I suppose that would be a very proper interpretation to put upon it.”
“You seem to be a good fellow, and deal in four-syllable words.”
“Now, as you seem to have the best of the joke, I hope you will not detain me any longer. I have a pass in my pocket to prove that I am all right; and, as I am in a great hurry, I must move on.”
“Not till you explain the joke. Eh? What’s this? Where did you get this coat?” said Owen, glancing at the garment which Somers wore.
“This is the key to the joke.”
“The key to it! I am of the opinion that this is my coat,” replied Owen, as he felt of the garment, and turned up the lapel.
“May I be allowed to inquire where you left your coat?” asked Somers, who was quite curious to know how Owen Raynes happened to be alive just at that moment.
“Certainly you may; but first let me ask where you found it.”
“Over by the picket-line beyond the hill,” replied Somers.
“Just so. A young fellow in a Mississippi regiment, encamped next to ours, borrowed it of me last night, when he was detailed for picket-duty. The poor fellow had no coat, and picket-duty is rather steep at night when a man has no clothes. He is a good fellow, in poor health; and I lent him mine.”
“The nights are cool, but the days are hot,” added Somers. “He took it off, and left it on the edge of the woods, where I found it. I didn’t know that it belonged to anybody. I found some papers and a diary in the pocket——”
“Did I leave my papers in the pocket? Well, that was stupid,” interrupted Owen.
“I read the papers with a great deal of interest. Seeing frequent allusions in them to Allan Garland, I took the liberty to appropriate the name myself; for the owner of it seemed to be a very good fellow.”
“Thank you!” said Allan; “but, as you seem to have no further use for it, I see no objection to your giving your own name.”
“On the contrary, there are some very strong objections, and I must trouble you for the use of your name an hour or two longer.”
“Oh, very well! I am satisfied,” replied Allan.
“So am I.”
“But I am not,” interposed Mr. Raynes. “I think the fellow is an impostor, if nothing worse.”
“Anything you please; but my time is out, and I must report for duty,” replied Somers boldly, as he took off the borrowed coat, and restored it to the owner. “I am very much obliged to you for the use of this garment. When we meet again, I trust we shall understand each other better.”
Owen Raynes was an easy-going young man; familiar with the practical jokes of the army, enjoying them with the most keen relish when no one’s feelings were hurt, and no damage was done to person or property. He was not, therefore, disposed to put a serious construction on what seemed to him to be one of these farces; but his father took an entirely different view of the affair. He wanted to argue the question, and show that it could not be a joke; but Somers was too impatient to listen to any eloquence of this description.
Sue, who had now actually found the young man who had been indicated as her “manifest destiny,” was in no hurry to part with him; and when the father proposed that Owen and Allan should accompany the impostor, as he insisted upon calling him, to the brigade headquarters, where his pass was dated, she decidedly objected to the proposition. The earnestness of Mr. Raynes, however, at last vanquished her and the young man; and they started to escort our young lieutenant to the place indicated.
Now, Somers, being a modest man, as we have always held him up to our readers, and being averse to all the pomp and parade of martial glory in its application to himself, was strongly averse to an escort. He preferred to go alone, tell his own story, and fight his own battles, if battles there were to be fought. Owen and Allan were unutterably affectionate. They received him into their small circle of fellowship, and stuck to him like a brother. They were both good fellows, splendid fellows; and, under ordinary circumstances, Somers would have been delighted to cultivate their friendship. As it was, he ungratefully resolved to give them the slip at the first convenient opportunity.
Unhappily for him, no opportunity occurred, for his zealous friends would not permit him to go a single rod from them; and Somers had about made up his mind to trust the matter to the judgment of Major Platner, who had shown a remarkable discrimination during the former interview, when the trio came to a line of sentinels guarding a brigade camp.
“What regiment do you belong to?” demanded the guard.
“Fourth Alabama,” replied Owen.
“You can’t pass this line, then.”
“But I have a pass,” interposed Somers.
“Show your pass.”
Somers showed the important document, which the sentinel, after a patient study, succeeded in deciphering.
“Your pass is right—pass on; but you can’t go through,” he added to Owen and Allan.
Owen explained.