"We must just right-about face, and get back to New York," said the captain, ominously. "Not a soul can go ash.o.r.e."

"What's up?" asked the gentlemen.

"Is it the _plague_?" whispered the ladies.

"Yellow fever," said the captain; "the whole city is raging, half the people are escaped to the main land, and the other half are dying."

Madame Hesslein's small, eager face grew pale; the chevalier burst into a heartfelt imprecation, and Mr. Davenport clutched the white Margaret's hand with a shocked, "Heaven preserve us!"

But she tore her hand away, and ran to the gaunt stranger, who had brought such dire news.

"I am going ash.o.r.e with you," she said.

He looked at her wild face, and shrank from her touch; he hurried to the stern to gain the boat.

"Don't come nigh," whispered he. "I've had it."

But she seized his arm and clung to him; she would not let him go.

Murmurs rose from her fellow-pa.s.sengers; Mr. Davenport's eyes threatened to start from their sockets; but the captain interfered.

"No soul can leave the steamer," said he, resolutely.

"I must go!" returned Margaret, in a frantic voice.

"Miss Walsingham, you can't go," said the captain, sternly. "You would only fall a victim; and mind, I couldn't take you aboard again to carry the infection here."

"I won't come back!" she cried; "but I must go."

"Miss Margaret, I beg of you not to throw your precious life away,"

entreated Mr. Davenport next. "You can't find the colonel just now; most likely he's gone, poor fellow."

"G.o.d forbid!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed she, raising her pa.s.sionate eyes to heaven.

"Surely I am not so wretched as that. Ah, sir, don't listen to them,"

she implored the man. "I will give you any money to put me ash.o.r.e. There is a gentleman in Key West who may be dying for help, and he is a stranger there."

"Did you ever hear of a fellow called Brand being here?" demanded the lawyer, suspiciously.

"Oh, yes," smiled the man. "I know him well."

"Is he here?" whispered Margaret, looking piteously up at him.

"Yes, he is, at least he was three days ago, for he was nursing me, and left me last Tuesday. I am just getting about again, and haven't been in the town yet."

"There, do you hear that?" cried Margaret, turning to the lawyer with a wild smile. "Kind as ever, n.o.ble as ever. Surely you believe now that we have found him?"

"Yes," groaned Mr. Davenport; "but three days make a difference. He may be dead now."

"I will find him, and see," said Margaret.

"The woman's mad," bl.u.s.tered the captain, and left her to her fate.

"n.o.body escapes, Miss," said the stranger, warningly.

She never listened. She wrapped her cloak about her, and brought her travelling-bag from her saloon.

"Good-by, Madame Hesslein."

She held out her steady hand, the calm light of heroism in her eyes; and madame, trembling and beseeching, saw that there was no remedy, and wept a last "Farewell, Miss Walsingham."

She held out her hand to the little chevalier, who cast an agitated glance from mademoiselle to madame, and swore that it tore his heart-strings to part from either, but that vile fortune had decreed that he was not to see "the hand clasp" and the "happy hour," and kissed her hands in adieu.

And then she offered her cold hand to Davenport, who kept it close, and walked with her to where the little boat lay.

"You must not blame me if I never return," said she, eagerly, as he bent to b.u.t.ton her cloak for her. "You know that it is my place to care for St. Udo for his grandmother's sake. You will wait in New York for news of me, won't you?"

Mr. Davenport took her in his arms and handed her into the boat, and swung himself after her.

"Think I'd send you off alone, Miss Margaret?" asked he, with glistening eyes. "By gad, you must think meanly of me."

For the first time her resolution was shaken; she looked at him doubtfully.

"Go back! go back!" she cried, beseechingly. "You must not peril your life for ours."

The old man shook his head and sat down in the thwarts, and the boatman rowed away.

So they went to meet the peril which was worse than the battle-field; and the crew on the deck of the steamer gave them a cheer of admiration; and the pa.s.sengers waved them a dubious "G.o.d-speed;" and the men sitting in the pretty bark raised a feeble "huzzah!" in return, which however, sank into hopeless silence ere it was half expressed; and they melted from the straining eyes which followed them, and went their way.

The boatman rowed into a wharf of the deserted town, secured his craft, and lifted Margaret out.

"D'ye see that great house among them trees?" he asked, pointing to a large mansion on the brow of the hill, perhaps a quarter of a mile distant.

"Them's the officers' quarters, miss, and we'll go there first. There were a score or more of sick soldiers there for their health. I came here myself after the battle, where they most killed the colonel."

"Were you with the colonel the night he was stabbed?" asked Davenport.

"Yes, sir. I never left him when I could manage to be with him. Maybe you've heard of Reed, who served the colonel for a while?"

"Yes," sighed Margaret, "he mentioned you in a letter to Dr. Gay.

Hasten, kind friend, and bring us to him."

They sped through the deserted streets, where every window was barred and every door jealously locked, and a few famished dogs broke the silence by long, wild, and ominous howls.

A cart, covered with a white canvas cloth, rumbled heavily by, and then Reed took the lady's hand, and dragged her to the opposite pavement, whispering:

"m.u.f.fle your face in your handkerchief, miss, for Heaven's sake!"

And with bated breath they let the dead cart rumble by with its ghastly burden.