The White Rose of Memphis

“‘How long have I been here?’ I whispered.

“‘You bin dar dis trip free weeks; but de udder time, afore you ’scaped, you was dar two mont’s zackly,’

“‘You are mistaken, my boy,’ said I, ‘because I never saw this place until this time.’

“‘Oh, yes, boss, you’s forgot it; you’s bin mighty sick dis time; but tudder time you broke de jail and ’scaped. Dis time you bin so sick – you cryin’ all de time – you talk heep of foolishness – you keep sayin’ Lottie! Lottie! sweet Lottie! all de time when you was sick. You crazy! De doctor sez you gwine to die, den dey won’t hab de fun of hangin’ you.’

“‘What are they going to hang me for?’

“‘Oh, yo knows what for; what yo ax dis chap for, when yo knows all about it? Didn’t yo kill mas’ Jack Clanton for nuffin’? But yo is gwine to die shoah, den ob course dey won’t hang you.’

“‘Do they think I am the man who killed Mr. Clanton?’

“‘Of course dey knows it sho’ nuff – dey seed yo do it.’

“‘But I tell you I never saw Mr. Clanton in my life, and I never saw the jail until I was brought here three weeks ago.’

“‘Oh, boss, yo is crazy yit. Don’t dis chap know ye? Didn’t dis nigger tend yo all de time? Didn’t yo try to bribe dis nigger to fetch de file? I ’spect when ye gits better you’ll ‘member all ’bout it.’

“Then he went away whistling ‘Dixie,’ doubtless believing me still out of my senses, and to tell the truth, I was inclined to that opinion myself. It seemed to me to be absolutely certain that I had either gone raving mad myself, or that I had fallen into the hands of a gang of maniacs; but the most plausible argument was in favor of the idea that my mind was wandering. My disease had run its course, and I was free from physical sufferings, except excessive weakness and a general prostration. All the hair had been shaved from my head, and my temples had been scarified all over. The room or dungeon in which I was confined was quite small – not over ten feet square. All the light and air came through a small, square, grated window, about twelve inches wide. However, during the day-time the wooden shutter of the door was left open, which served to aid in ventilating the room; but at night it was closed. Heavy iron bars crossed each other thickly in the door; and a small space was open near the floor through which the little negro usually passed the dishes that contained my food. A short while after the negro boy had left me, a man came and unlocked the door and entered the dungeon, carefully closing it when he had got inside.

“‘Well, old fellow,’ said the visitor, as he took a seat near me and felt my pulse, ‘how do you come on this morning?’

“‘Better, I think,’ was my reply, ‘though I hardly know the nature of my disease. One thing is plain – I am quite feeble – my strength is all gone.’

“‘Ah, yes, no doubt you feel very weak; quite natural you should, after such an attack of brain fever. I thought you were going to make a die of it, in spite of my humble efforts to save you; but thanks to a vigorous constitution, which you very fortunately possessed, I have been able to pull you through. You will be all right again in a few days. I have ordered you some beef tea, which you must use freely, and by to-morrow I dare say you will be able to take more solid food. Let me look at your tongue. Ah, that’s all right. You won’t leave us yet a while.’

“‘Doctor,’ said I, ‘will you be so kind as to inform me if you know why I am imprisoned in this horrible dungeon?’

“‘Come, come, my dear fellow! you had better not talk about that unpleasant affair until you get more strength. By no means let your mind run on that subject. By the by, Debar, what lady is this you have been raving about all the time? Lottie! Lottie! Yes, I think that was the name. If you called her name once, you called it fifty thousand times within the last three weeks. The fact is, you talked as if she were present with you all the time.’

“‘She is a charming girl who resides in Memphis, Tennessee, and my betrothed bride.’

“‘Ha! ha! I say, your betrothed bride; but come, come, Debar, you had better keep quiet, I reckon; for I see your mind is not exactly right yet.’

“‘Why do you call me Debar? That is not my name. I am a physician by profession. My name is Edward Demar, and I never saw this jail until the night I came here three weeks ago.’

“‘Pshaw! Debar; I had been hoping that your mind was entirely restored, but I am sorry to find myself disappointed in that hope. Is this the picture of the young lady you call Lottie?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘She must be exceedingly beautiful indeed. That is the sweetest face I ever saw. You have been holding that picture in your hand, and kissing it frequently, while your reason was partially, if not totally, dethroned.’

“‘Oh, sir, if you knew how I worship that dear girl, you would not be surprised at my devotion to her picture!’

“‘I don’t think your wife would like to hear you talk that way.’

“‘What in Heaven’s name do you mean? I have no wife – nor ever did.’

“‘Look here, Debar, you are either out of your senses, or shamming; for I know a lady who loves you devotedly, and she is your wife, too, and a very true, worthy one at that – a thousand times too good for such a scapegrace as you.’

“‘I tell you my name is not Debar; and I swear I have not been married. I never loved but one woman in my life, and that is Lottie Wallingford, of Memphis.’

“‘Ha! ha! ha! Now this is really interesting – indeed it is! You don’t know your own name! Can’t remember your pretty wife! Never was here before! Ha! ha! ha! well! well! well! I have often known criminals to try the insane dodge, but I never knew one to deny his own name and repudiate his own wife before. But good-morning, old fellow, I am to blame for letting you talk so much anyway; you just keep very quiet, and drink as much of the beef tea as you can. I will call again in the morning; by that time I guess you will remember your name; and I’ll send a messenger after your wife, as I have been told she has got back home. She has been absent a long time; that is the reason she has not called to see you, I suppose. By-by, Debar.’

“Doctor Lamberton was quite a young man, and from our short acquaintance I had formed rather a favorable opinion of him. He was very kind to me, and I learned that he had been unremitting in his attentions to me during my long and serious illness. Doubtless I would have died but for his kindness. When I was left alone, my thoughts went to work more vigorously than they ever had done before.

CHAPTER XXIV

“After Doctor Lamberton departed I closed my eyes and tried to sum up in my mind all that had occurred since I left Memphis, in order to see if I could make anything tangible out of it. The hours dragged slowly along, a faint light struggled through the small aperture misnamed window, a little mouse stole in and began to nibble at the crumbs of bread on the floor, while I watched him intently. It was a relief to me to see any living thing, no matter what it was; it had the effect of keeping my mind from painful subjects. When the little mouse would finish his repast and leave me alone, I would lie on my filthy straw bed and watch his hole for hours at a time, hoping he would come again to keep me company. A large spider had set his net in one corner of the window, in order to capture unsuspecting flies that were constantly coming in and out through the opening. His net was an ingenious piece of workmanship, and it took him several days to finish it; he could throw his fine-spun thread with as much accuracy as a Mexican Greaser could throw his lariat. After he had completed his net, he built a little neat residence for himself near it, so he could sit and look through his window and watch his trap. I noticed that in selecting the location for his residence, he was very particular to place it so that it would not be seen by any insect coming in through the window; he erected his apartments inside, and a little in the rear of the corner of the window-sill, while his net was stretched across it. The web was woven so very fine that it was scarcely visible to the naked eye, and many a bold fly lost his life by being caught in its meshes. Sometimes a vigorous contest would take place, when a fly would make a desperate struggle to free himself; but I noticed that the victim seldom came off victorious. One memorable battle between the spider and a large bumblebee I think worthy to be described. As soon as the bumblebee got one of his legs entangled in the net he commenced to work vigorously to loosen it. The spider came out and took up his position within two inches of the captive, and began to throw his lariat at his leg. The heroic efforts of the bumblebee excited my sympathy, and I would have gone to his rescue if I had been able, but I was helpless. I could only lie still and give him my good wishes. After a while the spider managed to get one leg of his intended victim securely fastened, and I was sorry to think that the poor bumblebee’s fate was to be death; but not so: I was struck with admiration when I saw the brave fellow amputating his own leg by using his teeth. The spider, however, seemed to realize the situation, for while the bumblebee was engaged in amputating the leg he began to hurl his lariat at another, and by the time the amputation was done one more limb was tied fast; but the bumblebee seemed determined to regain his liberty at any cost, so he fell to and took off the other leg, and did it so quickly that the spider did not have time to fasten another, and the gallant hero was free, minus two of his legs. As soon as the bumblebee regained his liberty, instead of retreating, as I expected he would do, he quietly seated himself on the window-sill and watched the spider’s hall, as if he were not satisfied with the result of the fight. After a while, however, he disappeared, and I let my sympathies go with him. The spider’s net was completely destroyed, and I was glad of it, but he set about rebuilding it, which cost him three days’ incessant labor. The little mouse, the spider, and dear Lottie’s picture were my only companions during the long, lonesome days of my captivity. I would lie on my back for many hours at a time, with my eyes riveted on Lottie’s picture, and ask myself a thousand questions: What is Lottie doing at this moment? I wonder if she is thinking of me! Have they made her believe that I ran away of my own accord? Perhaps they have persuaded her to give me up, as one unworthy of her love. Maybe they have induced her to marry Heartsell!’

“‘Heaven have mercy on me!’ I groaned in despair. If I had known then what was going on at home, I dare say my anguish would have been greater still; but I presume it was better as it was, for I might have died if any additional troubles had been thrust upon me, I think that the heroic struggle I had witnessed on the part of the gallant bumblebee to win his freedom had a good effect on me. I became convinced that a man of courage and strength could accomplish anything that was necessary, and I then and there resolved that I would imitate the brave example set by the heroic insect as soon as I recuperated my strength, I would make an effort to regain my liberty, an effort that should break down and trample over all opposition. I would not yield like a base coward, but would be free, or lose my life in the attempt to accomplish that end.

“It was four days after I had regained consciousness before I was able to sit up in my bed. Doctor Lamberton visited me once a day, usually coming early in the morning, and chatted with me a few moments, gave his instructions and retired. Then I would be left alone for the remainder of the day, except when some one would come to bring me food and drink. Then I would divide my time between the mouse, the spider and Lottie’s picture, giving most of my attention, though, to the image of my darling. It was so dark in my cell that I could not read, even if I had had anything in the shape of a book; and then since the fever had left my brain it seemed to be lingering in my eyes, and made them sore and quite sensitive. The doctor brought me a pair of green glasses to protect my eyes, and told me to wear them all the time, as my eyes were in very great danger. My recovery was exceedingly slow.

“As soon as I thought my strength would justify it I wrote a long letter to Lottie, giving in detail all the circumstance that had combined to prevent my return to Memphis. I requested her to see Doctor Dodson, inform him of my situation, and ask him to come to my assistance without a moment’s delay. I also requested her to go and see General Calloway and explain to him the cause of my absence from Horn Lake on the day appointed. I informed her of my illness, but did not tell her how serious it had been. I told her the simple truth when I said that her dear picture had been my chief source of happiness during the long, weary days of my solitary confinement. My letter closed thus:

“‘Always trust me, dear Lottie, no matter what you hear about me. I am now, have ever been, and always will be, as true to you as the needle is to the pole.’

“‘I sealed and delivered that letter to the negro boy, who promised to mail it, but I don’t think he did it, for no such letter ever was received by Lottie. I waited and hoped for Doctor Dodson to come to my assistance; but, alas! I waited and hoped in vain. As soon as I was able to take a little exercise by walking about the room that small comfort was denied me, for a rough blacksmith came in one day and riveted a heavy chain on my ankle, then fastened the other end to a beam in the floor.

“‘There now,’ he exclaimed, when he had finished the job, ‘I guess that’ll keep you this time! By the way, Debar, how did you manage to get those tools?’

“‘What tools are you talking about?’

“‘Why, of course the tools you used in cutting out when you were in here before.’

“‘I never was here before; and my name is not Debar, either.’

“‘Oh! ah! I see how it is – the insane dodge this time. But look here, old fel’, that’s too thin – I should advise you to invent something better.’

“I was glad when the uncouth blacksmith took his leave, but sorry to know that he would make another witness to identify me as the real Debar.

“One morning, while I was endeavoring to amuse myself by watching the strange maneuvers of the spider as he was weaving a new wing to his net, the jailer made his appearance at the door, and began to unlock the inner shutter. He was a rough, drunken brute, who scarcely ever came about me, and when he did, he refused to answer any of my questions; I learned afterward that the rough treatment I had been subjected to was owing to the fact that he thought me the man who had made the escape some time previous. When he had finished unlocking the door a lady came rushing into the room and threw her arms round my neck, exclaiming, as she burst into tears:

“‘Oh, Eddie, why did you let them catch you again? I thought you were safe in Mexico by this time!’

“The jailer had immediately slammed the door to and locked it, leaving us alone. I was paralyzed with astonishment, and unable to utter a word for several seconds. As soon, however, as I recovered my self-possession, I pushed her away rather roughly.

“‘Madame,’ I exclaimed indignantly, ‘you are laboring under a grave mistake. I am not your husband – have not been married – and I never saw you in my life until this moment!’

“She drew back, gazed at me for a moment in a bewildered way, then uttering a most pitiful wail, fell fainting on the floor. I threw some water in her face, and did all I could to revive her, and was gratified to see signs of recovery. She was a very beautiful woman, though her face was quite pale. Her long, black hair came loose and fell in great masses on the floor. Directly she was able to rise, and I saw that she was very much embarrassed. She again fixed her eye intently on me, and appeared to be undecided as to what should be said.

“‘I hope you will pardon me, sir, but you are very like my husband; and then they told me that he was re-arrested, and in this room. I should have known you were not my husband if I had met you in the light, but when I entered this dark cell I could scarcely see my hand before me. I declare, I never have seen two persons so much alike, though you are a little taller than he, I think; and there is a difference in the voice, and perhaps a slight difference in the color of the hair, yours being a shade darker than my husband’s. I am truly sorry, sir, to know that you have been compelled to suffer so for a crime you did not commit, but I rejoice to find that my dear husband has not been retaken. He is innocent, but was unable to prove his innocence. Public sentiment ran high against him, and he was forced to save his life by flight.’

“‘My dear madame,’ said I, ‘you will not hesitate a moment, I hope, in informing the sheriff that he is holding the wrong man in custody. I have suffered indescribable torture since my detention here, and I fear that serious consequences have resulted from my imprisonment.’

“‘Indeed, sir, you shall not remain here another day if anything I can say or do will secure your release. I will go immediately to the proper officers and tell them of the great mistake they have made.’

“She then called the jailer and requested to be allowed to come out.”

“Stop a moment, Dr. Demar,” said Mr. Peniwinkle, rising with his hat in his hand, and bowing low before him and Queen Mary, “I cannot wait any longer; I most humbly beg your pardon for the indignity that we have unwittingly offered you. We have been following you for the last ten days, believing you to be Edward Debar – but I now see what an unfortunate mistake we have made. While we have been watching you, we have let the real criminal get away. We had traced Debar to Memphis, and found where he had his wife concealed, and have been thrown off his track by the great resemblance you bear to him. Indeed, the resemblance must be very striking to have misled us so. We have committed a most unlucky blunder, and have lost our reward. The real criminal has escaped, and we have been so unfortunate as to offer you an unpardonable insult.”

“Not at all, Mr. Peniwinkle,” Ingomar replied; “you only did what you considered right. You thought you were performing your duty as an officer, and I rather feel inclined to applaud, instead of censuring you. It seems that other officers have fallen into the same error. Be seated, Mr. Peniwinkle, and let the matter drop; I would most willingly grant pardon, but where no wrong has been committed, of course there is nothing to pardon.”

Mr. Peniwinkle resumed his seat, and Ingomar went on with his story.

“I must now tell you what was transpiring at Memphis while I was in jail, all of which was afterward related to me by eye-witnesses. General Calloway was at Horn Lake very early on the morning that I had promised to meet him there; so were Harry and his friend Heartsell. Ten o’clock, the hour when we had all agreed to meet, arrived, and every one was at his post but me. After waiting for me until eleven o’clock, Harry became impatient, and intimated to Heartsell that it was his opinion that I had fled.

“‘Yes,’ replied Heartsell, ‘and I’ll bet my last cent he has carried that woman off with him.’

“‘Let him go and welcome,’ said Harry; ‘but I should have been glad to have had one shot at the villain’s carcass before he went.’

“General Calloway made inquiries of all the citizens of the little village, hoping to hear from me, but no one had seen me. I of course had managed to get out of the village quietly without being noticed by any of the residents, as that was in accordance with General Calloway’s instructions, and I suppose that the two officers who had arrested me had not told any one their business; hence I had been carried off without any one knowing anything about it. When twelve o’clock came, and still no tidings of my whereabouts had been obtained, General Calloway became restless and suspicious. Heartsell approached the general and said:

“‘I suppose it is unnecessary for us to wait here any longer. The time agreed on has passed by two hours ago. I think your friend Demar has concluded that “discretion is the better part of valor;” in plain terms, I think he has run away.’

“‘I cannot believe he has done such a cowardly act as that,’ replied General Calloway; ‘some serious accident, I fear, has happened to him. He took the freight train at Memphis, and he may have got hurt on the railroad. It is my duty to have this matter thoroughly investigated, and I mean to do it. I have always believed Demar to be a brave, honorable young man, and I shall not condemn him without positive proof. Of course you and your friend Wallingford had better return to Memphis, while I shall take the necessary steps to ascertain the cause of Demar’s mysterious disappearance.’

“Harry and Heartsell returned to their homes. As they were leisurely riding back in their carriage, it was agreed that Heartsell should renew his suit for Lottie’s hand, and that Harry was to throw the weight of his influence with his sister to induce her to accept him. Those two rash young men were just like thousands of others who are ignorant as to the material composing a true woman’s heart. They imagined that Lottie Wallingford would transfer her heart, with all its pure love, to Mr. Heartsell, and gladly consent to become his wife. But they were building a magnificent castle on a sandy foundation. They had a sad lesson to learn, which it would be well for all men to know. A woman’s heart cannot be traded off and bartered round like a bolt of calico or a bale of cotton, but when it is given to a man, it is his! he may bruise it, he may break it, but he cannot transfer it at will. A man’s heart is a negotiable instrument, transferable at will; but not so with a woman’s. I perhaps should not say that all men’s hearts are negotiable, for I know there are exceptions to that rule, but it will apply in a majority of instances.

“It was night when Heartsell and Wallingford arrived at Memphis, and the first thing they did was to go immediately to the old brick house to ascertain whether the woman was gone or not. They found the building empty. They entered and examined the rooms, and after satisfying themselves that the woman was gone, they departed.

“‘Well, Wallingford,’ observed Heartsell, as they walked toward Mr. Rockland’s house, ‘you see I was right after all; she was undoubtedly Demar’s wife, and they have fled together.’

“‘Yes, that is true, and I am glad we are rid of them. Demar was a greater rascal than I ever thought he was.’

“‘My dear fellow,’ replied Heartsell, ‘I never had any faith in him from the start. I always thought he was a consummate hypocrite. He assumed a pious dignity that I know was all a sham. Wasn’t it fortunate for your sister that I happened to watch his movements?’

“‘Indeed it was, Heartsell; she owes you a big debt, and I dare say if love can pay it she will be glad to liquidate the obligation.’

“‘Ah! you have cause to be proud of your charming sister. Do you know that I think she is the most talented woman I ever knew?’

“‘My sister is a very sensible girl.’

“‘Indeed she is, Wallingford, and she has an angel’s disposition. She is too good for me, but if pure love and devotion can make her happy, be assured she should never know sorrow.’

“‘You have heard of men counting the chickens before they were hatched, haven’t you, Heartsell?’

“‘Of course I have; but what has that to do with this matter?’

“‘Suppose Lottie don’t choose to see things from our standpoint? Suppose she should still put her faith in Demar?’

“‘Oh! that’s not a supposable case; how could she cling to him when she learns his true character?’

“‘Well, you have my good wishes in this new enterprise, and if I can assist you, command me; but here we are at the gate – will you walk in and take tea with me?’

“‘No, not to-night, Wallingford; I’ll go home now; but where can I see you early in the morning?’

“‘At my office.’

“‘Very well, I’ll call early. Good-night, and pleasant dreams to you.’

“When Heartsell parted with Wallingford he sauntered toward his home whistling ‘Mollie Darling’ while visions of triumph floated gaily before his imagination. Since the dreaded enemy had ingloriously fled, he thought as the victor he was entitled to the spoils; in other words, he imagined that since Demar’s flight, Lottie would be glad to throw herself into his arms. He was vain enough to believe that she would be ready to thank him for the great service he had rendered and ask his pardon for having once rejected his suit.