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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crisis, Volume 5, by Winston Churchill
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Crisis, Volume 5
+
+Author: Winston Churchill
+
+Release Date: October 19, 2004 [EBook #5392]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRISIS, VOLUME 5 ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+THE CRISIS
+
+By Winston Churchill
+
+
+Volume 5.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE GUNS OF SUMTER
+
+Winter had vanished. Spring was come with a hush. Toward a little island
+set in the blue waters of Charleston harbor anxious eyes were strained.
+
+Was the flag still there?
+
+God alone may count the wives and mothers who listened in the still hours
+of the night for the guns of Sumter. One sultry night in April Stephen's
+mother awoke with fear in her heart, for she had heard them. Hark! that
+is the roar now, faint but sullen. That is the red flash far across the
+black Southern sky. For in our beds are the terrors and cruelties of life
+revealed to us. There is a demon to be faced, and nought alone.
+
+Mrs. Brice was a brave woman. She walked that night with God.
+
+Stephen, too, awoke. The lightning revealed her as she bent over him. On
+the wings of memory be flew back to his childhood in the great Boston
+house with the rounded front, and he saw the nursery with its high
+windows looking out across the Common. Often in the dark had she come to
+him thus, her gentle hand passing over aim to feel if he were covered.
+
+"What is it, mother?" he said.
+
+She said: "Stephen, I am afraid that the war has come."
+
+He sat up, blindly. Even he did not guess the agony in her heart.
+
+"You will have to go, Stephen."
+
+It was long before his answer came.
+
+"You know that I cannot, mother. We have nothing left but the little I
+earn. And if I were--" He did not finish the sentence, for he felt her
+trembling. But she said again, with that courage which seems woman's
+alone:
+
+"Remember Wilton Brice. Stephen--I can get along. I can sew."
+
+It was the hour he had dreaded, stolen suddenly upon him out of the
+night. How many times had he rehearsed this scene to himself! He, Stephen
+Brice, who had preached and slaved and drilled for the Union, a renegade
+to be shunned by friend and foe alike! He had talked for his country, but
+he would not risk his life for it. He heard them repeating the charge. He
+saw them passing him silently on the street. Shamefully he remembered the
+time, five months agone, when he had worn the very uniform of his
+Revolutionary ancestor. And high above the tier of his accusers he saw
+one face, and the look of it stung to the very quick of his soul.
+
+Before the storm he had fallen asleep in sheer weariness of the struggle,
+that face shining through the black veil of the darkness. If he were to
+march away in the blue of his country (alas, not of hers!) she would
+respect him for risking life for conviction. If he stayed at home, she
+would not understand. It was his plain duty to his mother. And yet he
+knew that Virginia Carvel and the women like her were ready to follow
+with bare feet the march of the soldiers of the South.
+
+The rain was come now, in a flood. Stephen's mother could not see in the
+blackness the bitterness on his face. Above the roar of the waters she
+listened for his voice.
+
+"I will not go, mother," he said. "If at length every man is needed, that
+will be different."
+
+"It is for you to decide, my son," she answered. "There are many ways in
+which you can serve your country here. But remember that you may have to
+face hard things."
+
+"I have had to do that before, mother," he replied calmly. "I cannot
+leave you dependent upon charity."
+
+She went back into her room to pray, for she knew that he had laid his
+ambition at her feet.
+
+It was not until a week later that the dreaded news came. All through the
+Friday shells had rained on the little fort while Charleston looked on.
+No surrender yet. Through a wide land was that numbness which precedes
+action. Force of habit sent men to their places of business, to sit idle.
+A prayerful Sunday intervened. Sumter had fallen. South Carolina had shot
+to bits the flag she had once revered.
+
+On the Monday came the call of President Lincoln for volunteers. Missouri
+was asked for her quota. The outraged reply of her governor went back,
+--never would she furnish troops to invade her sister states. Little did
+Governor Jackson foresee that Missouri was to stand fifth of all the
+Union in the number of men she was to give. To her was credited in the
+end even more men than stanch Massachusetts.
+
+The noise of preparation was in the city--in the land. On the Monday
+morning, when Stephen went wearily to the office, he was met by Richter
+at the top of the stairs, who seized his shoulders and looked into his
+face. The light of the zealot was on Richter's own.
+
+"We shall drill every night now, my friend, until further orders. It is
+the Leader's word. Until we go to the front, Stephen, to put down
+rebellion." Stephen sank into a chair, and bowed his head. What would he
+think,--this man who had fought and suffered and renounced his native
+land for his convictions? Who in this nobler allegiance was ready to die
+for them? How was he to confess to Richter, of all men?
+
+"Carl," he said at length, "I--I cannot go."
+
+"You--you cannot go? You who have done so much already! And why?"
+
+Stephen did not answer. But Richter, suddenly divining, laid his hands
+impulsively on Stephen's shoulders.
+
+"Ach, I see," he said. "Stephen, I have saved some money. It shall be for
+your mother while you are away."
+
+At first Stephen was too surprised for speech. Then, in spite of his
+feelings, he stared at the German with a new appreciation of his
+character. Then he could merely shake his head.
+
+"Is it not for the Union?" implored Richter, "I would give a fortune, if
+I had it. Ah, my friend, that would please me so. And I do not need the
+money now. I 'have--nobody."
+
+Spring was in the air; the first faint smell of verdure wafted across the
+river on the wind. Stephen turned to the open window, tears of intense
+agony in his eyes. In that instant he saw the regiment marching, and the
+flag flying at its head.
+
+"It is my duty to stay here, Carl," he said brokenly.
+
+Richter took an appealing step toward him and stopped. He realized that
+with this young New Englander a decision once made was unalterable. In
+all his knowledge of Stephen he never remembered him to change. With the
+demonstrative sympathy of his race, he yearned to comfort him, and knew
+not how. Two hundred years of Puritanism had reared barriers not to be
+broken down.
+
+At the end of the office the stern figure of the Judge appeared.
+
+"Mr. Brice!" he said sharply.
+
+Stephen followed him into the littered room behind the ground glass door,
+scarce knowing what to expect,--and scarce caring, as on that first day
+he had gone in there. Mr. Whipple himself closed the door, and then the
+transom. Stephen felt those keen eyes searching him from their
+hiding-place.
+
+"Mr. Brice," he said at last, "the President has called for seventy-five
+thousand volunteers to crush this rebellion. They will go, and be
+swallowed up, and more will go to fill their places. Mr. Brice, people
+will tell you that the war will be over in ninety days. But I tell you,
+sir, that it will not be over in seven times ninety days." He brought
+down his fist heavily upon the table. "This, sir, will be a war to the
+death. One side or the other will fight until their blood is all let, and
+until their homes are all ruins." He darted at Stephen one look from
+under those fierce eyebrows. "Do you intend to go sir?"
+
+Stephen met the look squarely. "No, sir," he answered, steadily, "not
+now."
+
+"Humph," said the Judge. Then he began what seemed a never-ending search
+among the papers on his desk. At length he drew out a letter, put on his
+spectacles and read it, and finally put it down again.
+
+"Stephen," said Mr. Whipple, "you are doing a courageous thing. But if we
+elect to follow our conscience in this world, we must not expect to
+escape persecution, sir. Two weeks ago," he continued slowly, "two weeks
+ago I had a letter from Mr. Lincoln about matters here. He mentions you."
+
+"He remembers me!" cried Stephen
+
+The Judge smiled a little. "Mr. Lincoln never forgets any one," said he.
+"He wishes me to extend to you his thanks for your services to the
+Republican party, and sends you his kindest regards."
+
+This was the first and only time that Mr. Whipple spoke to him of his
+labors. Stephen has often laughed at this since, and said that he would
+not have heard of them at all had not the Judge's sense of duty compelled
+him to convey the message. And it was with a lighter heart than he had
+felt for many a day that he went out of the door.
+
+Some weeks later, five regiments were mustered into the service of the
+United States. The Leader was in command of one. And in response to his
+appeals, despite the presence of officers of higher rank, the President
+had given Captain Nathaniel Lyon supreme command in Missouri.
+
+Stephen stood among the angry, jeering crowd that lined the streets as
+the regiments marched past. Here were the 'Black Jaegers.' No wonder the
+crowd laughed. Their step was not as steady, nor their files as straight
+as Company A. There was Richter, his head high, his blue eyes defiant.
+And there was little Tiefel marching in that place of second lieutenant
+that Stephen himself should have filled. Here was another company, and at
+the end of the first four, big Tom Catherwood. His father had disowned
+him the day before, His two brothers, George and little Spencer, were in
+a house not far away--a house from which a strange flag drooped.
+
+Clouds were lowering over the city, and big drops falling, as Stephen
+threaded his way homeward, the damp anal gloom of the weather in his very
+soul. He went past the house where the strange flag hung against its
+staff In that big city it flaunted all unchallenged. The house was thrown
+wide open that day, and in its window lounged young men of honored
+families. And while they joked of German boorishness and Yankee cowardice
+they held rifles across their knees to avenge any insult to the strange
+banner that they had set up. In the hall, through the open doorway, the
+mouth of a shotted field gun could be seen. The guardians were the Minute
+Men, organized to maintain the honor and dignity of the state of
+Missouri.
+
+Across the street from the house was gathered a knot of curious people,
+and among these Stephen paused. Two young men were standing on the steps,
+and one was Clarence Colfax. His hands were in his pockets, and a
+careless, scornful smile was on his face when he glanced down into the
+street. Stephen caught that smile. Anger swept over him in a hot flame,
+as at the slave auction years agone. That was the unquenchable fire of
+the war. The blood throbbed in his temples as his feet obeyed,--and yet
+he stopped.
+
+What right had he to pull down that flag, to die on the pavement before
+that house?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+CAMP JACKSON
+
+What enthusiasm on that gusty Monday morning, the Sixth of May, 1861!
+Twelfth Street to the north of the Market House is full three hundred
+feet across, and the militia of the Sovereign State of Missouri is
+gathering there. Thence by order of her Governor they are to march to
+Camp Jackson for a week of drill and instruction.
+
+Half a mile nearer the river, on the house of the Minute Men, the strange
+flag leaps wildly in the wind this day.
+
+On Twelfth Street the sun is shining, drums are beating, and bands are
+playing, and bright aides dashing hither and thither on spirited
+chargers. One by one the companies are marching up, and taking place in
+line; the city companies in natty gray fatigue, the country companies
+often in their Sunday clothes. But they walk with heads erect and chests
+out, and the ladies wave their gay parasols and cheer them. Here are the
+aristocratic St. Louis Grays, Company A; there come the Washington Guards
+and Washington Blues, and Laclede Guards and Missouri Guards and Davis
+Guards. Yes, this is Secession Day, this Monday. And the colors are the
+Stars and Stripes and the Arms of Missouri crossed.
+
+What are they waiting for? Why don't they move? Hark! A clatter and a
+cloud of dust by the market place, an ecstasy of cheers running in waves
+the length of the crowd. Make way for the dragoons! Here they come at
+last, four and four, the horses prancing and dancing and pointing
+quivering ears at the tossing sea of hats and parasols and ribbons. Maude
+Catherwood squeezes Virginia's arm. There, riding in front, erect and
+firm in the saddle, is Captain Clarence Colfax. Virginia is red and
+white, and red again,--true colors of the Confederacy. How proud she was
+of him now! How ashamed that she even doubted him! Oh, that was his true
+calling, a soldier's life. In that moment she saw him at the head of
+armies, from the South, driving the Yankee hordes northward and still
+northward until the roar of the lakes warns them of annihilation. She saw
+his chivalry sparing them. Yes, this is Secession Monday.
+
+Down to a trot they slow, Clarence's black thorough-bred arching his long
+neck, proud as his master of the squadron which follows, four and four.
+The square young man of bone and sinew in the first four, whose horse is
+built like a Crusader's, is George Catherwood. And Eugenie gives a cry
+and points to the rear where Maurice is riding.
+
+Whose will be the Arsenal now? Can the Yankee regiments with their
+slouchy Dutchmen hope to capture it! If there are any Yankees in Twelfth
+Street that day, they are silent. Yes, there are some. And there are
+some, even in the ranks of this Militia--who will fight for the Union.
+These are sad indeed.
+
+There is another wait, the companies standing at ease. Some of the
+dragoons dismount, but not the handsome young captain, who rides straight
+to the bright group which has caught his eye, Colonel Carvel wrings his
+gauntleted hand.
+
+"Clarence, we are proud of you, sir," he says.
+
+And Virginia, repeats his words, her eyes sparkling, her fingers
+caressing the silken curve of Jefferson's neck.
+
+"Clarence, you will drive Captain Lyon and his Hessians into the river."
+
+"Hush, Jinny," he answered, "we are merely going into camp to learn to
+drill, that we may be ready to defend the state when the time comes."
+
+Virginia laughed. "I had forgotten," she said.
+
+"You will have your cousin court-martialed, my dear," said the Colonel.
+
+Just then the call is sounded. But he must needs press Virginia's hand
+first, and allow admiring Maude and Eugenie to press his. Then he goes
+off at a slow canter to join his dragoons, waving his glove at them, and
+turning to give the sharp order, "Attention"! to his squadron.
+
+Virginia is deliriously happy. Once more she has swept from her heart
+every vestige of doubt. Now is Clarence the man she can admire. Chosen
+unanimously captain of the Squadron but a few days since, Clarence had
+taken command like a veteran. George Catherwood and Maurice had told the
+story.
+
+And now at last the city is to shake off the dust of the North. "On to
+Camp Jackson!" was the cry. The bands are started, the general and staff
+begin to move, and the column swings into the Olive Street road, followed
+by a concourse of citizens awheel and afoot, the horse cars crowded.
+Virginia and Maude and the Colonel in the Carvel carriage, and behind
+Ned, on the box, is their luncheon in a hamper Standing up, the girls can
+just see the nodding plumes of the dragoons far to the front.
+
+Olive Street, now paved with hot granite and disfigured by trolley wires,
+was a country road then. Green trees took the place of crowded rows of
+houses and stores, and little "bob-tail" yellow cars were drawn by
+plodding mules to an inclosure in a timbered valley, surrounded by a
+board fence, known as Lindell Grove. It was then a resort, a picnic
+ground, what is now covered by close residences which have long shown the
+wear of time.
+
+Into Lindell Grove flocked the crowd, the rich and the poor, the
+proprietor and the salesmen, to watch the soldiers pitch their tents
+under the spreading trees. The gallant dragoons were off to the west,
+across a little stream which trickled through the grounds. By the side of
+it Virginia and Maude, enchanted, beheld Captain Colfax shouting his
+orders while his troopers dragged the canvas from the wagons, and
+staggered under it to the line. Alas! that the girls were there! The
+Captain lost his temper, his troopers, perspiring over Gordian knots in
+the ropes, uttered strange soldier oaths, while the mad wind which blew
+that day played a hundred pranks.
+
+To the discomfiture of the young ladies, Colonel Carvel pulled his goatee
+and guffawed. Virginia was for moving away.
+
+"How mean, Pa," she said indignantly. "How car, you expect them to do it
+right the first day, and in this wind?"
+
+"Oh! Jinny, look at Maurice!" exclaimed Maude, giggling. "He is pulled
+over on his head."
+
+The Colonel roared. And the gentlemen and ladies who were standing by
+laughed, too. Virginia did not laugh. It was all too serious for her.
+
+"You will see that they can fight," she said. "They can beat the Yankees
+and Dutch."
+
+This speech made the Colonel glance around him: Then he smiled,--in
+response to other smiles.
+
+"My dear," he said, "you must remember that this is a peaceable camp of
+instruction of the state militia. There fly the Stars and Stripes from
+the general's tent. Do you see that they are above the state flag? Jinny;
+you forget yourself."
+
+Jinny stamped her foot
+
+"Oh, I hate dissimulation," she cried, "Why can't we, say outright that
+we are going to run that detestable Captain Lyon and his Yankees and
+Hessians out of the Arsenal."
+
+"Why not, Colonel Carvel?" cried Maude. She had forgotten that one of her
+brothers was with the Yankees and Hessians.
+
+"Why aren't women made generals and governors?" said the Colonel.
+
+"If we were," answered Virginia, "something might be accomplished."
+
+"Isn't Clarence enough of a fire-eater to suit you?" asked her father.
+
+But the tents were pitched, and at that moment the young Captain was seen
+to hand over his horse to an orderly, and to come toward them. He was
+followed by George Catherwood.
+
+"Come, Jinny," cried her cousin, "let us go over to the main camp."
+
+"And walk on Davis Avenue," said Virginia, flushing with pride. "Isn't
+there a Davis Avenue?"
+
+"Yes, and a Lee Avenue, and a Beauregard Avenue," said George, taking his
+sister's arm.
+
+"We shall walk in them all," said Virginia.
+
+What a scene of animation it was. The rustling trees and the young grass
+of early May, and the two hundred and forty tents in lines of military
+precision. Up and down the grassy streets flowed the promenade, proud
+fathers and mothers, and sweethearts and sisters and wives in gala dress.
+Wear your bright gowns now, you devoted women. The day is coming when you
+will make them over and over again, or tear them to lint, to stanch the
+blood of these young men who wear their new gray so well.
+
+Every afternoon Virginia drove with her father and her aunt to Camp
+Jackson. All the fashion and beauty of the city were there. The bands
+played, the black coachmen flecked the backs of their shining horses, and
+walking in the avenues or seated under the trees were natty young
+gentlemen in white trousers and brass-buttoned jackets. All was not
+soldier fare at the regimental messes. Cakes and jellies and even ices
+and more substantial dainties were laid beneath those tents. Dress parade
+was one long sigh of delight: Better not to have been born than to have
+been a young man in St. Louis, early in Camp Jackson week, and not be a
+militiaman.
+
+One young man whom we know, however, had little of pomp and vanity about
+him,--none other than the young manager (some whispered "silent partner")
+of Carvel & Company. If Mr. Eliphalet had had political ambition, or
+political leanings, during the half-year which had just passed, he had
+not shown them. Mr. Cluyme (no mean business man himself) had pronounced
+Eliphalet a conservative young gentleman who attended to his own affairs
+and let the mad country take care of itself. This is precisely the wise
+course Mr. Hopper chose. Seeing a regiment of Missouri Volunteers
+slouching down Fifth street in citizens' clothes he had been remarked to
+smile cynically. But he kept his opinions so close that he was supposed
+not to have any.
+
+On Thursday of Camp Jackson week, an event occurred in Mr. Carvel's store
+which excited a buzz of comment. Mr. Hopper announced to Mr. Barbo, the
+book-keeper, that he should not be there after four o'clock. To be sure,
+times were more than dull. The Colonel that morning had read over some
+two dozen letters from Texas and the Southwest, telling of the
+impossibility of meeting certain obligations in the present state of the
+country. The Colonel had gone home to dinner with his brow furrowed. On
+the other hand, Mr. Hopper's equanimity was spoken of at the widow's
+table.
+
+At four o'clock, Mr. Hopper took an Olive Street car, tucking himself
+into the far corner where he would not be disturbed by any ladies who
+might enter. In the course of an hour or so, he alighted at the western
+gate of the camp on the Olive Street road. Refreshing himself with a
+little tobacco, he let himself be carried leisurely by the crowd between
+the rows of tents. A philosophy of his own (which many men before and
+since have adopted) permitted him to stare with a superior good nature at
+the open love-making around him. He imagined his own figure,--which was
+already growing a little stout,--in a light gray jacket and duck
+trousers, and laughed. Eliphalet was not burdened with illusions of that
+kind. These heroes might have their hero-worship. Life held something
+dearer for him.
+
+As he was sauntering toward a deserted seat at the foot of a tree, it so
+chanced that he was overtaken by Mr. Cluyme and his daughter Belle. Only
+that morning, this gentleman, in glancing through the real estate column
+of his newspaper, had fallen upon a deed of sale which made him wink. He
+reminded his wife that Mr. Hopper had not been to supper of late. So now
+Mr. Cluyme held out his hand with more than common cordiality. When Mr.
+Hopper took it, the fingers did not close any too tightly over his own.
+But it may be well to remark that Mr. Hopper himself did not do any
+squeezing. He took off his hat grudgingly to Miss Belle. He had never
+liked the custom.
+
+"I hope you will take pot luck with us soon again, Mr. Hopper," said the
+elder gentleman. "We only have plain and simple things, but they are
+wholesome, sir. Dainties are poor things to work on. I told that to his
+Royal Highness when he was here last fall. He was speaking to me on the
+merits of roast beef--"
+
+"It's a fine day," said Mr. Hopper.
+
+"So it is," Mr. Cluyme assented. Letting his gaze wander over the camp,
+he added casually, "I see that they have got a few mortars and howitzers
+since yesterday. I suppose that is the stuff we heard so much about,
+which came on the 'Swon' marked 'marble.' They say Jeff Davis sent the
+stuff to 'em from the Government arsenal the Secesh captured at Baton
+Rouge. They're pretty near ready to move on our arsenal now."
+
+Mr. Hopper listened with composure. He was not greatly interested in this
+matter which had stirred the city to the quick. Neither had Mr. Cluyme
+spoken as one who was deeply moved. Just then, as if to spare the pains
+of a reply, a "Jenny Lind" passed them. Miss Belle recognized the
+carriage immediately as belonging to an elderly lady who was well known
+in St. Louis. Every day she drove out, dressed in black bombazine, and
+heavily veiled. But she was blind. As the mother-in-law of the stalwart
+Union leader of the city, Miss Belle's comment about her appearance in
+Camp Jackson was not out of place.
+
+"Well!" she exclaimed, "I'd like to know what she's doing here!"
+
+Mr. Hopper's answer revealed a keenness which, in the course of a few
+days, engendered in Mr. Cluyme as lusty a respect as he was capable of.
+
+"I don't know," said Eliphalet; "but I cal'late she's got stouter."
+
+"What do you mean by that?" Miss Belle demanded.
+
+"That Union principles must be healthy," said he, and laughed.
+
+Miss Cluyme was prevented from following up this enigma. The appearance
+of two people on Davis Avenue drove the veiled lady from her mind.
+Eliphalet, too, had seen them. One was the tall young Captain of
+Dragoons, in cavalry boots, and the other a young lady with dark brown
+hair, in a lawn dress.
+
+"Just look at them!" cried Miss Belle. "They think they are alone in the
+garden of Eden. Virginia didn't use to care for him. But since he's a
+captain, and has got a uniform, she's come round pretty quick. I'm
+thankful I never had any silly notions about uniforms."
+
+She glanced at Eliphalet, to find that his eyes were fixed on the
+approaching couple.
+
+"Clarence is handsome, but worthless," she continued in her sprightly
+way. "I believe Jinny will be fool enough to marry him. Do you think
+she's so very pretty, Mr. Hopper?"
+
+Mr. Hopper lied.
+
+"Neither do I," Miss Belle assented. And upon that, greatly to the
+astonishment of Eliphalet, she left him and ran towards them. "Virginia!"
+she cried; "Jinny, I have something so interesting to tell you!"
+
+Virginia turned impatiently. The look she bestowed upon Miss Cluyme was
+not one of welcome, but Belle was not sensitive. Putting her arm through
+Virginia's, she sauntered off with the pair toward the parade grounds,
+Clarence maintaining now a distance of three feet, and not caring to hide
+his annoyance.
+
+Eliphalet's eyes smouldered, following the three until they were lost in
+the crowd. That expression of Virginia's had reminded him of a time,
+years gone, when she had come into the store on her return from Kentucky,
+and had ordered him to tell her father of her arrival. He had smarted
+then. And Eliphalet was not the sort to get over smarts.
+
+"A beautiful young lady," remarked Mr. Cluyme. "And a deserving one, Mr.
+Hopper. Now, she is my notion of quality. She has wealth, and manners,
+and looks. And her father is a good man. Too bad he holds such views on
+secession. I have always thought, sir, that you were singularly fortunate
+in your connection with him."
+
+There was a point of light now in each of Mr. Hopper's green eyes. But
+Mr. Cluyme continued:
+
+"What a pity, I say, that he should run the risk of crippling himself by
+his opinions. Times are getting hard."
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Hopper.
+
+"And southwestern notes are not worth the paper they are written on--"
+
+But Mr. Cluyme has misjudged his man. If he had come to Eliphalet for
+information of Colonel Carvel's affairs, or of any one else's affairs, he
+was not likely to get it. It is not meet to repeat here the long business
+conversation which followed. Suffice it to say that Mr. Cluyme, who was
+in dry goods himself, was as ignorant when he left Eliphalet as when he
+met him. But he had a greater respect than ever for the shrewdness of the
+business manager of Carvel & Company.
+
+          .........................
+
+That same Thursday, when the first families of the city were whispering
+jubilantly in each other's ears of the safe arrival of the artillery and
+stands of arms at Camp Jackson, something of significance was happening
+within the green inclosure of the walls of the United States arsenal, far
+to the southward.
+
+The days had become alike in sadness to Stephen. Richter gone, and the
+Judge often away in mysterious conference, he was left for hours at a
+spell the sole tenant of the office. Fortunately there was work of
+Richter's and of Mr. Whipple's left undone that kept him busy. This
+Thursday morning, however, he found the Judge getting into that best
+black coat which he wore on occasions. His manner had recently lost much
+of its gruffness.
+
+"Stephen," said he, "they are serving out cartridges and uniforms to the
+regiments at the arsenal. Would you like to go down with me?"
+
+"Does that mean Camp Jackson?" asked Stephen, when they had reached the
+street.
+
+"Captain Lyon is not the man to sit still and let the Governor take the
+first trick, sir," said the Judge.
+
+As they got on the Fifth Street car, Stephen's attention was at once
+attracted to a gentleman who sat in a corner, with his children about
+him. He was lean, and he had a face of great keenness and animation. He
+had no sooner spied Judge Whipple than he beckoned to him with a kind of
+military abruptness.
+
+"That is Major William T. Sherman," said the Judge to Stephen. "He used
+to be in the army, and fought in the Mexican War. He came here two months
+ago to be the President of this Fifth Street car line."
+
+They crossed over to him, the Judge introducing Stephen to Major Sherman,
+who looked at him very hard, and then decided to bestow on him a vigorous
+nod.
+
+"Well, Whipple," he said, "this nation is going to the devil; eh?"
+
+Stephen could not resist a smile. For it was a bold man who expressed
+radical opinions (provided they were not Southern opinions) in a St.
+Louis street car early in '61.
+
+The Judge shook his head. "We may pull out," he said.
+
+"Pull out!" exclaimed Mr. Sherman. "Who's man enough in Washington to
+shake his fist in a rebel's face? Our leniency--our timidity--has
+paralyzed us, sir."
+
+By this time those in the car began to manifest considerable interest in
+the conversation. Major Sherman paid them no attention, and the Judge,
+once launched in an argument, forgot his surroundings.
+
+"I have faith in Mr. Lincoln. He is calling out volunteers."
+
+"Seventy-five thousand for three months!" said the Major, vehemently, "a
+bucketful on a conflagration I tell you, Whipple, we'll need all the
+water we've got in the North."
+
+The Judge expressed his belief in this, and also that Mr. Lincoln would
+draw all the water before he got through.
+
+"Upon my soul," said Mr. Sherman, "I'm disgusted. Now's the time to stop
+'em. The longer we let 'em rear and kick, the harder to break 'em. You
+don't catch me going back to the army for three months. If they want me,
+they've got to guarantee me three years. That's more like it." Turning to
+Stephen, he added: "Don't you sign any three months' contract, young
+man."
+
+Stephen grew red. By this time the car was full, and silent. No one had
+offered to quarrel with the Major. Nor did it seem likely that any one
+would.
+
+"I'm afraid I can't go, sir."
+
+"Why not?" demanded Mr. Sherman.
+
+"Because, sir," said the Judge, bluntly, "his mother's a widow, and they
+have no money. He was a lieutenant in one of Blair's companies before the
+call came."
+
+The Major looked at Stephen, and his expression changed.
+
+"Find it pretty hard?" he asked.
+
+Stephen's expression must have satisfied him, but he nodded again, more
+vigorously than before.
+
+"Just you WAIT, Mr. Brice," he said. "It won't hurt you any."
+
+Stephen was grateful. But he hoped to fall out of the talk. Much to his
+discomfiture, the Major gave him another of those queer looks. His whole
+manner, and even his appearance, reminded Stephen strangely of Captain
+Elijah Brent.
+
+"Aren't you the young man who made the Union speech in Mercantile Library
+Hall?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said the Judge. "He is."
+
+At that the Major put out his hand impulsively, and gripped Stephen's.
+
+"Well, sir," he said, "I have yet to read a more sensible speech, except
+some of Abraham Lincoln's. Brinsmade gave it to me to read. Whipple, that
+speech reminded me of Lincoln. It was his style. Where did you get it,
+Mr. Brice?" he demanded.
+
+"I heard Mr. Lincoln's debate with Judge Douglas at 'Freeport," said
+Stephen; beginning to be amused.
+
+The Major laughed.
+
+"I admire your frankness, sir," he said. "I meant to say that its logic
+rather than its substance reminded one of Lincoln."
+
+"I tried to learn what I could from him, Major Sherman."
+
+At length the car stopped, and they passed into the Arsenal grounds.
+Drawn up in lines on the green grass were four regiments, all at last in
+the blue of their country's service. Old soldiers with baskets of
+cartridges were stepping from file to file, giving handfuls to the
+recruits. Many of these thrust them in their pockets, for there were not
+enough belts to go around. The men were standing at ease, and as Stephen
+saw them laughing and joking lightheartedly his depression returned. It
+was driven away again by Major Sherman's vivacious comments. For suddenly
+Captain Lyon, the man of the hour, came into view.
+
+"Look at him!" cried the Major, "he's a man after my own heart. Just look
+at him running about with his hair flying in the wind, and the papers
+bulging from his pockets. Not dignified, eh, Whipple? But this isn't the
+time to be dignified. If there were some like Lyon in Washington, our
+troops would be halfway to New Orleans by this time. Don't talk to me of
+Washington! Just look at him!"
+
+The gallant Captain was a sight, indeed, and vividly described by Major
+Sherman's picturesque words as he raced from regiment to regiment, and
+from company to company, with his sandy hair awry, pointing,
+gesticulating, commanding. In him Stephen recognized the force that had
+swept aside stubborn army veterans of wavering faith, that snapped the
+tape with which they had tied him.
+
+Would he be duped by the Governor's ruse of establishing a State Camp at
+this time? Stephen, as he gazed at him, was sure that he would not. This
+man could see to the bottom, through every specious argument. Little
+matters of law and precedence did not trouble him. Nor did he believe
+elderly men in authority when they told gravely that the state troops
+were there for peace.
+
+After the ranks were broken, Major Sherman and the Judge went to talk to
+Captain Lyon and the Union Leader, who was now a Colonel of one of the
+Volunteer regiments. Stephen sought Richter, who told him that the
+regiments were to assemble the morning of the morrow, prepared to march.
+
+"To Camp Jackson?" asked Stephen.
+
+Richter shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"We are not consulted, my friend," he said. "Will you come into my
+quarters and have a bottle of beer with Tiefel?"
+
+Stephen went. It was not their fault that his sense at their comradeship
+was gone. To him it was as if the ties that had bound him to them were
+asunder, and he was become an outcast.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE STONE THAT IS REJECTED
+
+That Friday morning Stephen awoke betimes with a sense that something was
+to happen. For a few moments he lay still in the half comprehension which
+comes after sleep when suddenly he remembered yesterday's incidents at
+the Arsenal, and leaped out of bed.
+
+"I think that Lyon is going to attack Camp Jackson to-day," he said to
+his mother after breakfast, when Hester had left the room.
+
+Mrs. Brice dropped her knitting in her lap.
+
+"Why, Stephen?"
+
+"I went down to the Arsenal with the Judge yesterday and saw them
+finishing the equipment of the new regiments. Something was in the wind.
+Any one could see that from the way Lyon was flying about. I think he
+must have proof that the Camp Jackson people have received supplies from
+the South."
+
+Mrs. Brice looked fixedly at her son, and then smiled in spite of the
+apprehension she felt.
+
+"Is that why you were working over that map of the city last night?" she
+asked.
+
+"I was trying to see how Lyon would dispose his troops. I meant to tell
+you about a gentleman we met in the street car, a Major Sherman who used
+to be in the army. Mr. Brinsmade knows him, and Judge Whipple, and many
+other prominent men here. He came to St. Louis some months ago to take
+the position of president of the Fifth Street Line. He is the keenest,
+the most original man I have ever met. As long as I live I shall never
+forget his description of Lyon."
+
+"Is the Major going back into the army?" said Mrs. Brice, Stephen did not
+remark the little falter in her voice. He laughed over the recollection
+of the conversation in the street car.
+
+"Not unless matters in Washington change to suit him," he said. "He thinks
+that things have been very badly managed, and does not scruple to say so
+anywhere. I could not have believed it possible that two men could have
+talked in public as he and Judge Whipple did yesterday and not be shot
+down. I thought that it was as much as a man's life is worth to mention
+allegiance to the Union here in a crowd. And the way Mr. Sherman pitched
+into the Rebels in that car full of people was enough to make your hair
+stand on end."
+
+"He must be a bold man," murmured Mrs. Brice.
+
+"Does he think that the--the Rebellion can be put down?"
+
+"Not with seventy-five thousand men, nor with ten times that number."
+
+Mrs. Brice sighed, and furtively wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.
+
+"I am afraid we shall see great misery, Stephen," she said.
+
+He was silent. From that peaceful little room war and its horrors seemed
+very far away. The morning sun poured in through the south windows and
+was scattered by the silver on the sideboard. From above, on the wall,
+Colonel Wilton Brice gazed soberly down. Stephen's eyes lighted on the
+portrait, and his thoughts flew back to the boyhood days when he used to
+ply his father with questions about it. Then the picture had suggested
+only the glory and honor which illumines the page of history. Something
+worthy to look back upon, to keep ones head high. The hatred and the
+suffering and the tears, the heartrending, tearing apart for all time of
+loving ones who have grown together,--these were not upon that canvas,
+Will war ever be painted with a wart?
+
+The sound of feet was heard on the pavement. Stephen rose, glancing at
+his mother. Her face was still upon her knitting.
+
+"I am going to the Arsenal," he said. "I must see what as happening."
+
+To her, as has been said, was given wisdom beyond most women. She did not
+try to prevent him as he kissed her good-by. But when the door had shut
+behind him, a little cry escaped her, and she ran to the window to strain
+her eyes after him until he had turned the corner below.
+
+His steps led him irresistibly past the house of the strange flag,
+ominously quiet at that early hour. At sight of it anger made him hot
+again. The car for South St. Louis stood at the end of the line, fast
+filling with curious people who had read in their papers that morning of
+the equipment of the new troops. There was little talk among them, and
+that little guarded.
+
+It was a May morning to rouse a sluggard; the night air tingled into life
+at the touch of the sunshine, the trees in the flitting glory of their
+first green. Stephen found the shaded street in front of the Arsenal
+already filled with an expectant crowd. Sharp commands broke the silence,
+and he saw the blue regiments forming on the lawn inside the wall. Truly,
+events were in the air,--great events in which he had no part.
+
+As he stood leaning against a tree-box by the curb, dragged down once
+more by that dreaded feeling of detachment, he heard familiar voices
+close beside him. Leaning forward, he saw Eliphalet Hopper and Mr.
+Cluyme. It was Mr. Cluyme who was speaking.
+
+"Well, Mr. Hopper," he said, "in spite of what you say, I expect you are
+dust as eager as I am to see what is going on. You've taken an early
+start this morning for sightseeing."
+
+Eliphalet's equanimity was far from shaken.
+
+"I don't cal'late to take a great deal of stock in the military," he
+answered. "But business is business. And a man must keep an eye on what
+is moving."
+
+Mr. Cluyme ran his hand through his chop whiskers, and lowered his voice.
+
+"You're right, Hopper," he assented. "And if this city is going to be
+Union, we ought to know it right away."
+
+Stephen, listening with growing indignation to this talk, was unaware of
+a man who stood on the other side of the tree, and who now came forward
+before Mr. Hopper. He presented a somewhat uncompromising front. Mr.
+Cluyme instantly melted away.
+
+"My friend," said the stranger, quietly, "I think we have met before,
+when your actions were not greatly to your credit. I do not forget a
+face, even when I see it in the dark. Now I hear you utter words which
+are a disgrace to a citizen of the United States. I have some respect for
+a rebel. I have none for you, sir."
+
+As soon as Stephen recovered from the shock of his surprise, he saw that
+Eliphalet had changed countenance. The manner of an important man of
+affairs, which he hay so assiduously cultivated, fell away from him. He
+took a step backward, and his eyes made an ugly shift. Stephen rejoiced
+to see the stranger turn his back on the manager of Carvel & Company
+before that dignitary had time to depart, and stand unconcernedly there
+as if nothing had occurred.
+
+Then Stephen stared at him.
+
+He was not a man you would look at twice, ordinarily, he was smoking a
+great El Sol cigar. He wore clothes that were anything but new, a slouch
+hat, and coarse grained, square-toed boots. His trousers were creased at
+the knees. His head fell forward a little from his square shoulders, and
+leaned a bit to one side, as if meditatively. He had a light brown beard
+that was reddish in the sun, and he was rather short than otherwise.
+
+This was all that Stephen saw. And yet the very plainness of the man's
+appearance only added to his curiosity. Who was this stranger? His words,
+his action, too, had been remarkable. The art of administering a rebuke
+like that was not given to many men. It was perfectly quiet, perfectly
+final. And then, when it was over, he had turned his back and dismissed
+it.
+
+Next Stephen began to wonder what he could know about Hopper. Stephen had
+suspected Eliphalet of subordinating principles to business gain, and
+hence the conversation with Mr. Cluyme had given him no shock in the way
+of a revelation, But if Hopper were a rogue, ought not Colonel Carvel to
+hear it? Ought not he, Stephen Brice, to ask this man with the cigar what
+he knew, and tell Judge Whipple? The sudden rattle of drums gave him a
+start, and cruelly reminded him of the gulf of prejudice and hatred fast
+widening between the friends.
+
+All this time the stranger stood impassively chewing his cigar, his hand
+against the tree-box. A regiment in column came out of the Arsenal gate,
+the Union leader in his colonel's uniform, on horseback at its head. He
+pulled up in the street opposite to Stephen, and sat in his saddle,
+chatting with other officers around him.
+
+Then the stranger stepped across the limestone gutter and walked up to
+the Colonel's horse, He was still smoking. This move, too, was surprising
+enough, It argued even more assurance. Stephen listened intently.
+
+"Colonel Blair, my name is Grant," he said briefly.
+
+The Colonel faced quickly about, and held out his gloved hand cordially,
+"Captain Ulysses Grant," said he; "of the old army?"
+
+Mr. Grant nodded.
+
+"I wanted to wish you luck," he said.
+
+"Thank you, Grant," answered the Colonel. "But you? Where are you living
+now?"
+
+"I moved to Illinois after I left here," replied Mr. Grant, as quietly as
+before, "and have been in Galena, in the Leather business there. I went
+down to Springfield with the company they organized in Galena, to be of
+any help I could. They made me a clerk in the adjutant general's office
+of the state I ruled blanks, and made out forms for a while." He paused,
+as if to let the humble character of this position sink into the
+Colonel's comprehension. "Then they found out that I'd been quartermaster
+and commissary, and knew something about military orders Now I'm a state
+mustering officer. I came down to Belleville to muster in a regiment,
+which wasn't ready. And so I ran over here to see what you fellows were
+doing."
+
+If this humble account had been delivered volubly, and in another tone,
+it is probable that the citizen-colonel would not have listened, since
+the events of that day were to crown his work of a winter. But Mr. Grant
+possessed a manner of holding attention.. It was very evident, however;
+that Colonel Blair had other things to think of. Nevertheless he said
+kindly:
+
+"Aren't you going in, Grant?"
+
+"I can't afford to go in as a captain of volunteers," was the calm reply:
+"I served nine years in the regular army and I think I can command a
+regiment."
+
+The Colonel, whose attention was called away at that moment, did not
+reply. Mr. Grant moved off up the street. Some of the younger officers
+who were there, laughed as they followed his retreating figure.
+
+"Command a regiment!" cried one, a lieutenant whom Stephen recognized as
+having been a bookkeeper at Edwards, James, & Doddington's, and whose
+stiff blue uniform coat creased awkwardly. "I guess I'm about as fit to
+command a regiment as Grant is."
+
+"That man's forty years old, if he's a day," put in another. "I remember
+when he came here to St. Louis in '54, played out. He'd resigned from the
+army on the Pacific Coast. He put up a log cabin down on the Gravois
+Road, and there he lived in the hardest luck of any man I ever saw until
+last year. You remember him, Joe."
+
+"Yep," said Joe. "I spotted him by the El Sol cigar. He used to bring a
+load of wood to the city once in a while, and then he'd go over to the
+Planters' House, or somewhere else, and smoke one of these long fellows,
+and sit against the wall as silent as a wooden Indian. After that he came
+up to the city without his family and went into real estate one winter.
+But he didn't make it go. Curious, it is just a year ago this month than
+he went over to Illinois. He's an honest fellow, and hard working enough,
+but he don't know how. He's just a dead failure."
+
+"Command a regiment!" laughed the first, again, as of this in particular
+had struck his sense of humor. "I guess he won't get a regiment in a
+hurry, There's lots of those military carpet-baggers hanging around for
+good jobs now."
+
+"He might fool you fellows yet," said the one caller, though his tone was
+not one of conviction. "I understand he had a first-rate record an the
+Mexican War."
+
+Just then an aide rode up, and the Colonel gave a sharp command which put
+an end to this desultory talk. As the First Regiment took up the march,
+the words "Camp Jackson" ran from mouth to mouth on the sidewalks.
+Catching fire, Stephen ran with the crowd, and leaping on passing street
+car, was borne cityward with the drums of the coming hosts beating in his
+ears.
+
+In the city, shutters were going up on the stores. The streets were
+filled with, restless citizens seeking news, and drays were halted here
+and there on the corners, the white eyes and frenzied calls of the negro
+drivers betraying their excitement. While Stephen related to his mother
+the events of the morning, Hester burned the dinner. It lay; still
+untouched, on the table when the throbbing of drums sent them to the
+front steps. Sigel's regiment had swung into the street, drawing in its
+wake a seething crowd.
+
+Three persons came out of the big house next door. One was Anna
+Brinsmade; and there was her father, his white hairs uncovered. The third
+was Jack. His sister was cringing to him appealingly, and he struggling
+in her grasp. Out of his coat pocket hung the curved butt of a pepperbox
+revolver.
+
+"Let me go, Anne!" he cried. "Do you think I can stay here while my
+people are shot down by a lot of damned Dutchman?"
+
+"John," said Mr. Brinsmade, sternly, "I cannot let you join a mob. I
+cannot let you shoot at men who carry the Union flag."
+
+"You cannot prevent me, sir," shouted the young man, in a frenzy. "When
+foreigners take our flag for them own, it is time for us to shoot them
+down."
+
+Wrenching himself free, he ran down the steps and up the street ahead of
+the regiment. Then the soldiers and the noisy crowd were upon them and
+while these were passing the two stood there as in a dream. After that
+silence fell upon the street, and Mr. Brinsmade turned and went back into
+the house, his head bowed as in prayer. Stephen and his mother drew back,
+but Anne saw them.
+
+"He is a rebel," she faltered. "It will break my father's heart."
+
+She looked at Stephen appealingly, unashamed of the tears in her eyes.
+Then she, too went in.
+
+"I cannot stay here mother," he said.
+
+As he slammed the gate, Anne ran down the steps calling his name. He
+paused, and she caught his sleeve.
+
+"I knew you would go," she said, "I knew you would go. Oh, Stephen, you
+have a cool head. Try to keep Jack--out of mischief."
+
+He left her standing on the pavement. But when he reached the corner and
+looked back he saw that she had gone in at his own little gate to meet
+his mother. Then he walked rapidly westward. Now and again he was stopped
+by feverish questions, but at length he reached the top of the second
+ridge from the river, along which crowded Eighteenth Street now runs.
+There stood the new double mansion Mr. Spencer Catherwood had built two
+years before on the outskirts of the town, with the wall at the side, and
+the brick stable and stable yard. As Stephen approached it, the thought
+came to him how little this world's goods avail in times of trouble. One
+of the big Catherwood boys was in the blue marching regiment that day,
+and had been told by his father never again to darken his doors. Another
+was in Clarence Colfax's company of dragoons, and still another had fled
+southward the night after Sumter.
+
+Stephen stopped at the crest of the hill, in the white dust of the
+new-turned street, to gaze westward. Clouds were gathering in the sky,
+but the sun still shone brightly, Half way up the rise two blue lines had
+crawled, followed by black splotches, and at the southwest was the glint
+of the sun on rifle barrels. Directed by a genius in the art of war, the
+regiments were closing about Camp Jackson.
+
+As he stood there meditating and paying no attention to those who hurried
+past, a few familiar notes were struck on a piano. They came through the
+wide-shuttered window above his head. Then a girl's voice rose above the
+notes, in tones that were exultant:--
+
+       "Away down South in de fields of cotton,
+        Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom,
+        Look away, look away, Look away, look away.
+        Den I wish I was in Dixie's Land,
+        Oh, oh! oh, oh!
+        In Dixie's Land I'll take my stand,
+        And live and die in Dixie's Land.
+        Away, away, away.
+        Away down South in Dixie."
+
+The song ceased amid peals of girlish laughter. Stephen was rooted to the
+spot.
+
+"Jinny! Jinny Carvel, how dare you!" came through the shutters. "We shall
+have a whole regiment of Hessians in here."
+
+Old Uncle Ben, the Catherwoods' coachman, came out of the stable yard.
+The whites of his eyes were rolling, half in amusement, half in terror.
+Seeing Stephen standing there, he exclaimed:
+
+"Mistah Brice, if de Dutch take Camp Jackson, is we niggers gwinter be
+free?"
+
+Stephen did not answer, for the piano had started again,
+
+       "If ever I consent to be married,
+        And who could refuse a good mate?
+        The man whom I give my hand to,
+        Must believe in the Rights of the State."
+
+More laughter. Then the blinds were flung aside, and a young lady in a
+dress of white trimmed with crimson stood in the window, smiling.
+Suddenly she perceived Stephen in the road. Her smile faded. For an
+instant she stared at him, and then turned to the girls crowding behind
+her. What she said, he did not wait to hear. He was striding down the
+hill.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+THE TENTH OF MAC
+
+Would the sons of the first families surrender, "Never!" cried a young
+lady who sat behind the blinds in Mrs. Catherwood's parlor. It seemed to
+her when she stopped to listen for the first guns of the coming battle
+that the tumult in her heart would drown their roar.
+
+"But, Jinny," ventured that Miss Puss Russell who never feared to speak
+her mind, "it would be folly for them to fight. The Dutch and Yankees
+outnumber them ten to one, and they haven't any powder and bullets."
+
+"And Camp Jackson is down in a hollow," said Maude Catherwood, dejectedly.
+And yet hopefully, too, for at the thought of bloodshed she was near to
+fainting.
+
+"Oh," exclaimed Virginia, passionately, "I believe you want them to
+surrender. I should rather see Clarence dead than giving his sword to a
+Yankee."
+
+At that the other two were silent again, and sat on through an endless
+afternoon of uncertainty and hope and dread in the darkened room. Now and
+anon Mr. Catherwood's heavy step was heard as he paced the hall. From
+time to time they glanced at Virginia, as if to fathom her thought. She
+and Puss Russell had come that day to dine with Maude. Mr. Catherwood's
+Ben, reeking of the stable, had brought the rumor of the marching on the
+camp into the dining-room, and close upon the heels of this the rumble of
+the drums and the passing of Sigel's regiment. It was Virginia who had
+the presence of mind to slam the blinds in the faces of the troops, and
+the crowd had cheered her. It was Virginia who flew to the piano to play
+Dixie ere they could get by, to the awe and admiration of the girls and
+the delight of Mr. Catherwood who applauded her spirit despite the
+trouble which weighed upon him. Once more the crowd had cheered,--and
+hesitated. But the Dutch regiment slouched on, impassive, and the people
+followed.
+
+Virginia remained at the piano, her mood exalted patriotism, uplifted in
+spirit by that grand song. At first she had played it with all her might.
+Then she sang it. She laughed in very scorn of the booby soldiers she had
+seen. A million of these, with all the firearms in the world, could not
+prevail against the flower of the South. Then she had begun whimsically
+to sing a verse of a song she had heard the week before, and suddenly her
+exaltation was fled, and her fingers left the keys. Gaining the window,
+trembling, half-expectant, she flung open a blind. The troops, the
+people, were gone, and there alone in the road stood--Stephen Brice. The
+others close behind her saw him, too, and Puss cried out in her surprise.
+The impression, when the room was dark once more, was of sternness and
+sadness,--and of strength. Effaced was the picture of the plodding
+recruits with their coarse and ill-fitting uniforms of blue.
+
+Virginia shut the blinds. Not a word escaped her, nor could they tell
+why--they did not dare to question her then. An hour passed, perhaps two,
+before the shrill voice of a boy was heard in the street below.
+
+"Camp Jackson has surrendered!"
+
+They heard the patter of his bare feet on the pavement, and the cry
+repeated.
+
+"Camp Jackson has surrendered!"
+
+And so the war began for Virginia. Bitter before, now was she on fire.
+Close her lips as tightly as she might, the tears forced themselves to
+her eyes. The ignominy of it!
+
+How hard it is for us of this age to understand that feeling.
+
+"I do not believe it!" she cried. "I cannot believe it!"
+
+The girls gathered around her, pale and frightened and anxious. Suddenly
+courage returned to her, the courage which made Spartans of Southern
+women. She ran to the front door. Mr. Catherwood was on the sidewalk,
+talking to a breathless man. That man was Mr. Barbo, Colonel Carvel's
+book-keeper.
+
+"Yes," he was saying, "they--they surrendered. There was nothing else for
+them to do. They were surrounded and overpowered."
+
+Mr. Catherwood uttered an oath. But it did not shock Virginia.
+
+"And not a shot fired?" he said.
+
+"And not a shot fired?" Virginia repeated, mechanically. Both men turned.
+Mr. Barbo took off his hat.
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Oh, how could they!" exclaimed Virginia.
+
+Her words seemed to arouse Mr. Catherwood from a kind of stupor. He
+turned, and took her hand.
+
+"Virginia, we shall make them smart for this yet, My God!" he cried,
+"what have I done that my son should be a traitor, in arms against his
+own brother fighting for his people? To think that a Catherwood should be
+with the Yankees! You, Ben," he shouted, suddenly perceiving an object
+for his anger. "What do you mean by coming out of the yard? By G-d, I'll
+have you whipped. I'll show you niggers whether you're to be free or
+not."
+
+And Mr. Catherwood was a good man, who treated his servants well.
+Suddenly he dropped Virginia's hand and ran westward down the hill. Well
+that she could not see beyond the second rise.
+
+Let us go there--to the camp. Let us stand on the little mound at the
+northeast of it, on the Olive Street Road, whence Captain Lyon's
+artillery commands it. What a change from yesterday! Davis Avenue is no
+longer a fashionable promenade, flashing with bright dresses. Those quiet
+men in blue, who are standing beside the arms of the state troops,
+stacked and surrendered, are United States regulars. They have been in
+Kansas, and are used to scenes of this sort.
+
+The five Hessian regiments have surrounded the camp. Each commander has
+obeyed the master mind of his chief, who has calculated the time of
+marching with precision. Here, at the western gate, Colonel Blair's
+regiment is in open order. See the prisoners taking their places between
+the ranks, some smiling, as if to say all is not over yet; some with
+heads hung down, in sulky shame. Still others, who are true to the Union,
+openly relieved. But who is this officer breaking his sword to bits
+against the fence, rather than surrender it to a Yankee? Listen to the
+crowd as they cheer him. Listen to the epithets and vile names which they
+hurl at the stolid blue line of the victors, "Mudsills!" "Negro
+Worshippers."
+
+Yes, the crowd is there, seething with conflicting passions. Men with
+brows bent and fists clenched, yelling excitedly. Others pushing, and
+eager to see,--there in curiosity only. And, alas, women and children by
+the score, as if what they looked upon were not war, but a parade, a
+spectacle. As the gray uniforms file out of the gate, the crowd has
+become a mob, now flowing back into the fields on each side of the road,
+now pressing forward vindictively until stopped by the sergeants and
+corporals. Listen to them calling to sons, and brothers, and husbands in
+gray! See, there is a woman who spits in a soldier's face!
+
+Throughout it all, the officers sit their horses, unmoved. A man on the
+bank above draws a pistol and aims at a captain. A German private steps
+from the ranks, forgetful of discipline, and points at the man, who is
+cursing the captain's name. The captain, imperturbable, orders his man
+back to his place. And the man does not shoot--yet.
+
+Now are the prisoners of that regiment all in place between the two files
+of it. A band (one of those which played lightsome music on the birthday
+of the camp) is marched around to the head of the column. The regiment
+with its freight moves on to make place for a battalion of regulars, amid
+imprecations and cries of "Hurrah for Jeff Davis!" and "Damn the Dutch!
+Kill the Hessians!"
+
+Stephen Brice stood among the people in Lindell's Grove, looking up at
+the troops on the road, which was on an embankment. Through the rows of
+faces he had searched in vain for one. His motive he did not attempt to
+fathom--in truth, he was not conscious at the time of any motive. He
+heard the name shouted at the gate.
+
+"Here they are,--the dragoons! Three cheers for Colfax! Down with the
+Yankees!"
+
+A storm of cheers and hisses followed. Dismounted, at the head of his
+small following, the young Captain walked erect. He did not seem to hear
+the cheers. His face was set, and he held his gloved hand over the place
+where his sword had been, as if over a wound. On his features, in his
+attitude, was stamped the undying determination of the South. How those
+thoroughbreds of the Cavaliers showed it! Pain they took lightly. The
+fire of humiliation burned, but could not destroy their indomitable
+spirit. They were the first of their people in the field, and the last to
+leave it. Historians may say that the classes of the South caused the
+war; they cannot say that they did not take upon themselves the greatest
+burden of the suffering.
+
+Twice that day was the future revealed to Stephen. Once as he stood on
+the hill-crest, when he had seen a girl in crimson and white in a window,
+--in her face. And now again he read it in the face of her cousin. It was
+as if he had seen unrolled the years of suffering that were to come.
+
+In that moment of deep bitterness his reason wavered. What if the South
+should win? Surely there was no such feeling in the North as these people
+betrayed. That most dangerous of gifts, the seeing of two sides of a
+quarrel, had been given him. He saw the Southern view. He sympathized
+with the Southern people. They had befriended him in his poverty. Why had
+he not been born, like Clarence Colfax, the owner of a large plantation,
+the believer in the divine right of his race to rule?
+
+Then this girl who haunted his thoughts! Would that his path had been as
+straight, his duty as easy, as that of the handsome young Captain.
+
+Presently these thoughts were distracted by the sight of a back strangely
+familiar. The back belonged to a, gentleman who was energetically
+climbing the embankment in front of him, on the top of which Major
+Sexton, a regular, army officer, sat his horse. The gentleman was pulling
+a small boy after him by one hand, and held a newspaper tightly rolled in
+the other. Stephen smiled to himself when it came over him that this
+gentleman was none other than that Mr. William T. Sherman he had met in
+the street car the day before. Somehow Stephen was fascinated by the
+decision and energy of Mr. Sherman's slightest movements. He gave Major
+Saxton a salute, quick and genial. Then, almost with one motion he
+unrolled the newspaper, pointed to a paragraph, and handed it to the
+officer. Major Saxton was still reading when a drunken ruffian clambered
+up the bank behind them and attempted to pass through the lines. The
+column began to move forward. Mr. Sherman slid down the bank with his boy
+into the grove beside Stephen. Suddenly there was a struggle. A corporal
+pitched the drunkard backwards over the bank, and he rolled at Mr.
+Sherman's feet. With a curse, he picked himself up, fumbling in his
+pocket. There was a flash, and as the smoke rolled from before his eyes,
+Stephen saw a man of a German regiment stagger and fall.
+
+It was the signal for a rattle of shots. Stones and bricks filled the
+air, and were heard striking steel and flesh in the ranks. The regiment
+quivered,--then halted at the loud command of the officers, and the ranks
+faced out with level guns, Stephen reached for Mr. Sherman's boy, but a
+gentleman had already thrown him and was covering his body. He contrived
+to throw down a woman standing beside him before the mini-balls swished
+over their heads, and the leaves and branches began to fall. Between the
+popping of the shots sounded the shrieks of wounded women and children,
+the groans and curses of men, and the stampeding of hundreds.
+
+"Lie down, Brice! For God's sake lie down!" Mr. Sherman cried.
+
+He was about to obey when a young; man, small and agile, ran past him
+from behind, heedless of the panic. Stopping at the foot of the bank he
+dropped on one knee, resting his revolver in the hollow of his left arm.
+It, was Jack Brinsmade. At the same time two of the soldiers above
+lowered their barrels to cover him. Then smoke hid the scene. When it
+rolled away, Brinsmade lay on the ground. He staggered to his feet with
+an oath, and confronted a young man who was hatless, and upon whose
+forehead was burned a black powder mark.
+
+"Curse you!" he cried, reaching out wildly, "curse you, you d--d Yankee.
+I'll teach you to fight!"
+
+Maddened, he made a rush at Stephen's throat. But Stephen seized his
+hands and bent them down, and held them firmly while he kicked and
+struggled.
+
+"Curse you!" he panted; "curse you, you let me go and I'll kill you,--you
+Yankee upstart!"
+
+But Stephen held on. Brinsmade became more and more frantic. One of the
+officers, seeing the struggle, started down the bank, was reviled, and
+hesitated. At that moment Major Sherman came between them.
+
+"Let him go, Brice," he said, in a tone of command. Stephen did as he was
+bid. Whereupon Brinsmade made a dash for his pistol on the ground. Mr.
+Sherman was before him.
+
+"Now see here, Jack," he said, picking it up, "I don't want to shoot you,
+but I may have to. That young man saved your life at the risk of his own.
+If that fool Dutchman had had a ball in his gun instead of a wad, Mr.
+Brice would have been killed."
+
+A strange thing happened. Brinsmade took one long look at Stephen, turned
+on his heel, and walked off rapidly through the grove. And it may be
+added that for some years after he was not seen in St. Louis.
+
+For a moment the other two stood staring after him. Then Mr. Sherman took
+his boy by the hand.
+
+"Mr. Brice," he said, "I've seen a few things done in my life, but
+nothing better than this. Perhaps the day may come when you and I may
+meet in the army. They don't seem to think much of us now," he added,
+smiling, "but we may be of use to 'em later. If ever I can serve you, Mr.
+Brice, I beg you to call on me."
+
+Stephen stammered his acknowledgments. And Mr. Sherman, nodding his head
+vigorously, went away southward through the grove, toward Market Street.
+
+The column was moving on. The dead were being laid in carriages, and the
+wounded tended by such physicians as chanced to be on the spot. Stephen,
+dazed at what had happened, took up the march to town. He strode faster
+than the regiments with their load of prisoners, and presently he found
+himself abreast the little file of dragoons who were guarded by some of
+Blair's men. It was then that he discovered that the prisoners' band in
+front was playing "Dixie."
+
+They are climbing the second hill, and are coming now to the fringe of
+new residences which the rich citizens have built. Some of them are
+closed and dark. In the windows and on the steps of others women are
+crying or waving handkerchiefs and calling out to the prisoners, some of
+whom are gay, and others sullen. A distracted father tries to break
+through the ranks and rescue his son. Ah, here is the Catherwood house.
+That is open. Mrs. Catherwood, with her hand on her husband's arm, with
+red eyes, is scanning those faces for the sight of George.
+
+Will he ever come back to her? Will the Yankees murder him for treason,
+or send him North to languish the rest of his life? No, she will not go
+inside. She must see him. She will not faint, though Mrs. James has,
+across the street, and is even now being carried into the house. Few of
+us can see into the hearts of those women that day, and speak of the
+suffering there.
+
+Near the head of Mr. Blair's regiment is Tom. His face is cast down as he
+passes the house from which he is banished. Nor do father, or mother, or
+sister in their agony make any sound or sign. George is coming. The
+welcome and the mourning and the tears are all for him.
+
+The band is playing "Dixie" once more. George is coming, and some one
+else. The girls are standing in a knot bend the old people, dry-eyed,
+their handkerchiefs in their hands. Some of the prisoners take off their
+hats and smile at the young lady with the chiselled features and brown
+hair, who wears the red and white of the South as if she were born to
+them. Her eyes are searching. Ah, at last she sees him, walking erect at
+the head of his dragoons. He gives her one look of entreaty, and that
+smile which should have won her heart long ago. As if by common consent
+the heads of the troopers are uncovered before her. How bravely she waves
+at them until they are gone down the street! Then only do her eyes fill
+with tears, and she passes into the house.
+
+Had she waited, she might have seen a solitary figure leaving the line of
+march and striding across to Pine Street.
+
+That night the sluices of the heavens were opened, and the blood was
+washed from the grass in Lindell Grove. The rain descended in floods on
+the distracted city, and the great river rose and flung brush from
+Minnesota forests high up on the stones of the levee. Down in the long
+barracks weary recruits, who had stood and marched all the day long, went
+supperless to their hard pallets.
+
+Government fare was hard. Many a boy, prisoner or volunteer, sobbed
+himself to sleep in the darkness. All were prisoners alike, prisoners of
+war. Sobbed themselves to sleep, to dream of the dear homes that were
+here within sight and sound of them, and to which they were powerless to
+go. Sisters, and mothers, and wives were there, beyond the rain, holding
+out arms to them.
+
+Is war a thing to stir the blood? Ay, while the day lasts. But what of
+the long nights when husband and wife have lain side by side? What of the
+children who ask piteously where their father is going, and who are
+gathered by a sobbing mother to her breast? Where is the picture of that
+last breakfast at home? So in the midst of the cheer which is saddest in
+life comes the thought that, just one year ago, he who is the staff of
+the house was wont to sit down just so merrily to his morning meal,
+before going to work in the office. Why had they not thanked God on their
+knees for peace while they had it?
+
+See the brave little wife waiting on the porch of her home for him to go
+by. The sun shines, and the grass is green on the little plot, and the
+geraniums red. Last spring she was sewing here with a song on her lips,
+watching for him to turn the corner as he came back to dinner. But now!
+Hark! Was that the beat of the drums? Or was it thunder? Her good
+neighbors, the doctor and his wife, come in at the little gate to cheer
+her. She does not hear them. Why does God mock her with sunlight and with
+friends?
+
+Tramp, tramp, tramp! They are here. Now the band is blaring. That is his
+company. And that is his dear face, the second from the end. Will she
+ever see it again? Look, he is smiling bravely, as if to say a thousand
+tender things. "Will, are the flannels in your knapsack? You have not
+forgotten that medicine for your cough?" What courage sublime is that
+which lets her wave at him? Well for you, little woman, that you cannot
+see the faces of the good doctor and his wife behind you. Oh, those guns
+of Sumter, how they roar in your head! Ay, and will roar again, through
+forty years of widowhood!
+
+Mrs. Brice was in the little parlor that Friday night, listening to the
+cry of the rain outside. Some thoughts such as these distracted her. Why
+should she be happy, and other mothers miserable? The day of reckoning
+for her happiness must surely come, when she must kiss Stephen a brave
+farewell and give him to his country. For the sins of the fathers are
+visited on the children, unto the third and fourth generation of them
+that hate Him who is the Ruler of all things.
+
+The bell rang, and Stephen went to the door. He was startled to see Mr.
+Brinsmade. That gentleman was suddenly aged, and his clothes were wet and
+spattered with mud. He sank into a chair, but refused the spirits and
+water which Mrs. Brice offered him in her alarm.
+
+"Stephen," he said, "I have been searching the city for John. Did you see
+him at Camp Jackson--was he hurt?"
+
+"I think not, sir," Stephen answered, with clear eyes.
+
+"I saw him walking southward after the firing was all over."
+
+"Thank God," exclaimed Mr. Brinsmade, fervently. "If you will excuse me,
+madam, I shall hurry to tell my wife and daughter. I have been able to
+find no one who saw him."
+
+As he went out he glanced at Stephen's forehead. But for once in his
+life, Mr. Brinsmade was too much agitated to inquire about the pain of
+another.
+
+"Stephen, you did not tell me that you saw John," said his mother, when
+the door was closed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+IN THE ARSENAL
+
+There was a dismal tea at Colonel Carvel's house in Locust Street that
+evening Virginia did not touch a mouthful, and the Colonel merely made a
+pretence of eating. About six o'clock Mrs. Addison Colfax had driven in
+from Bellegarde, nor could it rain fast enough or hard enough to wash the
+foam from her panting horses. She did not wait for Jackson to come out
+with an umbrella, but rushed through the wet from the carriage to the
+door in her haste to urge the Colonel to go to the Arsenal and demand
+Clarence's release. It was in vain that Mr. Carvel assured her it would
+do no good, in vain that he told her of a more important matter that
+claimed him. Could there be a more important matter than his own nephew
+kept in durance, and in danger of being murdered by Dutch butchers in the
+frenzy of their victory? Mrs. Colfax shut herself up in her room, and
+through the door Virginia heard her sobs as she went down to tea.
+
+The Colonel made no secret of his uneasiness. With his hat on his head,
+and his hands in his pockets, he paced up and down the room. He let his
+cigar go out,--a more serious sign still. Finally he stood with his face
+to the black window, against which the big drops were beating in a fury.
+
+Virginia sat expressionless at the head of the table, still in that gown
+of white and crimson, which she had worn in honor of the defenders of the
+state. Expressionless, save for a glance of solicitation at her father's
+back. If resolve were feminine, Virginia might have sat for that
+portrait. There was a light in her dark blue eyes. Underneath there were
+traces of the day's fatigue. When she spoke, there was little life in her
+voice.
+
+"Aren't you going to the Planters' House, Pa The Colonel turned, and
+tried to smile.
+
+"I reckon not to-night, Jinny. Why?"
+
+"To find out what they are going to do with Clarence," she said
+indignantly.
+
+"I reckon they don't know at the Planters' House," he said.
+
+"Then--" began Virginia, and stopped.
+
+"Then what?" he asked, stroking her hair.
+
+"Then why not go to the Barracks? Order the carriage, and I will go with
+you."
+
+His smile faded. He stood looking down at her fixedly, as was sometimes
+his habit. Grave tenderness was in his tone.
+
+"Jinny," he said slowly, "Jinny, do you mean to marry Clarence?"
+
+The suddenness of the question took her breath. But she answered
+steadily:
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Do you love him?
+
+"Yes," she answered. But her lashes fell.
+
+Still he stood, and it seemed to her that her father's gaze pierced to
+her secret soul.
+
+"Come here, my dear," he said.
+
+He held out his arms, and she fluttered into them. The tears were come at
+last. It was not the first time she had cried out her troubles against
+that great heart which had ever been her strong refuge. From childhood
+she had been comforted there. Had she broken her doll, had Mammy Easter
+been cross, had lessons gone wrong at school, was she ill, or weary with
+that heaviness of spirit which is woman's inevitable lot,--this was her
+sanctuary. But now! This burden God Himself had sent, and none save her
+Heavenly Father might cure it. Through his great love for her it was
+given to Colonel Carvel to divine it--only vaguely.
+
+Many times he strove to speak, and could not. But presently, as if
+ashamed of her tears, she drew back from him and took her old seat on the
+arm of his chair.
+
+By the light of his intuition, the Colonel chose tins words well. What he
+had to speak of was another sorrow, yet a healing one.
+
+"You must not think of marriage now, my dear, when the bread we eat may
+fail us. Jinny, we are not as rich as we used to be. Our trade was in the
+South and West, and now the South and West cannot pay. I had a conference
+with Mr. Hopper yesterday, and he tells me that we must be prepared."
+
+She laid her hand upon his.
+
+"And did you think I would care, dear?" she asked gently. "I can bear
+with poverty and rags, to win this war."
+
+"His own eyes were dim, but pride shone in them. Jackson came in on
+tiptoe, and hesitated. At the Colonel's motion he took away the china and
+the silver, and removed the white cloth, and turned low the lights in the
+chandelier. He went out softly, and closed the door.
+
+"Pa," said Virginia, presently, "do you trust Mr. Hopper?"
+
+The Colonel gave a start.
+
+"Why, yes, Jinny. He improved the business greatly before this trouble
+came. And even now we are not in such straits as some other houses."
+
+"Captain Lige doesn't like him."
+
+"Lige has prejudices."
+
+"So have I," said Virginia. "Eliphalet Hopper will serve you so long as
+he serves himself. No longer."
+
+"I think you do him an injustice, my dear," answered the Colonel. But
+uneasiness was in his voice. "Hopper is hard working, scrupulous to a
+cent. He owns two slaves now who are running the river. He keeps out of
+politics, and he has none of the Yankee faults."
+
+"I wish he had," said Virginia.
+
+The Colonel made no answer to this. Getting up, he went over to the
+bell-cord at the door and pulled it. Jackson came in hurriedly.
+
+"Is my bag packed?"
+
+"Yes, Marsa."
+
+"Where are you going?" cried Virginia, in alarm.
+
+"To Jefferson City, dear, to see the Governor. I got word this
+afternoon."
+
+"In the rain?"
+
+He smiled, and stooped to kiss her.
+
+"Yes," he answered, "in the rain as far as the depot, I can trust you,
+Jinny. And Lige's boat will be back from New Orleans to-morrow or
+Sunday."
+
+The next morning the city awoke benumbed, her heart beating but feebly.
+Her commerce had nearly ceased to flow. A long line of boats lay idle,
+with noses to the levee. Men stood on the street corners in the rain,
+reading of the capture of Camp Jackson, and of the riot, and thousands
+lifted up their voices to execrate the Foreign City below Market Street.
+A vague terror, maliciously born, subtly spread. The Dutch had broken up
+the camp, a peaceable state institution, they had shot down innocent
+women and children. What might they not do to the defenceless city under
+their victorious hand, whose citizens were nobly loyal to the South? Sack
+it? Yes, and burn, and loot it. Ladies who ventured out that day crossed
+the street to avoid Union gentlemen of their acquaintance.
+
+It was early when Mammy Easter brought the news paper to her mistress.
+Virginia read the news, and ran joyfully to her aunt's room. Three times
+she knocked, and then she heard a cry within. Then the key was turned and
+the bolt cautiously withdrawn, and a crack of six inches disclosed her
+aunt.
+
+"Oh, how you frightened me, Jinny!" she cried. "I thought it was the
+Dutch coming to murder us all, What have they done to Clarence?"
+
+"We shall see him to-day, Aunt Lillian," was the joyful answer. "The
+newspaper says that all the Camp Jackson prisoners are to be set free
+to-day, on parole. Oh, I knew they would not dare to hold them. The whole
+state would have risen to their rescue."
+
+Mrs. Colfax did not receive these tidings with transports. She permitted
+her niece to come into her room, and then: sank into a chair before the
+mirror of her dressing-table, and scanned her face there.
+
+"I could not sleep a wink, Jinny, all night long. I look wretchedly. I am
+afraid I am going to have another of my attacks. How it is raining! What
+does the newspaper say?"
+
+"I'll get it for you," said Virginia, used to her aunt's vagaries.
+
+"No, no, tell me. I am much too nervous to read it."
+
+"It says that they will be paroled to-day, and that they passed a
+comfortable night."
+
+"It must be a Yankee lie," said the lady. "Oh, what a night! I saw them
+torturing him in a thousand ways the barbarians! I know he had to sleep
+on a dirty floor with low-down trash."
+
+"But we shall have him here to-night, Aunt Lillian!" cried Virginia.
+"Mammy, tell Uncle Ben that Mr. Clarence will be here for tea. We must
+have a feast for him. Pa said that they could not hold them."
+
+"Where is Comyn?" inquired Mrs. Colfax. "Has he gone down to see
+Clarence?"
+
+"He went to Jefferson City last night," replied Virginia. "The Governor
+sent for him."
+
+Mrs. Colfax exclaimed in horror at this news.
+
+"Do you mean that he has deserted us?" she cried. "That he has left us
+here defenceless,--at the mercy of the Dutch, that they may wreak their
+vengeance upon us women? How can you sit still, Virginia? If I were your
+age and able to drag myself to the street, I should be at the Arsenal
+now. I should be on my knees before that detestable Captain Lyon, even if
+he is a Yankee." Virginia kept her temper.
+
+"I do not go on my knees to any man," she said. "Rosetta, tell Ned I wish
+the carriage at once."
+
+Her aunt seized her convulsively by the arm.
+
+"Where are you going, Jinny?" she demanded. "Your Pa would never forgive
+me if anything happened to you."
+
+A smile, half pity, crossed the girl's anxious face.
+
+"I am afraid that I must risk adding to your misfortune, Aunt Lillian,"
+she said, and left the room.
+
+Virginia drove to Mr. Brinsmade's. His was one of the Union houses which
+she might visit and not lose her self respect. Like many Southerners,
+when it became a question of go or stay, Mr. Brinsmade's unfaltering love
+for the Union had kept him in. He had voted for Mr. Bell, and later had
+presided at Crittenden Compromise meetings. In short, as a man of peace,
+he would have been willing to sacrifice much for peace. And now that it
+was to be war, and he had taken his stand uncompromisingly with the
+Union, the neighbors whom he had befriended for so many years could not
+bring themselves to regard him as an enemy. He never hurt their feelings;
+and almost as soon as the war began he set about that work which has been
+done by self-denying Christians of all ages,--the relief of suffering. He
+visited with comfort the widow and the fatherless, and many a night in
+the hospital he sat through beside the dying, Yankee and Rebel alike, and
+wrote their last letters home.
+
+And Yankee and Rebel alike sought his help and counsel in time of
+perplexity or trouble, rather than hotheaded advice from their own
+leaders.
+
+Mr. Brinsmade's own carriage was drawn up at his door; and that gentleman
+himself standing on the threshold. He came down his steps bareheaded in
+the wet to hand Virginia from her carriage.
+
+Courteous and kind as ever, he asked for her father and her aunt as he
+led her into the house. However such men may try to hide their own trials
+under a cheerful mien, they do not succeed with spirits of a kindred
+nature. With the others, who are less generous, it matters not. Virginia
+was not so thoughtless nor so selfish that she could not perceive that a
+trouble had come to this good man. Absorbed as she was in her own
+affairs, she forgot some of them in his presence. The fire left her
+tongue, and to him she could not have spoken harshly even of an enemy.
+Such was her state of mind, when she was led into the drawing-room. From
+the corner of it Anne arose and came forward to throw her arms around her
+friend.
+
+"Jinny, it was so good of you to come. You don't, hate me?"
+
+"Hate you, Anne dear!"
+
+"Because we are Union," said honest Anne, wishing to have no shadow of
+doubt.
+
+Virginia was touched. "Anne," she cried, "if you were German, I believe I
+should love you."
+
+"How good of you to come. I should not have dared go to your house,
+because I know that you feel so deeply. You--you heard?"
+
+"Heard what?" asked Virginia, alarmed.
+
+"That Jack has run away--has gone South, we think. Perhaps," she cried,
+"perhaps he may be dead."  And tears came into the girl's eyes.
+
+It was then that Virginia forgot Clarence. She drew Anne to the sofa and
+kissed her.
+
+"No, he is not dead," she said gently, but with a confidence in her voice
+of rare quality. "He is not dead, Anne dear, or you would have heard."
+
+Had she glanced up, she would have seen Mr. Brinsmade's eye upon her. He
+looked kindly at all people, but this expression he reserved for those
+whom he honored. A life of service to others had made him guess that, in
+the absence of her father, this girl had come to him for help of some
+kind.
+
+"Virginia is right, Anne," he said. "John has gone to fight for his
+principles, as every gentleman who is free should; we must remember that
+this is his home, and that we must not quarrel with him, because we think
+differently." He paused, and came over to Virginia. "There is something I
+can do for you, my dear?" said he.
+
+She rose. "Oh, no, Mr. Brinsmade," she cried. And yet her honesty was as
+great as Anne's. She would not have it thought that she came for other
+reasons. "My aunt is in such a state of worry over Clarence that I came
+to ask you if you thought the news true, that the prisoners are to be
+paroled. She thinks it is a--" Virginia flushed, and bit a rebellious
+tongue. "She does not believe it."
+
+Even good Mr. Brinsmade smiled at the slip she had nearly made. He
+understood the girl, and admired her. He also understood Mrs. Colfax.
+
+"I'll drive to the Arsenal with you, Jinny," he answered. "I know
+Captain Lyon, and we shall find out certainly."
+
+"You will do nothing of the kind, sir," said Virginia, with emphasis."
+Had I known this--about John, I should not have come."
+
+He checked her with a gesture. What a gentleman of the old school he was,
+with his white ruffled shirt and his black stock and his eye kindling
+with charity.
+
+"My dear," he answered, "Nicodemus is waiting. I was just going myself to
+ask Captain Lyon about John." Virginia's further objections were cut
+short by the violent clanging of the door-bell, and the entrance of a
+tall, energetic gentleman, whom Virginia had introduced to her as Major
+Sherman, late of the army, and now president of the Fifth Street
+Railroad. The Major bowed and shook hands. He then proceeded, as was
+evidently his habit, directly to the business on which he was come.
+
+"Mr. Brinsmade," he said, "I heard, accidentally, half an hour ago that
+you were seeking news of your son. I regret to say, sir, that the news I
+have will not lead to a knowledge of his whereabouts. But in justice to a
+young gentleman of this city I think I ought to tell you what happened at
+Camp Jackson."
+
+"I shall be most grateful, Major. Sit down, sir."
+
+But the Major did not sit down. He stood in the middle of the room. With
+some gesticulation which added greatly to the force of the story, he gave
+a most terse and vivid account of Mr. John's arrival at the embankment by
+the grove--of his charging a whole regiment of Union volunteers. Here was
+honesty again. Mr. Sherman did not believe in mincing matters even to a
+father and sister.
+
+"And, sir," said he, "you may thank the young man who lives next door to
+you--Mr. Brice, I believe--for saving your son's life."
+
+"Stephen Brice!" exclaimed Mr, Brinsmade, in astonishment.
+
+Virginia felt Anne's hand tighten But her own was limp. A hot wave swept
+over her, Was she never to hear the end of this man.
+
+"Yes, sir, Stephen Brice," answered Mr. Sherman. "And I never in my life
+saw a finer thing done, in the Mexican War or out of it."
+
+Mr. Brinsmade grew a little excited. "Are you sure that you know him?"
+
+"As sure as I know you," said the Major, with excessive conviction.
+
+"But," said Mr. Brinsmade, "I was in there last night, I knew the young
+man had been at the camp. I asked him if he had seen Jack. He told me
+that he had, by the embankment. But he never mentioned a word about
+saving his life."
+
+"He didn't," cried the Major. "By glory, but he's even better than I
+thought him, Did you see a black powder mark on his face?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir, I saw a bad burn of some kind on his forehead."
+
+"Well, sir, if one of the Dutchmen who shot at Jack had known enough to
+put a ball in his musket, he would have killed Mr. Brice, who was only
+ten feet away, standing before your son."
+
+Anne gave a little cry--Virginia was silent--Her lips were parted. Though
+she realized it not, she was thirsting %a hear the whole of the story.
+
+The Major told it, soldier fashion, but well. How John rushed up to the
+line. How he (Mr. Sherman) had seen Brice throw the woman down and had
+cried to him to lie down himself how the fire was darting down the
+regiment, and how men and women were falling all about them; and how
+Stephen had flung Jack and covered him with his body.
+
+It was all vividly before Virginia's eyes. Had she any right to treat
+such a man with contempt? She remembered hour he had looked, at her when
+he stood on the corner by the Catherwoods' house. And, worst of all, she
+remembered many spiteful remarks she had made, even to Anne, the gist of
+which had been that Mr. Brice was better at preaching than at fighting.
+She knew now--and she had known in her heart before--that this was the
+greatest injustice she could have done him.
+
+"But Jack? What did Jack do?"
+
+It was Anne who tremblingly asked the Major. But Mr. Sherman, apparently,
+was not the man to say that Jack would have shot Stephen had he not
+interfered. That was the ugly part of the story. John would have shot the
+man who saved his life. To the day of his death neither Mr. Brinsmade nor
+his wife knew this. But while Mr. Brinsmade and Anne had gone upstairs to
+the sickbed, these were the tidings the Major told Virginia, who kept it
+in her heart. The reason he told her was because she had guessed a part
+of it.
+
+Nevertheless Mr. Brinsmade drove to the Arsenal with her that Saturday,
+in his own carriage. Forgetful of his own grief, long habit came to him
+to talk cheerily with her. He told her many little anecdotes of his
+travel, but not one of them did she hear. Again, at the moment when she
+thought her belief in Clarence and her love for him at last secure, she
+found herself drawing searching comparisons between him and the quieter
+young Bostonian. In spite of herself she had to admit that Stephen's deed
+was splendid. Was this disloyal? She flushed at the thought. Clarence had
+been capable of the deed,--even to the rescue of an enemy. But--alas,
+that she should carry it out to a remorseless end--would Clarence have
+been equal to keeping silence when Mr. Brinsmade came to him? Stephen
+Brice had not even told his mother, so Mr. Brinsmade believed.
+
+As if to aggravate her torture, Mr. Brinsmade's talk drifted to the
+subject of young Mr. Brice. This was but natural. He told her of the
+brave struggle Stephen had made, and how he had earned luxuries, and
+often necessities, for his mother by writing for the newspapers.
+
+"Often," said Mr. Brinsmade, "often I have been unable to sleep, and have
+seen the light in Stephen's room until the small hours of the morning."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Brinsmade," cried Virginia. "Can't you tell me something bad
+about him? Just once."
+
+The good gentleman started, and looked searchingly at the girl by his
+side, flushed and confused. Perhaps he thought--but how can we tell what
+he thought? How can we guess that our teachers laugh at our pranks after
+they have caned us for them? We do not remember that our parents have
+once been young themselves, and that some word or look of our own brings
+a part of their past vividly before them. Mr. Brinsmade was silent, but
+he looked out of the carriage window, away from Virginia. And presently,
+as they splashed through the mud near the Arsenal, they met a knot of
+gentlemen in state uniforms on their way to the city. Nicodemus stopped
+at his master's signal. Here was George Catherwood, and his father was
+with him.
+
+"They have released us on parole," said George. "Yes, we had a fearful
+night of it. They could not have kept us--they had no quarters."
+
+How changed he was from the gay trooper of yesterday! His bright uniform
+was creased and soiled and muddy, his face unshaven, and dark rings of
+weariness under his eyes.
+
+"Do you know if Clarence Colfax has gone home?" Mr. Brinsmade inquired.
+
+"Clarence is an idiot," cried George, ill-naturedly. Mr. Brinsmade, of
+all the prisoners here, he refused to take the parole, or the oath of
+allegiance. He swears he will remain a prisoner until he is exchanged."
+
+"The young man is Quixotic," declared the elder Catherwood, who was not
+himself in the best of humors.
+
+"Sir," said Mr. Brinsmade, with as much severity as he was ever known to
+use, "sir, I honor that young man for this more than I can tell you.
+Nicodemus, you may drive on." And he slammed the door.
+
+Perhaps George had caught sight of a face in the depths of the carriage,
+for he turned purple, and stood staring on the pavement after his
+choleric parent had gone on.
+
+It was done. Of all the thousand and more young men who had upheld the
+honor of their state that week, there was but the one who chose to remain
+in durance vile within the Arsenal wall--Captain Clarence Colfax, late of
+the Dragoons.
+
+Mr. Brinsmade was rapidly admitted to the Arsenal, and treated with the
+respect which his long service to the city deserved. He and Virginia were
+shown into the bare military room of the commanding officer, and thither
+presently came Captain Lyon himself. Virginia tingled with antagonism
+when she saw this man who had made the city tremble, who had set an iron
+heel on the flaming brand of her Cause. He, too, showed the marks of his
+Herculean labors, but only on his clothes and person. His long red hair
+was unbrushed, his boots covered with black mud, and his coat unbuttoned.
+His face was ruddy, and his eye as clear as though he had arisen from
+twelve hours' sleep. He bowed to Virginia (not too politely, to be sure).
+Her own nod of are recognition did not seem to trouble him.
+
+"Yes, sir," he said incisively, in response to Mr. Brinsmade's question,
+"we are forced to retain Captain Colfax. He prefers to remain a prisoner
+until he is exchanged. He refuses to take the oath of allegiance to the
+United States.
+
+"And why should he be made to, Captain Lyon? In what way has he opposed
+the United States troops?"
+
+It was Virginia who spoke. Both looked at her in astonishment.
+
+"You will pardon me, Miss Carvel," said Captain Lyon, gravely, "if I
+refuse to discuss that question with you." Virginia bit her tongue.
+
+"I understand that Mr. Colfax is a near relative of yours, Miss Carvel,"
+the Captain continued. "His friends may come here to see him during the
+day. And I believe it is not out of place for me to express my admiration
+of the captain's conduct. You may care to see him now--"
+
+"Thank you," said Virginia, curtly.
+
+"Orderly, my respects to Captain Colfax, and ask him if a he will be kind
+enough to come in here. Mr. Brinsmade," said the Captain, "I should like
+a few words with you, sir." And so, thanks to the Captain's delicacy,
+when Clarence arrived he found Virginia alone. She was much agitated She
+ran toward him as he entered the door, calling his name.
+
+"Max, you are going to stay here?"
+
+"Yes, until I am exchanged."
+
+Aglow with admiration, she threw herself into his arms. Now, indeed, was
+she proud of him. Of all the thousand defenders of the state, he alone
+was true to his principles--to the South. Within sight of home, he alone
+had chosen privation.
+
+She looked up into his face, which showed marks of excitement and
+fatigue. But above all, excitement. She knew that he could live on
+excitement. The thought came to her--was it that which sustained him now?
+She put it away as treason. Surely the touch of this experience would
+transform the boy into the man. This was the weak point in the armor
+which she wore so bravely for her cousin.
+
+He had grown up to idleness. He had known neither care nor
+responsibility. His one longing from a child had been that love of
+fighting and adventure which is born in the race. Until this gloomy day
+in the Arsenal, Virginia had never characterized it as a love of
+excitement---as any thing which contained a selfish element. She looked
+up into his face, I say, and saw that which it is given to a woman only
+to see. His eyes burned with a light that was far away. Even with his
+arms around her he seemed to have forgotten her presence, and that she
+had come all the way to the Arsenal to see him. Her hands dropped limply
+from his shoulders She drew away, as he did not seem to notice.
+
+So it is with men. Above and beyond the sacrifice of a woman's life, the
+joy of possessing her soul and affection, is something more desirable
+still--fame and glory--personal fame and glory, The woman may share them,
+of course, and be content with the radiance. When the Governor in making
+his inauguration speech, does he always think of the help the little wife
+has given him. And so, in moments of excitement, when we see far ahead
+into a glorious future, we do not feel the arms about us, or value the
+sweets which, in more humdrum days, we labored so hard to attain.
+
+Virginia drew away, and the one searching glance she gave him he did not
+see. He was staring far beyond; tears started in her eyes, and she turned
+from him to look out over the Arsenal grounds, still wet and heavy with
+the night's storm. The day itself was dark and damp. She thought of the
+supper cooking at home. It would not be eaten now.
+
+And yet, in that moment of bitterness Virginia loved him. Such are the
+ways of women, even of the proudest, who love their country too. It was
+but right that he should not think of her when the honor of the South was
+at stake; and the anger that rose within her was against those nine
+hundred and ninety-nine who had weakly accepted the parole.
+
+"Why did Uncle Comyn not come?" asked Clarence.
+
+"He has gone to Jefferson City, to see the Governor.."
+
+"And you came alone?"
+
+"No, Mr. Brinsmade brought me."
+
+"And mother?"
+
+She was waiting for that question. What a relief that should have come
+among the first.
+
+"Aunt Lillian feels very badly. She was in her room when I left. She was
+afraid," (Virginia had to smile), "she was afraid the Yankees would kill
+you."
+
+"They have behaved very well for Yankees," replied he, "No luxury, and
+they will not hear of my having a servant. They are used to doing their
+own work. But they have treated me much better since I refused to take
+their abominable oath."
+
+"And you will be honored for it when the news reaches town."
+
+"Do you think so, Jinny?" Clarence asked eagerly, "I reckon they will
+think me a fool!"
+
+"I should like to hear any one say so," she flashed out.
+
+"No," said Virginia, "our friends will force them to release you. I do
+not know much about law. But you have done nothing to be imprisoned for."
+
+Clarence did not answer at once. Finally he said. "I do not want to be
+released."
+
+"You do not want to be released," she repeated.
+
+"No," he said. "They can exchange me. If I remain a prisoner, it will
+have a greater effect--for the South."
+
+She smiled again, this time at the boyish touch of heroics. Experience,
+responsibility, and he would get over that. She remembered once, long
+ago, when his mother had shut him up in his room for a punishment, and he
+had tortured her by remaining there for two whole days.
+
+It was well on in the afternoon when she drove back to the city with Mr.
+Brinsmade. Neither of them had eaten since morning, nor had they even
+thought of hunger. Mr. Brinsmade was silent, leaning back in the corner
+of the carriage, and Virginia absorbed in her own thoughts. Drawing near
+the city, that dreaded sound, the rumble of drums, roused them. A shot
+rang out, and they were jerked violently by the starting of the horses.
+As they dashed across Walnut at Seventh came the fusillade. Virginia
+leaned out of the window. Down the vista of the street was a mass of blue
+uniforms, and a film of white smoke hanging about the columns of the old
+Presbyterian Church Mr. Brinsmade quietly drew her back into the
+carriage.
+
+The shots ceased, giving place to an angry roar that struck terror to her
+heart that wet and lowering afternoon. The powerful black horses galloped
+on. Nicodemus tugging at the reins, and great splotches of mud flying in
+at the windows. The roar of the crowd died to an ominous moaning behind
+them. Then she knew that Mr. Brinsmade was speaking:-- "From battle and
+murder, and from sudden death--from all sedition, privy conspiracy, and
+rebellion,--Good Lord, deliver us."
+
+He was repeating the Litany--that Litany which had come down through the
+ages. They had chanted it in Cromwell's time, when homes were ruined and
+laid waste, and innocents slaughtered. They had chanted it on the dark,
+barricaded stairways of mediaeval Paris, through St. Bartholomew's night,
+when the narrow and twisted streets, ran with blood. They had chanted it
+in ancient India, and now it was heard again in the New World and the New
+Republic of Peace and Good Will.
+
+Rebellion? The girl flinched at the word which the good gentleman had
+uttered in his prayers. Was she a traitor to that flag for which her
+people had fought in three wars? Rebellion! She burned to blot it forever
+from the book Oh, the bitterness of that day, which was prophecy of the
+bitterness to come.
+
+Rain was dropping as Mr. Brinsmade escorted her up her own steps. He held
+her hand a little at parting, and bade her be of good cheer. Perhaps he
+guessed something of the trial she was to go through that night alone
+with her aunt, Clarence's mother. Mr. Brinsmade did not go directly home.
+He went first to the little house next door to his. Mrs. Brice and Judge
+Whipple were in the parlor: What passed between them there has not been
+told, but presently the Judge and Mr. Brinsmade came out together and
+stood along time in, the yard, conversing, heedless of the rain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE STAMPEDE
+
+Sunday dawned, and the people flocked to the churches. But even in the
+house of God were dissension and strife. From the Carvel pew at Dr.
+Posthelwaite's Virginia saw men and women rise from their knees and walk
+out--their faces pale with anger. At St. Mark's the prayer for the
+President of the United States was omitted. Mr. Russell and Mr.
+Catherwood nodded approvingly over the sermon in which the South was
+justified, and the sanction of Holy Writ laid upon her Institution. With
+not indifferent elation these gentlemen watched the departure of brethren
+with whom they had labored for many years, save only when Mr. Brinsmade
+walked down the aisle never to return. So it is that war, like a
+devastating flood, creeps insistent into the most sacred places, and will
+not be denied. Mr. Davitt, at least, preached that day to an united
+congregation,--which is to say that none of them went out. Mr. Hopper,
+who now shared a pew with Miss Crane, listened as usual with a most
+reverent attention. The clouds were low and the streets wet as people
+walked home to dinner, to discuss, many in passion and some in sorrow,
+the doings of the morning. A certain clergyman had prayed to be delivered
+from the Irish, the Dutch, and the Devil. Was it he who started the old
+rumor which made such havoc that afternoon? Those barbarians of the
+foreign city to the south, drunk with power, were to sack and loot the
+city. How it flew across street and alley, from yard to yard, and from
+house to house! Privileged Ned ran into the dining-room where Virginia
+and her aunt were sitting, his eyes rolling and his face ashen with
+terror, crying out that the Dutch were marching on the city, firebrands
+in hand and murder in their hearts.
+
+"De Gen'ral done gib out er procl'mation, Miss Jinny," he cried. "De
+Gen'ral done say in dat procl'mation dat he ain't got no control ober de
+Dutch soldiers."
+
+Mrs. Colfax fainted.
+
+"Oh Miss Jinny, ain't you gwineter Glencoe? Ain't you gwineter flee away?
+Every fambly on dis here street's gwine away--is packin' up fo' de
+country. Doan't you hear 'em, Miss Jinny? What'll your pa say to Ned of
+he ain't make you clear out! Doan't you hear de carridges a-rattlin' off
+to de country?"
+
+Virginia rose in agitation, yet trying to be calm, and to remember that
+the safety of the household depended upon her alone. That was her
+thought,--bred into her by generations,--the safety of the household, of
+the humblest slave whose happiness and welfare depended upon her father's
+bounty. How she longed in that instant for her father or Captain Lige,
+for some man's strength, to depend upon. Would there be wisdom in flight?
+
+"Do you want to go, Ned?" she asked. She has seen her aunt swoon before,
+and her maid Susan knows well what to do. "Do you want to go, Ned?"
+
+"Laws Mussy, no, Miss Jinny. One nigger laik me doan't make no
+difference. My Marsa he say: 'Whaffor you leave ma house to be ramsacked
+by de Dutch?'
+
+"What I gwineter answer? Oh Miss Jinny, you an' Miss Lill an' Mammy
+Easter an' Susan's gwine with Jackson, an' de othah niggahs can walk.
+Ephum an' me'll jes' put up de shutters an' load de Colonel's gun."
+
+By this time the room was filled with excited negroes, some crying, and
+some laughing hysterically. Uncle Ben had come in from the kitchen;
+Jackson was there, and the women were a wailing bunch in the corner by
+the sideboard. Old Ephum, impassive, and Ned stood together. Virginia's
+eye rested upon them, and the light of love and affection was in it. She
+went to the window. Yes, carriages were indeed rattling outside, though a
+sharp shower was falling. Across the street Alphonse, M. Renault's
+butler, was depositing bags and bundles on the steps. M. Renault himself
+bustled out into the rain, gesticulating excitedly. Spying her at the
+window, he put his hands to his mouth, cried out something, and ran in
+again. Virginia flung open the sash and listened for the dreaded sound of
+drums. Then she crossed quickly over to where her aunt was lying on the
+lounge.
+
+"O Jinny," murmured that lady, who had revived, "can't you do something?
+Haven't you done anything? They will be here any moment to burn us, to
+murder us--to--oh, my poor boy! Why isn't he here to protect his mother!
+Why was Comyn so senseless, so thoughtless, as to leave us at such a
+time!"
+
+"I don't think there is any need to be frightened," said Virginia, with a
+calmness that made her aunt tremble with anger. "It is probably only a
+rumor. Ned, run to Mr. Brinsmade's and ask him about it."
+
+However loath to go, Ned departed at once. All honor to those old-time
+negroes who are now memories, whose devotion to their masters was next to
+their love of God. A great fear was in Ned's heart, but he went. And he
+believed devoutly that he would never see his young mistress any more.
+
+And while Ned is running to Mr. Brinsmade's, Mrs. Colfax is summoning
+that courage which comes to persons of her character at such times. She
+gathers her jewels into a bag, and her fine dresses into her trunk, with
+trembling hands, although she is well enough now. The picture of Clarence
+in the diamond frame she puts inside the waist of her gown. No, she will
+not go to Bellegarde. That is too near the city. With frantic haste she
+closes the trunk, which Ephum and Jackson carry downstairs and place
+between the seats of the carriage. Ned had had the horses in it since
+church time. It is not safe outside. But where to go?
+
+To Glencoe? It is three in the afternoon, and Jackson explains that, with
+the load, they would not reach there until midnight, if at all. To
+Kirkwood or Webster? Yes; many of the first families live there, and
+would take them in for the night. Equipages of all sorts are passing,
+--private carriages and public, and corner-stand hacks. The black drivers
+are cracking whips over galloping horses.
+
+Pedestrians are hurrying by with bundles under their arms, some running
+east, and some west, and some stopping to discuss excitedly the chances
+of each direction. From the river comes the hoarse whistle of the boats
+breaking the Sabbath stillness there. It is a panic to be remembered.
+
+Virginia leaned against the iron railing of the steps, watching the
+scene, and waiting for Ned to return from Mr. Brinsmade's. Her face was
+troubled, as well it might be. The most alarming reports were cried up to
+her from the street, and she looked every moment for the black smoke of
+destruction to appear to the southward. Around her were gathered the
+Carvel servants, most of them crying, and imploring her not to leave
+them. And when Mrs. Colfax's trunk was brought down and placed in the
+carriage where three of them might have ridden to safety, a groan of
+despair and entreaty rose from the faithful group that went to her heart.
+
+"Miss Jinny, you ain't gwineter leave yo' ol mammy?"
+
+"Hush, Mammy," she said. "No, you shall all go, if I have to stay myself.
+Ephum, go to the livery stable and get another carriage."
+
+She went up into her own deserted room to gather the few things she would
+take with her--the little jewellery case with the necklace of pearls
+which her great-grandmother had worn at her wedding. Rosetta and Mammy
+Easter were of no use, and she had sent them downstairs again. With a
+flutter she opened her wardrobe door, to take one last look at the gowns
+there. You will pardon her. They were part of happier days gone by. She
+fell down on her knees and opened the great drawer at the bottom, and
+there on the top lay the dainty gown which had belonged to Dorothy
+Manners. A tear fell upon one of the flowers of the stays. Irresistibly
+pressed into her mind the memory of Anne's fancy dress ball,--of the
+episode by the gate, upon which she had thought so often with burning
+face.
+
+The voices below grow louder, but she does not hear. She is folding the
+gown hurriedly into a little package. It was her great-grandmother's; her
+chief heirloom after the pearls. Silk and satin from Paris are left
+behind. With one glance at the bed in which she had slept since
+childhood, and at the picture over it which had been her mother's, she
+hurries downstairs. And Dorothy Manners's gown is under her arm. On the
+landing she stops to brush her eyes with her handkerchief. If only her
+father were here!
+
+Ah, here is Ned back again. Has Mr. Brinsmade come?
+
+What did he say? Ned simply pointed out a young man standing on the steps
+behind the negroes. Crimson stains were on Virginia's cheeks, and the
+package she carried under her arm was like lead. The young man, although
+he showed no signs of excitement, reddened too as he came forward and
+took off his hat. But the sight of him had acurious effect upon Virginia,
+of which she was at first unconscious. A sense of security came upon her
+as she looked at his face and listened to his voice.
+
+"Mr. Brinsmade has gone to the hospital, Miss Carvel," he said. "Mrs.
+Brinsmade asked me to come here with your man in the hope that I might
+persuade you to stay where you are."
+
+"Then the Germans are not moving on the city?" she said.
+
+In spite of himself, Stephen smiled. It was that smile that angered her,
+that made her rebel against the advice he had to offer; that made her
+forget the insult he had risked at her hands by coming there. For she
+believed him utterly, without reservation. The moment he had spoken she
+was convinced that the panic was a silly scare which would be food for
+merriment in future years. And yet--was not that smile in derision of
+herself--of her friends who were running away? Was it not an assumption
+of Northern superiority, to be resented?
+
+"It is only a malicious rumor, Miss Carvel," he answered. "You have been
+told so upon good authority, I suppose," she said dryly. And at the
+change in her tone she saw his face fall.
+
+"I have not," he replied honestly, "but I will submit it to your own
+judgment. Yesterday General Harney superseded Captain Lyon in command in
+St. Louis. Some citizens of prominence begged the General to send the
+troops away, to avoid further ill-feeling and perhaps--bloodshed." (They
+both winced at the word.) "Colonel Blair represented to the General that
+the troops could not be sent away, as they had been enlisted to serve
+only in St. Louis; whereupon the General in his proclamation states that
+he has no control over these Home Guards. That sentence has been twisted
+by some rascal into a confession that the Home Guards are not to be
+controlled. I can assure you, Miss Carvel," added Stephen, speaking with
+a force which made her start and thrill, "I can assure you from a
+personal knowledge of the German troops that they are not a riotous lot,
+and that they are under perfect control. If they were not, there are
+enough regulars in the city to repress them."
+
+He paused. And she was silent, forgetful of the hub-bub around her. It
+was then that her aunt called out to her, with distressing shrillness,
+from the carriage:-- "Jinny, Jinny, how can you stand there talking to
+young men when our lives are in danger?"
+
+She glanced hurriedly at Stephen, who said gently; "I do not wish to
+delay you, Miss Carvel, if you are bent upon going."
+
+She wavered. His tone was not resentful, simply quiet. Ephum turned the
+corner of the street, the perspiration running on his black face.
+
+"Miss Jinny, dey ain't no carridges to be had in this town. No'm, not for
+fifty dollars."
+
+This was the occasion for another groan from the negroes, and they began
+once more to beseech her not to leave them. In the midst of their cries
+she heard her aunt calling from the carriage, where, beside the trunk,
+there was just room for her to squeeze in.
+
+"Jinny," cried that lady, frantically, "are you to go or stay? The
+Hessians will be here at any moment. Oh, I cannot stay here to be
+murdered!"
+
+Unconsciously the girl glanced again at Stephen. He had not gone, but was
+still standing in the rain on the steps, the one figure of strength and
+coolness she had seen this afternoon. Distracted, she blamed the fate
+which had made this man an enemy. How willingly would she have leaned
+upon such as he, and submitted to his guidance. Unluckily at that moment
+came down the street a group which had been ludicrous on any other day,
+and was, in truth, ludicrous to Stephen then. At the head of it was a
+little gentleman with red mutton-chop whiskers, hatless, in spite of the
+rain beginning to fall. His face was the very caricature of terror. His
+clothes, usually neat, were awry, and his arms were full of various
+things, not the least conspicuous of which was a magnificent bronze
+clock. It was this object that caught Virginia's eye. But years passed
+before she laughed over it. Behind Mr. Cluyme (for it was he) trotted his
+family. Mrs. Cluyme, in a pink wrapper, carried an armful of the family
+silver; then came Belle with certain articles of feminine apparel which
+need not be enumerated, and the three small Cluymes of various ages
+brought up the rear.
+
+Mr. Cluyme, at the top of his speed, was come opposite to the carriage
+when the lady occupant got out of it. Clutching at his sleeve, she
+demanded where he was going. The bronze clock had a narrow escape.
+
+"To the river," he gasped. "To the river, madame!" His wife coming after
+him had a narrower escape still. Mrs. Colfax retained a handful of lace
+from the wrapper, the owner of which emitted a shriek of fright.
+
+"Virginia, I am going to the river," said Mrs. Colfax. "You may go where
+you choose. I shall send the carriage back for you. Ned, to the levee!"
+Ned did not lift a rein.
+
+"What, you black rascal! You won't obey me?"
+
+Ned swung on his seat. "No, indeedy, Miss Lilly, I ain't a-gwine 'thout
+young Miss. The Dutch kin cotch me an' hang me, but I ain't a-gwine
+'thout Miss Jinny."
+
+Mrs. Colfax drew her shawl about her shoulders with dignity.
+
+"Very well, Virginia," she said. "Ill as I am, I shall walk. Bear witness
+that I have spent a precious hour trying to save you. If I live to see
+your father again, I shall tell him that you preferred to stay here and
+carry on disgracefully with a Yankee, that you let your own aunt risk her
+life alone in the rain. Come, Susan!"
+
+Virginia was very pale. She did not run down the steps, but she caught
+her aunt by the arm ere that lady had taken six paces. The girl's face
+frightened Mrs. Colfax into submission, and she let herself be led back
+into the carriage beside the trunk. Those words of Mrs. Colfax's stung
+Stephen to righteous anger and resentment--for Virginia.
+
+As to himself, he had looked for insult. He turned to go that he might
+not look upon her confusion; and hanging on the resolution, swung on his
+heel again, his eyes blazeing. He saw in hers the deep blue light of the
+skies after an evening's storm. She was calm, and save for a little
+quiver of the voice, mistress of herself as she spoke to the group of
+cowering servants.
+
+"Mammy," she said, "get up on the box with Ned. And, Ned, walk the horses
+to the levee, so that the rest may follow. Ephum, you stay here with the
+house, and I will send Ned back to keep you company."
+
+With these words, clasping tightly the precious little bundle under her
+arm, she stepped into the carriage. Heedless of the risk he ran, sheer
+admiration sent Stephen to the carriage door.
+
+"If I can be of any service, Miss Carvel," he said, "I shall be happy."
+
+She glanced at him wildly.
+
+"No," she cried, "no. Drive on, Ned!"
+
+And as the horses slipped and started she slammed the door in his face.
+
+Down on the levee wheels rattled over the white stones washed clean by
+the driving rain. The drops pelted the chocolate water into froth, and a
+blue veil hid the distant bluffs beyond the Illinois bottom-lands. Down
+on the Levee rich and poor battled for places on the landing-stages, and
+would have thrown themselves into the flood had there been no boats to
+save them from the dreaded Dutch. Attila and his Huns were not more
+feared. Oh, the mystery of that foreign city! What might not its
+Barbarians do when roused? The rich and poor struggled together; but
+money was a power that day, and many were pitilessly turned off because
+they did not have the high price to carry them--who knew where?
+
+Boats which screamed, and boats which had a dragon's roar were backing
+out of the close ranks where they had stood wheel-house to wheel-house,
+and were dodging and bumping in the channel. See, their guards are black
+with people! Mrs. Colfax, when they are come out of the narrow street
+into the great open space, remarks this with alarm. All the boats will be
+gone before they can get near one. But Virginia does not answer. She is
+thinking of other things than the steamboats, and wondering whether it
+had not been preferable to be killed by Hessians.
+
+Ned spies the 'Barbara Lane'. He knows that her captain, Mr. Vance, is a
+friend of the family. What a mighty contempt did Ned and his kind have
+for foot passengers! Laying about him with his whip, and shouting at the
+top of his voice to make himself heard, he sent the Colonel's Kentucky
+bays through the crowd down to the Barbara's landing stage, the people
+scampering to the right and left, and the Carvel servants, headed by
+Uncle Ben, hanging on to the carriage springs, trailing behind.
+
+Here was a triumph for Ned, indeed! He will tell you to this day how Mr.
+Catherwood's carriage was pocketed by drays and bales, and how Mrs.
+James's horses were seized by the bridles and turned back. Ned had a head
+on his shoulders, and eyes in his head. He spied Captain Vance himself on
+the stage, and bade Uncle Ben hold to the horses while he shouldered his
+way to that gentleman. The result was that the Captain came bowing to the
+carriage door, and offered his own cabin to the ladies. But the niggers
+---he would take no niggers except a maid for each; and he begged Mrs.
+Colfax's pardon--he could not carry her trunk.
+
+So Virginia chose Mammy Easter, whose red and yellow turban was awry from
+fear lest she be left behind and Ned was instructed to drive the rest
+with all haste to Bellegarde. Captain Vance gave Mrs. Colfax his arm, and
+Virginia his eyes. He escorted the ladies to quarters in the texas, and
+presently was heard swearing prodigiously as the boat was cast off. It
+was said of him that he could turn an oath better than any man on the
+river, which was no mean reputation.
+
+Mrs. Colfax was assisted to bed by Susan. Virginia stood by the little
+window of the cabin, and as the Barbara paddled and floated down the
+river she looked anxiously for signals of a conflagration. Nay, in that
+hour she wished that the city might burn. So it is that the best of us
+may at times desire misery to thousands that our own malice may be fed.
+Virginia longed to see the yellow flame creep along the wet, gray clouds.
+Passionate tears came to her eyes at the thought of the humiliation she
+had suffered,--and before him, of all men. Could she ever live with her
+aunt after what she had said? "Carrying on with that Yankee!" The
+horrible injustice of it!
+
+Her anger, too, was still against Stephen. Once more he had been sent by
+circumstances to mock her and her people. If the city would only burn,
+that his cocksure judgment might for once be mistaken, his calmness for
+once broken!
+
+The rain ceased, the clouds parted, and the sun turned the muddy river to
+gold. The bluffs shone May-green in the western flood of light, and a
+haze hung over the bottom-lands. Not a sound disturbed the quiet of the
+city receding to the northward, and the rain had washed the pall of smoke
+from over it. On the boat excited voices died down to natural tones; men
+smoked on the guards and promenaded on the hurricane deck, as if this
+were some pleasant excursion. Women waved to the other boats flocking
+after. Laughter was heard, and joking. Mrs. Colfax stirred in her berth
+and began to talk.
+
+"Virginia, where are we going?" Virginia did not move
+
+"Jinny!"
+
+She turned. In that hour she remembered that great good-natured man, her
+mother's brother, and for his sake Colonel Carvel had put up with much
+from his wife's sister in-law. She could pass over, but never forgive
+what her aunt had said to her that afternoon. Mrs. Colfax had often been
+cruel before, and inconsiderate. But as the girl thought of the speech,
+staring out on the waters, it suddenly occurred to her that no lady would
+have uttered it. In all her life she had never realized till now that her
+aunt was not a lady. From that time forth Virginia's attitude toward her
+aunt was changed.
+
+She controlled herself, however, and answered something, and went out
+listlessly to find the Captain and inquire the destination of the boat.
+Not that this mattered much to her. At the foot of the companionway
+leading to the saloon deck she saw, of all people, Mr. Eliphalet Hopper
+leaning on the rail, and pensively expectorating on the roof of the
+wheel-house. In another mood Virginia would have laughed, for at sight of
+her he straightened convulsively, thrust his quid into his cheek, and
+removed his hat with more zeal than the grudging deference he usually
+accorded to the sex. Clearly Eliphalet would not have chosen the
+situation.
+
+"I cal'late we didn't get out any too soon, Miss Carvel," he remarked,
+with a sad attempt at jocoseness. "There won't be a great deal in that
+town when the Dutch get through with it."
+
+"I think that there are enough men left in it to save it," said Virginia.
+
+Apparently Mr. Hopper found no suitable answer to this, for he made none.
+He continued to glance at her uneasily. There was an impudent tribute in
+his look which she resented strongly.
+
+"Where is the Captain?" she demanded.
+
+"He's down below--ma'am," he replied. "Can--can I do anything?"
+
+"Yes," she said, with abrupt maliciousness, "you may tell me where you
+are going."
+
+"I cal'late, up the Cumberland River. That's where she's bound for, if
+she don't stop before she gets there Guess there ain't many of 'em
+inquired where she was goin', or cared much," he added, with a ghastly
+effort to be genial.
+
+"Do you care?" she demanded, curiously. Eliphalet grinned.
+
+"Not a great deal," he said. Then he felt called upon to defend himself.
+"I didn't see any use in gettin' murdered, when I couldn't do anything."
+
+She left him. He stared after her up the companionway, bit off a generous
+piece of tobacco, and ruminated. If to be a genius is to possess an
+infinite stock of patience, Mr. Hopper was a genius. There was patience
+in his smile. But it was not a pleasant smile to look upon.
+
+Virginia did not see it. She had told her aunt the news, and stood in the
+breeze on the hurricane deck looking southward, with her hand shading her
+eyes. The 'Barbara Lane' happened to be a boat with a record, and her
+name was often in the papers. She had already caught up with and
+distanced others which had had half an hour's start of her, and was near
+the head of the procession.
+
+Virginia presently became aware that people were gathering around her in
+knots, gazing at a boat coming toward them. Others had been met which, on
+learning the dread news, turned back. But this one kept her bow steadily
+up the current, although she had passed within a biscuit-toss of the
+leader of the line of refugees. It was then that Captain Vance's hairy
+head appeared above the deck.
+
+"Dang me!" he said, "if here ain't pig-headed Brent, steaming the
+'Jewanita' straight to destruction."
+
+"Oh, are you sure it's Captain Brent?" cried Virginia. The Captain looked
+around in surprise.
+
+"If that there was Shreve's old Enterprise come to life again, I'd lay
+cotton to sawdust that Brent had her. Danged if he wouldn't take her
+right into the jaws of the Dutch."
+
+The Captain's words spread, and caused considerable excitement. On board
+the Barbara Lane were many gentlemen who had begun to be shamefaced over
+their panic, and these went in a body to the Captain and asked him to
+communicate with the 'Juanita'. Whereupon a certain number of whistles
+were sounded, and the Barbara's bows headed for the other side of the
+channel.
+
+As the Juanita drew near, Virginia saw the square figure and clean,
+smooth-shaven face of Captain Lige standing in front of his wheel-house
+Peace crept back into her soul, and she tingled with joy as the bells
+clanged and the bucket-planks churned, and the great New Orleans packet
+crept slowly to the Barbara's side.
+
+"You ain't goin' in, Brent?" shouted the Barbara's captain.
+
+"Why not?" responded Mr. Brent. At the sound of his voice Virginia could
+have wept.
+
+"The Dutch are sacking the city," said Vance. "Didn't they tell you?"
+
+"The Dutch--hell!" said Mr, Brent, calmly. "Who's afraid of the Dutch?"
+
+A general titter went along the guards, and Virginia blushed. Why could
+not the Captain see her?
+
+"I'm on my reg'lar trip, of course," said Vance. Out there on the sunlit
+river the situation seemed to call for an apology.
+
+"Seems to be a little more loaded than common," remarked Captain Lige,
+dryly, at which there was another general laugh.
+
+"If you're really goin' up," said Captain Vance, I reckon there's a few
+here would like to be massacred, if you'll take 'em."
+
+"Certainly," answered Mr. Brent; "I'm bound for the barbecue." And he
+gave a command.
+
+While the two great boats were manoeuvring, and slashing with one wheel
+and the other, the gongs sounding, Virginia ran into the cabin.
+
+"Oh, Aunt Lillian," she exclaimed, "here is Captain Lige and the Juanita,
+and he is going to take us back with him. He says there is no danger."
+
+It its unnecessary here to repeat the moral persuasion which Virginia
+used to get her aunt up and dressed. That lady, when she had heard the
+whistle and the gongs, had let her imagination loose. Turning her face to
+the wall, she was in the act of repeating her prayers as her niece
+entered.
+
+A big stevedore carried her down two decks to where the gang-plank was
+thrown across. Captain Lige himself was at the other end. His face
+lighted, Pushing the people aside, he rushed across, snatched the lady
+from the negro's arms, crying:
+
+"Jinny! Jinny Carvel! Well, if this ain't fortunate." The stevedore's
+services were required for Mammy Easter. And behind the burly shield thus
+formed, a stoutish gentleman slipped over, all unnoticed, with a
+carpet-bag in his hand It bore the initials E. H.
+
+The plank was drawn in. The great wheels began to turn and hiss, the
+Barbara's passengers waved good-by to the foolhardy lunatics who had
+elected to go back into the jaws of destruction. Mrs. Colfax was put into
+a cabin; and Virginia, in a glow, climbed with Captain Lige to the
+hurricane deck. There they stood for a while in silence, watching the
+broad stern of the Barbara growing smaller. "Just to think," Miss Carvel
+remarked, with a little hysterical sigh, "just to think that some of
+those people brought bronze clocks instead of tooth-brushes."
+
+"And what did you bring, my girl?" asked the Captain, glancing at the
+parcel she held so tightly under her arm.
+
+He never knew why she blushed so furiously.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+THE STRAINING OF ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP
+
+Captain Lige asked but two questions: where was the Colonel, and was it
+true that Clarence had refused to be paroled? Though not possessing
+over-fine susceptibilities, the Captain knew a mud-drum from a lady's
+watch, as he himself said. In his solicitude for Virginia, he saw that
+she was in no state of mind to talk of the occurrences of the last few
+days. So he helped her to climb the little stair that winds to the top of
+the texas,--that sanctified roof where the pilot-house squats. The girl
+clung to her bonnet Will you like her any the less when you know that it
+was a shovel bonnet, with long red ribbons that tied under her chin? It
+became her wonderfully. "Captain Lige," she said, almost tearfully, as
+she took his arm, "how I thank heaven that you came up the river this
+afternoon!"
+
+"Jinny," said the Captain, "did you ever know why cabins are called
+staterooms?"
+
+"Why, no," answered she, puzzled.
+
+"There was an old fellow named Shreve who ran steamboats before Jackson
+fought the redcoats at New Orleans. In Shreve's time the cabins were
+curtained off, just like these new-fangled sleeping-car berths. The old
+man built wooden rooms, and he named them after the different states,
+Kentuck, and Illinois, and Pennsylvania. So that when a fellow came
+aboard he'd say: 'What state am I in, Cap?' And from this river has the
+name spread all over the world--stateroom. That's mighty interesting,"
+said Captain Lige.
+
+"Yea," said Virginia; "why didn't you tell me long ago."
+
+"And I'll bet you can't say," the Captain continued, "why this house
+we're standing on is called the texas."
+
+"Because it is annexed to the states," she replied, quick a flash.
+
+"Well, you're bright," said he. "Old Tufts got that notion, when Texas
+came in. Like to see Bill Jenks?"
+
+"Of course," said Virginia.
+
+Bill Jenks was Captain Brent's senior pilot. His skin hung on his face in
+folds, like that of a rhinoceros It was very much the same color. His
+grizzled hair was all lengths, like a worn-out mop; his hand reminded one
+of an eagle's claw, and his teeth were a pine yellow. He greeted only
+such people as he deemed worthy of notice, but he had held Virginia in
+his arms.
+
+"William," said the young lady, roguishly, "how is the eye, location, and
+memory?"
+
+William abandoned himself to a laugh. When this happened it was put in
+the Juanita's log.
+
+"So the Cap'n be still harpin' on that?" he said, "Miss Jinny, he's just
+plumb crazy on a pilot's qualifications."
+
+"He says that you are the best pilot on the river, but I don't believe
+it," said Virginia.
+
+William cackled again. He made a place for her on the leather-padded seat
+at the back of the pilot house, where for a long time she sat staring at
+the flag trembling on the jackstaff between the great sombre pipes. The
+sun fell down, but his light lingered in the air above as the big boat
+forged abreast the foreign city of South St. Louis. There was the
+arsenal--grim despite its dress of green, where Clarence was confined
+alone.
+
+Captain Lige came in from his duties below. "Well, Jinny, we'll soon be
+at home," he said. "We've made a quick trip against the rains."
+
+"And--and do you think the city is safe?"
+
+"Safe!" he cried. "As safe as London!" He checked himself. "Jinny, would
+you like to blow the whistle?"
+
+"I should just love to," said Virginia. And following Mr. Jenks's
+directions she put her toe on the tread, and shrank back when the monster
+responded with a snort and a roar. River men along the levee heard that
+signal and laughed. The joke was certainly not on sturdy Elijah Brent.
+
+An hour later, Virginia and her aunt and the Captain, followed by Mammy
+aster and Rosetta and Susan, were walking through the streets of the
+stillest city in the Union. All that they met was a provost's guard, for
+St. Louis was under Martial Law. Once in a while they saw the light of
+some contemptuous citizen of the residence district who had stayed to
+laugh. Out in the suburbs, at the country houses of the first families,
+people of distinction slept five and six in a room--many with only a
+quilt between body and matting. Little wonder that these dreamed of
+Hessians and destruction. In town they slept with their doors open, those
+who remained and had faith. Martial law means passes and explanations,
+and walking generally in the light of day. Martial law means that the
+Commander-in-chief, if he be an artist in well doing, may use his boot
+freely on politicians bland or beetle-browed. No police force ever gave
+the sense of security inspired by a provost's guard.
+
+Captain Lige sat on the steps of Colonel Carvel's house that night, long
+after the ladies were gone to bed. The only sounds breaking the silence
+of the city were the beat of the feet of the marching squads and the call
+of the corporal's relief. But the Captain smoked in agony until the
+clouds of two days slipped away from under the stars, for he was trying
+to decide a Question. Then he went up to a room in the house which had
+been known as his since the rafters were put down on that floor.
+
+The next morning, as the Captain and Virginia sit at breakfast together
+with only Mammy Easter to cook and Rosetta to wait on them, the Colonel
+bursts in. He is dusty and travel-stained from his night on the train,
+but his gray eyes light with affection as he sees his friend beside his
+daughter.
+
+"Jinny," he cries as he kisses her, "Jinny, I'm proud oil you, my girl!
+You didn't let the Yankees frighten you--But where is Jackson?"
+
+And so the whole miserable tale has to be told over again, between
+laughter and tears on Virginia's part, and laughter and strong language
+on Colonel Carvel's. What--blessing that Lige met them, else the Colonel
+might now be starting for the Cumberland River in search of his daughter.
+The Captain does not take much part in the conversation, and he refuses
+the cigar which is offered him. Mr. Carvel draws back in surprise.
+
+"Lige," he says, "this is the first time to my knowledge."
+
+"I smoked too many last night," says the Captain. The Colonel sat down,
+with his feet against the mantel, too full of affairs to take much notice
+of Mr. Brent's apathy.
+
+"The Yanks have taken the first trick--that's sure," he said. "But I
+think we'll laugh last, Jinny. Jefferson City isn't precisely quiet. The
+state has got more militia, or will have more militia in a day or two. We
+won't miss the thousand they stole in Camp Jackson. They're organizing up
+there. And I've got a few commissions right here," and he tapped his
+pocket.
+
+"Pa," said Virginia, "did you volunteer?"
+
+The Colonel laughed.
+
+"The Governor wouldn't have me," he answered. "He said I was more good
+here in St. Louis. I'll go later. What's this I hear about Clarence?"
+
+Virginia related the occurrences of Saturday. The Colonel listened with
+many exclamations, slapping his knee from time to time as she proceeded.
+
+"By gum!" he cried, when she had finished, "the boy has it in him, after
+all! They can't hold him a day--can they, Lige?" (No answer from the
+Captain, who is eating his breakfast in silence.) "All that we have to do
+is to go for Worington and get a habeas corpus from the United States
+District Court. Come on, Lige." The Captain got up excitedly, his face
+purple.
+
+"I reckon you'll have to excuse me, Colonel," he said. "There's a cargo
+on my boat which has got to come off." And without more ado he left the
+room. In consternation they heard the front door close behind him. And
+yet, neither father nor daughter dared in that hour add to the trial of
+the other by speaking out the dread that was in their hearts. The Colonel
+smoked for a while, not a word escaping him, and then he patted
+Virginia's cheek.
+
+"I reckon I'll run over and see Russell, Jinny," he said, striving to be
+cheerful. "We must get the boy out. I'll see a lawyer." He stopped
+abruptly in the hall and pressed his hand to his forehead. "My God," he
+whispered to himself, "if I could only go to Silas!"
+
+The good Colonel got Mr. Russell, and they went to Mr. Worington, Mrs.
+Colfax's lawyer, of whose politics it is not necessary to speak. There
+was plenty of excitement around the Government building where his Honor
+issued the writ. There lacked not gentlemen of influence who went with
+Mr. Russell and Colonel Carvel and the lawyer and the Commissioner to the
+Arsenal. They were admitted to the presence of the indomitable Lyon, who
+informed them that Captain Colfax was a prisoner of war, and, since the
+arsenal was Government property, not in the state. The Commissioner
+thereupon attested the affidavit to Colonel Carvel, and thus the
+application for the writ was made legal.
+
+These things the Colonel reported to Virginia; and to Mrs. Colfax, who
+received them with red eyes and a thousand queries as to whether that
+Yankee ruffian would pay any attention to the Sovereign law which he
+pretended to uphold; whether the Marshal would not be cast over the
+Arsenal wall by the slack of his raiment when he went to serve the writ.
+This was not the language, but the purport, of the lady's questions.
+Colonel Carvel had made but a light breakfast: he had had no dinner, and
+little rest on the train. But he answered his sister-in-law with
+unfailing courtesy. He was too honest to express a hope which he did not
+feel. He had returned that evening to a dreary household. During the day
+the servants had straggled in from Bellegarde, and Virginia had had
+prepared those dishes which her father loved. Mrs. Colfax chose to keep
+her room, for which the two were silently thankful. Jackson announced
+supper. The Colonel was humming a tune as he went down the stairs, but
+Virginia was not deceived. He would not see the yearning in her eyes as
+he took his chair; he would not glance at Captain Lige's empty seat. It
+was because he did not dare. She caught her breath when she saw that the
+food on his plate lay untouched.
+
+"Pa, are you ill?" she faltered.
+
+He pushed his chair away, such suffering in his look as she had never
+seen.
+
+"Jinny," he said, "I reckon Lige is for the Yankees."
+
+"I have known it all along," she said, but faintly.
+
+"Did he tell you?" her father demanded. "No."
+
+"My God," cried the Colonel, in agony, "to think that he kept it from me
+I to think that Lige kept it from me!"
+
+"It is because he loves you, Pa," answered the girl, gently, "it is
+because he loves us."
+
+He said nothing to that. Virginia got up, and went softly around the
+table. She leaned over his shoulder. "Pa!"
+
+"Yes," he said, his voice lifeless.
+
+But her courage was not to be lightly shaken. "Pa, will you forbid him to
+come here--now?"
+
+A long while she waited for his answer, while the big clock ticked out
+the slow seconds in the hall, and her heart beat wildly.
+
+"No," said the Colonel. "As long as I have a roof, Lige may come under
+it."
+
+He rose abruptly and seized his bat. She did not ask him where he was
+going, but ordered Jackson to keep the supper warm, and went into the
+drawing-room. The lights were out, then, but the great piano that was her
+mother's lay open. Her fingers fell upon the keys. That wondrous hymn
+which Judge Whipple loved, which for years has been the comfort of those
+in distress, floated softly with the night air out of the open window. It
+was "Lead, Kindly Light." Colonel Carvel heard it, and paused.
+
+Shall we follow him?
+
+He did not stop again until he reached the narrow street at the top of
+the levee bank, where the quaint stone houses of the old French residents
+were being loaded with wares. He took a few steps back-up the hill. Then
+he wheeled about, walked swiftly down the levee, and on to the
+landing-stage beside which the big 'Juanita' loomed in the night. On her
+bows was set, fantastically, a yellow street-car.
+
+The Colonel stopped mechanically. Its unexpected appearance there had
+served to break the current of his meditations. He stood staring at it,
+while the roustabouts passed and repassed, noisily carrying great logs of
+wood on shoulders padded by their woollen caps.
+
+"That'll be the first street-car used in the city of New Orleans, if it
+ever gets there, Colonel."
+
+The Colonel jumped. Captain Lige was standing beside him.
+
+"Lige, is that you? We waited supper for you."
+
+"Reckon I'll have to stay here and boss the cargo all night. Want to get
+in as many trips as I can before--navigation closes," the Captain
+concluded significantly.
+
+Colonel Carvel shook his head. "You were never too busy to come for
+supper, Lige. I reckon the cargo isn't all."
+
+Captain Lige shot at him a swift look. He gulped.
+
+"Come over here on the levee," said the Colonel, sternly. They walked out
+together, and for some distance in silence.
+
+"Lige," said the elder gentleman, striking his stick on the stones, "if
+there ever was a straight goer, that's you. You've always dealt squarely
+with me, and now I'm going to ask you a plain question. Are you North or
+South?"
+
+"I'm North, I reckon," answered the Captain, bluntly. The Colonel bowed
+his head. It was a long time before he spoke again. The Captain waited
+like a man who expects and deserve, the severest verdict. But there was
+no anger in Mr. Carvel's voice--only reproach.
+
+"And you wouldn't tell me, Lige? You kept it from me."
+
+"My God, Colonel," exclaimed the other, passionately, "how could I? I owe
+what I have to your charity. But for you and--and Jinny I should have
+gone to the devil. If you and she are taken away, what have I left in
+life? I was a coward, sir, not to tell you. You must have guessed it. And
+yet,--God help me,--I can't stand by and see the nation go to pieces.
+Your nation as well as mine, Colonel. Your fathers fought that we
+Americans might inherit the earth--" He stopped abruptly. Then he
+continued haltingly, "Colonel, I know you're a man of strong feelings and
+convictions. All I ask is that you and Jinny will think of me as a
+friend--"
+
+He choked, and turned away, not heeding the direction of his feet. The
+Colonel, his stick raised, stood looking after him. He was folded in the
+near darkness before he called his name.
+
+"Lige!"
+
+"Yes, Colonel."
+
+He came back, wondering, across the rough stones until he stood beside
+the tall figure. Below them, the lights glided along the dark water.
+
+"Lige, didn't I raise you? Haven't I taught you that my house was your
+home? Come back, Lige. But--but never speak to me again of this night!
+Jinny is waiting for us."
+
+Not a word passed between them as they went up the quiet street. At the
+sound of their feet in the entry the door was flung open, and Virginia,
+with her hands out stretched, stood under the hall light.
+
+"Oh, Pa, I knew you would bring him back," she said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+OF CLARENCE
+
+Captain Clarence Colfax, late of the State Dragoons, awoke on Sunday
+morning the chief of the many topics of the conversation of a big city.
+His conduct drew forth enthusiastic praise from the gentlemen and ladies
+who had thronged Beauregard and Davis avenues, and honest admiration from
+the party which had broken up the camp. The boy had behaved well. There
+were many doting parents, like Mr. Catherwood, whose boys had accepted
+the parole, whose praise was a trifle lukewarm, to be sure. But popular
+opinion, when once aroused, will draw a grunt from the most grudging.
+
+We are not permitted, alas, to go behind these stern walls and discover
+how Captain Colfax passed that eventful Sunday of the Exodus. We know
+that, in his loneliness, he hoped for a visit from his cousin, and took
+to pacing his room in the afternoon, when a smarting sense of injustice
+crept upon him. Clarence was young. And how was he to guess, as he looked
+out in astonishment upon the frightened flock of white boats swimming
+southward, that his mother and his sweetheart were there?
+
+On Monday, while the Colonel and many prominent citizens were busying
+themselves about procuring the legal writ which was at once to release
+Mr. Colfax, and so cleanse the whole body of Camp Jackson's defenders
+from any, veiled intentions toward the Government, many well known
+carriages drew up before the Carvel House in Locust Street to
+congratulate the widow and the Colonel upon the possession of such a son
+and nephew. There were some who slyly congratulated Virginia, whose
+martyrdom it was to sit up with people all the day long. For Mrs, Colfax
+kept her room, and admitted only a few of her bosom friends to cry with
+her. When the last of the callers was gone, Virginia was admitted to her
+aunt's presence.
+
+"Aunt Lillian, to-morrow morning Pa and I are going to the Arsenal with a
+basket for Max. Pa seems to think there is a chance that he may come back
+with us. You will go, of course."
+
+The lady smiled wearily at the proposal, and raised her hands in protest,
+the lace on the sleeves of her dressing gown falling away from her white
+arms.
+
+"Go, my dear?" she exclaimed, "when I can't walk to my bureau after that
+terrible Sunday. You are crazy, Jinny. No," she added, with conviction,
+"I never again expect to see him alive. Comyn says they may release him,
+does he? Is he turning Yankee, too?"
+
+The girl went away, not in anger or impatience, but in sadness. Brought
+up to reverence her elders, she had ignored the shallowness of her aunt's
+character in happier days. But now Mrs. Colfax's conduct carried a
+prophecy with it. Virginia sat down on the landing to ponder on the years
+to come,--on the pain they were likely to bring with them from this
+source--Clarence gone to the war; her father gone (for she felt that he
+would go in the end), Virginia foresaw the lonely days of trial in
+company with this vain woman whom accident made her cousin's mother. Ay,
+and more, fate had made her the mother of the man she was to marry. The
+girl could scarcely bear the thought--through the hurry and swing of the
+events of two days she had kept it from her mind.
+
+But now Clarence was to be released. To-morrow he would be coming home to
+her joyfully for his reward, and she did not love him. She was bound to
+face that again and again. She had cheated herself again and again with
+other feelings. She had set up intense love of country in the shrine
+where it did not belong, and it had answered--for a while. She saw
+Clarence in a hero's light--until a fatal intimate knowledge made her
+shudder and draw back. And yet her resolution should not be water. She
+would carry it through.
+
+Captain Lige's cheery voice roused her from below--and her father's
+laugh. And as she went down to them she thanked God that this friend had
+been spared to him. Never had the Captain's river yarns been better told
+than at the table that evening. Virginia did not see him glance at the
+Colonel when at last he had brought a smile to her face.
+
+"I'm going to leave Jinny with you, Lige," said Mr. Carvel, presently.
+"Worington has some notion that the Marshal may go to the Arsenal
+to-night with the writ. I mustn't neglect the boy."
+
+Virginia stood in front of him. "Won't you let me go?" she pleaded
+
+The Colonel was taken aback. He stood looking down at her, stroking his
+goatee, and marvelling at the ways of woman.
+
+"The horses have been out all day, Jinny," he said, "I am going in the
+cars."
+
+"I can go in the cars, too."
+
+The Colonel looked at Captain Lige.
+
+"There is only a chance that we shall see Clarence," he went on,
+uneasily.
+
+"It is better than sitting still," cried Virginia, as she ran away to get
+the bonnet with the red strings.
+
+"Lige,--" said the Colonel, as the two stood awaiting her in the hall, "I
+can't make her out. Can you?"
+
+The Captain did not answer.
+
+It was a long journey, in a bumping car with had springs that rattled
+unceasingly, past the string of provost guards. The Colonel sat in the
+corner, with his head bent down over his stick At length, cramped and
+weary, they got out, and made their way along the Arsenal wall, past the
+sentries to the entrance. The sergeant brought his rifle to a "port".
+
+"Commandant's orders, sir. No one admitted," he said.
+
+"Is Captain Colfax here?" asked Mr. Carver
+
+"Captain Colfax was taken to Illinois in a skiff, quarter of an hour
+since."
+
+Captain Lige gave vent to a long, low whistle.
+
+"A skiff!" he exclaimed, "and the river this high! A skiff!"
+
+Virginia clasped his arm in terror. "Is there danger?"
+
+Before he could answer came the noise of steps from the direction of the
+river, and a number of people hurried up excitedly. Colonel Carvel
+recognized Mr. Worington, the lawyer, and caught him by the sleeve.
+
+"Anything happened?" he demanded.
+
+Worington glanced at the sentry, and pulled the Colonel past the entrance
+and into the street. Virginia and Captain Lige followed.
+
+"They have started across with him in a light skiff----four men and a
+captain. The young fool! We had him rescued."
+
+"Rescued!"
+
+"Yes. There were but five in the guard. And a lot of us, who suspected
+what they were up to, were standing around. When we saw 'em come down, we
+made a rush and had the guard overpowered But Colfax called out to stand
+back."
+
+"Well, sir."
+
+"Cuss me if I understand him," said Mr. Worington. "He told us to
+disperse, and that he proposed to remain a prisoner and go where they
+sent him."
+
+There was a silence. Then-- "Move on please, gentlemen," said the sentry,
+and they started to walk toward the car line, the lawyer and the Colonel
+together. Virginia put her hand through the Captain's arm. In the
+darkness he laid his big one over it.
+
+"Don't you be frightened, Jinny, at what I said, I reckon they'll fetch
+up in Illinois all right, if I know Lyon. There, there," said Captain
+Lige, soothingly. Virginia was crying softly. She had endured more in the
+past few days than often falls to the lot of one-and-twenty.
+
+"There, there, Jinny." He felt like crying himself. He thought of the
+many, many times he had taken her on his knee and kissed her tears. He
+might do that no more, now. There was the young Captain, a prisoner on
+the great black river, who had a better right, Elijah Brent wondered, as
+they waited in the silent street for the lonely car, if Clarence loved
+her as well as he.
+
+It was vary late when they reached home, and Virginia went silently up to
+her room. Colonel Carvel stared grimly after her, then glanced at his
+friend as he turned down the lights. The eyes of the two met, as of old,
+in true understanding.
+
+The sun was still slanting over the tops of the houses the next morning
+when Virginia, a ghostly figure, crept down the stairs and withdrew the
+lock and bolt on the front door. The street was still, save for the
+twittering of birds and the distant rumble of a cart in its early rounds.
+The chill air of the morning made her shiver as she scanned the entry for
+the newspaper. Dismayed, she turned to the clock in the hall. Its hands
+were at quarter past five.
+
+She sat long behind the curtains in her father's little library, the
+thoughts whirling in her brain as she watched the growing life of another
+day. What would it bring forth? Once she stole softly back to the entry,
+self-indulgent and ashamed, to rehearse again the bitter and the sweet of
+that scene of the Sunday before. She summoned up the image of the young
+man who had stood on these steps in front of the frightened servants. She
+seemed to feel again the calm power and earnestness of his face, to hear
+again the clear-cut tones of his voice as he advised her. Then she drew
+back, frightened, into the sombre library, conscience-stricken that she
+should have yielded to this temptation then, when Clarence--She dared not
+follow the thought, but she saw the light skiff at the mercy of the angry
+river and the dark night.
+
+This had haunted her. If he were spared, she prayed for strength to
+consecrate herself to him A book lay on the table, and Virginia took
+refuge in it. And her eyes glancing over the pages, rested on this
+verse:--
+
+       "Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums,
+        That beat to battle where he stands;
+        Thy face across his fancy comes,
+        And gives the battle to his hands."
+
+The paper brought no news, nor mentioned the ruse to which Captain Lyon
+had resorted to elude the writ by transporting his prisoner to Illinois.
+Newspapers were not as alert then as now. Colonel Carvel was off early to
+the Arsenal in search of tidings. He would not hear of Virginia's going
+with him. Captain Lige, with a surer instinct, went to the river. What a
+morning of suspense! Twice Virginia was summoned to her aunt, and twice
+she made excuse. It was the Captain who returned first, and she met him
+at the door.
+
+"Oh, what have you heard?" she cried.
+
+"He is alive," said the Captain, tremulously, "alive and well, and
+escaped South."
+
+She took a step toward him, and swayed. The Captain caught her. For a
+brief instant he held her in his arms and then he led her to the great
+armchair that was the Colonel's.
+
+"Lige," she said,--are you sure that this is not--a kindness?"
+
+"No, Jinny," he answered quickly, "but things were mighty close. I was
+afraid last night. The river was roarin'. They struck out straight
+across, but they drifted and drifted like log-wood. And then she began to
+fill, and all five of 'em to bail. Then---then she went down. The five
+soldiers came up on that bit of an island below the Arsenal. They hunted
+all night, but they didn't find Clarence. And they got taken off to the
+Arsenal this morning."
+
+"And how do you know?" she faltered.
+
+"I knew that much this morning," he continued, "and so did your pa. But
+the Andrew Jackson is just in from Memphis, and the Captain tells me that
+he spoke the Memphis packet off Cape Girardeau, and that Clarence was
+aboard. She picked him up by a miracle, after he had just missed a round
+trip through her wheel-house."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Crisis, Volume 5, by Winston Churchill
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