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diff --git a/5396-h/5396-h.htm b/5396-h/5396-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4381e8a --- /dev/null +++ b/5396-h/5396-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,24836 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Crisis, by Winston Churchill + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crisis, Complete, by Winston Churchill +[Author is the American Winston Churchill not the British] + +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, Complete + +Author: Winston Churchill + +Release Date: October 6, 2006 [EBook #5396] +Last Updated: February 26, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRISIS, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + THE CRISIS + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Winston Churchill + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE CRISIS</b> </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>BOOK I.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> WHICH DEALS WITH + ORIGINS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER. II. </a> + THE MOLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE + UNATTAINABLE SIMPLICITY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. + </a> BLACK CATTLE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER + V. </a> THE FIRST SPARK PASSES <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> SILAS WHIPPLE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> CALLERS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> BELLEGARDE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> A QUIET SUNDAY IN + LOCUST STREET <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE + LITTLE HOUSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> THE + INVITATION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> "MISS + JINNY” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> THE + PARTY <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> <b>BOOK II.</b> + </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER I. </a> RAW + MATERIAL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER II. </a> ABRAHAM + LINCOLN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER III. </a> IN + WHICH STEPHEN LEARNS SOMETHING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> + CHAPTER IV. </a> THE QUESTION <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE CRISIS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER VI. </a> GLENCOE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER VII. </a> AN EXCURSION <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> THE COLONEL IS + WARNED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER IX. </a> SIGNS + OF THE TIMES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER X. </a> RICHTER'S + SCAR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XI. </a> HOW + A PRINCE CAME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XII. </a> INTO + WHICH A POTENTATE COMES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER + XIII. </a> AT MR. BRINSMADE'S GATE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE BREACH BECOMES + TOO WIDE ABRAHAM LINCOLN! <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER, + XV. </a> MUTTERINGS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0029"> + CHAPTER XVI. </a> THE GUNS OF SUMTER <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> CAMP JACKSON <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XVIII. </a> THE STONE THAT + IS REJECTED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> THE + TENTH OF MAY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XX. </a> IN + THE ARSENAL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE + STAMPEDE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXII. </a> THE + STRAINING OF ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0036"> + CHAPTER XXIII. </a> OF CLARENCE <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0044"> <b>BOOK III.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER I. </a> INTRODUCING A + CAPITALIST <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER II. </a> NEWS + FROM CLARENCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE + SCOURGE OF WAR <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER IV. </a> THE + LIST OF SIXTY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER V. </a> THE + AUCTION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER VI. </a> ELIPHALET + PLAYS HIS TRUMPS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER VII. </a> WITH + THE ARMIES OF THE WEST <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER VIII. + </a> A STRANGE MEETING <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0045"> + CHAPTER XI. </a> BELLEGARDE ONCE MORE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER X. </a> IN JUDGE WHIPPLE'S + OFFICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XI. </a> LEAD, + KINDLY LIGHT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XII. </a> THE + LAST CARD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> FROM + THE LETTERS OF MAJOR STEPHEN BRICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0050"> + CHAPTER XIV. </a> THE SAME, CONTINUED <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER XV. </a> MAN OF SORROW <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> ANNAPOLIS <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0063"> AFTERWORD. </a> <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE CRISIS + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK I. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS + </h2> + <p> + Faithfully to relate how Eliphalet Hopper came try St. Louis is to betray + no secret. Mr. Hopper is wont to tell the story now, when his + daughter-in-law is not by; and sometimes he tells it in her presence, for + he is a shameless and determined old party who denies the divine right of + Boston, and has taken again to chewing tobacco. + </p> + <p> + When Eliphalet came to town, his son's wife, Mrs. Samuel D. (or S. Dwyer + as she is beginning to call herself), was not born. Gentlemen of Cavalier + and Puritan descent had not yet begun to arrive at the Planters' House, to + buy hunting shirts and broad rims, belts and bowies, and depart quietly + for Kansas, there to indulge in that; most pleasurable of Anglo-Saxon + pastimes, a free fight. Mr. Douglas had not thrown his bone of Local + Sovereignty to the sleeping dogs of war. + </p> + <p> + To return to Eliphalet's arrival,—a picture which has much that is + interesting in it. Behold the friendless boy he stands in the prow of the + great steamboat 'Louisiana' of a scorching summer morning, and looks with + something of a nameless disquiet on the chocolate waters of the + Mississippi. There have been other sights, since passing Louisville, which + might have disgusted a Massachusetts lad more. A certain deck on the + 'Paducah', which took him as far as Cairo, was devoted to cattle—black + cattle. Eliphalet possessed a fortunate temperament. The deck was dark, + and the smell of the wretches confined there was worse than it should have + been. And the incessant weeping of some of the women was annoying, + inasmuch as it drowned many of the profane communications of the overseer + who was showing Eliphalet the sights. Then a fine-linened planter from + down river had come in during the conversation, and paying no attention to + the overseer's salute cursed them all into silence, and left. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet had ambition, which is not a wholly undesirable quality. He + began to wonder how it would feel to own a few of these valuable + fellow-creatures. He reached out and touched lightly a young mulatto woman + who sat beside him with an infant in her arms. The peculiar dumb + expression on her face was lost on Eliphalet. The overseer had laughed + coarsely. + </p> + <p> + “What, skeered on 'em?” said he. And seizing the girl by the cheek, gave + it a cruel twinge that brought a cry out of her. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet had reflected upon this incident after he had bid the overseer + good-by at Cairo, and had seen that pitiful coffle piled aboard a steamer + for New Orleans. And the result of his reflections was, that some day he + would like to own slaves. + </p> + <p> + A dome of smoke like a mushroom hung over the city, visible from far down + the river, motionless in the summer air. A long line of steamboats—white, + patient animals—was tethered along the levee, and the Louisiana + presently swung in her bow toward a gap in this line, where a mass of + people was awaiting her arrival. Some invisible force lifted Eliphalet's + eyes to the upper deck, where they rested, as if by appointment, on the + trim figure of the young man in command of the Louisiana. He was very + young for the captain of a large New Orleans packet. When his lips moved, + something happened. Once he raised his voice, and a negro stevedore rushed + frantically aft, as if he had received the end of a lightning-bolt. + Admiration burst from the passengers, and one man cried out Captain + Brent's age—it was thirty-two. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet snapped his teeth together. He was twenty-seven, and his + ambition actually hurt him at such times. After the boat was fast to the + landing stage he remained watching the captain, who was speaking a few + parting words to some passengers of fashion. The body-servants were taking + their luggage to the carriages. Mr. Hopper envied the captain his free and + vigorous speech, his ready jokes, and his hearty laugh. All the rest he + knew for his own—in times to come. The carriages, the trained + servants, the obsequiousness of the humbler passengers. For of such is the + Republic. + </p> + <p> + Then Eliphalet picked his way across the hot stones of the levee, pushing + hither and thither in the rough crowd of river men; dodging the mules on + the heavy drays, or making way for the carriages of the few people of + importance who arrived on the boat. If any recollections of a cool, white + farmhouse amongst barren New England hills disturbed his thoughts, this is + not recorded. He gained the mouth of a street between the low houses which + crowded on the broad river front. The black mud was thick under his feet + from an overnight shower, and already steaming in the sun. The brick + pavement was lumpy from much travel and near as dirty as the street. Here, + too, were drays blocking the way, and sweaty negro teamsters swinging + cowhides over the mules. The smell of many wares poured through the open + doors, mingling with the perspiration of the porters. On every side of him + were busy clerks, with their suspenders much in evidence, and Eliphalet + paused once or twice to listen to their talk. It was tinged with that + dialect he had heard, since leaving Cincinnati. + </p> + <p> + Turning a corner, Eliphalet came abruptly upon a prophecy. A great drove + of mules was charging down the gorge of the street, and straight at him. + He dived into an entrance, and stood looking at the animals in startled + wonder as they thundered by, flinging the mud over the pavements. A + cursing lot of drovers on ragged horses made the rear guard. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet mopped his brow. The mules seemed to have aroused in him some + sense of his atomity, where the sight of the pillar of smoke and of the + black cattle had failed. The feeling of a stranger in a strange land was + upon him at last. A strange land, indeed! Could it be one with his native + New England? Did Congress assemble from the Antipodes? Wasn't the great, + ugly river and dirty city at the end of the earth, to be written about in + Boston journals? + </p> + <p> + Turning in the doorway, he saw to his astonishment a great store, with + high ceilings supported by columns. The door was stacked high with bales + of dry goods. Beside him was a sign in gold lettering, “Carvel and + Company, Wholesale Dry Goods.” And lastly, looking down upon him with a + quizzical expression, was a gentleman. There was no mistaking the + gentleman. He was cool, which Eliphalet was not. And the fact is the more + remarkable because the gentleman was attired according to the fashion of + the day for men of his age, in a black coat with a teal of ruffled shirt + showing, and a heavy black stock around his collar. He had a white + mustache, and a goatee, and white hair under his black felt hat. His face + was long, his nose straight, and the sweetness of its smile had a strange + effect upon Eliphalet, who stood on one foot. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sonny, scared of mules, are you?” The speech is a stately drawl + very different from the nasal twang of Eliphalet's bringing up. “Reckon + you don't come from anywhere round here?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” said Eliphalet. “From Willesden, Massachusetts.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in on the 'Louisiana'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” But why this politeness? + </p> + <p> + The elderly gentleman lighted a cigar. The noise of the rushing mules had + now become a distant roar, like a whirlwind which has swept by. But + Eliphalet did not stir. + </p> + <p> + “Friends in town?” inquired the gentleman at length. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” sighed Mr. Hopper. + </p> + <p> + At this point of the conversation a crisp step sounded from behind and + wonderful smile came again on the surface. + </p> + <p> + “Mornin', Colonel,” said a voice which made Eliphalet jump. And he swung + around to perceive the young captain of the Louisiana. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Captain Lige,” cried the Colonel, without ceremony, “and how do you + find yourself to-day, suh? A good trip from Orleans? We did not look for + you so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Tolluble, Colonel, tolluble,” said the young man, grasping the Colonel's + hand. “Well, Colonel, I just called to say that I got the seventy bales of + goods you wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Ephum” cried the Colonel, diving toward a counter where glasses were set + out,—a custom new to Eliphalet,—“Ephum, some of that very + particular Colonel Crittenden sent me over from Kentucky last week.” + </p> + <p> + An old darkey, with hair as white as the Colonel's, appeared from behind + the partition. + </p> + <p> + “I 'lowed you'd want it, Marse Comyn, when I seed de Cap'n comin',” said + he, with the privilege of an old servant. Indeed, the bottle was beneath + his arm. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Hope you'se well, Cap'n,” said Ephum, as he drew the cork. + </p> + <p> + “Tolluble, Ephum,” replied the Captain. “But, Ephum—say, Ephum!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah.” + </p> + <p> + “How's my little sweetheart, Ephum?” + </p> + <p> + “Bress your soul, sah,” said Ephum, his face falling perceptibly, “bress + your soul, sah, Miss Jinny's done gone to Halcyondale, in Kaintuck, to see + her grandma. Ole Ephum ain't de same nigger when she's away.” + </p> + <p> + The young Captain's face showed as much disappointment as the darkey's. + </p> + <p> + “Cuss it!” said he, strongly, “if that ain't too bad! I brought her a + Creole doll from New Orleans, which Madame Claire said was dressed finer + than any one she'd ever seen. All lace and French gewgaws, Colonel. But + you'll send it to her?” + </p> + <p> + “That I will, Lige,” said the Colonel, heartily. “And she shall write you + the prettiest note of thanks you ever got.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless her pretty face,” cried the Captain. “Her health, Colonel! Here's a + long life to Miss Virginia Carvel, and may she rule forever! How old did + you say this was?” he asked, looking into the glass. + </p> + <p> + “Over half a century,” said Colonel Carvel. + </p> + <p> + “If it came from the ruins of Pompeii,” cried Captain Brent, “it might be + worthy of her!” + </p> + <p> + “What an idiot you are about that child, Lige,” said the Colonel, who was + not hiding his pleasure. The Colonel could hide nothing. “You ruin her!” + </p> + <p> + The bluff young Captain put down his glass to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Ruin her!” he exclaimed. “Her pa don't ruin her I eh, Ephum? Her pa don't + ruin her!” + </p> + <p> + “Lawsy, Marse Lige, I reckon he's wuss'n any.” + </p> + <p> + “Ephum,” said the Colonel, pulling his goatee thoughtfully, “you're a + damned impertinent nigger. I vow I'll sell you South one of these days. + Have you taken that letter to Mr. Renault?” He winked at his friend as the + old darkey faded into the darkness of the store, and continued: “Did I + ever tell you about Wilson Peale's portrait of my grandmother, Dorothy + Carvel, that I saw this summer at my brother Daniel's, in Pennsylvania? + Jinny's going to look something like her, sir. Um! She was a fine woman. + Black hair, though. Jinny's is brown, like her Ma's.” The Colonel handed a + cigar to Captain Brent, and lit one himself. “Daniel has a book my + grandfather wrote, mostly about her. Lord, I remember her! She was the + queen-bee of the family while she lived. I wish some of us had her + spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel,” remarked Captain Lige, “what's this I heard on the levee just + now about your shootin' at a man named Babcock on the steps here?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel became very grave. His face seemed to grow longer as he pulled + his goatee. + </p> + <p> + “He was standing right where you are, sir,” he replied (Captain Lige + moved), “and he proposed that I should buy his influence.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do?” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Carvel laughed quietly at the recollection + </p> + <p> + “Shucks,” said he, “I just pushed him into the streets gave him a little + start, and put a bullet past his ear, just to let the trash know the sound + of it. Then Russell went down and bailed me out.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain shook with laughter. But Mr. Eliphalet Hopper's eyes were + glued to the mild-mannered man who told the story, and his hair rose under + his hat. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, Lige, how's that boy, Tato? Somehow after I let you have him + on the 'Louisiana', I thought I'd made a mistake to let him run the river. + Easter's afraid he'll lose the little religion she taught him.” + </p> + <p> + It was the Captain's turn to be grave. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you what, Colonel,” said he; “we have to have hands, of course. + But somehow I wish this business of slavery had never been started!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the Colonel, with some force, “God made the sons of Ham the + servants of Japheth's sons forever and forever.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, we won't quarrel about that, sir,” said Brent, quickly. “If + they all treated slaves as you do, there wouldn't be any cry from + Boston-way. And as for me, I need hands. I shall see you again, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + “Take supper with me to-night, Lige,” said Mr. Carvel. “I reckon you'll + find it rather lonesome without Jinny.” + </p> + <p> + “Awful lonesome,” said the Captain. “But you'll show me her letters, won't + you?” + </p> + <p> + He started out, and ran against Eliphalet. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he cried. “Who's this?” + </p> + <p> + “A young Yankee you landed here this morning, Lige,” said the Colonel. + “What do you think of him?” + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” exclaimed the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “He has no friends in town, and he is looking for employment. Isn't that + so, sonny?” asked the Colonels kindly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, Lige, would you take him?” said Mr. Carvel. + </p> + <p> + The young Captain looked into Eliphalet's face. The dart that shot from + his eyes was of an aggressive honesty; and Mr. Hopper's, after an attempt + at defiance, were dropped. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Why not, Lige?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, for one thing, he's been listening,” said Captain Lige, as he + departed. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Carvel began to hum softly to himself:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'One said it was an owl, and the other he said nay, + One said it was a church with the steeple torn away, + Look a' there now!' +</pre> + <p> + “I reckon you're a rank abolitionist,” said he to Eliphalet, abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see any particular harm in keepin' slaves,” Mr. Hopper replied, + shifting to the other foot. + </p> + <p> + Whereupon the Colonel stretched his legs apart, seized his goatee, pulled + his head down, and gazed at him for some time from under his eyebrows, so + searchingly that the blood flew to Mr. Hopper's fleshy face. He mopped it + with a dark-red handkerchief, stared at everything in the place save the + gentleman in front of him, and wondered whether he had ever in his life + been so uncomfortable. Then he smiled sheepishly, hated himself, and began + to hate the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Ever hear of the Liberator?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” said Mr. Hopper. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you come from?” This was downright directness, from which there + was no escape. + </p> + <p> + “Willesden, Massachusetts.” + </p> + <p> + “Umph! And never heard of Mr. Garrison?” + </p> + <p> + “I've had to work all my life.” + </p> + <p> + “What can you do, sonny?” + </p> + <p> + “I cal'late to sweep out a store. I have kept books,” Mr. Hopper + vouchsafed. + </p> + <p> + “Would you like work here?” asked the Colonel, kindly. The green eyes + looked up swiftly, and down again. + </p> + <p> + “What'll you give me?” + </p> + <p> + The good man was surprised. “Well,” said he, “seven dollars a week.” + </p> + <p> + Many a time in after life had the Colonel reason to think over this scene. + He was a man the singleness of whose motives could not be questioned. The + one and sufficient reason for giving work to a homeless boy, from the + hated state of the Liberator, was charity. The Colonel had his moods, like + many another worthy man. + </p> + <p> + The small specks on the horizon sometimes grow into the hugest of thunder + clouds. And an act of charity, out of the wisdom of God, may produce on + this earth either good or evil. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet closed with the bargain. Ephum was called and told to lead the + recruit to the presence of Mr. Hood, the manager. And he spent the + remainder of a hot day checking invoices in the shipping entrance on + Second Street. + </p> + <p> + It is not our place here to chronicle Eliphalet's faults. Whatever he may + have been, he was not lazy. But he was an anomaly to the rest of the young + men in the store, for those were days when political sentiments decided + fervent loves or hatreds. In two days was Eliphalet's reputation for + wisdom made. During that period he opened his mouth to speak but twice. + The first was in answer to a pointless question of Mr. Barbo's (aetat 25), + to the effect that he, Eliphalet Hopper, was a Pierce Democrat, who looked + with complacency on the extension of slavery. This was wholly + satisfactory, and saved the owner of these sentiments a broken head. The + other time Eliphalet spoke was to ask Mr. Barbo to direct him to a + boardinghouse. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon,” Mr. Barbo reflected, “that you'll want one of them + Congregational boarding-houses. We've got a heap of Yankees in the town, + and they all flock together and pray together. I reckon you'd ruther go to + Miss Crane's nor anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + Forthwith to Miss Crane's Eliphalet went. And that lady, being a Greek + herself, knew a Greek when she saw one. The kind-hearted Barbo lingered in + the gathering darkness to witness the game which ensued, a game dear to + all New Englanders, comical to Barbo. The two contestants calculated. + Barbo reckoned, and put his money on his new-found fellow-clerk. + Eliphalet, indeed, never showed to better advantage. The shyness he had + used with the Colonel, and the taciturnity practised on his fellow-clerks, + he slipped off like coat and waistcoat for the battle. The scene was in + the front yard of the third house in Dorcas Row. Everybody knows where + Dorcas Row was. Miss Crane, tall, with all the severity of side curls and + bombazine, stood like a stone lioness at the gate. In the background, by + the steps, the boarders sat, an interested group. Eliphalet girded up his + loins, and sharpened his nasal twang to cope with hers. The preliminary + sparring was an exchange of compliments, and deceived neither party. It + seemed rather to heighten mutual respect. + </p> + <p> + “You be from Willesden, eh?” said Crane. “I calculate you know the + Salters.” + </p> + <p> + If the truth were known, this evidence of an apparent omniscience rather + staggered Eliphalet. But training stood by him, and he showed no dismay. + Yes, he knew the Salters, and had drawed many a load out of Hiram Salters' + wood-lot to help pay for his schooling. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see,” said Miss Crane, innocently; “who was it one of them Salters + girls married, and lived across the way from the meetin'-house?” + </p> + <p> + “Spauldin',” was the prompt reply. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I want t' know!” cried the spinster: “not Ezra Spauldin'?” + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet nodded. That nod was one of infinite shrewdness which commended + itself to Miss Crane. These courtesies, far from making awkward the + material discussion which followed; did not affect it in the least. + </p> + <p> + “So you want me to board you?” said she, as if in consternation. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet calculated, if they could come to terms. And Mr. Barbo keyed + himself to enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + “Single gentlemen,” said she, “pay as high as twelve dollars.” And she + added that they had no cause to complain of her table. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet said he guessed he'd have to go somewhere else. Upon this the + lady vouchsafed the explanation that those gentlemen had high positions + and rented her large rooms. Since Mr. Hopper was from Willesden and knew + the Salters, she would be willing to take him for less. Eliphalet said + bluntly he would give three and a half. Barbo gasped. This particular kind + of courage was wholly beyond him. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later Eliphalet carried his carpet-bag up three flights and + put it down in a tiny bedroom under the eaves, still pulsing with heat + waves. Here he was to live, and eat at Miss Crane's table for the + consideration of four dollars a week. + </p> + <p> + Such is the story of the humble beginning of one substantial prop of the + American Nation. And what a hackneyed story it is! How many other young + men from the East have travelled across the mountains and floated down the + rivers to enter those strange cities of the West, the growth of which was + like Jonah's gourd. + </p> + <p> + Two centuries before, when Charles Stuart walked out of a window in + Whitehall Palace to die; when the great English race was in the throes of + a Civil War; when the Stern and the Gay slew each other at Naseby and + Marston Moor, two currents flowed across the Atlantic to the New World. + Then the Stern men found the stern climate, and the Gay found the smiling + climate. + </p> + <p> + After many years the streams began to move again, westward, ever westward. + Over the ever blue mountains from the wonderland of Virginia into the + greater wonderland of Kentucky. And through the marvels of the Inland + Seas, and by white conestogas threading flat forests and floating over + wide prairies, until the two tides met in a maelstrom as fierce as any in + the great tawny torrent of the strange Father of Waters. A city founded by + Pierre Laclede, a certain adventurous subject of Louis who dealt in furs, + and who knew not Marly or Versailles, was to be the place of the mingling + of the tides. After cycles of separation, Puritan and Cavalier united on + this clay-bank in the Louisiana Purchase, and swept westward together—like + the struggle of two great rivers when they meet the waters for a while + were dangerous. + </p> + <p> + So Eliphalet was established, among the Puritans, at Miss Crane's. The + dishes were to his taste. Brown bread and beans and pies were plentiful, + for it was a land of plenty. All kinds of Puritans were there, and they + attended Mr. Davitt's Congregational Church. And may it be added in + justice to Mr. Hopper, that he became not the least devout of the + boarders. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER. II. THE MOLE + </h2> + <p> + For some years, while Stephen A. Douglas and Franklin Pierce and other + gentlemen of prominence were playing at bowls on the United States of + America; while Kansas was furnishing excitement free of charge to any + citizen who loved sport, Mr. Eliphalet Hopper was at work like the + industrious mole, underground. It is safe to affirm that Colonel Carvel + forgot his new hand as soon as he had turned him over to Mr. Hood, the + manager. As for Mr. Hopper, he was content. We can ill afford to dissect + motives. Genius is willing to lay the foundations of her structure + unobserved. + </p> + <p> + At first it was Mr. Barbo alone who perceived Eliphalet's greatness,—Mr. + Barbo, whose opinions were so easily had that they counted for nothing. + The other clerks, to say the least, found the newcomer uncompanionable. He + had no time for skylarking, the heat of the day meant nothing to him, and + he was never sleepy. He learned the stock as if by intuition, and such was + his strict attention to business that Mr. Hood was heard is say, + privately, he did not like the looks of it. A young man should have other + interests. And then, although he would not hold it against him, he had + heard that Mr. Hopper was a teacher in Mr. Davitt's Sunday School. + </p> + <p> + Because he did not discuss his ambitions at dinner with the other clerks + in the side entry, it must not be thought that Eliphalet was without other + interests. He was likewise too shrewd to be dragged into political + discussions at the boarding-house table. He listened imperturbably to the + outbursts against the Border Ruffian, and smiled when Mr. Abner Reed, in + an angry passion, asked him to declare whether or not he was a friend of + the Divine Institution. After a while they forgot about him (all save Miss + Crane), which was what Mr. Hopper of all things desired. + </p> + <p> + One other friend besides Miss Crane did Eliphalet take unto himself, + wherein he showed much discrimination. This friend was none other than Mr. + Davitt, minister for many years of the Congregational Church. For Mr. + Davitt was a good man, zealous in his work, unpretentious, and kindly. + More than once Eliphalet went to his home to tea, and was pressed to talk + about himself and his home life. The minister and his wife ware invariably + astonished, after their guest was gone, at the meagre result of their + inquiries. + </p> + <p> + If Love had ever entered such a discreet soul as that into which we are + prying, he used a back entrance. Even Mr. Barbo's inquiries failed in the + discovery of any young person with whom Eliphalet “kept company.” Whatever + the notions abroad concerning him, he was admittedly a model. There are + many kinds of models. With some young ladies at the Sunday School, indeed, + he had a distant bowing acquaintance. They spoke of him as the young man + who knew the Bible as thoroughly as Mr. Davitt himself. The only time that + Mr. Hopper was discovered showing embarrassment was when Mr. Davitt held + his hand before them longer than necessary on the church steps. Mr. Hopper + was not sentimental. + </p> + <p> + However fascinating the subject, I do not propose to make a whole book + about Eliphalet. Yet sidelights on the life of every great man are + interesting. And there are a few incidents in his early career which have + not gotten into the subscription biographical Encyclopaedias. In several + of these volumes, to be sure, we may see steel engravings of him, true + likenesses all. His was the type of face which is the glory of the steel + engraving,—square and solid, as a corner-stone should be. The very + clothes he wore were made for the steel engraving, stiff and wiry in + texture, with sharp angles at the shoulders, and sombre in hue, as befit + such grave creations. + </p> + <p> + Let us go back to a certain fine morning in the September of the year + 1857, when Mr. Hopper had arrived, all unnoticed, at the age of two and + thirty. Industry had told. He was now the manager's assistant; and, be it + said in passing, knew more about the stock than Mr. Hood himself. On this + particular morning, about nine o'clock, he was stacking bolts of woollen + goods near that delectable counter where the Colonel was wont to regale + his principal customers, when a vision appeared in the door. Visions were + rare at Carvel & Company's. This one was followed by an old negress + with leathery wrinkles, whose smile was joy incarnate. They entered the + store, paused at the entrance to the Colonel's private office, and + surveyed it with dismay. + </p> + <p> + “Clar t' goodness, Miss Jinny, yo' pa ain't heah! An' whah's Ephum, dat + black good-fo'-nuthin'!” + </p> + <p> + Miracle number one,—Mr. Hopper stopped work and stared. The vision + was searching the store with her eyes, and pouting. + </p> + <p> + “How mean of Pa!” she exclaimed, “when I took all this trouble to surprise + him, not to be here! Where are they all? Where's Ephum? Where's Mr. Hood?” + </p> + <p> + The eyes lighted on Eliphalet. His blood was sluggish, but it could be + made to beat faster. The ladies he had met at Miss Crane's were not of + this description. As he came forward, embarrassment made him shamble, and + for the first time in his life he was angrily conscious of a poor figure. + Her first question dashed out the spark of his zeal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said she, “are you employed here?” + </p> + <p> + Thoughtless Virginia! You little know the man you have insulted by your + haughty drawl. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then find Mr. Carvel, won't you, please? And tell him that his daughter + has come from Kentucky, and is waiting for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I callate Mr. Carvel won't be here this morning,” said Eliphalet. He went + back to the pile of dry goods, and began to work. But he was unable to + meet the displeasure in her face. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” Miss Carvel demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Hopper.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Mr. Hopper, please find Ephum, or Mr. Hood.” + </p> + <p> + Two more bolts were taken off the truck. Out of the corner of his eye he + watched her, and she seemed very tall, like her father. She was taller + than he, in fact. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't a servant, Miss Carvel,” he said, with a meaning glance at the + negress. + </p> + <p> + “Laws, Miss Jinny,” cried she, “I may's 'ell find Ephum. I knows he's + loafin' somewhar hereabouts. An' I ain't seed him dese five month.” And + she started for the back of the store. + </p> + <p> + “Mammy!” + </p> + <p> + The old woman stopped short. Eliphalet, electrified, looked up and + instantly down again. + </p> + <p> + “You say you are employed by Mr. Carvel, and refuse to do what I ask?” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't a servant,” Mr. Hopper repeated doggedly. He felt that he was in + the right,—and perhaps he was. + </p> + <p> + It was at this critical juncture in the proceedings that a young man + stepped lightly into the store behind Miss Jinny. Mr. Hopper's eye was on + him, and had taken in the details of his costume before realizing the + import of his presence. He was perhaps twenty, and wore a coat that sprung + in at the waist, and trousers of a light buff-color that gathered at the + ankle and were very copious above. His features were of the straight type + which has been called from time immemorial patrician. He had dark hair + which escaped in waves from under his hat, and black eyes that snapped + when they perceived Miss Virginia Carvel. At sight of her, indeed, the + gold-headed cane stopped in its gyrations in midair. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jinny!” he cried—“Jinny!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper would have sold his soul to have been in the young man's + polished boots, to have worn his clothes, and to have been able to cry out + to the young lady, “Why, Jinny!” + </p> + <p> + To Mr. Hopper's surprise, the young lady did not turn around. She stood + perfectly still. But a red flush stole upon her cheek, and laughter was + dancing in her eyes yet she did not move. The young man took a step + forward, and then stood staring at her with such a comical expression of + injury on his face as was too much for Miss Jinny's serenity. She laughed. + That laugh also struck minor chords upon Mr. Hopper's heart-strings. + </p> + <p> + But the young gentleman very properly grew angry. + </p> + <p> + “You've no right to treat me the way you do, Virginia,” he cried. “Why + didn't you let me know that you were coming home?” His tone was one of + authority. “You didn't come from Kentucky alone!” + </p> + <p> + “I had plenty of attendance, I assure you,” said Miss Carvel. “A governor, + and a senator, and two charming young gentlemen from New Orleans as far as + Cairo, where I found Captain Lige's boat. And Mr. Brinsmade brought me + here to the store. I wanted to surprise Pa,” she continued rapidly, to + head off the young gentleman's expostulations. “How mean of him not to be + here!” + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to escort you home,” said he, with ceremony: + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to decline the honah, Mr. Colfax,” she cried, imitating him. “I + intend to wait here until Pa comes in.” + </p> + <p> + Then Eliphalet knew that the young gentleman was Miss Virginia's first + cousin. And it seemed to him that he had heard a rumor, amongst the clerks + in the store; that she was to marry him one day. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Uncle Comyn?” demanded Mr. Colfax, swinging his cane with + impatience. + </p> + <p> + Virgina looked hard at Mr. Hopper. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Ephum!” shouted Mr. Colfax. “Ephum! Easters where the deuce is that + good-for-nothing husband of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “I dunno, Marse Clarence. 'Spec he whah he oughtn't ter be.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Colfax spied the stooping figure of Eliphalet. + </p> + <p> + “Do you work here?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I callate.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “I callate to,” responded Mr. Hopper again, without rising. + </p> + <p> + “Please find Mr. Hood,” directed Mr. Colfax, with a wave of his cane, “and + say that Miss Carvel is here—” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Miss Carvel seated herself upon the edge of a bale and giggled, + which did not have a soothing effect upon either of the young men. How + abominably you were wont to behave in those days, Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “Just say that Mr. Colfax sent you,” Clarence continued, with a note of + irritation. “There's a good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia laughed outright. Her cousin did not deign to look at her. His + temper was slipping its leash. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether you hear me,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + No answer. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Carvel hires you, doesn't he? He pays you wages, and the first + time his daughter comes in here you refuse to do her a favor. By thunder, + I'll see that you are dismissed.” + </p> + <p> + Still Eliphalet gave him no manner of attention, but began marking the + tags at the bottom of the pile. + </p> + <p> + It was at this unpropitious moment that Colonel Carvel walked into the + store, and his daughter flew into his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he said, kissing her, “thought you'd surprise me, eh, + Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Pa,” she cried, looking reproachfully up at his Face. “You knew—how + mean of you!” + </p> + <p> + “I've been down on the Louisiana, where some inconsiderate man told me, or + I should not have seen you today. I was off to Alton. But what are these + goings-on?” said the Colonel, staring at young Mr. Colfax, rigid as one of + his own gamecocks. He was standing defiantly over the stooping figure of + the assistant manager. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Virginia, indifferently, “it's only Clarence. He's so tiresome. + He's always wanting to fight with somebody.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Clarence?” asked the Colonel, with the mild unconcern + which deceived so many of the undiscerning. + </p> + <p> + “This person, sir, refused to do a favor for your daughter. She told him, + and I told him, to notify Mr. Hood that Miss Carvel was here, and he + refused.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper continued his occupation, which was absorbing. But he was + listening. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Carvel pulled his goatee, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Clarence,” said he, “I reckon I can run this establishment without any + help from you and Jinny. I've been at it now for a good many years.” + </p> + <p> + If Mr. Barbo had not been constitutionally unlucky, he might have + perceived Mr. Hopper, before dark that evening, in conversation with Mr. + Hood about a certain customer who lived up town, and presently leave the + store by the side entrance. He walked as rapidly as his legs would carry + him, for they were a trifle short for his body; and in due time, as the + lamps were flickering, he arrived near Colonel Carvel's large double + residence, on Tenth and Locust streets. Then he walked slowly along Tenth, + his eyes lifted to the tall, curtained windows. Now and anon they scanned + passers-by for a chance acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper walked around the block, arriving again opposite the Carvel + house, and beside Mr. Renault's, which was across from it. Eliphalet had + inherited the principle of mathematical chances. It is a fact that the + discreet sometimes take chances. Towards the back of Mr. Renault's + residence, a wide area was sunk to the depth of a tall man, which was + apparently used for the purpose of getting coal and wood into the cellar. + Mr. Hopper swept the neighborhood with a glance. The coast was clear, and + he dropped into the area. + </p> + <p> + Although the evening was chill, at first Mr. Hopper perspired very freely. + He crouched in the area while the steps of pedestrians beat above his + head, and took no thought but of escape. At last, however, he grew cooler, + removed his hat, and peeped over the stone coping. Colonel Carvel's house—her + house—was now ablaze with lights, and the shades not yet drawn. + There was the dining room, where the negro butler was moving about the + table; and the pantry, where the butler went occasionally; and the + kitchen, with black figures moving about. But upstairs on the two streets + was the sitting room. The straight figure of the Colonel passed across the + light. He held a newspaper in his hand. Suddenly, full in the window, he + stopped and flung away the paper. A graceful shadow slipped across the + wall. Virginia laid her hands on his shoulders, and he stooped to kiss + her. Now they sat between the curtains, she on the arm of his chair and + leaning on him, together looking out of the window. + </p> + <p> + How long this lasted Mr. Hopper could not say. Even the wise forget + themselves. But all at once a wagon backed and bumped against the curb in + front of him, and Eliphalet's head dropped as if it had been struck by the + wheel. Above him a sash screamed as it opened, and he heard Mr. Renault's + voice say, to some person below: + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Capitaine Grant?” + </p> + <p> + “The same,” was the brief reply. + </p> + <p> + “I am charmed that you have brought the wood. I thought that you had + forgotten me.” + </p> + <p> + “I try to do what I say, Mr. Renault.” + </p> + <p> + “Attendez—wait!” cried Mr. Renault, and closed the window. + </p> + <p> + Now was Eliphalet's chance to bolt. The perspiration had come again, and + it was cold. But directly the excitable little man, Renault, had appeared + on the pavement above him. He had been running. + </p> + <p> + “It is a long voyage from Gravois with a load of wood, Capitaine—I + am very grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “Business is business, Mr. Renault,” was the self-contained reply. + </p> + <p> + “Alphonse!” cried Mr. Renault, “Alphonse!” A door opened in the back wall. + “Du vin pour Monsieur le Capitaine.” + </p> + <p> + “Oui, M'sieu.” + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet was too frightened to wonder why this taciturn handler of wood + was called Captain, and treated with such respect. + </p> + <p> + “Guess I won't take any wine to-night, Mr. Renault,” said he. “You go + inside, or you'll take cold.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Renault protested, asked about all the residents of Gravois way, and + finally obeyed. Eliphalet's heart was in his mouth. A bolder spirit would + have dashed for liberty. Eliphalet did not possess that kind of bravery. + He was waiting for the Captain to turn toward his wagon. + </p> + <p> + He looked down the area instead, with the light from the street lamp on + his face. Fear etched an ineffaceable portrait of him on Mr. Hopper's + mind, so that he knew him instantly when he saw him years afterward. + Little did he reckon that the fourth time he was to see him this man was + to be President of the United States. He wore a close-cropped beard, an + old blue army overcoat, and his trousers were tucked into a pair of muddy + cowhide boots. + </p> + <p> + Swiftly but silently the man reached down and hauled Eliphalet to the + sidewalk by the nape of the neck. + </p> + <p> + “What were you doing there?” demanded he of the blue overcoat, sternly. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet did not answer. With one frantic wrench he freed himself, and + ran down Locust Street. At the corner, turning fearfully, he perceived the + man in the overcoat calmly preparing to unload his wood. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE UNATTAINABLE SIMPLICITY + </h2> + <p> + To Mr. Hopper the being caught was the unpardonable crime. And indeed, + with many of us, it is humiliation and not conscience which makes the + sting. He walked out to the end of the city's growth westward, where the + new houses were going up. He had reflected coolly on consequences, and + found there were none to speak of. Many a moralist, Mr. Davitt included, + would have shaken his head at this. Miss Crane's whole Puritan household + would have raised their hands in horror at such a doctrine. + </p> + <p> + Some novelists I know of, who are in reality celebrated surgeons in + disguise, would have shown a good part of Mr. Eliphalet Hopper's mental + insides in as many words as I have taken to chronicle his arrival in St. + Louis. They invite us to attend a clinic, and the horrible skill with + which they wield the scalpel holds us spellbound. For God has made all of + us, rogue and saint, burglar and burgomaster, marvellously alike. We read + a patent medicine circular and shudder with seven diseases. We peruse one + of Mr. So and So's intellectual tonics and are sure we are complicated + scandals, fearfully and wonderfully made. + </p> + <p> + Alas, I have neither the skill nor the scalpel to show the diseases of Mr. + Hopper's mind; if, indeed, he had any. Conscience, when contracted, is + just as troublesome as croup. Mr. Hopper was thoroughly healthy. He had + ambition, as I have said. But he was not morbidly sensitive. He was calm + enough when he got back to the boarding-house, which he found in as high a + pitch of excitement as New Englanders ever reach. + </p> + <p> + And over what? + </p> + <p> + Over the prospective arrival that evening of the Brices, mother and son, + from Boston. Miss Crane had received the message in the morning. + Palpitating with the news; she had hurried rustling to Mrs. Abner Reed, + with the paper in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you don't mean Mrs. Appleton Brice,” said Mrs. Reed. + </p> + <p> + “That's just who I mean,” answered Miss Crane, triumphantly,—nay, + aggressively. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Abner shook her curls in a way that made people overwhelm her with + proofs. + </p> + <p> + “Mirandy, you're cracked,” said she. “Ain't you never been to Boston?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Crane bridled. This was an uncalled-for insult. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I visited down Boston-way oftener than you, Eliza Reed. You never + had any clothes.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Reed's strength was her imperturbability. + </p> + <p> + “And you never set eyes on the Brice house, opposite the Common, with the + swelled front? I'd like to find out where you were a-visitin'. And you've + never heard tell of the Brice homestead, at Westbury, that was Colonel + Wilton Brice's, who fought in the Revolution? I'm astonished at you, + Mirandy. When I used to be at the Dales', in Mount Vernon Street, in + thirty-seven, Mrs. Charles Atterbury Brice used to come there in her + carriage, a-callin'. She was Appleton's mother. Severe! Save us,” + exclaimed Mrs. Reed, “but she was stiff as starched crepe. His father was + minister to France. The Brices were in the India trade, and they had money + enough to buy the whole of St. Louis.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Crane rattled the letter in her hand. She brought forth her reserves. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and Appleton Brice lost it all, in the panic. And then he died, and + left the widow and son without a cent.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Reed took off her spectacles. + </p> + <p> + “I want to know!” she exclaimed. “The durned fool! Well, Appleton Brice + didn't have the family brains, ands he was kind of soft-hearted. I've + heard Mehitabel Dale say that.” She paused to reflect. “So they're coming + here?” she added. “I wonder why.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Crane's triumph was not over. + </p> + <p> + “Because Silas Whipple was some kin to Appleton Brice, and he has offered + the boy a place in his law office.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Reed laid down her knitting. + </p> + <p> + “Save us!” she said. “This is a day of wonders, Mirandy. Now Lord help the + boy if he's gain' to work for the Judge.” + </p> + <p> + “The Judge has a soft heart, if he is crabbed,” declared the spinster. + “I've heard say of a good bit of charity he's done. He's a soft heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Soft as a green quince!” said Mrs. Abner, scornfully. “How many friends + has he?” + </p> + <p> + “Those he has are warm enough,” Miss Crane retorted. “Look at Colonel + Carvel, who has him to dinner every Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “That's plain as your nose, Mirandy Crane. They both like quarrellin' + better than anything in this world.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Miss Crane, “I must go make ready for the Brices.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the importance of the occasion, however, that she could not + resist calling at Mrs. Merrill's room, and she knocked at Mrs. Chandler's + door to tell that lady and her daughter. + </p> + <p> + No Burke has as yet arisen in this country of ours to write a Peerage. + Fame awaits him. Indeed, it was even then awaiting him, at the time of the + panic of 1857. With what infinite pains were the pedigree and possessions + of the Brice family pieced together that day by the scattered residents + from Puritan-land in the City of St. Louis. And few buildings would have + borne the wear and tear of many house-cleanings of the kind Miss Crane + indulged in throughout the morning and afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Eliphalet Hopper, on his return from business, was met on the steps + and requested to wear his Sunday clothes. Like the good republican that he + was, Mr. Hopper refused. He had ascertained that the golden charm which + made the Brices worthy of tribute had been lost. Commercial supremacy,—that + was Mr. Hopper's creed. Family is a good thing, but of what use is a crest + without the panels on which to paint it? Can a diamond brooch shine on a + calico gown? Mr. Hopper deemed church the place for worship. He likewise + had his own idol in his closet. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet at Willesden had heard a great deal of Boston airs and graces + and intellectuality, of the favored few of that city who lived in + mysterious houses, and who crossed the sea in ships. He pictured Mrs. + Brice asking for a spoon, and young Stephen sniffing at Mrs. Crane's + boarding-house. And he resolved with democratic spirit that he would teach + Stephen a lesson, if opportunity offered. His own discrepancy between the + real and the imagined was no greater than that of the rest of his + fellow-boarders. + </p> + <p> + Barring Eliphalet, there was a dress parade that evening,—silks and + bombazines and broadcloths, and Miss Crane's special preserves on the + tea-table. Alas, that most of the deserved honors of this world should + fall upon barren ground! + </p> + <p> + The quality which baffled Mr. Hopper, and some other boarders, was + simplicity. None save the truly great possess it (but this is not + generally known). Mrs. Brice was so natural, that first evening at tea, + that all were disappointed. The hero upon the reviewing stand with the + halo of the Unknown behind his head is one thing; the lady of Family who + sits beside you at a boarding-house and discusses the weather and the + journey is quite another. They were prepared to hear Mrs. Brice rail at + the dirt of St. Louis and the crudity of the West. They pictured her + referring with sighs to her Connections, and bewailing that Stephen could + not have finished his course at Harvard. + </p> + <p> + She did nothing of the sort. + </p> + <p> + The first shock was so great that Mrs. Abner Reed cried in the privacy of + her chamber, and the Widow Crane confessed her disappointment to the + confiding ear of her bosom friend, Mrs. Merrill. Not many years later a + man named Grant was to be in Springfield, with a carpet bag, despised as a + vagabond. A very homely man named Lincoln went to Cincinnati to try a case + before the Supreme Court, and was snubbed by a man named Stanton. + </p> + <p> + When we meet the truly great, several things may happen. In the first + place, we begin to believe in their luck, or fate, or whatever we choose + to call it, and to curse our own. We begin to respect ourselves the more, + and to realize that they are merely clay like us, that we are great men + without Opportunity. Sometimes, if we live long enough near the Great, we + begin to have misgivings. Then there is hope for us. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brice, with her simple black gowns, quiet manner, and serene face, + with her interest in others and none in herself, had a wonderful effect + upon the boarders. They were nearly all prepared to be humble. They grew + arrogant and pretentious. They asked Mrs. Brice if she knew this and that + person of consequence in Boston, with whom they claimed relationship or + intimacy. Her answers were amiable and self-contained. + </p> + <p> + But what shall we say of Stephen Brice? Let us confess at once that it is + he who is the hero of this story, and not Eliphalet Hopper. It would be so + easy to paint Stephen in shining colors, and to make him a first-class + prig (the horror of all novelists), that we must begin with the drawbacks. + First and worst, it must be confessed that Stephen had at that time what + has been called “the Boston manner.” This was not Stephen's fault, but + Boston's. Young Mr. Brice possessed that wonderful power of expressing + distance in other terms besides ells and furlongs,—and yet he was + simple enough with it all. + </p> + <p> + Many a furtive stare he drew from the table that evening. There were one + or two of discernment present, and they noted that his were the generous + features of a marked man,—if he chose to become marked. He inherited + his mother's look; hers was the face of a strong woman, wide of sympathy, + broad of experience, showing peace of mind amid troubles—the touch + of femininity was there to soften it. + </p> + <p> + Her son had the air of the college-bred. In these surroundings he escaped + arrogance by the wonderful kindliness of his eye, which lighted when his + mother spoke to him. But he was not at home at Miss Crane's table, and he + made no attempt to appear at his ease. + </p> + <p> + This was an unexpected pleasure for Mr. Eliphalet Hopper. Let it not be + thought that he was the only one at that table to indulge in a little + secret rejoicing. But it was a peculiar satisfaction to him to reflect + that these people, who had held up their heads for so many generations, + were humbled at last. To be humbled meant, in Mr. Hopper's philosophy, to + lose one's money. It was thus he gauged the importance of his + acquaintances; it was thus he hoped some day to be gauged. And he trusted + and believed that the time would come when he could give his fillip to the + upper rim of fortune's wheel, and send it spinning downward. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper was drinking his tea and silently forming an estimate. He + concluded that young Brice was not the type to acquire the money which his + father had lost. And he reflected that Stephen must feel as strange in St. + Louis as a cod might amongst the cat-fish in the Mississippi. So the + assistant manager of Carvel & Company resolved to indulge in the + pleasure of patronizing the Bostonian. + </p> + <p> + “Callatin' to go to work?” he asked him, as the boarders walked into the + best room. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Stephen, taken aback. And it may be said here that, if Mr. + Hopper underestimated him, certainly he underestimated Mr. Hopper. + </p> + <p> + “It ain't easy to get a job this Fall,” said Eliphalet, “St. Louis houses + have felt the panic.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry to hear that.” + </p> + <p> + “What business was you callatin' to grapple with?” + </p> + <p> + “Law,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Gosh!” exclaimed Mr. Hopper, “I want to know.” In reality he was a bit + chagrined, having pictured with some pleasure the Boston aristocrat going + from store to store for a situation. “You didn't come here figurin' on + makin' a pile, I guess.” + </p> + <p> + “A what?” + </p> + <p> + “A pile.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen looked down and over Mr. Hopper attentively. He took in the blocky + shoulders and the square head, and he pictured the little eyes at a + vanishing-point in lines of a bargain. Then humor blessed humor—came + to his rescue. He had entered the race in the West, where all start equal. + He had come here, like this man who was succeeding, to make his living. + Would he succeed? + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper drew something out of his pocket, eyed Miss Crane, and bit off + a corner. + </p> + <p> + “What office was you going into?” he asked genially. Mr. Brice decided to + answer that. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Whipple's—unless he has changed his mind.” Eliphalet gave him + a look more eloquent than words. + </p> + <p> + “Know the Judge?” + </p> + <p> + Silent laughter. + </p> + <p> + “If all the Fourth of Julys we've had was piled into one,” said Mr. + Hopper, slowly and with conviction, “they wouldn't be a circumstance to + Silas Whipple when he gets mad. My boss, Colonel Carvel, is the only man + in town who'll stand up to him. I've seen 'em begin a quarrel in the store + and carry it all the way up the street. I callate you won't stay with him + a great while.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. BLACK CATTLE + </h2> + <p> + Later that evening Stephen Brice was sitting by the open windows in his + mother's room, looking on the street-lights below. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear,” asked the lady, at length, “what do you think of it all?” + </p> + <p> + “They are kind people,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they are kind,” she assented, with a sigh. “But they are not—they + are not from among our friends, Stephen.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that one of our reasons for coming West, mother,” answered + Stephen. + </p> + <p> + His mother looked pained. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen, how can you! We came West in order that you might have more + chance for the career to which you are entitled. Our friends in Boston + were more than good.” + </p> + <p> + He left the window and came and stood behind her chair, his hands clasped + playfully beneath her chin. + </p> + <p> + “Have you the exact date about you, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “What date, Stephen?” + </p> + <p> + “When I shall leave St. Louis for the United States Senate. And you must + not forget that there is a youth limit in our Constitution for senators.” + </p> + <p> + Then the widow smiled,—a little sadly, perhaps. But still a + wonderfully sweet smile. And it made her strong face akin to all that was + human and helpful. + </p> + <p> + “I believe that you have the subject of my first speech in that august + assembly. And, by the way, what was it?” + </p> + <p> + “It was on 'The Status of the Emigrant,'” she responded instantly, thereby + proving that she was his mother. + </p> + <p> + “And it touched the Rights of Privacy,” he added, laughing, “which do not + seem to exist in St. Louis boarding-houses.” + </p> + <p> + “In the eyes of your misguided profession, statesmen and authors and + emigrants and other public charges have no Rights of Privacy,” said she. + “Mr. Longfellow told me once that they were to name a brand of flour for + him, and that he had no redress.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you, too, been up before Miss Crane's Commission?” he asked, with + amused interest. + </p> + <p> + His mother laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said quietly. + </p> + <p> + “They have some expert members,” he continued. “This Mrs. Abner Reed could + be a shining light in any bar. I overheard a part of her + cross-examination. She—she had evidently studied our case—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” answered Mrs. Brice, “I suppose they know all about us.” She + was silent a moment, “I had so hoped that they wouldn't. They lead the + same narrow life in this house that they did in their little New England + towns. They—they pity us, Stephen.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother!” + </p> + <p> + “I did not expect to find so many New Englanders here—I wish that + Mr. Whipple had directed us elsewhere-” + </p> + <p> + “He probably thought that we should feel at home among New Englanders. I + hope the Southerners will be more considerate. I believe they will,” he + added. + </p> + <p> + “They are very proud,” said his mother. “A wonderful people,—born + aristocrats. You don't remember those Randolphs with whom we travelled + through England. They were with us at Hollingdean, Lord Northwell's place. + You were too small at the time. There was a young girl, Eleanor Randolph, + a beauty. I shall never forget the way she entered those English + drawing-rooms. They visited us once in Beacon Street, afterwards. And I + have heard that there are a great many good Southern families here in St. + Louis.” + </p> + <p> + “You did not glean that from Judge Whipple's letter, mother,” said + Stephen, mischievously. + </p> + <p> + “He was very frank in his letter,” sighed Mrs. Brice. + </p> + <p> + “I imagine he is always frank, to put it delicately.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father always spoke in praise of Silas Whipple, my dear. I have + heard him call him one of the ablest lawyers in the country. He won a + remarkable case for Appleton here, and he once said that the Judge would + have sat on the Supreme Bench if he had not been pursued with such + relentlessness by rascally politicians.” + </p> + <p> + “The Judge indulges in a little relentlessness now and then, himself. He + is not precisely what might be termed a mild man, if what we hear is + correct.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brice started. + </p> + <p> + “What have you heard?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there was a gentleman on the steamboat who said that it took more + courage to enter the Judge's private office than to fight a Border + Ruffian. And another, a young lawyer, who declared that he would rather + face a wild cat than ask Whipple a question on the new code. And yet he + said that the Judge knew more law than any man in the West. And lastly, + there is a polished gentleman named Hopper here from Massachusetts who + enlightened me a little more.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen paused and bit his tongue. He saw that she was distressed by these + things. Heaven knows that she had borne enough trouble in the last few + months. + </p> + <p> + “Come, mother,” he said gently, “you should know how to take my jokes by + this time. I didn't mean it. I am sure the Judge is a good man,—one + of those aggressive good men who make enemies. I have but a single piece + of guilt to accuse him of.” + </p> + <p> + “And what is that?” asked the widow. + </p> + <p> + “The cunning forethought which he is showing in wishing to have it said + that a certain Senator and Judge Brice was trained in his office.” + </p> + <p> + “Stephen—you goose!” she said. + </p> + <p> + Her eye wandered around the room,—Widow Crane's best bedroom. It was + dimly lighted by an extremely ugly lamp. The hideous stuffy bed curtains + and the more hideous imitation marble mantel were the two objects that + held her glance. There was no change in her calm demeanor. But Stephen, + who knew his mother, felt that her little elation over her arrival had + ebbed, Neither would confess dejection to the other. + </p> + <p> + “I—even I—” said Stephen, tapping his chest, “have at least + made the acquaintance of one prominent citizen, Mr. Eliphalet D. Hopper. + According to Mr. Dickens, he is a true American gentleman, for he chews + tobacco. He has been in St. Louis five years, is now assistant manager of + the largest dry goods house, and still lives in one of Miss Crane's + four-dollar rooms. I think we may safely say that he will be a millionaire + before I am a senator.” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “And mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear.” + </p> + <p> + He put his hands in his pockets and walked over to the window. + </p> + <p> + “I think that it would be better if I did the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, my son—” + </p> + <p> + “If I went to work,—started sweeping out a store, I mean. See here, + mother, you've sacrificed enough for me already. After paying father's + debts, we've come out here with only a few thousand dollars, and the nine + hundred I saved out of this year's Law School allowance. What shall we do + when that is gone? The honorable legal profession, as my friend reminded + me to-night, is not the swiftest road to millions.” + </p> + <p> + With a mother's discernment she guessed the agitation, he was striving to + hide; she knew that he had been gathering courage for this moment for + months. And she knew that he was renouncing thus lightly, for her sake an + ambition he had had from his school days. + </p> + <p> + Widow passed her hand over her brow. It was a space before she answered + him. + </p> + <p> + “My son,” she said, let us never speak of this again: + </p> + <p> + “It was your father's dearest wish that you should become a lawyer and—and + his wishes are sacred God will take care of us.” + </p> + <p> + She rose and kissed him good-night. + </p> + <p> + “Remember, my dear, when you go to Judge Whipple in the morning, remember + his kindness, and—.” + </p> + <p> + “And keep my temper. I shall, mother.” + </p> + <p> + A while later he stole gently back into her room again. She was on her + knees by the walnut bedstead. + </p> + <p> + At nine the next manning Stephen left Miss Crane's, girded for the + struggle with the redoubtable Silas Whipple. He was not afraid, but a poor + young man as an applicant to a notorious dragon is not likely to be + bandied with velvet, even though the animal had been a friend of his + father. Dragons as a rule have had a hard rime in their youths, and + believe in others having a hard time. + </p> + <p> + To a young man, who as his father's heir in Boston had been the subject of + marked consideration by his elders, the situation was keenly distasteful. + But it had to be gone through. So presently, after inquiry, he came to the + open square where the new Court House stood, the dome of which was + indicated by a mass of staging, and one wing still to be completed. Across + from the building, on Market Street, and in the middle of the block, what + had once been a golden hand pointed up a narrow dusty stairway. + </p> + <p> + Here was a sign, “Law office of Silas Whipple.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen climbed the stairs, and arrived at a ground glass door, on which + the sign was repeated. Behind that door was the future: so he opened it + fearfully, with an impulse to throw his arm above his head. But he was + struck dumb on beholding, instead of a dragon, a good-natured young man + who smiled a broad welcome. The reaction was as great as though one + entered a dragon's den, armed to the teeth, to find a St. Bernard doing + the honors. + </p> + <p> + Stephen's heart went out to this young man,—after that organ had + jumped back into its place. This keeper of the dragon looked the part. + Even the long black coat which custom then decreed could not hide the bone + and sinew under it. The young man had a broad forehead, placid + Dresden-blue eyes, flaxen hair, and the German coloring. Across one of his + high cheek-bones was a great jagged scar which seemed to add distinction + to his appearance. That caught Stephen's eye, and held it. He wondered + whether it were the result of an encounter with the Judge. + </p> + <p> + “You wish to see Mr. Whipple?” he asked, in the accents of an educated + German. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Stephen, “if he isn't busy.” + </p> + <p> + “He is out,” said the other, with just a suspicion of a 'd' in the word. + “You know he is much occupied now, fighting election frauds. You read the + papers?” + </p> + <p> + “I am a stranger here,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Ach!” exclaimed the German, “now I know you, Mr. Brice. The young one + from Boston the Judge spoke of. But you did not tell him of your arrival.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not wish to bother him,” Stephen replied, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Richter—Carl Richter, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The pressure of Mr. Richter's big hands warmed Stephen as nothing else had + since he had come West. He was moved to return it with a little more + fervor than he usually showed. And he felt, whatever the Judge might be, + that he had a powerful friend near at hand—Mr. Richter's welcome + came near being an embrace. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Mr. Brice,” he said; “mild weather for November, eh? The Judge + will be here in an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen looked around him: at the dusty books on the shelves, and the + still dustier books heaped on Mr. Richter's big table; at the cuspidors; + at the engravings of Washington and Webster; at the window in the jog + which looked out on the court-house square; and finally at another + ground-glass door on which was printed: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + SILAS WHIPPLE + + PRIVATE +</pre> + <p> + This, then, was the den,—the arena in which was to take place a + memorable interview. But the thought of waiting an hour for the dragon to + appear was disquieting. Stephen remembered that he had something over nine + hundred dollars in his pocket (which he had saved out of his last year's + allowance at the Law School). So he asked Mr. Richter, who was dusting off + a chair, to direct him to the nearest bank. + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly,” said he; “Mr. Brinsmade's bank on Chestnut Street.” He + took Stephen to the window and pointed across the square. “I am sorry I + cannot go with you,” he added, “but the Judge's negro, Shadrach, is out, + and I must stay in the office. I will give you a note to Mr. Brinsmade.” + </p> + <p> + “His negro!” exclaimed Stephen. “Why, I thought that Mr. Whipple was an + Abolitionist.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Richter laughed. + </p> + <p> + “The man is free,” said he. “The Judge pays him wages.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen thanked his new friend for the note to the bank president, and + went slowly down the stairs. To be keyed up to a battle-pitch, and then to + have the battle deferred, is a trial of flesh and spirit. + </p> + <p> + As he reached the pavement, he saw people gathering in front of the wide + entrance of the Court House opposite, and perched on the copings. He + hesitated, curious. Then he walked slowly toward the place, and buttoning + his coat, pushed through the loafers and passers-by dallying on the + outskirts of the crowd. There, in the bright November sunlight, a sight + met his eyes which turned him sick and dizzy. + </p> + <p> + Against the walls and pillars of the building, already grimy with soot, + crouched a score of miserable human beings waiting to be sold at auction. + Mr. Lynch's slave pen had been disgorged that morning. Old and young, + husband and wife,—the moment was come for all and each. How hard the + stones and what more pitiless than the gaze of their fellow-creatures in + the crowd below! O friends, we who live in peace and plenty amongst our + families, how little do we realize the terror and the misery and the dumb + heart-aches of those days! Stephen thought with agony of seeing his own + mother sold before his eyes, and the building in front of him was lifted + from its foundation and rocked even as shall the temples on the judgment + day. + </p> + <p> + The oily auctioneer was inviting the people to pinch the wares. Men came + forward to feel the creatures and look into their mouths, and one brute, + unshaven and with filthy linen, snatched a child from its mother's lap + Stephen shuddered with the sharpest pain he had ever known. An ocean-wide + tempest arose in his breast, Samson's strength to break the pillars of the + temple to slay these men with his bare hands. Seven generations of stern + life and thought had their focus here in him,—from Oliver Cromwell + to John Brown. + </p> + <p> + Stephen was far from prepared for the storm that raged within him. He had + not been brought up an Abolitionist—far from it. Nor had his + father's friends—who were deemed at that time the best people in + Boston—been Abolitionists. Only three years before, when Boston had + been aflame over the delivery of the fugitive Anthony Burns, Stephen had + gone out of curiosity to the meeting at Faneuil Hall. How well he + remembered his father's indignation when he confessed it, and in his anger + Mr. Brice had called Phillips and Parker “agitators.” But his father, nor + his father's friends in Boston had never been brought face to face with + this hideous traffic. + </p> + <p> + Hark! Was that the sing-song voice of the auctioneer He was selling the + cattle. High and low, caressing an menacing, he teased and exhorted them + to buy. The were bidding, yes, for the possession of souls, bidding in the + currency of the Great Republic. And between the eager shouts came a moan + of sheer despair. What was the attendant doing now? He was tearing two of + then: from a last embrace. + </p> + <p> + Three—four were sold while Stephen was in a dream + </p> + <p> + Then came a lull, a hitch, and the crowd began to chatter gayly. But the + misery in front of him held Stephen in a spell. Figures stood out from the + group. A white-haired patriarch, with eyes raised to the sky; a + flat-breasted woman whose child was gone, whose weakness made her + valueless. Then two girls were pushed forth, one a quadroon of great + beauty, to be fingered. Stephen turned his face away,—to behold Mr. + Eliphalet Hopper looking calmly on. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, Mr. Brice, this is an interesting show now, ain't it? Something we + don't have. I generally stop here to take a look when I'm passing.” And he + spat tobacco juice on the coping. + </p> + <p> + Stephen came to his senses. + </p> + <p> + “And you are from New England?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Tarnation!” said he, “you get used to it. When I came here, I was a sort + of an Abolitionist. But after you've lived here awhile you get to know + that niggers ain't fit for freedom.” + </p> + <p> + Silence from Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Likely gal, that beauty,” Eliphalet continued unrepressed. “There's a + well-known New Orleans dealer named Jenkins after her. I callate she'll go + down river.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you're right, Mistah,” a man with a matted beard chimed in, and + added with a wink: “She'll find it pleasant enough—fer a while. Some + of those other niggers will go too, and they'd rather go to hell. They do + treat 'em nefarious down thah on the wholesale plantations. Household + niggers! there ain't none better off than them. But seven years in a + cotton swamp,—seven years it takes, that's all, Mistah.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen moved away. He felt that to stay near the man was to be tempted to + murder. He moved away, and just then the auctioneer yelled, “Attention!” + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” he cried, “I have heah two sisters, the prope'ty of the late + Mistah Robe't Benbow, of St. Louis, as fine a pair of wenches as was ever + offe'd to the public from these heah steps—” + </p> + <p> + “Speak for the handsome gal,” cried a wag. + </p> + <p> + “Sell off the cart hoss fust,” said another. + </p> + <p> + The auctioneer turned to the darker sister: + </p> + <p> + “Sal ain't much on looks, gentlemen,” he said, “but she's the best nigger + for work Mistah Benbow had.” He seized her arm and squeezed it, while the + girl flinched and drew back. “She's solid, gentlemen, and sound as a + dollar, and she kin sew and cook. Twenty-two years old. What am I bid?” + </p> + <p> + Much to the auctioneer's disgust, Sal was bought in for four hundred + dollars, the interest in the beautiful sister having made the crowd + impatient. Stephen, sick at heart, turned to leave. Halfway to the corner + he met a little elderly man who was the color of a dried gourd. And just + as Stephen passed him, this man was overtaken by an old negress, with + tears streaming down her face, who seized the threadbare hem of his coat. + Stephen paused involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Nancy,” said the little man, “we had marvellous luck. I was able to + buy your daughter for you with less than the amount of your savings.” + </p> + <p> + “T'ank you, Mistah Cantah,” wailed the poor woman, “t'ank you, suh. + Praised be de name ob de Lawd. He gib me Sal again. Oh, Mistah Cantah” + (the agony in that cry), “is you gwineter stan' heah an' see her sister + Hester sol' to—to—oh, ma little Chile! De little Chile dat I + nussed, dat I raised up in God's 'ligion. Mistah Cantah, save her, suh, + f'om dat wicked life o' sin. De Lawd Jesus'll rewa'd you, suh. Dis ole + woman'll wuk fo' you twell de flesh drops off'n her fingers, suh.” + </p> + <p> + And had he not held her, she would have gone down on her knees on the + stone flagging before him. Her suffering was stamped on the little man's + face—and it seemed to Stephen that this was but one trial more which + adversity had brought to Mr. Canter. + </p> + <p> + “Nancy,” he answered (how often, and to how many, must he have had to say + the same thing), “I haven't the money, Nancy. Would to God that I had, + Nancy!” + </p> + <p> + She had sunk down on the bricks. But she had not fainted. It was not so + merciful as that. It was Stephen who lifted her, and helped her to the + coping, where she sat with her bandanna awry. + </p> + <p> + Stephen was not of a descent to do things upon impulse. But the tale was + told in after days that one of his first actions in St. Louis was of this + nature. The waters stored for ages in the four great lakes, given the + opportunity, rush over Niagara Falls into Ontario. + </p> + <p> + “Take the woman away,” said Stephen, in a low voice, “and I will buy the + girl,—if I can.” + </p> + <p> + The little man looked up, dazed. + </p> + <p> + “Give me your card,—your address. I will buy the girl, if I can, and + set her free.” + </p> + <p> + He fumbled in his pocket and drew out a dirty piece of pasteboard. It + read: “R. Canter, Second Hand Furniture, 20 Second Street.” And still he + stared at Stephen, as one who gazes upon a mystery. A few curious + pedestrians had stopped in front of them. + </p> + <p> + “Get her away, if you can, for God's sake,” said Stephen again. And he + strode off toward the people at the auction. He was trembling. In his + eagerness to reach a place of vantage before the girl was sold, he pushed + roughly into the crowd. + </p> + <p> + But suddenly he was brought up short by the blocky body of Mr. Hopper, who + grunted with the force of the impact. + </p> + <p> + “Gosh,” said that gentleman, “but you are inters'ted. They ain't begun to + sell her yet—he's waitin' for somebody. Callatin' to buy her?” asked + Mr. Hopper, with genial humor. + </p> + <p> + Stephen took a deep breath. If he knocked Mr. Hopper down, he certainly + could not buy her. And it was a relief to know that the sale had not + begun. + </p> + <p> + As for Eliphalet, he was beginning to like young Brice. He approved of any + man from Boston who was not too squeamish to take pleasure in a little + affair of this kind. + </p> + <p> + As for Stephen, Mr. Hopper brought him back to earth. He ceased trembling, + and began to think. + </p> + <p> + “Tarnation!” said Eliphalet. “There's my boss, Colonel Carvel across the + street. Guess I'd better move on. But what d'ye think of him for a real + Southern gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “The young dandy is his nephew, Clarence Colfax. He callates to own this + town.” Eliphalet was speaking leisurely, as usual, while preparing to + move. “That's Virginia Carvel, in red. Any gals down Boston-way to beat + her? Guess you won't find many as proud.” + </p> + <p> + He departed. And Stephen glanced absently at the group. They were picking + their way over the muddy crossing toward him. Was it possible that these + people were coming to a slave auction? Surely not. And yet here they were + on the pavement at his very side. + </p> + <p> + She wore a long Talma of crimson cashmere, and her face was in that most + seductive of frames, a scoop bonnet of dark green velvet, For a fleeting + second her eyes met his, and then her lashes fell. But he was aware, when + he had turned away, that she was looking at him again. He grew uneasy. He + wondered whether his appearance betrayed his purpose, or made a question + of his sanity. + </p> + <p> + Sanity! Yes, probably he was insane from her point of view. A sudden anger + shook him that she should be there calmly watching such a scene. + </p> + <p> + Just then there was a hush among the crowd. The beautiful slave-girl was + seized roughly by the man in charge and thrust forward, half fainting, + into view. Stephen winced. But unconsciously he turned, to see the effect + upon Virginia Carvel. + </p> + <p> + Thank God! There were tears upon her lashes. + </p> + <p> + Here was the rasp of the auctioneer's voice:— “Gentlemen, I reckon + there ain't never been offered to bidders such an opportunity as this + heah. Look at her well, gentlemen. I ask you, ain't she a splendid + creature?” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Carvel, in annoyance, started to move on. “Come Jinny,” he said, + “I had no business to bring you aver.” + </p> + <p> + But Virginia caught his arm. “Pa,” she cried, “it's Mr. Benbow's Hester. + Don't go, dear. Buy her for me You know that I always wanted her. Please!” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel halted, irresolute, and pulled his goatee Young Colfax stepped + in between them. + </p> + <p> + “I'll buy her for you, Jinny. Mother promised you a present, you know, and + you shall have her.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia had calmed. + </p> + <p> + “Do buy her, one of you,” was all she said + </p> + <p> + “You may do the bidding, Clarence,” said the Colonel, “and we'll settle + the ownership afterward.” Taking Virginia's arm, he escorted her across + the street. + </p> + <p> + Stephen was left in a quandary. Here was a home for the girl, and a good + one. Why should me spend the money which meant so much to him. He saw the + man Jenkin elbowing to the front. And yet—suppose Mr. Colfax did not + get her? He had promised to buy her if he could, and to set her free: + </p> + <p> + Stephen had made up his mind: He shouldered his way after Jenkins. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE FIRST SPARK PASSES + </h2> + <p> + “Now, gentlemen,” shouted the auctioneer when he had finished his oration + upon the girl's attractions, “what 'tin I bid? Eight hundred?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen caught his breath. There was a long pause no one cared to start + the bidding. + </p> + <p> + “Come, gentlemen, come! There's my friend Alf Jenkins. He knows what she's + worth to a cent. What'll you give, Alf? Is it eight hundred?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jenkins winked at the auction joined in the laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Three hundred!” he said. + </p> + <p> + The auctioneer was mortally offended. Then some one cried:—“Three + hundred and fifty!” + </p> + <p> + It was young Colfax. He was recognized at once, by name, evidently as a + person of importance. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mistah Colfax, suh,” said the auctioneer, with a servile wave + of the hand in his direction, while the crowd twisted their necks to see + him. He stood very straight, very haughty, as if entirely oblivious to his + conspicuous position. + </p> + <p> + “Three seventy-five!” + </p> + <p> + “That's better, Mistah Jenkins,” said the auctioneer, sarcastically. He + turned to the girl, who might have stood to a sculptor for a figure of + despair. Her hands were folded in front of her, her head bowed down. The + auctioneer put his hand under her chin and raised it roughly. “Cheer up, + my gal,” he said, “you ain't got nothing to blubber about now.” + </p> + <p> + Hester's breast heaved and from her black eyes there shot a magnificent + look of defiance. He laughed. That was the white blood. + </p> + <p> + The white blood! + </p> + <p> + Clarence Colfax had his bid taken from his lips. Above the heads of the + people he had a quick vision of a young man with a determined face, whose + voice rang clear and strong,— “Four hundred!” + </p> + <p> + Even the auctioneer, braced two ways, was thrown off his balance by the + sudden appearance of this new force. Stephen grew red over the sensation + he made. Apparently the others present had deemed competition with such as + Jenkins and young Colfax the grossest folly. He was treated to much + liberal staring before the oily salesman arranged his wits to grapple with + the third factor. + </p> + <p> + Four hundred from—from—from that gentleman. And the chubby + index seemed the finger of scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Four hundred and fifty!” said Mr. Colfax, defiantly. + </p> + <p> + Whereupon Mr. Jenkins, the New Orleans dealer, lighted a very long cigar + and sat down on the coping. The auctioneer paid no attention to this + manoeuvre. But Mr. Brice and Mr. Colfax, being very young, fondly imagined + that they had the field to themselves, to fight to a finish. + </p> + <p> + Here wisdom suggested in a mild whisper to Stephen that there was a last + chance to pull out. And let Colfax have the girl? Never. That was pride, + and most reprehensible. But second he thought of Mr. Canter and of Nancy, + and that was not pride. + </p> + <p> + “Four seventy-five!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, suh.” + </p> + <p> + “Now fur it, young uns!” said the wag, and the crowd howled with + merriment. + </p> + <p> + “Five hundred!” snapped Mr. Colfax. + </p> + <p> + He was growing angry. But Stephen was from New England, and poor, and he + thought of the size of his purse. A glance at his adversary showed that + his blood was up. Money was plainly no consideration to him, and young + Colfax did not seem to be the kind who would relish returning to a young + lady and acknowledge a defeat. + </p> + <p> + Stephen raised the bid by ten dollars. The Southerner shot up fifty. Again + Stephen raised it ten. He was in full possession of himself now, and proof + against the thinly veiled irony of the oily man's remarks in favor of Mr. + Colfax. In an incredibly short time the latter's impetuosity had brought + them to eight hundred and ten dollars. + </p> + <p> + Then several things happened very quickly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jenkins got up from the curb and said, “Eight hundred and + twenty-five,” with his cigar in his mouth. Scarcely had the hum of + excitement died when Stephen, glancing at Colfax for the next move, saw + that young gentleman seized from the rear by his uncle, the tall Colonel. + And across the street was bliss Virginia Carvel, tapping her foot on the + pavement. + </p> + <p> + “What are you about, sir?” the Colonel cried. “The wench isn't worth it.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Colfax shook himself free. + </p> + <p> + “I've got to buy her now, sir,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon not,” said the Colonel. “You come along with me.” + </p> + <p> + Naturally Mr. Colfax was very angry. He struggled but he went. And so, + protesting, he passed Stephen, at whom he did not deign to glance. The + humiliation of it must have been great for Mr. Colfax. “Jinny wants her; + sir,” he said, “and I have a right to buy her.” + </p> + <p> + “Jinny wants everything,” was the Colonel's reply. And in a single look of + curiosity and amusement his own gray eyes met Stephen's. They seemed to + regret that this young man, too, had not a guardian. Then uncle and nephew + recrossed the street, and as they walked off the Colonel was seen to + laugh. Virginia had her chin in the air, and Clarence's was in his collar. + </p> + <p> + The crowd, of course, indulged in roars of laughter, and even Stephen + could not repress a smile, a smile not without bitterness. Then he wheeled + to face Mr. Jerkins. Out of respect for the personages involved, the + auctioneer had been considerately silent daring the event. It was Mr. + Brice who was now the centre of observation. + </p> + <p> + Come, gentlemen, come, this here's a joke—eight twenty-five. She's + worth two thousand. I've been in the business twenty yea's, and I neve' + seen her equal. Give me a bid, Mr.—Mr.—you have the advantage + of me, suh.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight hundred and thirty-five!” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Jerkins, now, suh! we've got twenty me' to sell.” + </p> + <p> + “Eight fifty!” said Mr. Jerkins. + </p> + <p> + “Eight sixty!” said Stephen, and they cheered him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jenkins took his cigar out of his teeth, and stared. + </p> + <p> + “Eight seventy-five!” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Eight eighty-five!” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + There was a breathless pause. + </p> + <p> + “Nine hundred!” said the trader. + </p> + <p> + “Nine hundred and ten!” cried Stephen. + </p> + <p> + At that Mr. Jerkins whipped his hat from off his head, and made Stephen a + derisive bow. + </p> + <p> + “She's youahs, suh,” he said. “These here are panic times. I've struck my + limit. I can do bettah in Louisville fo' less. Congratulate you, suh—reckon + you want her wuss'n I do.” + </p> + <p> + At which sally Stephen grew scarlet, and the crowd howled with joy. + </p> + <p> + “What!” yelled the auctioneer. “Why, gentlemen, this heah's a joke. Nine + hundred and ten dollars, gents, nine hundred and ten. We've just begun, + gents. Come, Mr. Jerkins, that's giving her away.” + </p> + <p> + The trader shook his head, and puffed at his cigar. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” cried the oily man, “this is a slaughter. Going at nine hundred + an' ten—nine ten—going—going—” down came the + hammer—“gone at nine hundred and ten to Mr.—Mr.—you have + the advantage of me, suh.” + </p> + <p> + An attendant had seized the girl, who was on the verge of fainting, and + was dragging her back. Stephen did not heed the auctioneer, but thrust + forward regardless of stares. + </p> + <p> + “Handle her gently, you blackguard,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + The man took his hands off. + </p> + <p> + “Suttinly, sah,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Hester lifted her eyes, and they were filled with such gratitude and trust + that suddenly he was overcome with embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “Can you walk?” he demanded, somewhat harshly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, massa.” + </p> + <p> + “Then get up,” he said, “and follow me.” + </p> + <p> + She rose obediently. Then a fat man came out of the Court House, with a + quill in his hand, and a merry twinkle in his eye that Stephen resented. + </p> + <p> + “This way, please, sah,” and he led him to a desk, from the drawer of + which he drew forth a blank deed. + </p> + <p> + “Name, please!” + </p> + <p> + “Stephen Atterbury Brice.” + </p> + <p> + “Residence, Mr. Brice!” + </p> + <p> + Stephen gave the number. But instead of writing it clown, the man merely + stared at him, while the fat creases in his face deepened and deepened. + Finally he put down his quill, and indulged in a gale of laughter, hugely + to Mr. Brice's discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + “Shucks!” said the fat man, as soon as he could. + </p> + <p> + “What are you givin' us? That the's a Yankee boa'din' house.” + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose that that is part of your business, too,” said Stephen, + acidly. + </p> + <p> + The fat man looked at him, pressed his lips, wrote down the number, shaken + all the while with a disturbance which promised to lead to another + explosion. Finally, after a deal of pantomime, and whispering and laughter + with the notary behind the wire screen, the deed was made out, signed, + attested, and delivered. Stephen counted out the money grimly, in gold and + Boston drafts. + </p> + <p> + Out in the sunlight on Chestnut Street, with the girl by his side, it all + seemed a nightmare. The son of Appleton Brice of Boston the owner of a + beautiful quadroon girl! And he had bought hex with his last cent. + </p> + <p> + Miss Crane herself opened the door in answer to his ring. Her keen eyes + instantly darted over his shoulder and dilated, But Stephen, summoning all + his courage, pushed past her to the stairs, and beckoned Hester to follow. + </p> + <p> + “I have brought this—this person to see my mother,” he said + </p> + <p> + The spinster bowed from the back of her neck. She stood transfixed on a + great rose in the hall carpet until she heard Mrs. Brice's door open and + slam, and then she strode up the stairs and into the apartment of Mrs. + Abner Reed. As she passed the first landing, the quadroon girl was waiting + in the hall. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. SILAS WHIPPLE + </h2> + <p> + The trouble with many narratives is that they tell too much. Stephen's + interview with his mother was a quiet affair, and not historic. Miss + Crane's boarding-house is not an interesting place, and the tempest in + that teapot is better imagined than described. Out of consideration for + Mr. Stephen Brice, we shall skip likewise a most affecting scene at Mr. + Canter's second-hand furniture store. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon Stephen came again to the dirty flight of steps which led + to Judge Whipple's office. He paused a moment to gather courage, and then, + gripping the rail, he ascended. The ascent required courage now, + certainly. He halted again before the door at the top. But even as he + stood there came to him, in low, rich tones, the notes of a German song. + He entered And Mr. Richter rose in shirt-sleeves from his desk to greet + him, all smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Ach, my friend!” said he, “but you are late. The Judge has been awaiting + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he?” inquired Stephen, with ill-concealed anxiety. + </p> + <p> + The big young German patted him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a voice roared from out the open transom of the private office, + like a cyclone through a gap. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Richter!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brice, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why in thunder doesn't he come in?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Richter opened the private door, and in Stephen walked. The door + closed again, and there he was in the dragon's dens face to face with the + dragon, who was staring him through and through. The first objects that + caught Stephen's attention were the grizzly gray eye brows, which seemed + as so much brush to mark the fire of the deep-set battery of the eyes. And + that battery, when in action, must have been truly terrible. + </p> + <p> + The Judge was shaven, save for a shaggy fringe of gray beard around his + chin, and the size of his nose was apparent even in the full face. + </p> + <p> + Stephen felt that no part of him escaped the search of Mr. Whipple's + glance. But it was no code or course of conduct that kept him silent. Nor + was it fear entirely. + </p> + <p> + “So you are Appleton Brice's son,” said the Judge, at last. His tone was + not quite so gruff as it might have been. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” said the Judge, with a look that scarcely expressed approval. “I + guess you've been patted on the back too much by your father's friends.” + He leaned back in his wooden chair. “How I used to detest people who + patted boys on the back and said with a smirk, 'I know your father.' I + never had a father whom people could say that about. But, sir,” cried the + Judge, bringing down his fist on the litter of papers that covered his + desk, “I made up my mind that one day people should know me. That was my + spur. And you'll start fair here, Mr. Brice. They won't know your father + here—” + </p> + <p> + If Stephen thought the Judge brutal, he did not say so. He glanced around + the little room,—at the bed in the corner, in which the Judge slept, + and which during the day did not escape the flood of books and papers; at + the washstand, with a roll of legal cap beside the pitcher. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you think this town pretty crude after Boston, Mr. Brice,” Mr. + Whipple continued. “From time immemorial it has been the pleasant habit of + old communities to be shocked at newer settlements, built by their own + countrymen. Are you shocked, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen flushed. Fortunately the Judge did not give him time to answer. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't your mother let me know that she was coming?” + </p> + <p> + “She didn't wish to put you to any trouble, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn't I a good friend of your father's? Didn't I ask you to come here + and go into my office?” + </p> + <p> + “But there was a chance, Mr. Whipple—” + </p> + <p> + “A chance of what?” + </p> + <p> + “That you would not like me. And there is still a chance of it,” added + Stephen, smiling. + </p> + <p> + For a second it looked as if the Judge might smile, too. He rubbed his + nose with a fearful violence. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Richter tells me you were looking for a bank,” said he, presently. + </p> + <p> + Stephen quaked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I was, but—” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Whipple merely picked up the 'Counterfeit Bank Note Detector'. + </p> + <p> + “Beware of Western State Currency as you would the devil,” said he. + “That's one thing we don't equal the East in—yet. And so you want to + become a lawyer?” + </p> + <p> + “I intend to become a lawyer, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you shall, sir,” cried the Judge, bringing down his yellow fist + upon the 'Bank Note Detector'. “I'll make you a lawyer, sir. But my + methods ain't Harvard methods, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to do anything, Mr. Whipple.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge merely grunted. He scratched among his papers, and produced some + legal cap and a bunch of notes. + </p> + <p> + “Go out there,” he said, “and take off your coat and copy this brief. Mr. + Richter will help you to-day. And tell your mother I shall do myself the + honor to call upon her this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen did as he was told, without a word. But Mr. Richter was not in the + outer office when he returned to it. He tried to compose himself to write, + although the recollection of each act of the morning hung like a cloud + over the back of his head. Therefore the first sheet of legal cap was + spoiled utterly. But Stephen had a deep sense of failure. He had gone + through the ground glass door with the firm intention of making a clean + breast of the ownership of Hester. Now, as he sat still, the trouble grew + upon him. He started a new sheet, and ruined that: Once he got as far as + his feet, and sat down again. But at length he had quieted to the extent + of deciphering ten lines of Mr. Whipple's handwriting when the creak of a + door shattered his nerves completely. + </p> + <p> + He glanced up from his work to behold—none other than Colonel Comyn + Carvel. + </p> + <p> + Glancing at Mr. Richter's chair, and seeing it empty, the Colonel's eye + roved about the room until it found Stephen. There it remained, and the + Colonel remained in the middle of the floor, his soft hat on the back of + his head, one hand planted firmly on the gold head of his stick, and the + other tugging at his goatee, pulling down his chin to the quizzical angle. + </p> + <p> + “Whoopee!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + The effect of this was to make one perspire freely. Stephen perspired. And + as there seemed no logical answer, he made none. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Mr. Carvel turned, shaking with a laughter he could not control, + and strode into the private office the door slammed behind him. Mr. + Brice's impulse was flight. But he controlled himself. + </p> + <p> + First of all there was an eloquent silence. Then a ripple of guffaws. Then + the scratch-scratch of a quill pen, and finally the Judge's voice. + </p> + <p> + “Carvel, what the devil's the matter with you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + A squall of guffaws blew through the transom, and the Colonel was heard + slapping his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Whipple,” said he, his voice vibrating from suppressed explosions, + “I am happy to see that you have overcome some of your ridiculous + prejudices, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What prejudices, sir?” the Judge was heard to shout. + </p> + <p> + “Toward slavery, Judge,” said Mr. Carvel, seeming to recover his gravity. + “You are a broader man than I thought, sir.” + </p> + <p> + An unintelligible gurgle came from the Judge. Then he said. + </p> + <p> + “Carvel, haven't you and I quarrelled enough on that subject?” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't happen to attend the nigger auction this morning when you were + at the court?” asked the Colonel, blandly. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel,” said the Judge, “I've warned you a hundred times against the + stuff you lay out on your counter for customers.” + </p> + <p> + “You weren't at the auction, then,” continued the Colonel, undisturbed. + “You missed it, sir. You missed seeing this young man you've just employed + buy the prettiest quadroon wench I ever set eyes on.” + </p> + <p> + Now indeed was poor Stephen on his feet. But whether to fly in at the one + entrance or out at the other, he was undecided. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel,” said Mr. Whipple, “is that true?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” “MR. BRICE!” + </p> + <p> + It did not seem to Stephen as if he was walking when he went toward the + ground glass door. He opened it. There was Colonel Carvel seated on the + bed, his goatee in his hand. And there was the Judge leaning forward from + his hips, straight as a ramrod. Fire was darting from beneath his bushy + eyebrows. “Mr. Brice,” said he, “there is one question I always ask of + those whom I employ. I omitted it in your case because I have known your + father and your grandfather before you. What is your opinion, sir, on the + subject of holding human beings in bondage?” + </p> + <p> + The answer was immediate,—likewise simple. + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe in it, Mr. Whipple.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge shot out of his chair like a long jack-in-the box, and towered + to his full height. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brice, did you, or did you not, buy a woman at auction to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Whipple literally staggered. But Stephen caught a glimpse of the + Colonel's hand slipping from his chin cover his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Good God, sir!” cried the Judge, and he sat down heavily. “You say that + you are an Abolitionist?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I do not say that. But it does not need an Abolitionist to + condemn what I saw this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a slave-owner, sir?” said Mr. Whipple. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then get your coat and hat and leave my office, Mr. Brice.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen's coat was on his arm. He slipped it on, and turned to go. He was, + if the truth were told, more amused than angry. It was Colonel Carvel's + voice that stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on, Judge,” he drawled, “I reckon you haven't got all the packing + out of that case.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Whipple locked at him in a sort of stupefaction. Then he glanced at + Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Come back here, sir,” he cried. “I'll give you hearing. No man shall say + that I am not just.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen looked gratefully at the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “I did not expect one, sir,” he said.. + </p> + <p> + “And you don't deserve one, sir,” cried the Judge. + </p> + <p> + “I think I do,” replied Stephen, quietly. + </p> + <p> + The Judge suppressed something. + </p> + <p> + “What did you do with this person?” he demanded + </p> + <p> + “I took her to Miss Crane's boarding-house,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + It was the Colonel's turn to explode. The guffaw which came from hire + drowned every other sound. + </p> + <p> + “Good God!” said the Judge, helplessly. Again he looked at the Colonel, + and this time something very like mirth shivered his lean frame. “And what + do you intend to do with her?” he asked in strange tones. + </p> + <p> + “To give her freedom, sir, as soon as I can find somebody to go on her + bond.” + </p> + <p> + Again silence. Mr. Whipple rubbed his nose with more than customary + violence, and looked very hard at Mr. Carvel, whose face was inscrutable. + It was a solemn moment. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brice,” said the Judge, at length, “take off your coat, sir I will go + her bond.” + </p> + <p> + It was Stephen's turn to be taken aback. He stood regarding the Judge + curiously, wondering what manner of man he was. He did not know that this + question had puzzled many before him. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + His hand was on the knob of the door, when Mr. Whipple called him back + abruptly. His voice had lost some of its gruffness. + </p> + <p> + “What were your father's ideas about slavery, Mr. Brice?” + </p> + <p> + The young man thought a moment, as if seeking to be exact. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose he would have put slavery among the necessary evils, sir,” he + said, at length. “But he never could bear to have the liberator mentioned + in his presence. He was not at all in sympathy with Phillips, or Parker, + or Summer. And such was the general feeling among his friends.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the Judge, “contrary to popular opinion in the West and + South, Boston is not all Abolition.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen smiled. + </p> + <p> + “The conservative classes are not at all Abolitionists, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “The conservative classes!” growled the Judge, “the conservative classes! + I am tired of hearing about the conservative classes. Why not come out + with it, sir, and say the moneyed classes, who would rather see souls held + in bondage than risk their worldly goods in an attempt to liberate them?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen flushed. It was not at all clear to him then how he was to get + along with Judge Whipple. But he kept his temper. + </p> + <p> + “I am sure that you do them an injustice, sir,” he said, with more feeling + them he had yet shown. “I am not speaking of the rich alone, and I think + that if you knew Boston you would not say that the conservative class + there is wholly composed of wealthy people. Many of may father's friends + were by no means wealthy. And I know that if he had been poor he would + have held the same views.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen did not mark the quick look of approval which Colonel Carvel gave + him. Judge Whipple merely rubbed his nose. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” he said, “what were his views, then?” + </p> + <p> + “My father regarded slaves as property, sir. And conservative people” + (Stephen stuck to the word) “respect property the world over. My father's + argument was this: If men are deprived by violence of one kind of property + which they hold under the law, all other kinds of property will be + endangered. The result will be anarchy. Furthermore, he recognized that + the economic conditions in the South make slavery necessary to prosperity. + And he regarded the covenant made between the states of the two sections + as sacred.” + </p> + <p> + There was a brief silence, during which the uncompromising expression of + the Judge did not change. + </p> + <p> + “And do you, sir?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I am not sure, sir, after what I saw yesterday. I—I must have time + to see more of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord,” said Colonel Carvel, “if the conservative people of the North + act this way when they see a slave sale, what will the Abolitionists do? + Whipple,” he added slowly, but with conviction, “this means war.” + </p> + <p> + Then the Colonel got to his feet, and bowed to Stephen with ceremony. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever you believe, sir,” he said, “permit me to shake your hand. You + are a brave man, sir. And although my own belief is that the black race is + held in subjection by a divine decree, I can admire what you have done, + Mr. Brice. It was a noble act, sir,—a right noble act. And I have + more respect for the people of Boston, now, sir, than I ever had before, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + Having delivered himself of this somewhat dubious compliment (which he + meant well), the Colonel departed. + </p> + <p> + Judge Whipple said nothing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. CALLERS + </h2> + <p> + If the Brices had created an excitement upon their arrival, it was as + nothing to the mad delirium which raged at Miss Crane's boarding-house. + during the second afternoon of their stay. Twenty times was Miss Crane on + the point of requesting Mrs. Brice to leave, and twenty times, by the + advice of Mrs. Abner Deed, she desisted. The culmination came when the + news leaked out that Mr. Stephen Brice had bought the young woman in order + to give her freedom. Like those who have done noble acts since the world + began, Stephen that night was both a hero and a fool. The cream from which + heroes is made is very apt to turn. + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” cried Stephen, when they had reached their room after tea, “wasn't + that meal a fearful experience? Let's find a hovel, mother, and go and + live in it. We can't stand it here any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you persist in your career of reforming an Institution, my son,” + answered the widow, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “It was beastly hard luck,” said he, “that I should have been shouldered + with that experience the first day. But I have tried to think it over + calmly since, and I can see nothing else to have done.” He paused in his + pacing up and down, a smile struggling with his serious look. “It was + quite a hot-headed business for one of the staid Brices, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “The family has never been called impetuous,” replied his mother. “It must + be the Western air.” + </p> + <p> + He began his pacing again. His mother had not said one word about the + money. Neither had he. Once more he stopped before her. + </p> + <p> + “We are at least a year nearer the poor-house,” he said; “you haven't + scolded me for that. I should feel so much better if you would.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Stephen, don't say that!” she exclaimed. “God has given me no greater + happiness in this life than the sight of the gratitude of that poor + creature, Nancy. I shall never forget the old woman's joy at the sight of + her daughter. It made a palace out of that dingy furniture shop. Hand me + my handkerchief, dear.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen noticed with a pang that the lace of it was frayed and torn at the + corner. + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Come in,” said Mrs. Brice, hastily putting the handkerchief down. + </p> + <p> + Hester stood on the threshold, and old Nancy beside her. + </p> + <p> + “Evenin', Mis' Brice. De good Lawd bless you, lady, an' Miste' Brice,” + said the old negress. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Nancy?” + </p> + <p> + Nancy pressed into the room. “Mis' Brice!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Ain' you gwineter' low Hester an' me to wuk fo' you?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I should be glad to, Nancy. But we are boarding.” + </p> + <p> + “Yassm, yassm,” said Nancy, and relapsed into awkward silence. Then again, + “Mis' Brice!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Nancy?” + </p> + <p> + “Ef you 'lows us t' come heah an' straighten out you' close, an' mend 'em—you + dunno how happy you mek me an' Hester—des to do dat much, Mis' + Brice.” + </p> + <p> + The note of appeal was irresistible. Mrs. Brice rose and unlocked the + trunks. + </p> + <p> + “You may unpack them, Nancy,” she said. + </p> + <p> + With what alacrity did the old woman take off her black bonnet and shawl! + “Whaffor you stannin' dere, Hester?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Hester is tired,” said Mrs. Brice, compassionately, and tears came to her + eyes again at the thought of what they had both been through that day. + </p> + <p> + “Tired!” said Nancy, holding up her hands. “No'm, she ain' tired. She des + kinder stupefied by you' goodness, Mis' Brice.” + </p> + <p> + A scene was saved by the appearance of Miss Crane's hired girl. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. and Mrs. Cluyme, in the parlor, mum,” she said. + </p> + <p> + If Mr. Jacob Cluyme sniffed a little as he was ushered into Miss Crane's + best parlor, it was perhaps because of she stuffy dampness of that room. + Mr. Cluyme was one of those persons the effusiveness of whose greeting + does not tally with the limpness of their grasp. He was attempting, when + Stephen appeared, to get a little heat into his hands by rubbing them, as + a man who kindles a stick of wood for a visitor. The gentleman had red + chop-whiskers,—to continue to put his worst side foremost, which + demanded a ruddy face. He welcomed Stephen to St. Louis with neighborly + effusion; while his wife, a round little woman, bubbled over to Mrs. + Brice. + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” said Mr. Cluyme, “I used often to go to Boston in the + forties. In fact—ahem—I may claim to be a New Englander. Alas, + no, I never met your father. But when I heard of the sad circumstances of + his death, I felt as if I had lost a personal friend. His probity, sir, + and his religious principles were an honor to the Athens of America. I + have listened to my friend, Mr. Atterbury,—Mr. Samuel Atterbury,—eulogize + him by the hour.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen was surprised. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” said he, “Mr. Atterbury was a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Mr. Cluyme, “I knew it. Four years ago, the last + business trip I made to Boston, I met Atterbury on the street. Absence + makes no difference to some men, sir, nor the West, for that matter. They + never change. Atterbury nearly took me in his arms. 'My dear fellow,' he + cried, 'how long are you to be in town?' I was going the next day. 'Sorry + I can't ask you to dinner,' says he, but step into the Tremont House and + have a bite.'—Wasn't that like Atterbury?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen thought it was. But Mr. Cluyme was evidently expecting no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said he, “what I was going to say was that we heard you were in + town; 'Friends of Samuel Atterbury, my dear,' I said to my wife. We are + neighbors, Mr. Brace. You must know the girls. You must come to supper. We + live very plainly, sir, very simply. I am afraid that you will miss the + luxury of the East, and some of the refinement, Stephen. I hope I may call + you so, my boy. We have a few cultured citizens, Stephen, but all are not + so. I miss the atmosphere. I seemed to live again when I got to Boston. + But business, sir,—the making of money is a sordid occupation. You + will come to supper?” + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely think that my mother will go out,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, be friends! It will cheer her. Not a dinner-party, my boy, only a + plain, comfortable meal, with plenty to eat. Of course she will. Of course + she will. Not a Boston social function, you understand. Boston, Stephen, I + have always looked upon as the centre of the universe. Our universe, I + mean. America for Americans is a motto of mine. Oh, no,” he added quickly, + “I don't mean a Know Nothing. Religious freedom, my boy, is part of our + great Constitution. By the way, Stephen—Atterbury always had such a + respect for your father's opinions—” + </p> + <p> + “My father was not an Abolitionist, sir,” said Stephen, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right, quite right,” said Mr. Cluyme. + </p> + <p> + “But I am not sure, since I have come here, that I have not some sympathy + and respect for the Abolitionists.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cluyme gave a perceptible start. He glanced at the heavy hangings on + the windows and then out of the open door into the hall. For a space his + wife's chatter to Mrs. Brace, on Boston fashions, filled the room. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Stephen,” said the gentleman, dropping his voice, “that is all + very well in Boston. But take a little advice from one who is old enough + to counsel you. You are young, and you must learn to temper yourself to + the tone of the place which you have made your home. St. Louis is full of + excellent people, but they are not precisely Abolitionists. We are + gathering, it is true, a small party who are for gradual emancipation. But + our New England population here is small yet compared to the Southerners. + And they are very violent, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen could not resist saying, “Judge Whipple does not seem to have + tempered himself, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Silas Whipple is a fanatic, sir,” cried Mr. Cluyme. + </p> + <p> + “His hand is against every man's. He denounces Douglas on the slightest + excuse, and would go to Washington when Congress opens to fight with + Stephens and Toombs and Davis. But what good does it do him? He might have + been in the Senate, or on the Supreme Bench, had he not stirred up so much + hatred. And yet I can't help liking Whipple. Do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + A resounding ring of the door-bell cut off Stephen's reply, and Mrs. + Cluyme's small talk to Mrs. Brice. In the hall rumbled a familiar voice, + and in stalked none other than Judge Whipple himself. Without noticing the + other occupants of the parlor he strode up to Mrs. Brice, looked at her + for an instant from under the grizzled brows, and held out his large hand. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, ma'am,” he said, “what have you done with your slave?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cluyme emitted a muffled shriek, like that of a person frightened in + a dream. Her husband grasped the curved back of his chair. But Stephen + smiled. And his mother smiled a little, too. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Mr. Whipple?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am, madam,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “My slave is upstairs, I believe, unpacking my trunks,” said Mrs. Brice. + </p> + <p> + Mr. and Mrs. Cluyme exchanged a glance of consternation. Then Mrs. Cluyme + sat down again, rather heavily, as though her legs had refused to hold + her. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, ma'am!” The Judge looked again at Mrs. Brice, and a gleam of + mirth lighted the severity of his face. He was plainly pleased with her—this + serene lady in black, whose voice had the sweet ring of women who are well + born and whose manner was so self-contained. To speak truth, the Judge was + prepared to dislike her. He had never laid eyes upon her, and as he walked + hither from his house he seemed to foresee a helpless little woman who, + once he had called, would fling her Boston pride to the winds and dump her + woes upon him. He looked again, and decidedly approved of Mrs. Brice, and + was unaware that his glance embarrassed her. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Whipple,” she said,—“do you know Mr. and Mrs. Cluyme?” + </p> + <p> + The Judge looked behind him abruptly, nodded ferociously at Mr. Cluyme, + and took the hand that fluttered out to him from Mrs. Cluyme. + </p> + <p> + “Know the Judge!” exclaimed that lady, “I reckon we do. And my Belle is so + fond of him. She thinks there is no one equal to Mr. Whipple. Judge, you + must come round to a family supper. Belle will surpass herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Umph!” said the Judge, “I think I like Edith best of your girls, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith is a good daughter, if I do say it myself,” said Mrs. Cluyme. “I + have tried to do right by my children.” She was still greatly flustered, + and curiosity about the matter of the slave burned upon her face. Neither + the Judge nor Mrs. Brice were people one could catechise. Stephen, + scanning the Judge, was wondering how far he regarded the matter as a + joke. + </p> + <p> + “Well, madam,” said Mr. Whipple, as he seated himself on the other end of + the horsehair sofa, “I'll warrant when you left Boston that you did not + expect to own a slave the day after you arrived in St. Louis.” + </p> + <p> + “But I do not own her,” said Mrs. Brice. “It is my son who owns her.” + </p> + <p> + This was too much for Mr. Cluyme. + </p> + <p> + “What!” he cried to Stephen. “You own a slave? You, a mere boy, have + bought a negress?” + </p> + <p> + “And what is more, sir, I approve of it,” the Judge put in, severely. “I + am going to take the young man into my office.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cluyme gradually retired into the back of his chair, looking at Mr. + Whipple as though he expected him to touch a match to the window curtains. + But Mr. Cluyme was elastic. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Judge,” said he, “but I trust that I may be allowed to + congratulate you upon the abandonment of principles which I have + considered a clog to your career. They did you honor, sir, but they were + Quixotic. I, sir, am for saving our glorious Union at any cost. And we + have no right to deprive our brethren of their property of their very + means of livelihood.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge grinned diabolically. Mrs. Cluyme was as yet too stunned to + speak. Only Stephen's mother sniffed gunpowder in the air. + </p> + <p> + “This, Mr. Cluyme,” said the Judge, mildly, “is an age of shifting winds. + It was not long ago,” he added reflectively, “when you and I met in the + Planters' House, and you declared that every drop of Northern blood + spilled in Kansas was in a holy cause. Do you remember it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cluyme and Mr. Cluyme's wife alone knew whether he trembled. + </p> + <p> + “And I repeat that, sir,” he cried, with far too much zeal. “I repeat it + here and now. And yet I was for the Omnibus Bill, and I am with Mr. + Douglas in his local sovereignty. I am willing to bury my abhorrence of a + relic of barbarism, for the sake of union and peace.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I am not,” retorted the Judge, like lightning. He rubbed the + red spat on his nose, and pointed a bony finger at Mr. Cluyme. Many a + criminal had grovelled before that finger. “I, too, am for the Union. And + the Union will never be safe until the greatest crime of modern times is + wiped out in blood. Mind what I say, Mr. Cluyme, in blood, sir,” he + thundered. + </p> + <p> + Poor Mrs. Cluyme gasped. + </p> + <p> + “But the slave, sir? Did I not understand you to approve of Mr. Brice's + ownership?” + </p> + <p> + “As I never approved of any other. Good night, sir. Good night, madam.” + But to Mrs. Brice he crossed over and took her hand. It has been further + claimed that he bowed. This is not certain. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, madam,” he said. “I shall call again to pay my respects when + you are not occupied.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Volume 2. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. BELLEGARDE + </h2> + <p> + Miss Virginia Carvel came down the steps in her riding-habit. And Ned, who + had been waiting in the street with the horses, obsequiously held his hand + while his young mistress leaped into Vixen's saddle. Leaving the darkey to + follow upon black Calhoun, she cantered off up the street, greatly to the + admiration of the neighbor. They threw open their windows to wave at her, + but Virginia pressed her lips and stared straight ahead. She was going out + to see the Russell girls at their father's country place on Bellefontaine + Road, especially to proclaim her detestation for a certain young Yankee + upstart. She had unbosomed herself to Anne Brinsmade and timid Eugenie + Renault the day before. + </p> + <p> + It was Indian summer, the gold and purple season of the year. Frost had + come and gone. Wasps were buzzing confusedly about the eaves again, + marvelling at the balmy air, and the two Misses Russell, Puss and Emily, + were seated within the wide doorway at needlework when Virginia dismounted + at the horseblock. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jinny, I'm so glad to see you,” said Miss Russell. “Here's Elise + Saint Simon from New Orleans. You must stay all day and to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't, Puss,” said Virginia, submitting impatiently to Miss Russell's + warm embrace. She was disappointed at finding the stranger. “I only came—to + say that I am going to have a birthday party in a few weeks. You must be + sure to come, and bring your guest.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia took her bridle from Ned, and Miss Russell's hospitable face + fell. + </p> + <p> + “You're not going?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “To Bellegarde for dinner,” answered Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “But it's only ten o'clock,” said Puss. “And, Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “There's a new young man in town, and they do say his appearance is very + striking—not exactly handsome, you know, but strong-looking.” + </p> + <p> + “He's horrid!” said Virginia. “He's a Yankee.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” demanded Puss and Emily in chorus. + </p> + <p> + “And he's no gentleman,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “But how do you know, Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + “He's an upstart.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh. But he belongs to a very good Boston family, they say.” + </p> + <p> + “There are no good Boston families,” replied Virginia, with conviction, as + she separated her reins. “He has proved that. Who ever heard of a good + Yankee family?” + </p> + <p> + “What has he done to you, Virginia?” asked Puss, who had brains. + </p> + <p> + Virginia glanced at the guest. But her grievance was too hot within her + for suppression. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember Mr. Benbow's Hester, girls? The one I always said I + wanted. She was sold at auction yesterday. Pa and I were passing the Court + House, with Clarence, when she was put up for sale. We crossed the street + to see what was going on, and there was your strong-looking Yankee + standing at the edge of the crowd. I am quite sure that he saw me as + plainly as I see you, Puss Russell.” + </p> + <p> + “How could he help it?” said Puss, slyly. + </p> + <p> + Virginia took no notice of the remark. + </p> + <p> + “He heard me ask Pa to buy her. He heard Clarence say that he would bid + her in for me. I know he did. And yet he goes in and outbids Clarence, and + buys her himself. Do you think any gentleman would do that, Puss Russell?” + </p> + <p> + “He bought her himself!” cried the astonished Miss Russell. “Why I thought + that all Bostonians were Abolitionists.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he set her free,” said Miss Carvel, contemptuously, “Judge Whipple + went on her bond to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm just crazy to see him now,” said Miss Russell. + </p> + <p> + “Ask him to your party, Virginia,” she added mischievously. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I would have him in my house?” cried Virginia. + </p> + <p> + Miss Russell was likewise courageous—“I don't see why not. You have + Judge Whipple every Sunday dinner, and he's an Abolitionist.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia drew herself up. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Whipple has never insulted me,” she said, with dignity. + </p> + <p> + Puss gave way to laughter. Whereupon, despite her protests and prayers for + forgiveness, Virginia took to her mare again and galloped off. They saw + her turn northward on the Bellefontaine Road. + </p> + <p> + Presently the woodland hid from her sight the noble river shining far + below, and Virginia pulled Vixen between the gateposts which marked the + entrance to her aunt's place, Bellegarde. Half a mile through the cool + forest, the black dirt of the driveway flying from Vixen's hoofs, and + there was the Colfax house on the edge of the gentle slope; and beyond it + the orchard, and the blue grapes withering on the vines,—and beyond + that fields and fields of yellow stubble. The silver smoke of a steamboat + hung in wisps above the water. A young negro was busily washing the broad + veranda, but he stopped and straightened at sight of the young horsewoman. + </p> + <p> + “Sambo, where's your mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “Clar t' goodness, Miss Jinny, she was heah leetle while ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Yo' git atter Miss Lilly, yo' good-fo'-nuthin' niggah,” said Ned, warmly. + “Ain't yo' be'n raised better'n to stan' theh wif yo'mouf open?” + </p> + <p> + Sambo was taking the hint, when Miss Virginia called him back. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Mr. Clarence? + </p> + <p> + “Young Masr? I'll fotch him, Miss Jinny. He jes come home f'um seein' that + thar trottin' hose he's gwine to race nex' week.” + </p> + <p> + Ned, who had tied Calhoun and was holding his mistress's bridle, sniffed. + He had been Colonel Carvel's jockey in his younger days. + </p> + <p> + “Shucks!” he said contemptuously. “I hoped to die befo' the day a gemman'd + own er trottah, Jinny. On'y runnin' hosses is fit fo' gemmen.” + </p> + <p> + “Ned,” said Virginia, “I shall be eighteen in two weeks and a young lady. + On that day you must call me Miss Jinny.” + </p> + <p> + Ned's face showed both astonishment and inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny, ain't I nussed you always? Ain't I come upstairs to quiet you when + yo' mammy ain't had no power ovah yo'? Ain't I cooked fo' yo', and ain't I + followed you everywheres since I quit ridin' yo' pa's bosses to vict'ry? + Ain't I one of de fambly? An' yit yo' ax me to call yo' Miss Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you've had privileges enough,” Virginia answered. “One week from + to-morrow you are to say 'Miss Jinny.'” + </p> + <p> + “I'se tell you what, Jinny,” he answered mischievously, with an emphasis + on the word, “I'se call you Miss Jinny ef you'll call me Mistah Johnson. + Mistah Johnson. You aint gwinter forget? Mistah Johnson.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll remember,” she said. “Ned,” she demanded suddenly, “would you like + to be free?” + </p> + <p> + The negro started. + </p> + <p> + “Why you ax me dat, Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Benbow's Hester is free,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Who done freed her?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Virginia flushed. “A detestable young Yankee, who has come out here + to meddle with what doesn't concern him. I wanted Hester, Ned. And you + should have married her, if you behaved yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Ned laughed uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I'se too ol' fo' Heste'.” And added with privileged impudence, + “There ain't no cause why I can't marry her now.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia suddenly leaped to the ground without his assistance. + </p> + <p> + “That's enough, Ned,” she said, and started toward the house. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny! Miss Jinny!” The call was plaintive. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Jinny, I seed that than young gemman. Lan' sakes, he ain' look like + er Yankee.” + </p> + <p> + “Ned,” said Virginia, sternly, “do you want to go back to cooking?” + </p> + <p> + He quailed. “Oh, no'm—Lan' sakes, no'm. I didn't mean nuthin'.” + </p> + <p> + She turned, frowned, and bit her lip. Around the corner of the veranda she + ran into her cousin. He, too, was booted and spurred. He reached out, + boyishly, to catch her in his arms. But she drew back from his grasp. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jinny,” he cried, “what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, Max.” She often called him so, his middle name being Maxwell. + “But you have no right to do that.” + </p> + <p> + “To do what?” said Clarence, making a face. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” answered Virginia, curtly. “Where's Aunt Lillian?” + </p> + <p> + “Why haven't I the right?” he asked, ignoring the inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Because you have not, unless I choose. And I don't choose.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you angry with me still? It wasn't my fault. Uncle Comyn made me come + away. You should have had the girl, Jinny, if it took my fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been drinking this morning, Max,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “Only a julep or so,” he replied apologetically. “I rode over to the race + track to see the new trotter. I've called him Halcyon, Jinny,” he + continued, with enthusiasm. “And he'll win the handicap sure.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down on the veranda steps, with her knees crossed and her chin + resting on her hands. The air was heavy with the perfume of the grapes and + the smell of late flowers from the sunken garden near by. A blue haze hung + over the Illinois shore. + </p> + <p> + “Max, you promised me you wouldn't drink so much.” + </p> + <p> + “And I haven't been, Jinny, 'pon my word,” he replied. “But I met old + Sparks at the Tavern, and he started to talk about the horses, and—and + he insisted.” + </p> + <p> + “And you hadn't the strength of character,” she said, scornfully, “to + refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw, Jinny, a gentleman must be a gentleman. I'm no Yankee.” + </p> + <p> + For a space Virginia answered nothing. Then she said, without changing her + position: + </p> + <p> + “If you were, you might be worth something.” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia!” + </p> + <p> + She did not reply, but sat gazing toward the water. He began to pace the + veranda, fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Jinny,” he cried, pausing in front of her. “There are some + things you can't say to me, even in jest.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia rose, flicked her riding-whip, and started down the steps. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be a fool, Max,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He followed her, bewildered. She skirted the garden, passed the orchard, + and finally reached a summer house perched on a knoll at the edge of the + wood. Then she seated herself on a bench, silently. He took a place on the + opposite side, with his feet stretched out, dejectedly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm tired trying to please you,” he said. “I have been a fool. You don't + care that for me. It was all right when I was younger, when there was no + one else to take you riding, and jump off the barn for your amusement, + Miss. Now you have Tom Catherwood and Jack Brinsmade and the Russell boys + running after you, it's different. I reckon I'll go to Kansas. There are + Yankees to shoot in Kansas.” + </p> + <p> + He did not see her smile as he sat staring at his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Max,” said she, all at once, “why don't you settle down to something? Why + don't you work?” + </p> + <p> + Young Mr. Colfax's arm swept around in a circle. + </p> + <p> + “There are twelve hundred acres to look after here, and a few niggers. + That's enough for a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” exclaimed his cousin, “this isn't a cotton plantation. Aunt + Lillian doesn't farm for money. If she did, you would have to check your + extravagances mighty quick, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I look after Pompey's reports, I do as much work as my ancestors,” + answered Clarence, hotly. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that is the trouble,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” her cousin demanded. + </p> + <p> + “We have been gentlemen too long,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + The boy straightened up and rose. The pride and wilfulness of generations + was indeed in his handsome face. And something else went with it. Around + the mouth a grave tinge of indulgence. + </p> + <p> + “What has your life been?” she went on, speaking rapidly. “A mixture of + gamecocks and ponies and race horses and billiards, and idleness at the + Virginia Springs, and fighting with other boys. What do you know? You + wouldn't go to college. You wouldn't study law. You can't write a decent + letter. You don't know anything about the history of your country. What + can you do—?” + </p> + <p> + “I can ride and fight,” he said. “I can go to New Orleans to-morrow to + join Walker's Nicaragua expedition. We've got to beat the Yankees,—they'll + have Kansas away from us before we know it.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia's eye flashed appreciation. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember, Jinny,” he cried, “one day long ago when those Dutch + ruffians were teasing you and Anne on the road, and Bert Russell and Jack + and I came along? We whipped 'em, Jinny. And my eye was closed. And you + were bathing it here, and one of my buttons was gone. And you counted the + rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Rich man, poor man, beggarman, thief, doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief,” + she recited, laughing. She crossed over and sat beside him, and her tone + changed. “Max, can't you understand? It isn't that. Max, if you would only + work at something. That is why the Yankees beat us. If you would learn to + weld iron, or to build bridges, or railroads. Or if you would learn + business, and go to work in Pa's store.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not care for me as I am?” + </p> + <p> + “I knew that you did not understand,” she answered passionately. “It is + because I care for you that I wish to make you great. You care too much + for a good time, for horses, Max. You love the South, but you think too + little how she is to be saved. If war is to come, we shall want men like + that Captain Robert Lee who was here. A man who can turn the forces of the + earth to his own purposes.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Clarence was moodily silent. + </p> + <p> + “I have always intended to go into politics, after Pa's example,” he said + at length. + </p> + <p> + “Then—” began Virginia, and paused. + </p> + <p> + “Then—?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then—you must study law.” + </p> + <p> + He gave her the one keen look. And she met it, with her lips tightly + pressed together. Then he smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Virginia, you will never forgive that Yankee, Brice.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never forgive any Yankee,” she retorted quickly. “But we are not + talking about him. I am thinking of the South, and of you.” + </p> + <p> + He stooped toward her face, but she avoided him and went back to the + bench. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You must prove first that you are a man,” she said. + </p> + <p> + For years he remembered the scene. The vineyard, the yellow stubble; and + the river rushing on and on with tranquil power, and the slow panting of + the steamboat. A doe ran out of the forest, and paused, her head raised, + not twenty feet away. + </p> + <p> + “And then you will marry me, Jinny?” he asked finally. + </p> + <p> + “Before you may hope to control another, we shall see whether you can + control yourself, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But it has all been arranged,” he exclaimed, “since we played here + together years ago!” + </p> + <p> + “No one shall arrange that for me,” replied Virginia promptly. “And I + should think that you would wish to have some of the credit for yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Jinny!” + </p> + <p> + Again she avoided him by leaping the low railing. The doe fled into the + forest, whistling fearfully. Virginia waved her hand to him and started + toward the house. At the corner of the porch she ran into her aunt Mrs. + Colfax was a beautiful woman. Beautiful when Addison Colfax married her in + Kentucky at nineteen, beautiful still at three and forty. This, I am + aware, is a bald statement. “Prove it,” you say. “We do not believe it. It + was told you by some old beau who lives upon the memory of the past.” + </p> + <p> + Ladies, a score of different daguerrotypes of Lillian Colfax are in + existence. And whatever may be said of portraits, daguerrotypes do not + flatter. All the town admitted that she was beautiful. All the town knew + that she was the daughter of old Judge Colfax's overseer at Halcyondale. + If she had not been beautiful, Addison Colfax would not have run away with + her. That is certain. He left her a rich widow at five and twenty, + mistress of the country place he had bought on the Bellefontaine Road, + near St. Louis. And when Mrs. Colfax was not dancing off to the Virginia + watering-places, Bellegarde was a gay house. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny,” exclaimed her aunt, “how you scared me! What on earth is the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Virginia + </p> + <p> + “She refused to kiss me,” put in Clarence, half in play, half in + resentment. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Colfax laughed musically. She put one of her white hands on each of + her niece's cheeks, kissed her, and then gazed into her face until + Virginia reddened. + </p> + <p> + “Law, Jinny, you're quite pretty,” said her aunt + </p> + <p> + “I hadn't realized it—but you must take care of your complexion. + You're horribly sunburned, and you let your hair blow all over your face. + It's barbarous not to wear a mask when you ride. Your Pa doesn't look + after you properly. I would ask you to stay to the dance to-night if your + skin were only white, instead of red. You're old enough to know better, + Virginia. Mr. Vance was to have driven out for dinner. Have you seen him, + Clarence?” + </p> + <p> + “No, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “He is so amusing,” Mrs. Colfax continued, “and he generally brings candy. + I shall die of the blues before supper.” She sat down with a grand air at + the head of the table, while Alfred took the lid from the silver + soup-tureen in front of her. “Jinny, can't you say something bright? Do I + have to listen to Clarence's horse talk for another hour? Tell me some + gossip. Will you have some gumbo soup?” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you listen to Clarence's horse talk?” said Virginia. “Why don't + you make him go to work!” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy!” said Mrs. Colfax, laughing, “what could he do?” + </p> + <p> + “That's just it,” said Virginia. “He hasn't a serious interest in life.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence looked sullen. And his mother, as usual, took his side. + </p> + <p> + “What put that into your head, Jinny,” she said. “He has the place here to + look after, a very gentlemanly occupation. That's what they do in + Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Virginia, scornfully, “we're all gentlemen in the South. What + do we know about business and developing the resources of the country? Not + THAT.” + </p> + <p> + “You make my head ache, my dear,” was her aunt's reply. “Where did you get + all this?” + </p> + <p> + “You ask me because I am a girl,” said Virginia. “You believe that women + were made to look at, and to play with,—not to think. But if we are + going to get ahead of the Yankees, we shall have to think. It was all very + well to be a gentleman in the days of my great-grandfather. But now we + have railroads and steamboats. And who builds them? The Yankees. We of the + South think of our ancestors, and drift deeper and deeper into debt. We + know how to fight, and we know how to command. But we have been ruined by—” + here she glanced at the retreating form of Alfred, and lowered her voice, + “by niggers.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Colfax's gaze rested languidly on her niece's faces which glowed with + indignation. + </p> + <p> + “You get this terrible habit of argument from Comyn,” she said. “He ought + to send you to boarding-school. How mean of Mr. Vance not to come! You've + been talking with that old reprobate Whipple. Why does Comyn put up with + him?” + </p> + <p> + “He isn't an old reprobate,” said Virginia, warmly. + </p> + <p> + “You really ought to go to school,” said her aunt. “Don't be eccentric. It + isn't fashionable. I suppose you wish Clarence to go into a factory.” + </p> + <p> + “If I were a man,” said Virginia, “and going into a factory would teach me + how to make a locomotive or a cotton press, or to build a bridge, I should + go into a factory. We shall never beat the Yankees until we meet them on + their own ground.” + </p> + <p> + “There is Mr. Vance now,” said Mrs. Colfax, and added fervently, “Thank + the Lord!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. A QUIET SUNDAY IN LOCUST STREET + </h2> + <p> + IF the truth were known where Virginia got the opinions which she + expressed so freely to her aunt and cousin, it was from Colonel Carvel + himself. The Colonel would rather have denounced the Dred Scott decision + than admit to Judge Whipple that one of the greatest weaknesses of the + South lay in her lack of mechanical and manufacturing ability. But he had + confessed as much in private to Captain Elijah Brent. The Colonel would + often sit for an hour or more, after supper, with his feet tucked up on + the mantel and his hat on the back of his head, buried in thought. Then he + would saunter slowly down to the Planters' House bar, which served the + purposes of a club in those days, in search of an argument with other + prominent citizens. The Colonel had his own particular chair in his own + particular corner, which was always vacated when he came in at the door. + And then he always had three fingers of the best Bourbon whiskey, no more + and no less, every evening. + </p> + <p> + He never met his bosom friend and pet antagonist at the Planters' House + bar. Judge Whipple, indeed, took his meals upstairs, but he never + descended,—it was generally supposed because of the strong slavery + atmosphere there. However, the Judge went periodically to his friend's for + a quiet Sunday dinner (so called in derision by St. Louisans), on which + occasions Virginia sat at the end of the table and endeavored to pour + water on the flames when they flared up too fiercely. + </p> + <p> + The Sunday following her ride to Bellegarde was the Judge's Sunday, + Certain tastes which she had inherited had hitherto provided her with + pleasurable sensations while these battles were in progress. More than + once had she scored a fair hit on the Judge for her father,—to the + mutual delight of both gentlemen. But to-day she dreaded being present at + the argument. Just why she dreaded it is a matter of feminine psychology + best left to the reader for solution. + </p> + <p> + The argument began, as usual, with the tearing apart limb by limb of the + unfortunate Franklin Pierce, by Judge Whipple. + </p> + <p> + “What a miserable exhibition in the eyes of the world,” said the Judge. + “Franklin Pierce of New Hampshire” (he pronounced this name with infinite + scorn) “managed by Jefferson Davis of Mississippi!” + </p> + <p> + “And he was well managed, sir,” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “What a pliant tool of your Southern slaveholders! I hear that you are to + give him a plantation as a reward.” + </p> + <p> + “No such thing, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “He deserves it,” continued the Judge, with conviction. “See the + magnificent forts he permitted Davis to build up in the South, the + arsenals he let him stock. The country does not realize this. But the day + will, come when they will execrate Pierce before Benedict Arnold, sir. And + look at the infamous Kansas-Nebraska act! That is the greatest crime, and + Douglas and Pierce the greatest criminals, of the century.” + </p> + <p> + “Do have some more of that fried chicken, Judge,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Whipple helped himself fiercely, and the Colonel smiled. + </p> + <p> + “You should be satisfied now,” said he. “Another Northern man is in the + White House.” + </p> + <p> + “Buchanan!” roared the Judge, with his mouth full. + </p> + <p> + “Another traitor, sir. Another traitor worse than the first. He swallows + the Dred Scott decision, and smirks. What a blot on the history of this + Republic! O Lord!” cried Mr. Whipple, “what are we coming to? A Northern + man, he could gag and bind Kansas and force her into slavery against the + will of her citizens. He packs his Cabinet to support the ruffians you + send over the borders. The very governors he ships out there, his + henchmen, have their stomachs turned. Look at Walker, whom they are + plotting against in Washington. He can't stand the smell of this Lecompton + Constitution Buchanan is trying to jam down their throats. Jefferson Davis + would have troops there, to be sure that it goes through, if he had his + way. Can't you see how one sin leads to another, Carvel? How slavery is + rapidly demoralizing a free people?” + </p> + <p> + “It is because you won't let it alone where it belongs, sir,” retorted the + Colonel. It was seldom that he showed any heat in his replies. He talked + slowly, and he had a way of stretching forth his hand to prevent the more + eager Judge from interrupting him. + </p> + <p> + “The welfare of the whole South, as matters now stand, sir, depends upon + slavery. Our plantations could not exist a day without slave labor. If you + abolished that institution, Judge Whipple, you would ruin millions of your + fellow-countrymen,—you would reduce sovereign states to a situation + of disgraceful dependence. And all, sir,” now he raised his voice lest the + Judge break in, “all, sir, for the sake of a low breed that ain't fit for + freedom. You and I, who have the Magna Charta and the Declaration of + Independence behind us, who are descended from a race that has done + nothing but rule for ten centuries and more, may well establish a Republic + where the basis of stability is the self-control of the individual—as + long as men such as you and I form its citizens. Look at the South + Americans. How do Republics go there? And the minute you and I let in + niggers, who haven't any more self-control than dogs, on an equal basis, + with as much of a vote as you have,—niggers, sir, that have lived + like wild beasts in the depths of the jungle since the days of Ham,—what's + going to become of our Republic?” + </p> + <p> + “Education,” cried the Judge. + </p> + <p> + But the word was snatched out of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Education isn't a matter of one generation. No, sir, nor two, nor three, + nor four. But of centuries.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the Judge, “I can point out negroes of intelligence and + learning.” + </p> + <p> + “And I reckon you could teach some monkeys to talk English, and recite the + catechism, and sing emotional hymns, if you brought over a couple of + million from Africa,” answered the Colonel, dryly, as he rose to put on + his hat and light a cigar. + </p> + <p> + It was his custom to offer a cigar to the Judge, who invariably refused, + and rubbed his nose with scornful violence. + </p> + <p> + Virginia, on the verge of leaving, stayed on, fascinated by the turn the + argument had taken. + </p> + <p> + “Your prejudice is hide-bound, sir,” said Mr. Whipple. + </p> + <p> + “No, Whipple,” said the Colonel, “when God washed off this wicked earth, + and started new, He saw fit to put the sons of Ham in subjection. They're + slaves of each other in Africa, and I reckon they're treated no better + than they are here. Abuses can't be helped in any system, sir, though we + are bettering them. Were the poor in London in the days of the Edwards as + well off as our niggers are to-day?” + </p> + <p> + The Judge snorted. + </p> + <p> + “A divine institution!” he shouted. “A black curse! Because the world has + been a wicked place of oppression since Noah's day, is that any reason why + it should so continue until the day of Judgment?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel smiled, which was a sign that he was pleased with his + argument. + </p> + <p> + “Now, see here, Whipple,” said he. “If we had any guarantee that you would + let us alone where we are, to manage our slaves and to cultivate our + plantations, there wouldn't be any trouble. But the country keeps on + growing and growing, and you're not content with half. You want + everything,—all the new states must abolish slavery. And after a + while you will overwhelm us, and ruin us, and make us paupers. Do you + wonder that we contend for our rights, tooth and nail? They are our + rights.” + </p> + <p> + “If it had not been for Virginia and Maryland and the South, this nation + would not be in existence.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel laughed. + </p> + <p> + “First rate, Jinny,” he cried. “That's so.” + </p> + <p> + But the Judge was in a revery. He probably had not heard her. + </p> + <p> + “The nation is going to the dogs,” he said, mumbling rather to himself + than to the others. “We shall never prosper until the curse is shaken off, + or wiped out in blood. It clogs our progress. Our merchant marine, of + which we were so proud, has been annihilated by these continued + disturbances. But, sir,” he cried, hammering his fist upon the table until + the glasses rang, “the party that is to save us was born at Pittsburgh + last year on Washington's birthday. The Republican Party, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Shucks!” exclaimed Mr. Carvel, with amusement, “The Black Republican + Party, made up of old fools and young Anarchists, of Dutchmen and + nigger-worshippers. Why, Whipple, that party's a joke. Where's your + leader?” + </p> + <p> + “In Illinois,” was the quick response. + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Abraham Lincoln, sir,” thundered Mr. Whipple. “And to my way of thinking + he has uttered a more significant phrase on the situation than any of your + Washington statesmen. 'This government,' said he to a friend of mine, + 'cannot exist half slave and half free.'” + </p> + <p> + So impressively did Mr. Whipple pronounce these words that Mr. Carvel + stirred uneasily, and in spite of himself, as though he were listening to + an oracle. He recovered instantly. + </p> + <p> + “He's a demagogue, seeking for striking phrases, sir. You're too + intelligent a man to be taken in by such as he.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you he is not, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I know him, sir,” cried the Colonel, taking down his feet. “He's an + obscure lawyer. Poor white trash! Torn down poor! My friend Mr. Richardson + of Springfield tells me he is low down. He was born in a log cabin, and + spends most of his time in a drug-store telling stories that you would not + listen to, Judge Whipple.” + </p> + <p> + “I would listen to anything he said,” replied the Judge. “Poor white + trash, sir! The greatest men rise from the people. A demagogue!” Mr. + Whipple fairly shook with rage. “The nation doesn't know him yet. But mark + my words, the day will come when it will. He was ballotted for + Vice-President in the Philadelphia convention last year. Nobody paid any + attention to that. If the convention had heard him speak at Bloomington, + he would have been nominated instead of Fremont. If the nation could have + heard him, he would be President to-day instead of that miserable + Buchanan. I happened to be at Bloomington. And while the idiots on the + platform were drivelling, the people kept calling for Lincoln. I had never + heard of him then. I've never forgot him since. He came ambling out of the + back of the hall, a lanky, gawky looking man, ridiculously ugly, sir. But + the moment he opened his mouth he had us spellbound. The language which + your low-down lawyer used was that of a God-sent prophet, sir. He had + those Illinois bumpkins all worked up,—the women crying, and some of + the men, too. And mad! Good Lord, they were mad—'We will say to the + Southern disunionists,' he cried,—'we will say to the Southern + disunionists, we won't go out of the Union, and you shan't.'” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence when the Judge finished. But presently Mr. Carvel took + a match. And he stood over the Judge in his favorite attitude,—with + his feet apart,—as he lighted another cigar. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon we're going to have war, Silas,” said he, slowly; “but don't you + think that your Mr. Lincoln scares me into that belief. I don't count his + bluster worth a cent. No sirree! It's this youngster who comes out here + from Boston and buys a nigger with all the money he's got in the world. + And if he's an impetuous young fool; I'm no judge of men.” + </p> + <p> + “Appleton Brice wasn't precisely impetuous,” remarked Mr. Whipple. And he + smiled a little bitterly, as though the word had stirred a memory. + </p> + <p> + “I like that young fellow,” Mr. Carvel continued. “It seems to be a kind + of fatality with me to get along with Yankees. I reckon there's a screw + loose somewhere, but Brice acted the man all the way through. He goa a + fall out of you, Silas, in your room, after the show. Where are you going, + Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + Virginia had risen, and she was standing very erects with a flush on her + face, waiting for her father to finish. + </p> + <p> + “To see Anne Brinsmade,” she said. “Good-by, Uncle Silas.” + </p> + <p> + She had called him so from childhood. Hers was the one voice that seemed + to soften him—it never failed. He turned to her now with a movement + that was almost gentle. “Virginia, I should like you to know my young + Yankee,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Uncle Silas,” said the girl, with dignity, “but I scarcely + think that he would care to know me. He feels so strongly.” + </p> + <p> + “He feels no stronger than I do,” replied the Judge. + </p> + <p> + “You have gotten used to me in eighteen years, and besides,” she flashed, + “you never spent all the money you had in the world for a principle.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Whipple smiled as she went out of the door. + </p> + <p> + “I have spent pretty near all,” he said. But more to himself than to the + Colonel. + </p> + <p> + That evening, some young people came in to tea, two of the four big + Catherwood boys, Anne Brinsmade and her brother Jack, Puss Russell and + Bert, and Eugenie Renault. But Virginia lost her temper. In an evil moment + Puss Russell started the subject of the young Yankee who had deprived her + of Hester. Puss was ably seconded by Jack Brinsmade, whose reputation as a + tormentor extended far back into his boyhood. In vain; did Anne, the + peacemaker, try to quench him, while the big Catherwoods and Bert Russell + laughed incessantly. No wonder that Virginia was angry. She would not + speak to Puss as that young lady bade her good night. And the Colonel, + coming home from an evening with Mr. Brinsmade, found his daughter in an + armchair, staring into the sitting-room fire. There was no other light in + the room Her chin was in her hand, and her lips were pursed. + </p> + <p> + “Heigho!” said the Colonel, “what's the trouble now?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” he insisted, “what have they been doing to my girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Pa!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, honey.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to go to balls all my life. I want to go to boarding-school, + and learn something. Emily is going to Monticello after Christmas. Pa, + will you let me?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carvel winced. He put an arm around her. He, thought of his lonely + widowerhood, of her whose place Virginia had taken. + </p> + <p> + “And what shall I do?” he said, trying to smile. + </p> + <p> + “It will only be for a little while. And Monticello isn't very far, Pa.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, there is plenty of time to think it over between now and + January,” he said. “And now I have a little favor to ask of you, honey.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” she said. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel took the other armchair, stretched his feet toward the blaze, + and stroked his goatee. He glanced covertly at his daughter's profile. + Twice he cleared hip throat. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Pa” (without turning her head). + </p> + <p> + “Jinny, I was going to speak of this young. Brice. He's a stranger here, + and he comes of a good family, and—and I like him.” + </p> + <p> + “And you wish me to invite him to my party,” finished Virginia. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel started. “I reckon you guessed it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Virginia remained immovable. She did not answer at once. Then she said: + </p> + <p> + “Do you think, in bidding against me, that he behaved, like a gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel blundered. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, Virginia,” he said, “I thought you told the judge this afternoon + teat it was done out of principle.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia ignored this. But she bit her lip + </p> + <p> + “He is like all Yankees, without one bit of consideration for a woman. He + knew I wanted Hester.” + </p> + <p> + “What makes you imagine that he thought of you at all, my dear?” asked her + father, mildly, “He does not know you.” + </p> + <p> + This time the Colonel scored certainly. The firelight saved Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “He overheard our conversation,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon that he wasn't worrying much about us. And besides, he was + trying to save Hester from Jennings.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that you said that it was to be my party, Pa,” said Virginia, + irrelevantly. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel looked thoughtful, then he began to laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Haven't we enough Black Republican friends?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “So you won't have him?” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say that I wouldn't have him,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel rose, and brushed the ashes from his goat. + </p> + <p> + “By Gum!” he said. “Women beat me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE LITTLE HOUSE + </h2> + <p> + When Stephen attempted to thank Judge Whipple for going on Hester's bond, + he merely said, “Tut, tut.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge rose at six, so his man Shadrach told Stephen. He had his + breakfast at the Planters' House at seven, read the Missouri Democrat, and + returned by eight. Sometimes he would say good morning to Stephen and + Richter, and sometimes he would not. Mr. Whipple was out a great part of + the day, and he had many visitors. He was a very busy man. Like a great + specialist (which he was), he would see only one person at a time. And + Stephen soon discovered that his employer did not discriminate between age + or sex, or importance, or condition of servitude. In short, Stephen's + opinion of Judge Whipple altered very materially before the end of that + first week. He saw poor women and disconsolate men go into the private + room ahead of rich citizens, who seemed content to wait their turn on the + hard wooden chairs against the wall of the main office. There was one + incident in particular, when a well-dressed gentleman of middle age paced + impatiently for two mortal hours after Shadrach had taken his card into + the sanctum. When at last he had been admitted, Mr. Richter whispered to + Stephen his name. It was that of a big railroad man from the East. The + transom let out the true state of affairs. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Callender,” the Judge was heard to say, “you fellows don't like + me, and you wouldn't come here unless you had to. But when your road gets + in a tight place, you turn up and expect to walk in ahead of my friends. + No, sir, if you want to see me, you've got to wait.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Callender made some inaudible reply, “Money!” roared the Judge, “take + your money to Stetson, and see if you win your case.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Richter smiled at Stephen, as if in sheer happiness at this + vindication of an employer who had never seemed to him to need a defence. + </p> + <p> + Stephen was greatly drawn toward this young German with the great scar on + his pleasant face. And he was itching to know about that scar. Every day, + after coming in from dinner, Richter lighted a great brown meerschaum, and + read the St. Louis 'Anzeiger' and the 'Westliche Post'. Often he sang + quietly to himself: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Deutschlands Sohne + Laut ertone + Euer Vaterlandgesang. + Vaterland! Du Land des Ruhmes, + Weih' zu deines Heiligthumes + Hutern, uns and unser Schwert.” + </pre> + <p> + There were other songs, too. And some wonderful quality in the German's + voice gave you a thrill when you heard them, albeit you could not + understand the words. Richter never guessed how Stephen, with his eyes on + his book, used to drink in those airs. And presently he found out that + they were inspired. + </p> + <p> + The day that the railroad man called, and after he and the Judge had gone + out together, the ice was broken. + </p> + <p> + “You Americans from the North are a queer people, Mr. Brice,” remarked Mr. + Richter, as he put on his coat. “You do not show your feelings. You are + ashamed. The Judge, at first I could not comprehend him—he would + scold and scold. But one day I see that his heart is warm, and since then + I love him. Have you ever eaten a German dinner, Mr. Brice? No? Then you + must come with me, now.” + </p> + <p> + It was raining, the streets ankle-deep in mud, and the beer-garden by the + side of the restaurant to which they went was dreary and bedraggled. But + inside the place was warm and cheerful. Inside, to all intents and + purposes, it was Germany. A most genial host crossed the room to give Mr. + Richter a welcome that any man might have envied. He was introduced to + Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “We were all 'Streber' together, in Germany,” said Richter. + </p> + <p> + “You were all what?” asked Stephen, interested. + </p> + <p> + “Strivers, you might call it in English. In the Vaterland those who seek + for higher and better things—for liberty, and to be rid of + oppression—are so called. That is why we fought in '48 and lost. And + that is why we came here, to the Republic. Ach! I fear I will never be the + great lawyer—but the striver, yes, always. We must fight once more + to be rid of the black monster that sucks the blood of freedom—vampire. + Is it not so in English?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen was astonished at this outburst. + </p> + <p> + “You think it will come to war?” + </p> + <p> + “I fear,—yes, I fear,” said the German, shaking his head. “We fear. + We are already preparing.” + </p> + <p> + “Preparing? You would fight, Richter? You, a foreigner?” + </p> + <p> + “A foreigner!” cried Richter, with a flash of anger in his blue eyes that + died as suddenly as it came,—died into reproach. “Call me not a + foreigner—we Germans will show whether or not we are foreigners when + the time is ripe. This great country belongs to all the oppressed. Your + ancestors founded it, and fought for it, that the descendants of mine + might find a haven from tyranny. My friend, one-half of this city is + German, and it is they who will save it if danger arises. You must come + with me one night to South St. Louis, that you may know us. Then you will + perhaps understand, Stephen. You will not think of us as foreign swill, + but as patriots who love our new Vaterland even as you love it. You must + come to our Turner Halls, where we are drilling against the time when the + Union shall have need of us.” + </p> + <p> + “You are drilling now?” exclaimed Stephen, in still greater astonishment. + The German's eloquence had made him tingle, even as had the songs. + </p> + <p> + “Prosit deine Blume!” answered Richter, smiling and holding up his glass + of beer. “You will come to a 'commerce', and see. + </p> + <p> + “This is not our blessed Lichtenhainer, that we drink at Jena. One may + have a pint of Lichtenhainer for less than a groschen at Jena. Aber,” he + added as he rose, with a laugh that showed his strong teeth, “we Americans + are rich.” + </p> + <p> + As Stephen's admiration for his employer grew, his fear of him waxed + greater likewise. The Judge's methods of teaching law were certainly not + Harvard's methods. For a fortnight he paid as little attention to the + young man as he did to the messengers who came with notes and cooled their + heels in the outer office until it became the Judge's pleasure to answer + them. This was a trifle discouraging to Stephen. But he stuck to his + Chitty and his Greenleaf and his Kent. It was Richter who advised him to + buy Whittlesey's “Missouri Form Book,” and warned him of Mr. Whipple's + hatred for the new code. Well that he did! There came a fearful hour of + judgment. With the swiftness of a hawk Mr. Whipple descended out of a + clear sky, and instantly the law terms began to rattle in Stephen's head + like dried peas in a can. It was the Old Style of Pleading this time, + without a knowledge of which the Judge declared with vehemence that a + lawyer was not fit to put pen to legal cap. + </p> + <p> + “Now, sir, the pleadings?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “First,” said Stephen, “was the Declaration. The answer to that was the + Plea. The answer to that was the Replication. Then came the Rejoinder, + then the Surrejoinder, then the Rebutter, then the Surrebutter. But they + rarely got that far,” he added unwisely. + </p> + <p> + “A good principle in Law, sir,” said the Judge, “is not to volunteer + information.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen was somewhat cast down when he reached home that Saturday evening. + He had come out of his examination with feathers drooping. He had been + given no more briefs to copy, nor had Mr. Whipple vouchsafed even to send + him on an errand. He had not learned how common a thing it is with young + lawyers to feel that they are of no use in the world. Besides, the rain + continued. This was the fifth day. + </p> + <p> + His mother, knitting before the fire in her own room, greeted him with her + usual quiet smile of welcome. He tried to give her a humorous account of + his catechism of the morning, but failed. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite sure that he doesn't like me,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + His mother continued to smile. + </p> + <p> + “If he did, he would not show it,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “I can feel it,” said Stephen, dejectedly. + </p> + <p> + “The Judge was here this afternoon,” said his mother. + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried Stephen. “Again this week? They say that he never calls in + the daytime, and rarely in the evening. What did he say?” + </p> + <p> + “He said that some of this Boston nonsense must be gotten out of you,” + answered Mrs. Brice, laughing. “He said that you were too stiff. That you + needed to rub against the plain men who were building up the West. Who + were making a vast world-power of the original little confederation of + thirteen states. And Stephen,” she added more earnestly, “I am not sure + but what he is right.” + </p> + <p> + Then Stephen laughed. And for a long time he sat staring into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “What else did he say?” he asked, after a while. + </p> + <p> + “He told me about a little house which we might rent very cheaply. Too + cheaply, it seems. The house is on this street, next door to Mr. + Brinsmade, to whom it belongs. And Mr. Whipple brought the key, that we + might inspect it to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “But a servant,” objected Stephen, “I suppose that we must have a + servant.” + </p> + <p> + His mother's voice fell. + </p> + <p> + “That poor girl whom you freed is here to see me every day. Old Nancy does + washing. But Hester has no work and she is a burden to Judge Whipple. Oh, + no,” she continued, in response to Stephen's glance, “the Judge did not + mention that, but I think he had it in mind that Nester might come. And I + am sure that she would.” + </p> + <p> + Sunday dawned brightly. After church Mrs. Brice and Stephen walked down + Olive Street, and stood looking at a tiny house wedged in between, two + large ones with scrolled fronts. Sad memories of Beacon Street filled them + both as they gazed, but they said nothing of this to each other. As + Stephen put his hand on the latch of the little iron gate, a gentleman + came out of the larger house next door. He was past the middle age, + somewhat scrupulously dressed in the old fashion, in swallowtail coat and + black stock. Benevolence was in the generous mouth, in the large nose that + looked like Washington's, and benevolence fairly sparkled in the blue + eyes. He smiled at them as though he had known them always, and the world + seemed brighter that very instant. They smiled in return, whereupon the + gentleman lifted his hat. And the kindliness and the courtliness of that + bow made them very happy. “Did you wish to look at the house, madam?” he + asked “Yes, sir,” said Mrs. Brice. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to open it for you,” he said, graciously taking the key from + her. “I fear that you will find it inconvenient and incommodious, ma'am. I + should be fortunate, indeed, to get a good tenant.” + </p> + <p> + He fitted the key in the door, while Stephen and his mother smiled at each + other at the thought of the rent. The gentleman opened the door, and stood + aside to let them enter, very much as if he were showing them a palace for + which he was the humble agent. + </p> + <p> + They went into the little parlor, which was nicely furnished in mahogany + and horsehair. And it had back of it a bit of a dining room, with a little + porch overlooking the back yard. Mrs. Brice thought of the dark and + stately high-ceiled dining-room she had known throughout her married days: + of the board from which a royal governor of Massachusetts Colony had + eaten, and some governors of the Commonwealth since. Thank God, she had + not to sell that, nor the Brice silver which had stood on the high + sideboard with the wolves and the shield upon it. The widow's eyes filled + with tears. She had not hoped again to have a home for these things, nor + the father's armchair, nor the few family treasures that were to come over + the mountains. + </p> + <p> + The gentleman, with infinite tact, said little, but led the way through + the rooms. There were not many of them. At the door of the kitchen he + stopped, and laid his hand kindly on Stephen's shoulder:— “Here we + may not enter. This is your department, ma'am,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Finally, as they stood without waiting for the gentleman, who insisted + upon locking the door, they observed a girl in a ragged shawl hurrying up + the street. As she approached them, her eyes were fixed upon the large + house next door. But suddenly, as the gentleman turned, she caught sight + of him, and from her lips escaped a cry of relief. She flung open the + gate, and stood before him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Brinsmade,” she cried, “mother is dying. You have done so much + for us, sir,—couldn't you come to her for a little while? She + thought if she might see you once more, she would die happy.” The voice + was choked by a sob. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brinsmade took the girl's hand in his own, and turned to the lady with + as little haste, with as much politeness, as he had shown before. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse me, ma'am,” he said, with his hat in his hand. + </p> + <p> + The widow had no words to answer him. But she and her son watched him as + he walked rapidly down the street, his arm in the girl's, until they were + out of sight. And then they walked home silently. + </p> + <p> + Might not the price of this little house be likewise a piece of the + Brinsmade charity? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE INVITATION + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Eliphalet Hopper, in his Sunday-best broadcloth was a marvel of + propriety. It seemed to Stephen that his face wore a graver expression on + Sunday when he met him standing on Miss Crane's doorstep, picking the lint + from his coat. Stephen's intention was not to speak. But he remembered + what the Judge had said to his mother, and nodded. Why, indeed, should he + put on airs with this man who had come to St. Louis unknown and + unrecommended and poor, who by sheer industry had made himself of + importance in the large business of Carvel &, Company? As for Stephen + Brice, he was not yet earning his salt, but existing by the charity of + Judge Silas Whipple. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Mr. Brice,” said Mr. Hopper, his glance caught by the indefinable + in Stephen's costume. This would have puzzled Mr. Hopper's tailor more. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, thanks.” + </p> + <p> + “A fine day after the rain.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen nodded, and Mr. Hopper entered the hours after him. + </p> + <p> + “Be you asked to Virginia Carvel's party?” he asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know Miss Carvel,” said Stephen, wondering how well the other + did. And if the truth be told, he was a little annoyed at Mr. Hopper's + free use of her name. + </p> + <p> + “That shouldn't make no difference,” said Eliphalet with just a shade of + bitterness in his tone. “They keep open house, like all Southerners,” Mr. + Hopper hesitated,—“for such as come well recommended. I 'most + forgot,” said he. “I callate you're not any too well recommended. I 'most + forgot that little transaction down to the Court House. They do say that + she wanted that gal almighty bad,—she was most awful cut up not to + get her. Served her right, though. I'm glad you did. Show her she can't + have everything her own way. And say,” he added, with laughter, “how you + did fix that there stuckup Colfax boy! He'll never forgive you no more + than she. But,” said Mr. Hopper, meditatively, “it was a durned-fool + trick.” + </p> + <p> + I think Stephen's critics will admit that he had a good right to be angry, + and that they will admire him just a little bit because he kept his + temper. But Mr. Hopper evidently thought he had gone too far. + </p> + <p> + “She ain't got no use for me, neither,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “She shows poor judgment,” answered Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “She's not long sighted, that's sure,” replied Eliphalet, with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + At dinner Stephen was tried still further. And it was then he made the + determination to write for the newspapers in order to pay the rent on Mr. + Brinsmade's house. Miss Carvel's coming-out party was the chief topic. + </p> + <p> + “They do say the Colonel is to spend a sight of money on that ball,” said + Mrs. Abner Reed. “I guess it won't bankrupt him.” And she looked hard at + Mr. Hopper. + </p> + <p> + “I callate he ain't pushed for money,” that gentleman vouchsafed. + </p> + <p> + “He's a good man, and done well by you, Mr. Hopper.” + </p> + <p> + “So—so,” answered Eliphalet. “But I will say that I done something + for the Colonel. I've saved him a hundred times my pay since I showed old + Hood the leaks. And I got a thousand dollar order from Wright & + Company this week for him.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you'd keep a tight hand enough on expenses,” said Miss Crane, + half in sarcasm, half in approval. + </p> + <p> + “If Colonel Carvel was doin' business in New England,” said Eliphalet, + “he'd been bankrupt long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “That young Clarence Colfax,” Mrs. Abner Reed broke in, “he'll get a right + smart mint o' money when he marries Virginia. They do say her mother left + her independent. How now, Mr. Hopper?” + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet looked mysterious and knowing. He did not reply. + </p> + <p> + “And young Colfax ain't precisely a pauper,” said Miss Crane. + </p> + <p> + “I'll risk a good deal that she don't marry Colfax,” said Mr. Hopper. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth do you mean?” cried Mrs. Abner. “It ain't broke off?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered, “it ain't broke off. But I callate she won't have him + when the time comes. She's got too much sense.” + </p> + <p> + Heavy at heart, Stephen climbed the stairs, thanking heaven that he had + not been drawn into the controversy. A partial comprehension of Mr. Hopper + was dawning upon him. He suspected that gentleman of an aggressive + determination to achieve wealth, and the power which comes with it, for + the purpose of using that power upon those beneath him. Nay, when he + thought over his conversation, he suspected him of more,—of the + intention to marry Virginia Carvel. + </p> + <p> + It will be seen whether Stephen was right or wrong. + </p> + <p> + He took a walk that afternoon, as far out as a place called Lindell's + Grove, which afterward became historic. And when he returned to the house, + his mother handed him a little white envelope. + </p> + <p> + “It came while you were out,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He turned it over, and stared at his name written across the front in a + feminine hand In those days young ladies did not write in the bold and + masculine manner now deemed proper. Stephen stared at the note, manlike, + and pondered. + </p> + <p> + “Who brought it, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you open it, and see?” asked his mother with a smile. + </p> + <p> + He took the suggestion. What a funny formal little note we should think it + now! It was not funny to Stephen—then. He read it, and he read it + again, and finally he walked over to the window, still holding it in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + Some mothers would have shown their curiosity. Mrs. Brice did not, wherein + she proved herself their superiors in the knowledge of mankind. + </p> + <p> + Stephen stood for a long while looking out into the gathering dusk. Then + he went over to the fireplace and began tearing the note into little bits. + Only once did he pause, to look again at his name on the envelope. + </p> + <p> + “It is an invitation to Miss Carvel's party,” he said. + </p> + <p> + By Thursday of that week the Brices, with thanksgiving in their hearts, + had taken possession of Mr. Brinsmade's little house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. “MISS JINNY” + </h2> + <p> + The years have sped indeed since that gray December when Miss Virginia + Carvel became eighteen. Old St. Louis has changed from a pleasant Southern + town to a bustling city, and a high building stands on the site of that + wide and hospitable home of Colonel Carvel. And the Colonel's thoughts + that morning, as Ned shaved him, flew back through the years to a gently + rolling Kentucky countryside, and a pillared white house among the oaks. + He was riding again with Beatrice Colfax in the springtime. Again he + stretched out his arm as if to seize her bridle-hand, and he felt the + thoroughbred rear. Then the vision faded, and the memory of his dead wife + became an angel's face, far—so far away. + </p> + <p> + He had brought her to St. Louis, and with his inheritance had founded his + business, and built the great double house on the corner. The child came, + and was named after the noble state which had given so many of her sons to + the service of the Republic. + </p> + <p> + Five simple, happy years—then war. A black war of conquest which, + like many such, was to add to the nation's fame and greatness: Glory + beckoned, honor called—or Comyn Carvel felt them. With nothing of + the profession of arms save that born in the Carvels, he kissed Beatrice + farewell and steamed down the Mississippi, a captain in Missouri regiment. + The young wife was ailing. Anguish killed her. Had Comyn Carvel been + selfish? + </p> + <p> + Ned, as he shaved his master's face, read his thoughts by the strange + sympathy of love. He had heard the last pitiful words of his mistress. Had + listened, choking, to Dr. Posthlewaite as he read the sublime service of + the burial of the dead. It was Ned who had met his master, the Colonel, at + the levee, and had fallen sobbing at his feet. + </p> + <p> + Long after he was shaved that morning, the Colonel sat rapt in his chair, + while the faithful servant busied himself about the room, one eye on his + master the while. But presently Mr. Carvel's revery is broken by the swift + rustle of a dress, and a girlish figure flutters in and plants itself on + the wide arm of his mahogany barber chair, Mammy Easter in the door behind + her. And the Colonel, stretching forth his hands, strains her to him, and + then holds her away that he may look and look again into her face. + </p> + <p> + “Honey,” he said, “I was thinking of your mother.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia raised her eyes to the painting on the wall over the marble + mantel. The face under the heavy coils of brown hair was sweet and gentle, + delicately feminine. It had an expression of sorrow that seemed a + prophecy. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel's hand strayed upward to Virginia's head. + </p> + <p> + “You are not like her, honey,” he said: “You may see for yourself. You are + more like your Aunt Bess, who lived in Baltimore, and she—” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Virginia, “she was the image of the beauty, Dorothy + Manners, who married my great-grandfather.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Jinny,” replied the Colonel, smiling. “That is so. You are somewhat + like your great-grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + “Somewhat!” cried Virginia, putting her hand over his mouth, “I like that. + You and Captain Lige are always afraid of turning my head. I need not be a + beauty to resemble her. I know that I am like her. When you took me on to + Calvert House to see Uncle Daniel that time, I remember the picture by, by—” + </p> + <p> + “Sir Joshua Reynolds.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Sir Joshua.” + </p> + <p> + “You were only eleven,” says the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “She is not a difficult person to remember.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mr. Carvel, laughing, “especially if you have lived with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I wish to be that kind,” said Virginia, meditatively,—“to + take London by storm, and keep a man dangling for years.” + </p> + <p> + “But he got her in the end,” said the Colonel. “Where did you hear all + this?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Daniel told me. He has Richard Carvel's diary.” + </p> + <p> + “And a very honorable record it is,” exclaimed the Colonel. “Jinny, we + shall read it together when we go a-visiting to Culvert House. I remember + the old gentleman as well as if I had seen him yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia appeared thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “Pa,” she began, “Pa, did you ever see the pearls Dorothy Carvel wore on + her wedding day? What makes you jump like that? Did you ever see them?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon I did,” replied the Colonel, gazing at her steadfastly. + </p> + <p> + “Pa, Uncle Daniel told me that I was to have that necklace when I was old + enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Law!” said the Colonel, fidgeting, “your Uncle Daniel was just fooling + you.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a bachelor,” said Virginia; “what use has he got for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” says the Colonel, “he's a young man yet, your uncle, only + fifty-three. I've known older fools than he to go and do it. Eh, Ned?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, marsa. Yes, suh. I've seed 'em at seventy, an' shufflin' about peart + as Marse Clarence's gamecocks. Why, dar was old Marse Ludlow—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mister Johnson,” Virginia put in severely, “no more about old + Ludlow.” + </p> + <p> + Ned grinned from ear to ear, and in the ecstasy of his delight dropped the + Colonel's clothes-brush. “Lan' sakes!” he cried, “ef she ain't + recommembered.” Recovering his gravity and the brush simultaneously, he + made Virginia a low bow. “Mornin', Miss Jinny. I sholy is gwinter s'lute + you dis day. May de good Lawd make you happy, Miss Jinny, an' give you a + good husban'—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mister Johnson, thank you,” said Virginia, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “How come she recommembered, Marse Comyn? Dat's de quality. Dat's why. + Doan't you talk to Ned 'bout de quality, Marsa.” + </p> + <p> + “And when did I ever talk to you about the quality, you scalawag?” asks + the Colonel, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Th' ain't none 'cept de bes' quality keep they word dat-a-way,” said Ned, + as he went off to tell Uncle Ben in the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + Was there ever, in all this wide country, a good cook who was not a + tyrant? Uncle Ben Carvel was a veritable emperor in his own domain; and + the Colonel himself, had he desired to enter the kitchen, would have been + obliged to come with humble and submissive spirit. As for Virginia, she + had had since childhood more than one passage at arms with Uncle Ben. And + the question of who had come off victorious had been the subject of many a + debate below stairs. + </p> + <p> + There were a few days in the year, however, when Uncle Ben permitted the + sanctity of his territory to be violated. One was the seventh of December. + On such a day it was his habit to retire to the broken chair beside the + sink (the chair to which he had clung for five-and-twenty years). There he + would sit, blinking, and carrying on the while an undercurrent of protests + and rumblings, while Miss Virginia and other young ladies mixed and + chopped and boiled and baked and gossiped. But woe to the unfortunate + Rosetta if she overstepped the bounds of respect! Woe to Ned or Jackson or + Tato, if they came an inch over the threshold from the hall beyond! Even + Aunt Easter stepped gingerly, though she was wont to affirm, when + assisting Miss Jinny in her toilet, an absolute contempt for Ben's + commands. + </p> + <p> + “So Ben ordered you out, Mammy?” Virginia would say mischievously. + </p> + <p> + “Order me out! Hugh! think I'se skeered o' him, honey? Reckon I'd frail + 'em good ef he cotched hole of me with his black hands. Jes' let him try + to come upstairs once, honey, an' see what I say to 'm.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless Ben had, on one never-to-be-forgotten occasion, ordered Mammy + Easter out, and she had gone. And now, as she was working the beat + biscuits to be baked that evening, Uncle Ben's eye rested on her with + suspicion. + </p> + <p> + What mere man may write with any confidence of the delicacies which were + prepared in Uncle's kitchen that morning? No need in those days of cooking + schools. What Southern lady, to the manner born, is not a cook from the + cradle? Even Ben noted with approval Miss Virginia's scorn for pecks and + pints, and grunted with satisfaction over the accurate pinches of spices + and flavors which she used. And he did Miss Eugenie the honor to eat one + of her praleens. + </p> + <p> + That night came Captain Lige Brent, the figure of an eager and determined + man swinging up the street, and pulling out his watch under every + lamp-post. And in his haste, in the darkness of a midblock, he ran into + another solid body clad in high boots and an old army overcoat, beside a + wood wagon. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Captain,” said he of the high boots. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I just thought as much,” was the energetic reply; “minute I seen + the rig I knew Captain Grant was behind it.” + </p> + <p> + He held out a big hand, which Captain Grant clasped, just looking at his + own with a smile. The stranger was Captain Elijah Brent of the + 'Louisiana'. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Brent, “I'll just bet a full cargo that you're off to the + Planters' House, and smoke an El Sol with the boys.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Grant nodded. “You're keen, Captain,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I've got something here that'll outlast an El Sol a whole day,” continued + Captain Breast, tugging at his pocket and pulling out a six-inch cigar as + black as the night. “Just you try that.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain instantly struck a match on his boot and was puffing in a + silent enjoyment which delighted his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon he don't bring out cigars when you make him a call,” said the + steamboat captain, jerking his thumb up at the house. It was Mr. Jacob + Cluyme's. + </p> + <p> + Captain Grant did not reply to that, nor did Captain Lige expect him to, + as it was the custom of this strange and silent man to speak ill of no + one. He turned rather to put the stakes back into his wagon. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you off to, Lige?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Lord bless my soul,” said Captain Lige, “to think that I could forget!” + He tucked a bundle tighter under his arm. “Grant, did you ever see my + little sweetheart, Jinny Carvel?” The Captain sighed. “She ain't little + any more, and she eighteen to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Grant clapped his hand to his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Lige,” said he, “that reminds me. A month or so ago I pulled a + fellow out of Renault's area across from there. First I thought he was a + thief. After he got away I saw the Colonel and his daughter in the + window.” + </p> + <p> + Instantly Captain Lige became excited, and seized Captain Grant by the + cape of his overcoat. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Grant, what kind of appearing fellow was he?” + </p> + <p> + “Short, thick-set, blocky face.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I know,” said Breast, bringing down his fist on the wagon board; + “I've had my eye on him for some little time.” + </p> + <p> + He walked around the block twice after Captain Grant had driven down the + muddy street, before he composed himself to enter the Carvel mansion. He + paid no attention to the salutations of Jackson, the butler, who saw him + coming and opened the door, but climbed the stairs to the sitting-room. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Captain Lige, you must have put wings on the Louisiana,” said + Virginia, rising joyfully from the arm of her father's chair to meet him. + “We had given you up.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried the Captain. “Give me up? Don't you know better than that? + What, give me up when I never missed a birthday,—and this the best + of all of 'em. + </p> + <p> + “If your pa had got sight of me shovin' in wood and cussin' the pilot for + slowin' at the crossin's, he'd never let you ride in my boat again. Bill + Jenks said: 'Are you plum crazy, Brent? Look at them cressets.' 'Five + dollars' says I; 'wouldn't go in for five hundred. To-morrow's Jinny + Carvel's birthday, and I've just got to be there.' I reckon the time's + come when I've got to say Miss Jinny,” he added ruefully. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel rose, laughing, and hit the Captain on the back. + </p> + <p> + “Drat you, Lige, why don't you kiss the girl? Can't you see she's + waiting?” + </p> + <p> + The honest Captain stole one glance at Virginia, and turned red copper + color. + </p> + <p> + “Shucks, Colonel, I can't be kissing her always. What'll her husband say?” + </p> + <p> + For an instant Mr. Carvel's brow clouded. + </p> + <p> + “We'll not talk of husbands yet awhile, Lige.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia went up to Captain Lige, deftly twisted into shape his black tie, + and kissed him on the check. How his face burned when she touched him. + </p> + <p> + “There!” said she, “and don't you ever dare to treat me as a young lady. + Why, Pa, he's blushing like a girl. I know. He's ashamed to kiss me now. + He's going to be married at last to that Creole girl in New Orleans.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel slapped his knee, winked slyly at Lige, while Virginia began + to sing: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I built me a house on the mountain so high, + To gaze at my true love as she do go by.” + </pre> + <p> + “There's only one I'd ever marry, Jinny,” protested the Captain, soberly, + “and I'm a heap too old for her. But I've seen a youngster that might mate + with her, Colonel,” he added mischievously. “If he just wasn't a Yankee. + Jinny, what's the story I hear about Judge Whipple's young man buying + Hester?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carvel looked uneasy. It was Virginia's turn to blush, and she grew + red as a peony. + </p> + <p> + “He's a tall, hateful, Black Republican Yankee!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Phee-ew!” whistled the Captain. “Any more epithets?” + </p> + <p> + “He's a nasty Abolitionist!” + </p> + <p> + “There you do him wrong, honey,” the Colonel put in. + </p> + <p> + “I hear he took Hester to Miss Crane's,” the Captain continued, filling + the room with his hearty laughter. “That boy has sand enough, Jinny; I'd + like to know him.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have that priceless opportunity to-night,” retorted Miss Virginia, + as she flung herself out of the room. “Pa has made me invite him to my + party.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, Jinny! Hold on!” cried the Captain, running after her. “I've got + something for you.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped on the stairs, hesitating. Whereupon the Captain hastily + ripped open the bundle under his arm and produced a very handsome India + shawl. With a cry of delight Virginia threw it over her shoulders and ran + to the long glass between the high windows. + </p> + <p> + “Who spoils her, Lige?” asked the Colonel, fondly. + </p> + <p> + “Her father, I reckon,” was the prompt reply. + </p> + <p> + “Who spoils you, Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Lige,” said she, turning to him. “If you had only kept the + presents you have brought me from New Orleans, you might sell out your + steamboat and be a rich man.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a rich man,” said the Colonel, promptly. “Did you ever miss + bringing her a present, Lige?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “When the Cora Anderson burnt,” answered the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” cried Virginia, “you brought me a piece of her wheel, with the char + on it. You swam ashore with it.” + </p> + <p> + “So I did,” said Captain Brent. “I had forgotten that. It was when the + French dress, with the furbelows, which Madame Pitou had gotten me from + Paris for you, was lost.” + </p> + <p> + “And I think I liked the piece of wheel better,” says Virginia. “It was + brought me by a brave man, the last to leave his boat.” + </p> + <p> + “And who should be the last to leave, but the captain? I saw the thing in + the water; and I just thought we ought to have a relic.” + </p> + <p> + “Lige,” said the Colonel, putting up his feet, “do you remember the French + toys you used to bring up here from New Orleans?” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel,” replied Brent, “do you recall the rough and uncouth young + citizen who came over here from Cincinnati, as clerk on the Vicksburg?” + </p> + <p> + “I remember, sir, that he was so promising that they made him provisional + captain the next trip, and he was not yet twenty-four years of age.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you remember buying the Vicksburg at the sheriff's sale for twenty + thousand dollars, and handing her over to young Brent, and saying, 'There, + my son, she's your boat, and you can pay for her when you like'?” + </p> + <p> + “Shucks, Brent!” said Mr. Carvel, sternly, “your memory's too good. But I + proved myself a good business man, Jinny; he paid for her in a year.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean that you made him pay you for the boat?” cried Jinny. + “Why, Pa, I didn't think you were that mean!” + </p> + <p> + The two men laughed heartily. + </p> + <p> + “I was a heap meaner,” said her father. “I made him pay interest.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia drew in her breath, and looked at the Colonel in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “He's the meanest man I know,” said Captain Lige. “He made me pay + interest, and a mint julep.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word, Pa,” said Miss Virginia, soberly, “I shouldn't have + believed it of you.” + </p> + <p> + Just then Jackson, in his white jacket; came to announce that supper was + ready, and they met Ned at the dining-room door, fairly staggering under a + load of roses. + </p> + <p> + “Marse Clarence done send 'em in, des picked out'n de hothouse dis + afternoon, Miss Jinny. Jackson, fotch a bowl!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Virginia. She took the flowers from Ned, one by one, and to the + wonderment of Captain Lige and her—father strewed them hither and + thither upon the table until the white cloth was hid by the red flowers. + The Colonel stroked his goatee and nudged Captain Lige. + </p> + <p> + “Look-a-there, now,” said he. “Any other woman would have spent two mortal + hours stickin' 'em in china.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia, having critically surveyed her work, amid exclamations from Ned + and Jackson, had gone around to her place. And there upon her plate lay a + pearl necklace. For an instant she clapped her palms together, staring at + it in bewilderment. And once more the little childish cry of delight, long + sweet to the Colonel's ears, escaped her. + </p> + <p> + “Pa,” she said, “is it—?” And there she stopped, for fear that it + might not be. But he nodded encouragingly. + </p> + <p> + “Dorothy Carvel's necklace! No, it can't be.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, honey,” said the Colonel. “Your Uncle Daniel sent it, as he + promised. And when you go upstairs, if Easter has done as I told her, you + will see a primrose dress with blue coin-flowers on your bed. Daniel + thought you might like that, too, for a keepsake. Dorothy Manners wore it + in London, when she was a girl.” + </p> + <p> + And so Virginia ran and threw her arms about her father's neck, and kissed + him again and again. And lest the Captain feel badly, she laid his India + shawl beside her; and the necklace upon it. + </p> + <p> + What a joyful supper they had,—just the three of them! And as the + fresh roses filled the room with fragrance, Virginia filled it with youth + and spirits, and Mr. Carvel and the Captain with honest, manly merriment. + And Jackson plied Captain Brent (who was a prime favorite in that house) + with broiled chicken and hot beat biscuits and with waffles, until at + length he lay back in his chair and heaved a sigh of content, lighting a + cigar. And then Virginia, with a little curtsey to both of them, ran off + to dress for the party. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Captain Brent, “I reckon there'll be gay goings-on here + to-night. I wouldn't miss the sight of 'em, Colonel, for all the cargoes + on the Mississippi. Ain't there anything I can do?” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, Lige,” Mr. Carvel answered. “Do you remember, one morning + some five years ago, when I took in at the store a Yankee named Hopper? + You didn't like him, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Brent jumped, and the ashes of his cigar fell on his coat. He had + forgotten his conversation with Captain Grant. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I do,” he said dryly. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he was on the point of telling the affair. Then he desisted. + He could not be sure of Eliphalet from Grant's description. So he decided + to await a better time. Captain Brent was one to make sure of his channel + before going ahead. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” continued the Colonel, “I have been rather pushed the last week, + and Hopper managed things for this dance. He got the music, and saw the + confectioner. But he made such a close bargain with both of 'em that they + came around to me afterward,” he added, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Is he coming here to-night?” demanded the Captain, looking disgusted. + </p> + <p> + “Lige,” replied the Colonel, “you never do get over a prejudice. Yes, he's + coming, just to oversee things. He seems to have mighty little pleasure, + and he's got the best business head I ever did see. A Yankee,” said Mr. + Carvel, meditatively, as he put on his hat, “a Yankee, when he will work, + works like all possessed. Hood don't like him any more than you do, but he + allows Hopper is a natural-born business man. Last month Samuels got + tight, and Wright & Company were going to place the largest order in + years. I called in Hood. 'Go yourself, Colonel,' says he. I I'm too old to + solicit business, Hood,' said I. 'Then there's only one man to send,' says + he, 'young Hopper. He'll get the order, or I'll give up this place I've + had for twenty years.' Hopper 'callated' to get it, and another small one + pitched in. And you'd die laughing, Lige, to hear how he did it.” + </p> + <p> + “Some slickness, I'll gamble,” grunted Captain Lige. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon 'twas slick,” said the Colonel, thoughtfully. “You know + old man Wright hates a solicitor like poison. He has his notions. And + maybe you've noticed signs stuck up all over his store, 'No Solicitors nor + Travelling Men Allowed Here'.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain nodded. + </p> + <p> + “But Hopper—Hopper walks in, sir, bold as you please, right past the + signs till he comes to the old man's cage. 'I want to see Mr. Wright,' + says he to the clerk. And the clerk begins to grin. 'Name, please,' says + he. Mr. Hopper whips out his business card. 'What!' shouts old Wright, + flying 'round in his chair, 'what the devil does this mean? Can't you + read, sir?' 'callate to,' says Mr. Hopper. 'And you dare to come in here? + </p> + <p> + “'Business is business,' says Hopper. 'You “callate”!' bellowed the old + man; 'I reckon you're a damned Yankee. I reckon I'll upset your + “callations” for once. And if I catch you in here again, I'll wring your + neck like a roostah's. Git!'” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you this?” asked Captain Brent. + </p> + <p> + “Wright himself,—afterward,” replied Mr. Carvel, laughing. “But + listen, Lige. The old man lives at the Planters' House, you know. What + does Mr. Hopper do but go 'round there that very night and give a nigger + two bits to put him at the old man's table. When Wright comes and sees + him, he nearly has one of his apoplectic fits. But in marches Hopper the + next morning with twice the order. The good Lord knows how he did it.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence. Then the door-bell rang. + </p> + <p> + “He's dangerous,” said the Captain, emphatically. “That's what I call + him.” + </p> + <p> + “The Yankees are changing business in this town,” was the Colonel's + answer. “We've got to keep the pace, Lige.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE PARTY + </h2> + <p> + To gentle Miss Anne Brinsmade, to Puss Russell of the mischievous eyes, + and even to timid Eugenie Renault, the question that burned was: Would he + come, or would he not? And, secondarily, how would Virginia treat him if + he came? Put our friend Stephen for the subjective, and Miss Carvers party + for the objective in the above, and we have the clew. For very young girls + are given to making much out of a very little in such matters. If Virginia + had not gotten angry when she had been teased a fortnight before, all + would have been well. + </p> + <p> + Even Puss, who walked where angels feared to tread, did not dare to go too + far with Virginia. She had taken care before the day of the party to beg + forgiveness with considerable humility. It had been granted with a queenly + generosity. And after that none of the bevy had dared to broach the + subject to Virginia. Jack Brinsmade had. He told Puss afterward that when + Virginia got through with him, he felt as if he had taken a rapid trip + through the wheel-house of a large steamer. Puss tried, by various + ingenious devices, to learn whether Mr. Brice had accepted his invitation. + She failed. + </p> + <p> + These things added a zest to a party long looked forward to amongst + Virginia's intimates. In those days young ladies did not “come out” so + frankly as they do now. Mothers did not announce to the world that they + possessed marriageable daughters. The world was supposed to know that. And + then the matrimonial market was feverishly active. Young men proposed as + naturally as they now ask a young girl to go for a walk,—and were + refused quite as naturally. An offer of marriage was not the fearful and + wonderful thing—to be dealt with gingerly—which it has since + become. Seventeen was often the age at which they began. And one of the + big Catherwood boys had a habit of laying his heart and hand at Virginia's + feet once a month. Nor did his vanity suffer greatly when she laughed at + him. + </p> + <p> + It was with a flutter of excitement, therefore, that Miss Carvel's guests + flitted past Jackson, who held the door open obsequiously. The boldest of + them took a rapid survey of the big parlor, before they put foot on the + stairs to see whether Mr. Brice had yet arrived. And if their curiosity + held them too long, they were usually kissed by the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carvel shook hands heartily with the young mean and called them by + their first names, for he knew most of their fathers and grandfathers. And + if an older gentleman arrived, perhaps the two might be seen going down + the hall together, arm in arm. So came his beloved enemy, Judge Whipple, + who did not make an excursion to the rear regions of the house with the + Colonel; but they stood and discussed Mr. President Buchanan's + responsibility for the recent panic, until the band, which Mr. Hopper had + stationed under the stairs, drowned their voices. + </p> + <p> + As we enter the room, there stands Virginia under the rainbowed prisms of + the great chandelier, receiving. But here was suddenly a woman of + twenty-eight, where only this evening we knew a slip of a girl. It was a + trick she had, to become majestic in a ball-gown. She held her head high, + as a woman should, and at her slender throat glowed the pearls of Dorothy + Manners. + </p> + <p> + The result of all this was to strike a little awe into the souls of many + of her playmates. Little Eugenie nearly dropped a curtsey. Belle Cluyme + was so impressed that she forgot for a whole hour to be spiteful. But Puss + Russell kissed her on both cheeks, and asked her if she really wasn't + nervous. + </p> + <p> + “Nervous!” exclaimed Jinny, “why?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Russell glanced significantly towards the doorway. But she said + nothing to her hostess, for fear of marring an otherwise happy occasion. + She retired with Jack Brim made to a corner, where she recited:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh young Lochinvar is come out of the East; + Of millions of Yankees I love him the least.” + </pre> + <p> + “What a joke if he should come!” cried Jack. + </p> + <p> + Miss Russell gasped. + </p> + <p> + Just as Mr. Clarence Colfax, resplendent in new evening clothes just + arrived from New York, was pressing his claim for the first dance with his + cousin in opposition to numerous other claims, the chatter of the guests + died away. Virginia turned her head, and for an instant the pearls + trembled on her neck. There was a young man cordially and unconcernedly + shaking hands with her father and Captain Lige. Her memory of that moment + is, strangely, not of his face (she did not deign to look at that), but of + the muscle of his shoulder half revealed as he stretched forth his arm. + </p> + <p> + Young Mr. Colfax bent over to her ear. + </p> + <p> + “Virginia,” he whispered earnestly, almost fiercely, “Virginia, who + invited him here?” + </p> + <p> + “I did,” said Virginia, calmly, “of course. Who invites any one here?” + </p> + <p> + “But!” cried Clarence, “do you know who he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, “I know. And is that any reason why he should not + come here as a guest? Would you bar any gentleman from your house on + account of his convictions?” + </p> + <p> + Ah, Virginia, who had thought to hear that argument from your lips? What + would frank Captain Lige say of the consistency of women, if he heard you + now? And how give an account of yourself to Anne Brinsmade? What + contrariness has set you so intense against your own argument? + </p> + <p> + Before one can answer this, before Mr. Clarence can recover from his + astonishment and remind her of her vehement words on the subject at + Bellegarde, Mr. Stephen is making thither with the air of one who + conquers. Again the natural contrariness of women. What bare-faced + impudence! Has he no shame that he should hold his head so high? She feels + her color mounting, even as her resentment rises at his self-possession, + and yet she would have despised him had he shown self-consciousness in + gait or manner in the sight of her assembled guests. Nearly as tall as the + Colonel himself, he is plainly seen, and Miss Puss in her corner does not + have to stand on tiptoe. Mr. Carvel does the honors of the introduction. + </p> + <p> + But a daughter of the Carvels was not to fail before such a paltry + situation as this. Shall it be confessed that curiosity stepped into the + breach? As she gave him her hand she was wondering how he would act. + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact he acted detestably. He said nothing whatever, but + stood regarding her with a clear eye and a face by far too severe. The + thought that he was meditating on the incident of the auction sale crossed + through her mind, and made her blood simmer. How dared he behave so! The + occasion called for a little small talk. An evil spirit took possession of + Virginia. She turned. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brice, do you know my cousin, Mr. Colfax?” she said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brice bowed. “I know Mr. Colfax by sight,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Colfax made a stiff bow. To this new phase his sense of humor did + not rise. Mr. Brice was a Yankee and no gentleman, inasmuch as he had + overbid a lady for Hester. + </p> + <p> + “Have you come here to live, Mr. Brice?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel eyed his nephew sharply. But Stephen smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “if I can presently make enough to keep me alive.” Then + turning to Virginia, he said, “Will you dance, Miss Carvel?” + </p> + <p> + The effrontery of this demand quite drew the breath from the impatient + young gentlemen who had been waiting their turn. Several of them spoke up + in remonstrance. And for the moment (let one confess it who knows), + Virginia was almost tempted to lay her arm in his. Then she made a bow + that would have been quite as effective the length of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Brice,” she said, “but I am engaged to Mr. Colfax.” + </p> + <p> + Abstractedly he watched her glide away in her cousin's arms. Stephen had a + way of being preoccupied at such times. When he grew older he would walk + the length of Olive Street, look into face after face of acquaintances, + not a quiver of recognition in his eyes. But most probably the next week + he would win a brilliant case in the Supreme Court. And so now, + indifferent to the amusement of some about him, he stood staring after + Virginia and Clarence. Where had he seen Colfax's face before he came + West? Ah, he knew. Many, many years before he had stood with his father in + the mellow light of the long gallery at Hollingdean, Kent, before a + portrait of the Stuarts' time. The face was that of one of Lord + Northwell's ancestors, a sporting nobleman of the time of the second + Charles. It was a head which compelled one to pause before it. Strangely + enough,—it was the head likewise of Clarence Colfax. + </p> + <p> + The image of it Stephen had carried undimmed in the eye of his memory. + White-haired Northwell's story, also. It was not a story that Mr. Brice + had expected his small son to grasp. As a matter of fact Stephen had not + grasped it then—but years afterward. It was not a pleasant story,—and + yet there was much of credit in it to the young rake its subject,—of + dash and courage and princely generosity beside the profligacy and + incontinence. + </p> + <p> + The face had impressed him, with its story. He had often dreamed of it, + and of the lace collar over the dull-gold velvet that became it so well. + And here it was at last, in a city west of the Mississippi River. Here + were the same delicately chiselled features, with their pallor, and + satiety engraved there at one and twenty. Here was the same lazy scorn in + the eyes, and the look which sleeplessness gives to the lids: the hair, + straight and fine and black; the wilful indulgence—not of one life, + but of generations—about the mouth; the pointed chin. And yet it was + a fact to dare anything, and to do anything. + </p> + <p> + One thing more ere we have done with that which no man may explain. Had he + dreamed, too, of the girl? Of Virginia? Stephen might not tell, but thrice + had the Colonel spoken to him before he answered. + </p> + <p> + “You must meet some of these young ladies, sir.” + </p> + <p> + It was little wonder that Puss Russell thought him dull on that first + occasion. Out of whom condescension is to flow is a matter of which Heaven + takes no cognizance. To use her own words, Puss thought him “stuck up,” + when he should have been grateful. We know that Stephen was not stuck up, + and later Miss Russell learned that likewise. Very naturally she took + preoccupation for indifference. It is a matter worth recording, however, + that she did not tease him, because she did not dare. He did not ask her + to dance, which was rude. So she passed him back to Mr. Carvel, who + introduced him to Miss Renault and Miss Saint Cyr, and other young ladies + of the best French families. And finally, drifting hither and thither with + his eyes on Virginia, in an evil moment he was presented to Mrs. Colfax. + Perhaps it has been guessed that Mrs. Colfax was a very great lady indeed, + albeit the daughter of an overseer. She bore Addison Colfax's name, spent + his fortune, and retained her good looks. On this particular occasion she + was enjoying herself quite as much as any young girl in the room, and, + while resting from a waltz, was regaling a number of gentlemen with a + humorous account of a scandal at the Virginia Spring's. + </p> + <p> + None but a great lady could have meted out the punishment administered to + poor Stephen. None but a great lady could have concerned it. And he, who + had never been snubbed before, fell headlong into her trap. How was the + boy to know that there was no heart in the smile with which she greeted + him? It was all over in an instant. She continued to talk about Virginia + Springs, “Oh, Mr. Brice, of course you have been there. Of course you know + the Edmunds. No? You haven't been there? You don't know the Edmunds? I + thought every body had been there. Charles, you look as if you were just + dying to waltz. Let's have a turn before the music stops.” + </p> + <p> + And so she whirled away, leaving Stephen forlorn, a little too angry to be + amused just then. In that state he spied a gentleman coming towards him—a + gentleman the sight of whom he soon came to associate with all that is + good and kindly in this world, Mr. Brinsmade. And now he put his hand on + Stephen's shoulder. Whether he had seen the incident just past, who can + tell? + </p> + <p> + “My son,” said he, “I am delighted to see you here. Now that we are such + near neighbors, we must be nearer friends. You must know my wife, and my + son Jack, and my daughter Anne.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brinsmade was a pleasant little body, but plainly not a fit mate for + her husband. Jack gave Stephen a warm grasp of the hand, and an amused + look. As for Anne, she was more like her father; she was Stephen's friend + from that hour. + </p> + <p> + “I have seen you quite often, going in at your gate, Mr. Brice. And I have + seen your mother, too. I like her,” said Anne. “She has such a wonderful + face.” And the girl raised her truthful blue eyes to his. + </p> + <p> + “My mother would be delighted to know you,” he ventured, not knowing what + else to say. It was an effort for him to reflect upon their new situation + as poor tenants to a wealthy family. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do you think so?” cried Anne. “I shall call on her to-morrow, with + mother. Do you know, Mr. Brice,” she continued, “do you know that your + mother is just the person I should go to if I were in trouble, whether I + knew her or not?” + </p> + <p> + “I have found her a good person in trouble,” said Stephen, simply. He + might have said the same of Anne. + </p> + <p> + Anne was enchanted. She had thought him cold, but these words belied that. + She had wrapped him in that diaphanous substance with which young ladies + (and sometimes older ones) are wont to deck their heroes. She had + approached a mystery—to find it human, as are many mysteries. But + thank heaven that she found a dignity, a seriousness,—and these more + than satisfied her. Likewise, she discovered something she had not looked + for, an occasional way of saying things that made her laugh. She danced + with him, and passed him back to Miss Puss Russell, who was better pleased + this time; she passed him on to her sister, who also danced with him, and + sent him upstairs for her handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, Stephen was troubled. As the evening wore on, he was more + and more aware of an uncompromising attitude in his young hostess, whom he + had seen whispering to various young ladies from behind her fan as they + passed her. He had not felt equal to asking her to dance a second time. + Honest Captain Lige Breast, who seemed to have taken a fancy to him, + bandied him on his lack of courage with humor that was a little rough. + And, to Stephen's amazement, even Judge Whipple had pricked him on. + </p> + <p> + It was on his way upstairs after Emily Russell's handkerchief that he ran + across another acquaintance. Mr. Eliphalet Hopper, in Sunday broadcloth, + was seated on the landing, his head lowered to the level of the top of the + high door of the parlor. Stephen caught a glimpse of the picture whereon + his eyes were fixed. Perhaps it is needless to add that Miss Virginia + Carvel formed the central figure of it. + </p> + <p> + “Enjoy in' yourself?” asked Mr. Hopper. + </p> + <p> + Stephen countered. + </p> + <p> + “Are you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “So so,” said Mr. Hopper, and added darkly: “I ain't in no hurry. Just now + they callate I'm about good enough to manage the business end of an affair + like this here. I guess I can wait. But some day,” said he, suddenly + barring Stephen's way, “some day I'll give a party. And hark to me when I + tell you that these here aristocrats 'll be glad enough to get + invitations.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen pushed past coldly. This time the man made him shiver. The + incident was all that was needed to dishearten and disgust him. Kindly as + he had been treated by others, far back in his soul was a thing that + rankled. Shall it be told crudely why he went that night? Stephen Brice, + who would not lie to others, lied to himself. And when he came downstairs + again and presented Miss Emily with her handkerchief, his next move was in + his mind. And that was to say good-night to the Colonel, and more frigidly + to Miss Carvel herself. But music has upset many a man's calculations. + </p> + <p> + The strains of the Jenny Lind waltz were beginning to float through the + rooms. There was Miss Virginia in a corner of the big parlor, for the + moment alone with her cousin. And thither Stephen sternly strode. Not a + sign did she give of being aware of his presence until he stood before + her. Even then she did not lift her eyes. But she said: “So you have come + at last to try again, Mr. Brice?” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Brice said: “If you will do me the honor, Miss Carvel.” + </p> + <p> + She did not reply at once. Clarence Colfax got to his feet. Then she + looked up at the two men as they stood side by side, and perhaps swept + them both in an instant's comparison. + </p> + <p> + The New Englander's face must have reminded her more of her own father, + Colonel Carvel. It possessed, from generations known, the power to control + itself. She afterwards admitted that she accepted him to tease Clarence. + Miss Russell, whose intuitions are usually correct, does not believe this. + </p> + <p> + “I will dance with you,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + But, once in his arms, she seemed like a wild thing, resisting. Although + her gown brushed his coat, the space between them was infinite, and her + hand lay limp in his, unresponsive of his own pressure. Not so her feet; + they caught the step and moved with the rhythm of the music, and round the + room they swung. More than one pair paused in the dance to watch them. + Then, as they glided past the door, Stephen was disagreeably conscious of + some one gazing down from above, and he recalled Eliphalet Hopper and his + position. The sneer from Eliphalet's seemed to penetrate like a chilly + draught. + </p> + <p> + All at once, Virginia felt her partner gathering up his strength, and by + some compelling force, more of wild than of muscle, draw her nearer. + Unwillingly her hand tightened under his, and her blood beat faster and + her color came and went as they two moved as one. Anger—helpless + anger—took possession of her as she saw the smiles on the faces of + her friends, and Puss Russell mockingly throwing a kiss as she passed her. + And then, strange in the telling, a thrill as of power rose within her + which she strove against in vain. A knowledge of him who guided her so + swiftly, so unerringly, which she had felt with no other man. Faster and + faster they stepped, each forgetful of self and place, until the waltz + came suddenly to a stop. + </p> + <p> + “By gum!” said Captain Lige to Judge Whipple, “you can whollop me on my + own forecastle if they ain't the handsomest couple I ever did see.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Volume 3. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. RAW MATERIAL + </h2> + <p> + Summer, intolerable summer, was upon the city at last. The families of its + richest citizens had fled. Even at that early day some braved the long + railroad journey to the Atlantic coast. Amongst these were our friends the + Cluymes, who come not strongly into this history. Some went to the + Virginia Springs. But many, like the Brinsmades and the Russells, the + Tiptons and the Hollingsworths, retired to the local paradise of their + country places on the Bellefontaine road, on the cool heights above the + river. Thither, as a respite from the hot office, Stephen was often + invited by kind Mr. Brinsmade, who sometimes drove him out in his own + buggy. Likewise he had visited Miss Puss Russell. But Miss Virginia Carvel + he had never seen since the night he had danced with her. This was + because, after her return from the young ladies' school at Monticello, she + had gone to Glencoe, Glencoe, magic spot, perched high on wooded + highlands. And under these the Meramec, crystal pure, ran lightly on sand + and pebble to her bridal with that turbid tyrant, the Father of Waters. + </p> + <p> + To reach Glencoe you spent two dirty hours on that railroad which (it was + fondly hoped) would one day stretch to the Pacific Ocean. You generally + spied one of the big Catherwood boys in the train, or their tall sister + Maude. The Catherwoods likewise lived at Glencoe in the summer. And on + some Saturday afternoons a grim figure in a linen duster and a silk + skull-cap took a seat in the forward car. That was Judge Whipple, on his + way to spend a quiet Sunday with Colonel Carvel. + </p> + <p> + To the surprise of many good people, the Judge had recently formed another + habit. At least once a week he would drop in at the little house on Olive + Street next to Mr. Brinsmade's big one, which was shut up, and take tea + with Mrs. Brice. Afterward he would sit on the little porch over the + garden in the rear, or on the front steps, and watch the bob-tailed + horse-cars go by. His conversation was chiefly addressed to the widow. + Rarely to Stephen; whose wholesome respect for his employer had in no wise + abated. + </p> + <p> + Through the stifling heat of these summer days Stephen sat in the outer + office, straining at the law. Had it not been for the fact that Mr. + Whipple went to his mother's house, despair would have seized him long + since. Apparently his goings-out and his comings-in were noted only by Mr. + Richter. Truly the Judge's methods were not Harvard methods. And if there + were pride in the young Bostonian, Mr. Whipple thought he knew the cure + for it. + </p> + <p> + It was to Richter Stephen owed a debt of gratitude in these days. He would + often take his midday meal in the down-town beer garden with the quiet + German. Then there came a Sunday afternoon (to be marked with a red + letter) when Richter transported him into Germany itself. Stephen's eyes + were opened. Richter took him across the Rhine. The Rhine was Market + Street, and south of that street was a country of which polite American + society took no cognizance. + </p> + <p> + Here was an epic movement indeed, for South St. Louis was a great sod + uprooted from the Fatherland and set down in all its vigorous crudity in + the warm black mud of the Mississippi Valley. Here lager beer took the + place of Bourbon, and black bread and sausages of hot rolls and fried + chicken. Here were quaint market houses squatting in the middle of wide + streets; Lutheran churches, square and uncompromising, and bulky Turner + Halls, where German children were taught the German tongue. Here, in a + shady grove of mulberry and locust, two hundred families were spread out + at their ease. + </p> + <p> + For a while Richter sat in silence, puffing at a meerschaum with a huge + brown bowl. A trick of the mind opened for Stephen one of the histories in + his father's library in Beacon Street, across the pages of which had + flitted the ancestors of this blue-eyed and great-chested Saxon. He saw + them in cathedral forests, with the red hair long upon their bodies. He + saw terrifying battles with the Roman Empire surging back and forth + through the low countries. He saw a lad of twenty at the head of rugged + legions clad in wild skins, sweeping Rome out of Gaul. Back in the dim + ages Richter's fathers must have defended grim Eresburg. And it seemed to + him that in the end the new Republic must profit by this rugged stock, + which had good women for wives and mothers, and for fathers men in whose + blood dwelt a fierce patriotism and contempt for cowardice. + </p> + <p> + This fancy of ancestry pleased Stephen. He thought of the forefathers of + those whom he knew, who dwelt north of Market Street. Many, though this + generation of the French might know it not, had bled at Calais and at + Agincourt, had followed the court of France in clumsy coaches to Blois and + Amboise, or lived in hovels under the castle walls. Others had charged + after the Black Prince at Poitiers, and fought as serf or noble. in the + war of the Roses; had been hatters or tailors in Cromwell's armies, or + else had sacrificed lands and fortunes for Charles Stuart. These English + had toiled, slow but resistless, over the misty Blue Ridge after Boone and + Harrod to this old St. Louis of the French, their enemies, whose fur + traders and missionaries had long followed the veins of the vast western + wilderness. And now, on to the structure builded by these two, comes + Germany to be welded, to strengthen or to weaken. + </p> + <p> + Richter put down his pipe on the table. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen,” he said suddenly, “you do not share the prejudice against us + here?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen flushed. He thought of some vigorous words that Miss Puss Russell + had used on the subject of the Dutch. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, emphatically. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” answered Richter, with a note of sadness, in his voice. “Do + not despise us before you know more of us. We are still feudal in Germany—of + the Middle Ages. The peasant is a serf. He is compelled to serve the lord + of the land every year with so much labor of his hands. The small farmers, + the 'Gross' and 'Mittel Bauern', we call them, are also mortgaged to the + nobles who tyrannize our Vaterland. Our merchants are little merchants—shopkeepers, + you would say. My poor father, an educated man, was such. They fought our + revolution.” + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Stephen, “why do they not keep their hold?” + </p> + <p> + Richter sighed. + </p> + <p> + “We were unused to ruling,” he answered. “We knew not how to act—what + to do. You must remember that we were not trained to govern ourselves, as + are you of the English race, from children. Those who have been for + centuries ground under heel do not make practical parliamentarians. No; + your heritage is liberty—you Americans and English; and we Germans + must desert our native land to partake of it.” + </p> + <p> + “And was it not hard to leave?” asked Stephen, gently. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the German filled at the recollection, nor did he seem ashamed + of his tears. + </p> + <p> + “I had a poor old father whose life was broken to save the Vaterland, but + not his spirit,” he cried, “no, not that. My father was born in 1797. God + directed my grandfather to send him to the Kolnisches gymnasium, where the + great Jahn taught. Jahn was our Washington, the father of Germany that is + to be. + </p> + <p> + “Then our Fatherland was French. Our women wore Parisian clothes, and + spoke the language; French immorality and atheism had spread like a plague + among us Napoleon the vile had taken the sword of our Frederick from + Berlin. It was Father Jahn (so we love to call him), it was Father Jahn + who founded the 'Turnschulen', that the generations to come might return + to simple German ways,—plain fare, high principles, our native + tongue; and the development of the body. The downfall of the fiend + Napoleon and the Vaterland united—these two his scholars must have + written in their hearts. All summer long, in their black caps and linen + pantaloons, they would trudge after him, begging a crust here and a cheese + there, to spread his teachings far and wide under the thatched roofs. + </p> + <p> + “Then came 1811. I have heard my father tell how in the heat of that year + a great red comet burned in the sky, even as that we now see, my friend. + God forbid that this portends blood. But in the coming spring the French + conscripts filled our sacred land like a swarm of locusts, devouring as + they went. And at their head, with the pomp of Darius, rode that destroyer + of nations and homes, Napoleon. What was Germany then? Ashes. But the red + embers were beneath, fanned by Father Jahn. Napoleon at Dresden made our + princes weep. Never, even in the days of the Frankish kings, had we been + so humbled. He dragged our young men with him to Russia, and left them to + die moaning on the frozen wastes, while he drove off in his sledge. + </p> + <p> + “It was the next year that Germany rose. High and low, rich and poor, + Jaeger and Landwehr, came flocking into the army, and even the old men, + the Landsturm. Russia was an ally, and later, Austria. My father, a last + of sixteen, was in the Landwehr, under the noble Blucher in Silesia, when + they drove the French into the Katzbach and the Neisse, swollen by the + rains into torrents. It had rained until the forests were marshes. Powder + would not burn. But Blucher, ah, there was a man! He whipped his great + sabre from under his cloak, crying 'Vorwarts! Vorwarts!' And the Landwehr + with one great shout slew their enemies with the butts of their muskets + until their arms were weary and the bodies were tossed like logs in the + foaming waters. They called Blucher Marachall Vorwarts! + </p> + <p> + “Then Napoleon was sent to Elba. But the victors quarrelled amongst + themselves, while Talleyrand and Metternich tore our Vaterland into + strips, and set brother against brother. And our blood, and the grief for + the widows and the fatherless, went for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Richter paused to light his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “After a while,” he continued presently, “came the German Confederation, + with Austria at the head. Rid of Napoleon, we had another despot in + Metternich. But the tree which Jahn had planted grew, and its branches + spread. The great master was surrounded by spies. My father had gone to + Jena University, when he joined the Burschenschaft, or Students' League, + of which I will tell you later. It was pledged to the rescue of the + Vaterland. He was sent to prison for dipping his handkerchief in the blood + of Sand, beheaded for liberty at Mannheim. Afterwards he was liberated, + and went to Berlin and married my mother, who died when I was young. Twice + again he was in prison because the societies met at his house. We were + very poor, my friend. You in America know not the meaning of that word. + His health broke, and when '48 came, he was an old man. His hair was + white, and he walked the streets with a crutch. But he had saved a little + money to send me to Jena. + </p> + <p> + “He was proud of me. I was big-boned and fair, like my mother. And when I + came home at the end of a Semester I can see him now, as he would hobble + to the door, wearing the red and black and gold of the Burschenschaft. And + he would keep me up half the night-telling him of our 'Schlager' fights + with the aristocrats. My father had been a noted swordsman in his day.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped abruptly, and colored. For Stephen was staring at the jagged + scar, He had never summoned the courage to ask Richter how he came by it. + </p> + <p> + “Schlager fights?” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Broadswords,” answered the German, hastily. “Some day I will tell you of + them, and of the struggle with the troops in the 'Breite Strasse' in + March. We lost, as I told you because we knew not how to hold what we had + gained. + </p> + <p> + “I left Germany, hoping to make a home here for my poor father. How sad + his face as he kissed me farewell! And he said to me: 'Carl, if ever your + new Vaterland, the good Republic, be in danger, sacrifice all. I have + spent my years in bondage, and I say to you that life without liberty is + not worth the living.' Three months I was gone, and he was dead, without + that for which he had striven so bravely. He never knew what it is to have + an abundance of meat. He never knew from one day to the other when he + would have to embrace me, all he owned, and march away to prison, because + he was a patriot.” Richter's voice had fallen low, but now he raised it. + “Do you think, my friend,” he cried, “do you think that I would not die + willingly for this new country if the time should come. Yes, and there are + a million like me, once German, now American, who will give their lives to + preserve this Union. For without it the world is not fit to live in.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen had food for thought as he walked northward through the strange + streets on that summer evening. Here indeed was a force not to be + reckoned, and which few had taken into account. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. ABRAHAM LINCOLN + </h2> + <p> + It is sometimes instructive to look back and see hour Destiny gave us a + kick here, and Fate a shove there, that sent us in the right direction at + the proper time. And when Stephen Brice looks backward now, he laughs to + think that he did not suspect the Judge of being an ally of the two who + are mentioned above. The sum total of Mr. Whipple's words and advices to + him that summer had been these. Stephen was dressed more carefully than + usual, in view of a visit to Bellefontaine Road. Whereupon the Judge + demanded whether he were contemplating marriage. Without waiting for a + reply he pointed to a rope and a slab of limestone on the pavement below, + and waved his hand unmistakably toward the Mississippi. + </p> + <p> + Miss Russell was of the opinion that Mr. Whipple had once been crossed in + love. + </p> + <p> + But we are to speak more particularly of a put-up job, although Stephen + did not know this at the time. + </p> + <p> + Towards five o'clock of a certain afternoon in August of that year, 1858, + Mr. Whipple emerged from his den. Instead of turning to the right, he + strode straight to Stephen's table. His communications were always a + trifle startling. This was no exception. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brice,” said he, “you are to take the six forty-five train on the St. + Louis, Alton, and Chicago road tomorrow morning for Springfield, + Illinois.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Arriving at Springfield, you are to deliver this envelope into the hands + of Mr. Abraham Lincoln, of the law firm of Lincoln & Herndon.” + </p> + <p> + “Abraham Lincoln!” cried Stephen, rising and straddling his chair. “But, + sir—” + </p> + <p> + “Abraham Lincoln,” interrupted the Judge, forcibly “I try to speak + plainly, sir. You are to deliver it into Mr. Lincoln's hands. If he is not + in Springfield, find out where he is and follow him up. Your expenses will + be paid by me. The papers are important. Do you understand, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen did. And he knew better than to argue the matter with Mr. Whipple. + He had read in the Missouri Democrat of this man Lincoln, a country lawyer + who had once been to Congress, and who was even now disputing the + senatorship of his state with the renowned Douglas. In spite of their + complacent amusement, he had won a little admiration from conservative + citizens who did not believe in the efficacy of Judge Douglas's Squatter + Sovereignty. Likewise this Mr. Lincoln, who had once been a rail-sputter, + was uproariously derided by Northern Democrats because he had challenged + Mr. Douglas to seven debates, to be held at different towns in the state + of Illinois. David with his sling and his smooth round pebble must have + had much of the same sympathy and ridicule. + </p> + <p> + For Mr. Douglas, Senator and Judge, was a national character, mighty in + politics, invulnerable in the armor of his oratory. And he was known far + and wide as the Little Giant. Those whom he did not conquer with his logic + were impressed by his person. + </p> + <p> + Stephen remembered with a thrill that these debates were going on now. + One, indeed, had been held, and had appeared in fine print in a corner of + the Democrat. Perhaps this Lincoln might not be in; Springfield; perhaps + he, Stephen Brice, might, by chance, hit upon a debate, and see and hear + the tower of the Democracy, the Honorable Stephen A. Douglas. + </p> + <p> + But it is greatly to be feared that our friend Stephen was bored with his + errand before he arrived at the little wooden station of the Illinois + capital. Standing on the platform after the train pulled out, he summoned + up courage to ask a citizen with no mustache and a beard, which he swept + away when he spat, where was the office of Lincoln & Herndon. The + stranger spat twice, regarded Mr. Brice pityingly, and finally led him in + silence past the picket fence and the New England-looking meeting-house + opposite until they came to the great square on which the State House + squatted. The State House was a building with much pretension to beauty, + built in the classical style, of a yellow stone, with sold white blinds in + the high windows and mighty columns capped at the gently slanting roof. + But on top of it was reared a crude wooden dome, like a clay head on a + marble statue. + </p> + <p> + “That there,” said the stranger, “is whar we watches for the County + Delegations when they come in to a meetin'.” And with this remark, + pointing with a stubby thumb up a well-worn stair, he departed before + Stephen could thank him. Stephen paused under the awning, of which there + were many shading the brick pavement, to regard the straggling line of + stores and houses which surrounded and did homage to the yellow pile. The + brick house in which Mr. Lincoln's office was had decorations above the + windows. Mounting the stair, Stephen found a room bare enough, save for a + few chairs and law books, and not a soul in attendance. After sitting + awhile by the window, mopping his brow with a handkerchief, he went out on + the landing to make inquiries. There he met another citizen in shirt + sleeves, like unto the first, in the very act of sweeping his beard out of + the way of a dexterous expectoration. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, young man,” said he, “who be you lookin' for here?” + </p> + <p> + “For Mr. Lincoln,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + At this the gentleman sat down on the dirty top step; and gave vent to + quiet but annoying laughter. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you come to the wrong place.” + </p> + <p> + “I was told this was his office,” said Stephen, with some heat. + </p> + <p> + “Whar be you from?” said the citizen, with interest. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see what that has to do with it,” answered our friend. + </p> + <p> + “Wal,” said the citizen, critically, “if you was from Philadelphy or + Boston, you might stand acquitted.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen was on the point of claiming Boston, but wisely hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I'm from St. Louis, with a message for Mr. Lincoln,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Ye talk like y e was from down East,” said the citizens who seemed in the + humor for conversation. “I reckon old Abe's' too busy to see you. Say, + young man, did you ever hear of Stephen Arnold Douglas, alias the Little + Giant, alias the Idol of our State, sir?” + </p> + <p> + This was too much for Stephen, who left the citizen without the compliment + of a farewell. Continuing around the square, inquiring for Mr. Lincoln's + house, he presently got beyond the stores and burning pavements on to a + plank walk, under great shade trees, and past old brick mansions set well + back from the street. At length he paused in front of a wooden house of a + dirty grayish brown, too high for its length and breadth, with tall + shutters of the same color, and a picket fence on top of the retaining + wall which lifted the yard above the plank walk. It was an ugly house, + surely. But an ugly house may look beautiful when surrounded by such heavy + trees as this was. Their shade was the most inviting thing Stephen had + seen. A boy of sixteen or so was swinging on the gate, plainly a very + mischievous boy, with a round, laughing, sunburned face and bright eyes. + In front of the gate was a shabby carriage with top and side curtains, + hitched to a big bay horse. + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell me where Mr. Lincoln lives?” inquired Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess,” said the boy. “I'm his son, and he lives right here when + he's at home. But that hasn't been often lately.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” asked Stephen, beginning to realize the purport of his + conversations with citizens. + </p> + <p> + Young Mr. Lincoln mentioned the name of a small town in the northern part + of the state, where he said his father would stop that night. He told + Stephen that he looked wilted, invited him into the house to have a glass + of lemonade, and to join him and another boy in a fishing excursion with + the big bay horse. Stephen told young Mr. Lincoln that he should have to + take the first train after his father. + </p> + <p> + “Jimmy!” exclaimed the other, enviously, “then you'll hear the Freeport + debate.” + </p> + <p> + Now it has been said that the day was scorching hot. And when Stephen had + got back to the wooden station, and had waited an hour for the Bloomington + express, his anxiety to hear the Freeport debate was not as keen as it + might have been. Late in the afternoon he changed at Bloomington to the + Illinois Central Railroad: The sun fell down behind the cardboard edge of + the prairie, the train rattled on into the north, wrapped in its dust and + Smoke, and presently became a long comet, roaring red, to match that other + comet which flashed in the sky. + </p> + <p> + By this time it may be said that our friend was heartily sick of his + mission, He tried to doze; but two men, a farmer and a clerk, got in at a + way station, and sat behind him. They began to talk about this man + Lincoln. + </p> + <p> + “Shucks,” said the clerk, “think of him opposing the Little Giant.” + </p> + <p> + “He's right smart, Sam,” said the farmer. “He's got a way of sayin' things + that's clear. We boys can foller him. But Steve Douglas, he only mixes you + up.” + </p> + <p> + His companion guffawed. + </p> + <p> + “Because why?” he shouted. “Because you ain't had no education: What does + a rail-sputter like Abe know about this government? Judge Douglas has + worked it all out. He's smart. Let the territories take care of + themselves. Besides, Abe ain't got no dignity. The fust of this week I + seen him side-tracked down the road here in a caboose, while Doug went by + in a special.” + </p> + <p> + “Abe is a plain man, Sam,” the farmer answered solemnly. “But you watch + out for him.” + </p> + <p> + It was ten o'clock when Stephen descended at his destination. Merciful + night hid from his view the forlorn station and the ragged town. The + baggage man told him that Mr. Lincoln was at the tavern. + </p> + <p> + That tavern! Will words describe the impression it made on a certain young + man from Boston! It was long and low and ramshackly and hot that night as + the inside of a brick-kiln. As he drew near it on the single plant walk + over the black prairie-mud, he saw countrymen and politicians swarming its + narrow porch and narrower hall. Discussions in all keys were in progress, + and it, was with vast difficulty that our distracted young man pushed + through and found the landlord, This personage was the coolest of the lot. + Confusion was but food for his smiles, importunity but increased his + suavity. And of the seeming hundreds that pressed him, he knew and + utilized the Christian name of all. From behind a corner of the bar he + held them all at bay, and sent them to quarters like the old campaigner he + was. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Ben, tain't no use gettin' mad. You, and Josh way, an' Will, an' + Sam, an' the Cap'n, an' the four Beaver brothers, will all sleep in number + ten. What's that, Franklin? No, sirree, the Honerable Abe, and Mister + Hill, and Jedge Oglesby is sleepin' in seven.” The smell of perspiration + was stifling as Stephen pushed up to the master of the situation. “What's + that? Supper, young man? Ain't you had no supper? Gosh, I reckon if you + can fight your way to the dinin' room, the gals'll give you some pork and + a cup of coffee.” + </p> + <p> + After a preliminary scuffle with a drunken countryman in mud-caked boots, + Mr. Brice presently reached the long table in the dining-room. A sense of + humor not quite extinct made him smile as he devoured pork chops and + greasy potatoes and heavy apple pie. As he was finishing the pie, he + became aware of the tavern keeper standing over him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you one of them flip Chicagy reporters?” asked that worthy, with a + suspicious eye on Stephen's clothes. + </p> + <p> + Our friend denied this. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't talk jest like 'em. Guess you'll be here, tonight—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Stephen, wearily. And he added, outs of force of habit, “Can + you give me a room?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon,” was the cheerful reply. “Number ten, There ain't nobody in + there but Ben Billings, and the four Beaver brothers, an' three more. I'll + have a shake-down for ye next the north window.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen's thanks for the hospitality perhaps lacked heartiness. But + perceiving his host still contemplating him, he was emboldened to say: + </p> + <p> + “Has Mr. Lincoln gone to bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Old Abe, at half-past ten? Wal I reckon you don't know him.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen's reflections here on the dignity of the Senatorial candidate of + the Republican Party in Illinois were novel, at any rate. He thought of + certain senators he had seen in Massachusetts. + </p> + <p> + “The only reason he ain't down here swappin' yarns with the boys, is + because he's havin' some sort of confab with the Jedge and Joe Medill of + the 'Chicagy Press' and 'Tribune'.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he would see me?” asked Stephen, eagerly. He was emboldened + by the apparent lack of ceremony of the candidate. The landlord looked at + him in some surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I reckon. Jest go up an' knock at the door number seven, and say Tom + Wright sent ye.” + </p> + <p> + “How shall I know Mr. Lincoln?” asked Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Pick out the ugliest man in the room. There ain't nobody I kin think of + uglier than Abe.” + </p> + <p> + Bearing in mind this succinct description of the candidate, Stephen + climbed the rickety stairs to the low second story. All the bedroom doors + were flung open except one, on which the number 7 was inscribed. From + within came bursts of uproarious laughter, and a summons to enter. + </p> + <p> + He pushed open the door, and as soon as his eyes became, accustomed to the + tobacco smoke, he surveyed the room. There was a bowl on the floor, the + chair where it belonged being occupied. There was a very inhospitable + looking bed, two shake-downs, and four Windsor chairs in more or less + state of dilapidation—all occupied likewise. A country glass lamp + was balanced on a rough shelf, and under it a young man sat absorbed in + making notes, and apparently oblivious to the noise around him. Every + gentleman in the room was collarless, coatless, tieless, and vestless. + Some were engaged in fighting gnats and June bugs, while others battled + with mosquitoes—all save the young man who wrote, he being wholly + indifferent. + </p> + <p> + Stephen picked out the homeliest man in the room. There was no mistaking + him. And, instead of a discussion of the campaign with the other + gentlemen, Mr. Lincoln was defending what do you think? Mr. Lincoln was + defending an occasional and judicious use of swear words. + </p> + <p> + “Judge,” said he, “you do an almighty lot of cussing in your speeches, and + perhaps it ain't a bad way to keep things stirred up.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the Judge, “a fellow will rip out something once in a while + before he has time to shut it off.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln passed his fingers through his tousled hair. His thick lower + lip crept over in front of the upper one, A gleam stirred in the deep-set + gray eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Boys,” he asked, “did I ever tell you about Sam'l, the old Quaker's + apprentice?” + </p> + <p> + There was a chorus of “No's” and “Go ahead, Abe?” The young man who was + writing dropped his pencil. As for Stephen, this long, uncouth man of the + plains was beginning to puzzle him. The face, with its crude features and + deep furrows, relaxed into intense soberness. And Mr. Lincoln began his + story with a slow earnestness that was truly startling, considering the + subject. + </p> + <p> + “This apprentice, Judge, was just such an incurable as you.” (Laughter.) + “And Sam'l, when he wanted to, could get out as many cusses in a second as + his anvil shot sparks. And the old man used to wrastle with him nights and + speak about punishment, and pray for him in meeting. But it didn't do any + good. When anything went wrong, Sam'l had an appropriate word for the + occasion. One day the old man got an inspiration when he was scratching + around in the dirt for an odd-sized iron. + </p> + <p> + “'Sam'l,' says he, 'I want thee.' + </p> + <p> + “Sam'l went, and found the old man standing over a big rat hole, where the + rats came out to feed on the scraps. + </p> + <p> + “'Sam'l,' says he, 'fetch the tongs.' + </p> + <p> + “Sam'l fetched the tongs. + </p> + <p> + “'Now, Sam'l,' says the old man, 'thou wilt sit here until thou hast a + rat. Never mind thy dinner. And when thou hast him, if I hear thee swear, + thou wilt sit here until thou hast another. Dost thou mind?'” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Lincoln seized two cotton umbrellas, rasped his chair over the + bare boor into a corner of the room, and sat hunched over an imaginary rat + hole, for all the world like a gawky Quaker apprentice. And this was a + candidate for the Senate of the United States, who on the morrow was to + meet in debate the renowned and polished Douglas! + </p> + <p> + “Well,” Mr. Lincoln continued, “that was on a Monday, I reckon, and the + boys a-shouting to have their horses shod. Maybe you think they didn't + have some fun with Sam'l. But Sam'l sat there, and sat there, and sat + there, and after a while the old man pulled out his dinner-pail. Sam'l + never opened his mouth. First thing you know, snip went the tongs.” Mr. + Lincoln turned gravely around. “What do you reckon Sam'l said, Judge?” + </p> + <p> + The Judge, at random, summoned up a good one, to the delight of the + audience. + </p> + <p> + “Judge,” said Mr. Lincoln, with solemnity, “I reckon that's what you'd + have said. Sam'l never said a word, and the old man kept on eating his + dinner. One o'clock came, and the folks began to drop in again, but Sam'l, + he sat there. 'Long towards night the boys collected 'round the door. They + were getting kind of interested. Sam'l, he never looked up.” Here Mr. + Lincoln bent forward a little, and his voice fell to a loud, drawling + whisper. “First thing you know, here come the whiskers peeping up, then + the pink eyes a—blinking at the forge, then—!” + </p> + <p> + “Suddenly he brought the umbrellas together with whack. + </p> + <p> + “'By God,' yells Sam'l, 'I have thee at last!'” + </p> + <p> + Amid the shouts, Mr. Lincoln stood up, his long body swaying to and fro as + he lifted high the improvised tongs. They heard a terrified squeal, and + there was the rat squirming and wriggling,—it seemed before their + very eyes. And Stephen forgot the country tavern, the country politician, + and was transported straightway into the Quaker's smithy. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. IN WHICH STEPHEN LEARNS SOMETHING + </h2> + <p> + It was Mr. Lincoln who brought him back. The astonishing candidate for the + Senate had sunk into his chair, his face relaxed into sadness save for the + sparkle lurking in the eyes. So he sat, immobile, until the laughter had + died down to silence. Then he turned to Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Sonny,” he said, “did you want to see me?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen was determined to be affable and kind, and (shall we say it?) he + would not make Mr. Lincoln uncomfortable either by a superiority of + English or the certain frigidity of manner which people in the West said + he had. But he tried to imagine a Massachusetts senator, Mr. Sumner, for + instance, going through the rat story, and couldn't. Somehow, + Massachusetts senators hadn't this gift. And yet he was not quite sure + that it wasn't a fetching gift. Stephen did not quite like to be called + “Sonny.” But he looked into two gray eyes, and at the face, and something + curious happened to him. How was he to know that thousands of his + countrymen were to experience the same sensation? + </p> + <p> + “Sonny,” said Mr. Lincoln again, “did you want to see me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” Stephen wondered at the “sir.” It had been involuntary. He + drew from his inner pocket the envelope which the Judge had given him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln ripped it open. A document fell out, and a letter. He put the + document in his tall hat, which was upside down on the floor. As he got + deeper into the letter, he pursed his mouth, and the lines of his face + deepened in a smile. Then he looked up, grave again. + </p> + <p> + “Judge Whipple told you to run till you found me, did he, Mr. Brice?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is the Judge the same old criss-cross, contrary, violent fool that he + always was?” + </p> + <p> + Providence put an answer in Stephen's mouth. + </p> + <p> + “He's been very good to me, Mr. Lincoln.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln broke into laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Why, he's the biggest-hearted man I know. You know him, Oglesby,—Silas + Whipple. But a man has to be a Daniel or a General Putnam to venture into + that den of his. There's only one man in the world who can beard Silas, + and he's the finest states-right Southern gentleman you ever saw. I mean + Colonel Carvel. You've heard of him, Oglesby. Don't they quarrel once in a + while, Mr. Brice?” + </p> + <p> + “They do have occasional arguments,” said Stephen, amused. + </p> + <p> + “Arguments!” cried Mr. Lincoln; “well, I couldn't come as near to fighting + every day and stand it. If my dog and Bill's dog across the street walked + around each other and growled for half a day, and then lay down together, + as Carvel and Whipple do, by Jing, I'd put pepper on their noses—” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon Colonel Carvel isn't a fighting man,” said some one, at random. + </p> + <p> + Strangely enough, Stephen was seized with a desire to vindicate the + Colonel's courage. Both Mr. Lincoln and Judge Oglesby forestalled him. + </p> + <p> + “Not a fighting man!” exclaimed the Judge. “Why, the other day—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Oglesby,” put in Mr. Lincoln, “I wanted to tell that story.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen had heard it, and so have we. But Mr. Lincoln's imitation of the + Colonel's drawl brought him a pang like homesickness. + </p> + <p> + “'No, suh, I didn't intend to shoot. Not if he had gone off straight. But + he wriggled and twisted like a rattlesnake, and I just couldn't resist, + suh. Then I sent m'nigger Ephum to tell him not to let me catch sight of + him 'round the Planters' House. Yes, suh, that's what he was. One of these + damned Yankees who come South and go into nigger-deals and politics.”' + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln glanced at Stephen, and then again at the Judge's letter. He + took up his silk hat and thrust that, too, into the worn lining, which was + already filled with papers. He clapped the hat on his head, and buttoned + on his collar. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I'll go for a walk, boys,” he said, “and clear my head, so as to + be ready for the Little Giant to-morrow at Freeport. Mr. Brice, do you + feel like walking?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen, taken aback, said that he did. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Abe, this is just durned foolishness,” one of the gentlemen + expostulated. “We want to know if you're going to ask Douglas that + question.” + </p> + <p> + “If you do, you kill yourself, Lincoln,” said another, who Stephen + afterwards learned was Mr. Medill, proprietor of the great 'Press and + Tribune'. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'll risk it, Joe,” said Mr. Lincoln, gravely. Suddenly comes the + quiver about the corners of his mouth and the gray eyes respond. “Boys,” + said he, “did you ever hear the story of farmer Bell, down in Egypt? I'll + tell it to you, boys, and then perhaps you'll know why I'll ask Judge + Douglas that question. Farmer Bell had the prize Bartlett pear tree, and + the prettiest gal in that section. And he thought about the same of each + of 'em. All the boys were after Sue Bell. But there was only one who had + any chance of getting her, and his name was Jim Rickets. Jim was the + handsomest man in that section. He's been hung since. But Jim had a good + deal out of life,—all the appetites, and some of the gratifications. + He liked Sue, and he liked a luscious Bartlett. And he intended to have + both. And it just so happened that that prize pear tree had a whopper on + that year, and old man Bell couldn't talk of anything else. + </p> + <p> + “Now there was an ugly galoot whose name isn't worth mentioning. He knew + he wasn't in any way fit for Sue, and he liked pears about as well as Jim + Rickets. Well, one night here comes Jim along the road, whistling; to + court Susan, and there was the ugly galoot a-yearning on the bank under + the pear tree. Jim was all fixed up, and he says to the galoot, 'Let's + have a throw.' Now the galoot knew old Bell was looking over the fence So + he says, 'All right,' and he gives Jim the first shot—Jim fetched + down the big pear, got his teeth in it, and strolled off to the house, + kind of pitiful of the galoot for a, half-witted ass. When he got to the + door, there was the old man. 'What are you here for?' says he. 'Why,' says + Rickets, in his off-hand way, for he always had great confidence, 'to + fetch Sue.'” + </p> + <p> + “The old man used to wear brass toes to keep his boots from wearing out,” + said Mr. Lincoln, dreamily. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” continued Mr. Lincoln, “you see the galoot knew that Jim + Rickets wasn't to be trusted with Susan Bell.” + </p> + <p> + Some of the gentlemen appeared to see the point of this political parable, + for they laughed uproariously. The others laughed, too. Then they slapped + their knees, looked at Mr. Lincoln's face, which was perfectly sober, and + laughed again, a little fainter. Then the Judge looked as solemn as his + title. + </p> + <p> + “It won't do, Abe,” said he. “You commit suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd better stick to the pear, Abe,” said Mr. Medill, “and fight Stephen + A. Douglas here and now. This isn't any picnic. Do you know who he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, Joe,” said Mr. Lincoln, amiably. “He's a man with tens of + thousands of blind followers. It's my business to make some of those blind + followers see.” + </p> + <p> + By this time Stephen was burning to know the question that Mr. Lincoln + wished to ask the Little Giant, and why the other gentlemen were against + it. But Mr. Lincoln surprised him still further in taking him by the arm. + Turning to the young reporter, Mr. Hill, who had finished his writing, he + said: + </p> + <p> + “Bob, a little air will do you good. I've had enough of the old boys for a + while, and I'm going to talk to somebody any own age.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen was halfway down the corridor when he discovered that he had + forgotten his hat. As he returned he heard somebody say: + </p> + <p> + “If that ain't just like Abe. He stopped to pull a flea out of his + stocking when he was going to fight that duel with Shields, and now he's + walking with boys before a debate with the smartest man in this country. + And there's heaps of things he ought to discuss with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon we haven't got much to do with it,” said another, half laughing, + half rueful. “There's some things Abe won't stand.” + </p> + <p> + From the stairs Stephen saw Mr. Lincoln threading his way through the + crowd below, laughing at one, pausing to lay his hand on the shoulder of + another, and replying to a rough sally of a third to make the place a + tumult of guffaws. But none had the temerity to follow him. When Stephen + caught up with him in the little country street, he was talking earnestly + to Mr. Hill, the young reporter of the Press and Tribune. And what do you + think was the subject? The red comet in the sky that night. Stephen kept + pace in silence with Mr. Lincoln's strides, another shock in store for + him. This rail-splitter, this postmaster, this flat-boatman, whom he had + not credited with a knowledge of the New Code, was talking Astronomy. And + strange to say, Mr. Brice was learning. + </p> + <p> + “Bob,” said Mr. Lincoln, “can you elucidate the problem of the three + bodies?” + </p> + <p> + To Stephen's surprise, Mr. Hill elucidated. + </p> + <p> + The talk then fell upon novels and stories, a few of which Mr. Lincoln + seemed to have read. He spoke, among others, of the “Gold Bug.” “The story + is grand,” said he, “but it might as well have been written of Robinson + Crusoe's island. What a fellow wants in a book is to know where he is. + There are not many novels, or ancient works for that matter, that put you + down anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “There is that genuine fragment which Cicero has preserved from a last + work of Aristotle,” said Mr. Hill, slyly. “'If there were beings who lived + in the depths of the earth, and could emerge through the open fissures, + and could suddenly behold the earth, the sea, and the—vault of + heaven—'” + </p> + <p> + “But you—you impostor,” cried Mr. Lincoln, interrupting, “you're + giving us Humboldt's Cosmos.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hill owned up, laughing. + </p> + <p> + It is remarkable how soon we accustom ourselves to a strange situation. + And to Stephen it was no less strange to be walking over a muddy road of + the prairie with this most singular man and a newspaper correspondent, + than it might have been to the sub-terrestrial inhabitant to emerge on the + earth's surface. Stephen's mind was in the process of a chemical change: + Suddenly it seemed to him as if he had known this tall Illinoisan always. + The whim of the senatorial candidate in choosing him for a companion he + did not then try to account for. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Mr. Stephen,” said Mr. Lincoln, presently, “where do you hail + from?” + </p> + <p> + “Boston,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Mr. Lincoln, incredulously. “And how does it happen that you + come to me with a message from a rank Abolitionist lawyer in St. Louis?” + </p> + <p> + “Is the Judge a friend of yours, sir?” Stephen asked. + </p> + <p> + “What!” exclaimed Mr. Lincoln, “didn't he tell you he was?” + </p> + <p> + “He said nothing at all, sir, except to tell me to travel until I found + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I call the Judge a friend of mine,” said Mr. Lincoln. “He may not claim + me because I do not believe in putting all slave-owners to the sword.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not think that Judge Whipple is precisely an Abolitionist, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What! And how do you feel, Mr. Stephen?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen replied in figures. It was rare with him, and he must have caught + it from Mr. Lincoln. + </p> + <p> + “I am not for ripping out the dam suddenly, sir, that would drown the + nation. I believe that the water can be drained off in some other way.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln's direct answer to this was to give Stephen stinging slap + between the shoulder-blades. + </p> + <p> + “God bless the boy!” he cried. “He has thought it out. Bob, take that down + for the Press and Tribune as coming from a rising young politician of St. + Louis.” + </p> + <p> + “Why,” Stephen blurted out, “I—I thought you were an Abolitionist, + Mr. Lincoln.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brice,” said Mr. Lincoln, “I have as much use for the Boston + Liberator as I have for the Charleston Courier. You may guess how much + that is. The question is not whether we shall or shall not have slavery, + but whether slavery shall stay where it is, or be extended according to + Judge Douglas's ingenious plan. The Judge is for breeding worms. I am for + cauterizing the sore so that it shall not spread. But I tell you, Mr. + Brice, that this nation cannot exist half slave and half free.” + </p> + <p> + Was it the slap on the back that opened Stephen's eyes? It was certain + that as they returned to the tavern the man at his side was changed. He + need not have felt chagrined. Men in high places underestimated Lincoln, + or did not estimate him at all. Affection came first. The great warm heart + had claimed Stephen as it claimed all who came near it. + </p> + <p> + The tavern was deserted save for a few stragglers. Under the dim light at + the bar Mr. Lincoln took off his hat and drew the Judge's letter from the + lining. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Stephen,” said he, “would you like to come to Freeport with me + to-morrow and hear the debate?” + </p> + <p> + An hour earlier he would have declined with thanks. But now! Now his face + lighted at the prospect, and suddenly fell again. Mr. Lincoln guessed the + cause. He laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you're thinking of what the Judge will say.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take care of the Judge,” said Mr. Lincoln. “I'm not afraid of him.” + He drew forth from the inexhaustible hat a slip of paper, and began to + write. + </p> + <p> + “There,” said he, when he had finished, “a friend of mine is going to + Springfield in the morning, and he'll send that to the Judge.” + </p> + <p> + And this is what he had written:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I have borrowed Steve for a day or two, and guarantee + to return him a good Republican. + A. LINCOLN.” + </pre> + <p> + It is worth remarking that this was the first time Mr. Brice had been + called “Steve” and had not resented it. + </p> + <p> + Stephen was embarrassed. He tried to thank Mr. Lincoln, but that + gentleman's quizzical look cut him short. And the next remark made him + gasp. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, Steve,” said he, “you know a parlor from a drawing-room. What + did you think of me when you saw me to-night?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen blushed furiously, and his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you,” said Mr. Lincoln, with his characteristic smile, “you + thought that you wouldn't pick me out of a bunch of horses to race with + the Senator.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE QUESTION + </h2> + <p> + Many times since Abraham Lincoln has been called to that mansion which God + has reserved for the patriots who have served Him also, Stephen Brice has + thought of that steaming night in the low-ceiled room of the country + tavern, reeking with the smell of coarse food and hot humanity. He + remembers vividly how at first his gorge rose, and recalls how gradually + there crept over him a forgetfulness of the squalidity and discomfort. + Then came a space gray with puzzling wonder. Then the dawning of a worship + for a very ugly man in a rumpled and ill-made coat. + </p> + <p> + You will perceive that there was hope for Stephen. On his shake-down that + night, oblivious to the snores of his companions and the droning of the + insects, he lay awake. And before his eyes was that strange, marked face, + with its deep lines that blended both humor and sadness there. It was + homely, and yet Stephen found himself reflecting that honesty was just as + homely, and plain truth. And yet both were beautiful to those who had + learned to love them. Just so this Mr. Lincoln. + </p> + <p> + He fell asleep wondering why Judge Whipple had sent him. + </p> + <p> + It was in accord with nature that reaction came with the morning. Such a + morning, and such a place! + </p> + <p> + He was awakened, shivering, by the beat of rain on the roof, and stumbling + over the prostrate forms of the four Beaver brothers, reached the window. + Clouds filled the sky, and Joshway, whose pallet was under the sill, was + in a blessed state of moisture. + </p> + <p> + No wonder some of his enthusiasm had trickled away! + </p> + <p> + He made his toilet in the wet under the pump outside; where he had to wait + his turn. And he rather wished he were going back to St. Louis. He had an + early breakfast of fried eggs and underdone bacon, and coffee which made + him pine for Hester's. The dishes were neither too clean nor too + plentiful, being doused in water as soon as ever they were out of use. + </p> + <p> + But after breakfast the sun came out, and a crowd collected around the + tavern, although the air was chill and the muck deep in the street. + Stephen caught glimpses of Mr. Lincoln towering above the knots of country + politicians who surrounded him, and every once in a while a knot would + double up with laughter. There was no sign that the senatorial aspirant + took the situation seriously; that the coming struggle with his skilful + antagonist was weighing him down in the least. Stephen held aloof from the + groups, thinking that Mr. Lincoln had forgotten him. He decided to leave + for St. Louis on the morning train, and was even pushing toward the tavern + entrance with his bag in his hand, when he was met by Mr. Hill. + </p> + <p> + “I had about given you up, Mr. Brice,” he said. “Mr. Lincoln asked me to + get hold of you, and bring you to him alive or dead.” + </p> + <p> + Accordingly Stephen was led to the station, where a long train of twelve + cars was pulled up, covered with flags and bunting. On entering one of + these, he perceived Mr. Lincoln sprawled (he could think of no other word + to fit the attitude) on a seat next the window, and next him was Mr. + Medill of the Press and Tribune. The seat just in front was reserved for + Mr. Hill, who was to make any notes necessary. Mr. Lincoln looked up. His + appearance was even less attractive than the night before, as he had on a + dirty gray linen duster. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you'd got loose, Steve,” he said, holding out his hand. “Glad + to see you. Just you sit down there next to Bob, where I can talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen sat down, diffident, for he knew that there were others in that + train who would give ten years of their lives for that seat. + </p> + <p> + “I've taken a shine to this Bostonian, Joe,” said Mr Lincoln to Mr. + Medill. “We've got to catch 'em young to do anything with 'em, you know. + Now, Steve, just give me a notion how politics are over in St. Louis. What + do they think of our new Republican party? Too bran new for old St. Louis, + eh?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen saw expostulation in Mr. Medill's eyes, and hesitated. And Mr. + Lincoln seemed to feel Medill's objections, as by mental telepathy. But he + said:— “We'll come to that little matter later, Joe, when the cars + start.” + </p> + <p> + Naturally, Stephen began uneasily. But under the influence of that kindly + eye he thawed, and forgot himself. He felt that this man was not one to + feign an interest. The shouts of the people on the little platform + interrupted the account, and the engine staggered off with its load. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon St. Louis is a nest of Southern Democrats,” Mr. Lincoln + remarked, “and not much opposition.” + </p> + <p> + “There are quite a few Old Line Whigs, sir,” ventured Stephen, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Joe,” said Mr. Lincoln, “did you ever hear Warfield's definition of an + Old Line Whig?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Medill had not. + </p> + <p> + “A man who takes his toddy regularly, and votes the Democratic ticket + occasionally, and who wears ruffled shirts.” + </p> + <p> + Both of these gentlemen laughed, and two more in the seat behind, who had + an ear to the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “But, sir,” said Stephen, seeing that he was expected to go on, “I think + that the Republican party will gather a considerable strength there in + another year or two. We have the material for powerful leaders in Mr. + Blair and others” (Mr. Lincoln nodded at the name). “We are getting an + ever increasing population from New England, mostly of young men who will + take kindly to the new party.” And then he added, thinking of his + pilgrimage the Sunday before: “South St. Louis is a solid mass of Germans, + who are all antislavery. But they are very foreign still, and have all + their German institutions.” + </p> + <p> + “The Turner Halls?” Mr. Lincoln surprised him by inquiring. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And I believe that they drill there.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they will the more easily be turned into soldiers if the time should + come,” said Mr. Lincoln. And he added quickly, “I pray that it may not.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen had cause to remember that observation, and the acumen it showed, + long afterward. + </p> + <p> + The train made several stops, and at each of them shoals of country people + filled the aisles, and paused for a most familiar chat with the senatorial + candidate. Many called him Abe. His appearance was the equal in roughness + to theirs, his manner if anything was more democratic,—yet in spite + of all this Stephen in them detected a deference which might almost be + termed a homage. There were many women among them. Had our friend been + older, he might have known that the presence of good women in a political + crowd portends something. As it was, he was surprised. He was destined to + be still more surprised that day. + </p> + <p> + When they had left behind them the shouts of the little down of Dixon, Mr. + Lincoln took off his hat, and produced a crumpled and not too immaculate + scrap of paper from the multitude therein. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Joe,” said he, “here are the four questions I intend to ask Judge + Douglas. I am ready for you. Fire away.” + </p> + <p> + “We don't care anything about the others,” answered Mr. Medill. “But I + tell you this. If you ask that second one, you'll never see the United + States Senate.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Republican party in this state will have had a blow from which it + can scarcely recover,” added Mr. Judd, chairman of the committee. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln did not appear to hear them. His eyes were far away over the + wet prairie. + </p> + <p> + Stephen held his breath. But neither he, nor Medill, nor Judd, nor Hill + guessed at the pregnancy of that moment. How were they to know that the + fate of the United States of America was concealed in that Question,—was + to be decided on a rough wooden platform that day in the town of Freeport, + Illinois? + </p> + <p> + But Abraham Lincoln, the uncouth man in the linen duster with the tousled + hair, knew it. And the stone that was rejected of the builders was to + become the corner-stone of the temple. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Mr. Lincoln recalled himself, glanced at the paper, and cleared + his throat. In measured tones, plainly heard above the rush and roar of + the train, he read the Question: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Can the people of a United States Territory, in any lawful way, + against the wish of any citizen of the United States, exclude + slavery from its limits prior to the formation of a State + Constitution?” + </pre> + <p> + Mr. Medill listened intently. + </p> + <p> + “Abe,” said he, solemnly, “Douglas will answer yes, or equivocate, and + that is all the assurance these Northern Democrats want to put Steve + Douglas in the Senate. They'll snow you under.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” answered Mr. Lincoln, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “All right?” asked Mr. Medill, reflecting the sheer astonishment of the + others; “then why the devil are you wearing yourself out? And why are we + spending our time and money on you?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln laid his hand on Medill's sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Joe,” said he, “a rat in the larder is easier to catch than a rat that + has the run of the cellar. You know, where to set your trap in the larder. + I'll tell you why I'm in this campaign: to catch Douglas now, and keep him + out of the White House in 1860. To save this country of ours, Joe. She's + sick.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence, broken by two exclamations. + </p> + <p> + “But see here, Abe,” said Mr. Medill, as soon as ever he got his breath, + “what have we got to show for it? Where do you come in?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln smiled wearily. + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere, I reckon,” he answered simply. + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord!” said Mr. Judd. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Medill gulped. + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say, as the candidate of the Republican party, you don't care + whether you get to the Senate?” + </p> + <p> + “Not if I can send Steve Douglas there with his wings broken,” was the + calm reply. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose he does answer yes, that slavery can be excluded?” said Mr. Judd. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Mr. Lincoln, “then Douglas loses the vote of the great + slave-holders, the vote of the solid South, that he has been fostering + ever since he has had the itch to be President. Without the solid South + the Little Giant will never live in the White House. And unless I'm + mightily mistaken, Steve Douglas has had his aye as far ahead as 1860 for + some time.” + </p> + <p> + Another silence followed these words. There was a stout man standing in + the aisle, and he spat deftly out of the open window. + </p> + <p> + “You may wing Steve Douglas, Abe,” said he, gloomily, “but the gun will + kick you over the bluff.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry about me, Ed,” said Mr. Lincoln. “I'm not worth it.” + </p> + <p> + In a wave of comprehension the significance of all this was revealed to + Stephen Brice, The grim humor, the sagacious statesmanship, and (best of + all)—the superb self sacrifice of it, struck him suddenly. I think + it was in that hour that he realized the full extent of the wisdom he was + near, which was like unto Solomon's. + </p> + <p> + Shame surged in Stephen's face that he should have misjudged him. He had + come to patronize. He had remained to worship. And in after years, when he + thought of this new vital force which became part of him that day, it was + in the terms of Emerson: “Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and + Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure + and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.” + </p> + <p> + How many have conversed with Lincoln before and since, and knew him not! + </p> + <p> + If an outward and visible sign of Mr. Lincoln's greatness were needed,—he + had chosen to speak to them in homely parables. The story of Farmer Bell + was plain as day. Jim Rickets, who had life all his own way, was none + other than Stephen A. Douglas, the easily successful. The ugly galoot, who + dared to raise his eyes only to the pear, was Mr. Lincoln himself. And the + pear was the Senatorship, which the galoot had denied himself to save + Susan from being Mr. Rickets' bride. + </p> + <p> + Stephen could understand likewise the vehemence of the Republican leaders + who crowded around their candidate and tried to get him to retract that + Question. He listened quietly, he answered with a patient smile. Now and + then he threw a story into the midst of this discussion which made them + laugh in spite of themselves. The hopelessness of the case was quite plain + to Mr. Hill, who smiled, and whispered in Stephen's ear: “He has made up + his mind. They will not budge him an inch, and they know it.” + </p> + <p> + Finally Mr. Lincoln took the scrap of paper, which was even more dirty and + finger-marked by this time, and handed it to Mr. Hill. The train was + slowing down for Freeport. In the distance, bands could be heard playing, + and along the track, line upon line of men and women were cheering and + waving. It was ten o'clock, raw and cold for that time of the year, and + the sun was trying to come out. + </p> + <p> + “Bob,” said Mr. Lincoln, “be sure you get that right in your notes. And, + Steve, you stick close to me, and you'll see the show. Why, boys,” he + added, smiling, “there's the great man's private car, cannon and all.” + </p> + <p> + All that Stephen saw was a regular day-car on a sidetrack. A brass cannon + was on the tender hitched behind it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE CRISIS + </h2> + <p> + Stephen A. Douglas, called the Little Giant on account of his intellect, + was a type of man of which our race has had some notable examples, + although they are not characteristic. Capable of sacrifice to their + country, personal ambition is, nevertheless, the mainspring of their + actions. They must either be before the public, or else unhappy. This + trait gives them a large theatrical strain, and sometimes brands them as + adventurers. Their ability saves them from being demagogues. + </p> + <p> + In the case of Douglas, he had deliberately renewed some years before the + agitation on the spread of slavery, by setting forth a doctrine of extreme + cleverness. This doctrine, like many others of its kind, seemed at first + sight to be the balm it pretended, instead of an irritant, as it really + was. It was calculated to deceive all except thinking men, and to silence + all save a merciless logician. And this merciless logician, who was + heaven-sent in time of need, was Abraham Lincoln. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Douglas was a juggler, a political prestidigitateur. He did things + before the eyes of the Senate and the nation. His balm for the healing of + the nation's wounds was a patent medicine so cleverly concocted that + experts alone could show what was in it. So abstruse and twisted were some + of Mr. Douglas's doctrines that a genius alone might put them into simple + words, for the common people. + </p> + <p> + The great panacea for the slavery trouble put forth by Mr. Douglas at that + time was briefly this: that the people of the new territories should + decide for themselves, subject to the Constitution, whether they should + have slavery or not, and also decide for themselves all other questions + under the Constitution. Unhappily for Mr. Douglas, there was the famous + Dred Scott decision, which had set the South wild with joy the year + before, and had cast a gloom over the North. The Chief Justice of the + United States had declared that under the Constitution slaves were + property,—and as such every American citizen owning slaves could + carry them about with him wherever he went. Therefore the territorial + legislatures might pass laws until they were dumb, and yet their settlers + might bring with them all the slaves they pleased. + </p> + <p> + And yet we must love the Judge. He was a gentleman, a strong man, and a + patriot. He was magnanimous, and to his immortal honor be it said that he, + in the end, won the greatest of all struggles. He conquered himself. He + put down that mightiest thing that was in him,—his ambition for + himself. And he set up, instead, his ambition for his country. He bore no + ill-will toward the man whose fate was so strangely linked to his, and who + finally came to that high seat of honor and of martyrdom which he coveted. + We shall love the Judge, and speak of him with reverence, for that sublime + act of kindness before the Capitol in 1861. + </p> + <p> + Abraham Lincoln might have prayed on that day of the Freeport debate: + </p> + <p> + “Forgive him, Lord. He knows not what he does.” Lincoln descried the + danger afar, and threw his body into the breach. + </p> + <p> + That which passed before Stephen's eyes, and to which his ears listened at + Freeport, was the Great Republic pressing westward to the Pacific. He + wondered whether some of his Eastern friends who pursed their lips when + the Wrest was mentioned would have sneered or prayed. A young English + nobleman who was there that day did not sneer. He was filled instead with + something like awe at the vigor of this nation which was sprung from the + loins of his own. Crudeness he saw, vulgarity he heard, but Force he felt, + and marvelled. + </p> + <p> + America was in Freeport that day, the rush of her people and the surprise + of her climate. The rain had ceased, and quickly was come out of the + northwest a boisterous wind, chilled by the lakes and scented by the + hemlocks of the Minnesota forests. The sun smiled and frowned Clouds + hurried in the sky, mocking the human hubbub below. Cheering thousands + pressed about the station as Mr. Lincoln's train arrived. They hemmed him + in his triumphal passage under the great arching trees to the new Brewster + House. The Chief Marshal and his aides, great men before, were suddenly + immortal. The county delegations fell into their proper precedence like + ministers at a state dinner. “We have faith in Abraham, Yet another County + for the Rail-sputter, Abe the Giant-killer,”—so the banners read. + Here, much bedecked, was the Galena Lincoln Club, part of Joe Davies's + shipment. Fifes skirled, and drums throbbed, and the stars and stripes + snapped in the breeze. And here was a delegation headed by fifty sturdy + ladies on horseback, at whom Stephen gaped like a countryman. Then came + carryalls of all ages and degrees, wagons from this county and that + county, giddily draped, drawn by horses from one to six, or by mules, + their inscriptions addressing their senatorial candidate in all degrees of + familiarity, but not contempt. What they seemed proudest of was that he + had been a rail-splitter, for nearly all bore a fence-rail. + </p> + <p> + But stay, what is this wagon with the high sapling flagstaff in the + middle, and the leaves still on it? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Westward the Star of Empire takes its way. + The girls link on to Lincoln; their mothers were for Clay.” + </pre> + <p> + Here was glory to blind you,—two and thirty maids in red sashes and + blue liberty caps with white stars. Each was a state of the Union, and + every one of them was for Abraham, who called them his “Basket of + Flowers.” Behind them, most touching of all, sat a thirty-third shackled + in chains. That was Kansas. Alas, the men of Kansas was far from being as + sorrowful as the part demanded,—in spite of her instructions she + would smile at the boys. But the appealing inscription she bore, “Set me + free” was greeted with storms of laughter, the boldest of the young men + shouting that she was too beautiful to be free, and some of the old men, + to their shame be it said likewise shouted. No false embarrassment + troubled Kansas. She was openly pleased. But the young men who had brought + their sweethearts to town, and were standing hand in hand with them, for + obvious reasons saw nothing: They scarcely dared to look at Kansas, and + those who did were so loudly rebuked that they turned down the side + streets. + </p> + <p> + During this part of the day these loving couples, whose devotion was so + patent to the whole world, were by far the most absorbing to Stephen. He + watched them having their fortunes told, the young women blushing and + crying, “Say!” and “Ain't he wicked?” and the young men getting their ears + boxed for certain remarks. He watched them standing open-mouthed at the + booths and side shows with hands still locked, or again they were chewing + cream candy in unison. Or he glanced sidewise at them, seated in the open + places with the world so far below them that even the insistent sound of + the fifes and drums rose but faintly to their ears. + </p> + <p> + And perhaps,—we shall not say positively,—perhaps Mr. Brice's + thoughts went something like this, “O that love were so simple a matter to + all!” But graven on his face was what is called the “Boston scorn.” And no + scorn has been known like unto it since the days of Athens. + </p> + <p> + So Stephen made the best of his way to the Brewster House, the elegance + and newness of which the citizens of Freeport openly boasted. Mr. Lincoln + had preceded him, and was even then listening to a few remarks of burning + praise by an honorable gentleman. Mr. Lincoln himself made a few remarks, + which seemed so simple and rang so true, and were so free from political + rococo and decoration generally, that even the young men forgot their + sweethearts to listen. Then Mr. Lincoln went into the hotel, and the sun + slipped under a black cloud. + </p> + <p> + The lobby was full, and rather dirty, since the supply of spittoons was so + far behind the demand. Like the firmament, it was divided into little + bodies which revolved about larger bodies. But there lacked not here + supporters of the Little Giant, and discreet farmers of influence in their + own counties who waited to hear the afternoon's debate before deciding. + These and others did not hesitate to tell of the magnificence of the + Little Giant's torchlight procession the previous evening. Every + Dred-Scottite had carried a torch, and many transparencies, so that the + very glory of it had turned night into day. The Chief Lictor had + distributed these torches with an unheard-of liberality. But there lacked + not detractors who swore that John Dibble and other Lincolnites had + applied for torches for the mere pleasure of carrying them. Since dawn the + delegations had been heralded from the house-tops, and wagered on while + they were yet as worms far out or the prairie. All the morning these + continued to came in, and form in line to march past their particular + candidate. The second great event of the day was the event of the special + over the Galena roar, of sixteen cars and more than a thousand pairs of + sovereign lungs. With military precision they repaired to the Brewster + House, and ahead of then a banner was flung: “Winnebago County for the + Tall Sucker.” And the Tall Sucker was on the steps to receive them. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Douglas, who had arrived the evening before to the booming of two + and thirty guns, had his banners end his bunting, too. The neighborhood of + Freeport was stronghold of Northern Democrats, ardent supporters of the + Little Giant if once they could believe that he did not intend to betray + them. + </p> + <p> + Stephen felt in his bones the coming of a struggle, and was thrilled. Once + he smiled at the thought that he had become an active partisan—nay, + a worshipper—of the uncouth Lincoln. Terrible suspicion for a + Bostonian,—had he been carried away? Was his hero, after all, a + homespun demagogue? Had he been wise in deciding before he had taught a + glimpse of the accomplished Douglas, whose name end fame filled the land? + Stephen did not waver in his allegiance. But in his heart there lurked a + fear of the sophisticated Judge and Senator and man of the world whom he + had not yet seen. In his notebook he had made a copy of the Question, and + young Mr. Hill discovered him pondering in a corner of the lobby at + dinnertime. After dinner they went together to their candidate's room. + They found the doors open and the place packed, and there was Mr. + Lincoln's very tall hat towering above those of the other politicians + pressed around him. Mr. Lincoln took three strides in Stephen's direction + and seized him by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Steve,” said he, “I thought you had got away again.” Turning to a + big burly man with a good-natures face, who was standing by, he added. + “Jim, I want you to look out for this young man. Get him a seat on the + stands where he can hear.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen stuck close to Jim. He never knew what the gentleman's last name + was, or whether he had any. It was but a few minutes' walk to the grove + where the speaking was to be. And as they made their way thither Mr. + Lincoln passed them in a Conestoga wagon drawn by six milk-white horses. + Jim informed Stephen that the Little Giant had had a six-horse coach. The + grove was black with people. Hovering about the hem of the crowd were the + sunburned young men in their Sunday best, still clinging fast to the hands + of the young women. Bands blared “Columbia, Gem of the Ocean.” Fakirs + planted their stands in the way, selling pain-killers and ague cures, + watermelons and lemonade, Jugglers juggled, and beggars begged. Jim said + that there were sixteen thousand people in that grove. And he told the + truth. + </p> + <p> + Stephen now trembled for his champion. He tried to think of himself as + fifty years old, with the courage to address sixteen thousand people on + such a day, and quailed. What a man of affairs it must take to do that! + Sixteen thousand people, into each of whose breasts God had put different + emotions and convictions. He had never even imagined such a crowd as this + assembles merely to listen to a political debate. But then he remembered, + as they dodged from in front of the horses, what it was not merely a + political debate: The pulse of nation was here, a great nation stricken + with approaching fever. It was not now a case of excise, but of existence. + </p> + <p> + This son of toil who had driven his family thirty miles across the + prairie, blanketed his tired horses and slept on the ground the night + before, who was willing to stand all through the afternoon and listen with + pathetic eagerness to this debate, must be moved by a patriotism divine. + In the breast of that farmer, in the breast of his tired wife who held her + child by the hand, had been instilled from birth that sublime fervor which + is part of their life who inherit the Declaration of Independence. + Instinctively these men who had fought and won the West had scented the + danger. With the spirit of their ancestors who had left their farms to die + on the bridge at Concord, or follow Ethan Allen into Ticonderoga, these + had come to Freeport. What were three days of bodily discomfort! What even + the loss of part of a cherished crop, if the nation's existence were at + stake and their votes might save it! + </p> + <p> + In the midst of that heaving human sea rose the bulwarks of a wooden + stand. But how to reach it? Jim was evidently a personage. The rough + farmers commonly squeezed a way for him. And when they did not, he made it + with his big body. As they drew near their haven, a great surging as of a + tidal wave swept them off their feet. There was a deafening shout, and the + stand rocked on its foundations. Before Stephen could collect his wits, a + fierce battle was raging about him. Abolitionist and Democrat, Free Soiler + and Squatter Sov, defaced one another in a rush for the platform. The + committeemen and reporters on top of it rose to its defence. Well for + Stephen that his companion was along. Jim was recognized and hauled bodily + into the fort, and Stephen after him. The populace were driven off, and + when the excitement died down again, he found himself in the row behind + the reporters. Young Mr. Hill paused while sharpening his pencil to wave + him a friendly greeting. + </p> + <p> + Stephen, craning in his seat, caught sight of Mr. Lincoln slouched into + one of his favorite attitudes, his chin resting in his hand. + </p> + <p> + But who is this, erect, compact, aggressive, searching with a confident + eye the wilderness of upturned faces? A personage, truly, to be questioned + timidly, to be approached advisedly. Here indeed was a lion, by the very + look of him, master of himself and of others. By reason of its regularity + and masculine strength, a handsome face. A man of the world to the cut of + the coat across the broad shoulders. Here was one to lift a youngster into + the realm of emulation, like a character in a play, to arouse dreams of + Washington and its senators and great men. For this was one to be + consulted by the great alone. A figure of dignity and power, with + magnetism to compel moods. Since, when he smiled, you warmed in spite of + yourself, and when he frowned the world looked grave. + </p> + <p> + The inevitable comparison was come, and Stephen's hero was shrunk once + more. He drew a deep breath, searched for the word, and gulped. There was + but the one word. How country Abraham Lincoln looked beside Stephen Arnold + Douglas! + </p> + <p> + Had the Lord ever before made and set over against each other two such + different men? Yes, for such are the ways of the Lord. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ........................ +</pre> + <p> + The preliminary speaking was in progress, but Stephen neither heard nor + saw until he felt the heavy hand of his companion on his knee. + </p> + <p> + “There's something mighty strange, like fate, between them two,” he was + saying. “I recklect twenty-five years ago when they was first in the + Legislatur' together. A man told me that they was both admitted to + practice in the S'preme Court in '39, on the same day, sir. Then you know + they was nip an' tuck after the same young lady. Abe got her. They've been + in Congress together, the Little Giant in the Senate, and now, here they + be in the greatest set of debates the people of this state ever heard; + Young man, the hand of fate is in this here, mark my words—” + </p> + <p> + There was a hush, and the waves of that vast human sea were stilled. A + man, lean, angular, with coat-tail: flapping-unfolded like a grotesque + figure at a side-show. + </p> + <p> + No confidence was there. Stooping forward, Abraham Lincoln began to speak, + and Stephen Brice hung his head and shuddered. Could this shrill falsetto + be the same voice to which he had listened only that morning? Could this + awkward, yellow man with his hands behind his back be he whom he had + worshipped? Ripples of derisive laughter rose here and there, on the stand + and from the crowd. Thrice distilled was the agony of those moments! + </p> + <p> + But what was this feeling that gradually crept over him? Surprise? + Cautiously he raised his eyes. The hands were coming around to the front. + Suddenly one of them was thrown sharply back, with a determined gesture, + the head was raised,—and—and his shame was for gotten. In its + stead wonder was come. But soon he lost even that, for his mind was gone + on a journey. And when again he came to himself and looked upon Abraham + Lincoln, this was a man transformed. The voice was no longer shrill. Nay, + it was now a powerful instrument which played strangely on those who + heard. Now it rose, and again it fell into tones so low as to start a stir + which spread and spread, like a ripple in a pond, until it broke on the + very edge of that vast audience. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Can the people of a United States Territory, in any lawful way, + against the wish of any citizen of the United States, exclude + slavery from its limits prior to the formation of a State + Constitution?” + </pre> + <p> + It was out, at last, irrevocably writ in the recording book of History, + for better, for worse. Beyond the reach of politician, committee, or + caucus. But what man amongst those who heard and stirred might say that + these minutes even now basting into eternity held the Crisis of a nation + that is the hope of the world? Not you, Judge Douglas who sit there + smiling. Consternation is a stranger in your heart,—but answer the + question if you can. Yes, your nimble wit has helped you out of many a + tight corner. You do not feel the noose—as yet. You do not guess + that your reply will make or mar the fortunes of your country. It is not + you who can look ahead two short years and see the ship of Democracy + splitting on the rocks at Charleston and at Baltimore, when the power of + your name might have steered her safely. + </p> + <p> + But see! what is this man about whom you despise? One by one he is taking + the screws out of the engine which you have invented to run your ship. + Look, he holds them in his hands without mixing them, and shows the false + construction of its secret parts. + </p> + <p> + For Abraham Lincoln dealt with abstruse questions in language so limpid + that many a farmer, dulled by toil, heard and understood and marvelled. + The simplicity of the Bible dwells in those speeches, and they are now + classics in our literature. And the wonder in Stephen's mind was that this + man who could be a buffoon, whose speech was coarse and whose person + unkempt, could prove himself a tower of morality and truth. That has + troubled many another, before and since the debate at Freeport. + </p> + <p> + That short hour came all too quickly to an end. And as the Moderator gave + the signal for Mr. Lincoln, it was Stephen's big companion who snapped the + strain, and voiced the sentiment of those about him. + </p> + <p> + “By Gosh!” he cried, “he baffles Steve. I didn't think Abe had it in him.” + </p> + <p> + The Honorable Stephen A. Douglas, however, seemed anything but baffled as + he rose to reply. As he waited for the cheers which greeted him to die + out, his attitude was easy and indifferent, as a public man's should be. + The question seemed not to trouble him in the least. But for Stephen Brice + the Judge stood there stripped of the glamour that made him, even as + Abraham Lincoln had stripped his doctrine of its paint and colors, and + left it punily naked. + </p> + <p> + Standing up, the very person of the Little Giant was contradictory, as was + the man himself. His height was insignificant. But he had the head and + shoulders of a lion, and even the lion's roar. What at contrast the ring + of his deep bass to the tentative falsetto of Mr. Lincoln's opening words. + If Stephen expected the Judge to tremble, he was greatly disappointed. Mr. + Douglas was far from dismay. As if to show the people how lightly he held + his opponent's warnings, he made them gape by putting things down Mr. + Lincoln's shirt-front and taking them out of his mouth: But it appeared to + Stephen, listening with all his might, that the Judge was a trifle more on + the defensive than his attitude might lead one to expect. Was he not among + his own Northern Democrats at Freeport? And yet it seemed to give him a + keen pleasure to call his hearers “Black Republicans.” “Not black,” came + from the crowd again and again, and once a man: shouted, “Couldn't you + modify it and call it brown?” “Not a whit!” cried the Judge, and dubbed + them “Yankees,” although himself a Vermonter by birth. He implied that + most of these Black Republicans desired negro wives. + </p> + <p> + But quick,—to the Question, How was the Little Giant, artful in + debate as he was, to get over that without offence to the great South? + Very skillfully the judge disposed of the first of the interrogations. And + then, save for the gusts of wind rustling the trees, the grove might have + been empty of its thousands, such was the silence that fell. But tighter + and tighter they pressed against the stand, until it trembled. + </p> + <p> + Oh, Judge, the time of all artful men will come at length. How were you to + foresee a certain day under the White Dome of the Capitol? Had your sight + been long, you would have paused before your answer. Had your sight been + long, you would have seen this ugly Lincoln bareheaded before the Nation, + and you are holding his hat. Judge Douglas, this act alone has redeemed + your faults. It has given you a nobility of which we did not suspect you. + At the end God gave you strength to be humble, and so you left the name of + a patriot. + </p> + <p> + Judge, you thought there was a passage between Scylla and Charybdis which + your craftiness might overcome. + </p> + <p> + “It matters not,” you cried when you answered the Question, “it matters + not which way the Supreme Court may hereafter decide as to the abstract + question whether slavery may or may not go into a territory under the + Constitution. The people have the lawful means to introduce or to exclude + it as they please, for the reason that slavery cannot exist a day or an + hour anywhere unless it is supported by local police regulations.” + </p> + <p> + Judge Douglas, uneasy will you lie to-night, for you have uttered the + Freeport Heresy. + </p> + <p> + It only remains to be told how Stephen Brice, coming to the Brewster House + after the debate, found Mr. Lincoln. On his knee, in transports of + delight, was a small boy, and Mr. Lincoln was serenely playing on the + child's Jew's-harp. Standing beside him was a proud father who had dragged + his son across two counties in a farm wagon, and who was to return on the + morrow to enter this event in the family Bible. In a corner of the room + were several impatient gentlemen of influence who wished to talk about the + Question. + </p> + <p> + But when he saw Stephen, Mr. Lincoln looked up with a smile of welcome + that is still, and ever will be, remembered and cherished. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Judge Whipple that I have attended to that little matter, Steve,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Lincoln,” he exclaimed, “you have had no time.” + </p> + <p> + “I have taken the time,” Mr. Lincoln replied, “and I think that I am well + repaid. Steve,” said he, “unless I'm mightily mistaken, you know a little + more than you did yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir! I do,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Steve,” said Mr. Lincoln, “be honest. Didn't you feel sorry for me + last night?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen flushed scarlet. + </p> + <p> + “I never shall again, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The wonderful smile, so ready to come and go, flickered and went out. In + its stead on the strange face was ineffable sadness,—the sadness of + the world's tragedies, of Stephen stoned, of Christ crucified. + </p> + <p> + “Pray God that you may feel sorry for me again,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Awed, the child on his lap was still. The politician had left the room. + Mr. Lincoln had kept Stephen's hand in his own. + </p> + <p> + “I have hopes of you, Stephen,” he said. “Do not forget me.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen Brice never has. Why was it that he walked to the station with a + heavy heart? It was a sense of the man he had left, who had been and was + to be. This Lincoln of the black loam, who built his neighbor's cabin and + hoed his neighbor's corn, who had been storekeeper and postmaster and + flat-boatman. Who had followed a rough judge dealing a rough justice + around a rough circuit; who had rolled a local bully in the dirt; rescued + women from insult; tended the bedside of many a sick coward who feared the + Judgment; told coarse stories on barrels by candlelight (but these are + pure beside the vice of great cities); who addressed political mobs in the + raw, swooping down from the stump and flinging embroilers east and west. + This physician who was one day to tend the sickbed of the Nation in her + agony; whose large hand was to be on her feeble pulse, and whose knowledge + almost divine was to perform the miracle of her healing. So was it that, + the Physician Himself performed His cures, and when work was done, died a + martyr. + </p> + <p> + Abraham Lincoln died in His name + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. GLENCOE + </h2> + <p> + It was nearly noon when Stephen walked into the office the next day, dusty + and travel-worn and perspiring. He had come straight from the ferry, + without going home. And he had visions of a quiet dinner with Richter + under the trees at the beer-garden, where he could talk about Abraham + Lincoln. Had Richter ever heard of Lincoln? + </p> + <p> + But the young German met him at the top of the stair—and his face + was more serious than usual, although he showed his magnificent teeth in a + smile of welcome. + </p> + <p> + “You are a little behind your time, my friend,” said he, “What has + happened you?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't the Judge get Mr. Lincoln's message?” asked Stephen, with anxiety. + </p> + <p> + The German shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I know not,” he answered, “He has gone is Glencoe. The Judge is ill, + Stephen. Doctor Polk says that he has worked all his life too hard. The + Doctor and Colonel Carvel tried to get him to go to Glencoe. But he would + not budge until Miss Carvel herself comes all the way from the country + yesterday, and orders him. Ach!” exclaimed Richter, impulsively, “what + wonderful women you have in America! I could lose my head when I think of + Miss Carvel.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Carvel was here, you say?” Stephen repeated, in a tone of inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “Donner!” said Richter, disgusted, “you don't care.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen laughed, in spite of himself. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I?” he answered. And becoming grave again, added: “Except on + Judge Whipple's account. Have you heard from him to-day, Carl?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning one of Colonel Carvel's servants came for his letters. He + must be feeling better. I—I pray that he is better,” said Richter, + his voice breaking. “He has been very good to me.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen said nothing. But he had been conscious all at once of an + affection for the Judge of which he had not suspected himself. That + afternoon, on his way home, he stopped at Carvel & Company's to + inquire. Mr. Whipple was better, so Mr. Hopper said, and added that he + “presumed likely the Colonel would not be in for a week.” It was then + Saturday. Eliphalet was actually in the Colonel's sanctum behind the + partition, giving orders to several clerks at the time. He was so + prosperous and important that he could scarce spare a moment to answer + Stephen, who went away wondering whether he had been wise to choose the + law. + </p> + <p> + On Monday, when Stephen called at Carvel & Company's, Eliphalet was + too busy to see him. But Ephum, who went out to Glencoe every night with + orders, told him that the “Jedge was wuss, suh.” On Wednesday, there being + little change, Mrs. Brice ventured to despatch a jelly by Ephum. On Friday + afternoon, when Stephen was deep in Whittlesey and the New Code, he became + aware of Ephum standing beside him. In reply to his anxious question Ephum + answered: + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he better, suh. He an' de Colonel done commence wrastlin' 'bout + a man name o' Linkum. De Colonel done wrote you dis note, suh.” + </p> + <p> + It was a very polite note, containing the Colonel's compliments, asking + Mr. Brice to Glencoe that afternoon with whatever papers or letters the + Judge might wish to see. And since there was no convenient train in the + evening, Colonel Carvel would feel honored if Mr. Brice would spend the + night. The Colonel mentioned the train on which Mr. Brice was expected. + </p> + <p> + The Missouri side of the Mississippi is a very different country from the + hot and treeless prairies of Illinois. As Stephen alighted at the little + station at Glencoe and was driven away by Ned in the Colonel's buggy, he + drew in deep breaths of the sweet air of the Meramec Valley. + </p> + <p> + There had been a shower, and the sun glistened on the drops on grass and + flowers, and the great trees hung heavy over the clay road. At last they + came to a white gate in the picket fence, in sight of a rambling wooden + house with a veranda in front covered with honeysuckle. And then he saw + the Colonel, in white marseilles, smoking a cigar. This, indeed, was real + country. + </p> + <p> + As Stephen trod the rough flags between the high grass which led toward + the house, Colonel Carvel rose to his full height and greeted him. + </p> + <p> + “You are very welcome, sir,” he said gravely. “The Judge is asleep now,” + he added. “I regret to say that we had a little argument this morning, and + my daughter tells me it will be well not to excite him again to-day. Jinny + is reading to him now, or she would be here to entertain you, Mr. Brice. + Jackson!” cried Mr. Carvel, “show Mr. Brice to his room.” + </p> + <p> + Jackson appeared hurriedly, seized Stephen's bag, and led the way upstairs + through the cool and darkened house to a pretty little room on the south + side, with matting, and roses on the simple dressing-table. After he had + sat awhile staring at these, and at the wet flower-garden from between the + slats of his shutters, he removed the signs of the railroad upon him, and + descended. The Colonel was still on the porch, in his easy-chair. He had + lighted another, cigar, and on the stand beside him stood two tall + glasses, green with the fresh mint. Colonel Carvel rose, and with his own + hand offered one to Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Your health, Mr. Brice,” he said, “and I hope you will feel at home here, + sir. Jackson will bring you anything you desire, and should you wish to + drive, I shall be delighted to show you the country.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen drank that julep with reverence, and then the Colonel gave him a + cigar. He was quite overcome by this treatment of a penniless young + Yankee. The Colonel did not talk politics—such was not his notion of + hospitality to a stranger. He talked horse, and no great discernment on + Stephen's part was needed to perceive that this was Mr. Carvel's hobby. + </p> + <p> + “I used to have a stable, Mr. Brice, before they ruined gentleman's sport + with these trotters ten years ago. Yes sir, we used to be at Lexington one + week, and Louisville the next, and over here on the Ames track after that. + Did you ever hear of Water Witch and Netty Boone?” + </p> + <p> + Yes, Stephen had, from Mr. Jack Brinsmade. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel's face beamed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir,” he cried, “that very nigger, Ned, who drove you here from the + cars-he used to ride Netty Boone. Would you believe that, Mr. Brice? He + was the best jockey ever strode a horse on the Elleardsville track here. + He wore my yellow and green, sir, until he got to weigh one hundred and a + quarter. And I kept him down to that weight a whole year, Mr. Brice. Yes, + sirree, a whole year.” + </p> + <p> + “Kept him down!” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, sir. I had him wrapped in blankets and set in a chair with + holes bored in the seat. Then we lighted a spirit lamp under him. Many a + time I took off ten pounds that way. It needs fire to get flesh off a + nigger, sir.” + </p> + <p> + He didn't notice his guest's amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir,” he continued, “they introduced these damned trotting races; + trotting races are for white trash, Mr. Brice.” + </p> + <p> + “Pa!” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel stopped short. Stephen was already on his feet. I wish you + could have seen Miss Virginia Carvel as he saw her then. She wore a white + lawn dress. A tea-tray was in her hand, and her head was tilted back, as + women are apt to do when they carry a burden. It was so that these + Southern families, who were so bitter against Abolitionists and Yankees, + entertained them when they were poor, and nursed them when they were ill. + </p> + <p> + Stephen, for his life, could not utter a word. But Virginia turned to him + with perfect self-possession. + </p> + <p> + “He has been boring you with his horses, Mr. Brice,” she said. “Has he + told you what a jockey Ned used to be before he weighed one hundred and a + quarter?” (A laugh.) “Has he given you the points of Water Witch and Netty + Boone?” (More laughter, increasing embarrassment for Stephen.) “Pa, I tell + you once more that you will drive every guest from this house. Your jockey + talk is intolerable.” + </p> + <p> + O that you might have a notion of the way in which Virginia pronounced + intolerable. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carvel reached for another cigar asked, “My dear,” he asked, “how is + the Judge?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said Virginia, smiling, “he is asleep. Mammy Easter is with + him, trying to make out what he is saying. He talks in his sleep, just as + you do—” + </p> + <p> + “And what is he saying?” demanded the Colonel, interested. + </p> + <p> + Virginia set down the tray. + </p> + <p> + “'A house divided against itself,'” said Miss Carvel, with a sweep of her + arm, “'cannot stand. I believe that this Government cannot endure + permanently, half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to + dissolve—I do not expect the house to fall—but I do expect it + will cease to be divided.' Would you like any more?” added Miss Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “No,” cried the Colonel, and banged his fist down on the table. “Why,” + said he, thoughtfully, stroking the white goatee on his chin, “cuss me if + that ain't from the speech that country bumpkin, Lincoln, made in June + last before the Black Republican convention in Illinois.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia broke again into laughter. And Stephen was very near it, for he + loved the Colonel. That gentleman suddenly checked himself in his tirade, + and turned to him. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said; “I reckon that you have the same + political sentiments as the Judge. Believe me, sir, I would not willingly + offend a guest.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen smiled. “I am not offended, sir,” he said. A speech which caused + Mr. Carvel to bestow a quick glance upon him. But Stephen did not see it. + He was looking at Virginia. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel rose. + </p> + <p> + “You will pardon my absence for a while, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “My daughter will entertain you.” + </p> + <p> + In silence they watched him as he strode off under the trees through tall + grass, a yellow setter at his heels. A strange peace was over Stephen. The + shadows of the walnuts and hickories were growing long, and a rich country + was giving up its scent to the evening air. From a cabin behind the house + was wafted the melody of a plantation song. To the young man, after the + burnt city, this was paradise. And then he remembered his mother as she + must be sitting on the tiny porch in town, and sighed. Only two years ago + she had been at their own place at Westbury. + </p> + <p> + He looked up, and saw the girl watching him. He dared not think that the + expression he caught was one of sympathy, for it changed instantly. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you are the silent kind, Mr. Brice,” said she; “I believe it + is a Yankee trait.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I have known a great many who were not,” said he, “When they are + garrulous, they are very much so.” + </p> + <p> + “I should prefer a garrulous one,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “I should think a Yankee were bad enough, but a noisy Yankee not to be put + up with,” he ventured. + </p> + <p> + Virginia did not deign a direct reply to this, save by the corners of her + mouth. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said she, thoughtfully, “whether it is strength of mind or a + lack of ideas that makes them silent.” + </p> + <p> + “It is mostly prudence,” said Mr. Brice. “Prudence is our dominant trait.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia fidgeted. Usually she had an easier time. + </p> + <p> + “You have not always shown it,” she said, with an innocence which in women + is often charged with meaning. + </p> + <p> + Stephen started. Her antagonism was still there. He would have liked + greatly to know whether she referred to his hasty purchase of Hester, or + to his rashness in dancing with her at her party the winter before. + </p> + <p> + “We have something left to be thankful for,” he answered. “We are still + capable of action.” + </p> + <p> + “On occasions it is violence,” said Virginia, desperately. This man must + not get ahead of her. + </p> + <p> + “It is just as violent,” said he, “as the repressed feeling which prompts + it.” + </p> + <p> + This was a new kind of conversation to Virginia. Of all the young men she + knew, not one had ever ventured into anything of the sort. They were + either flippant, or sentimental, or both. She was at once flattered and + annoyed, flattered, because, as a woman, Stephen had conceded her a mind. + Many of the young men she knew had minds, but deemed that these were + wasted on women, whose language was generally supposed to be a kind of + childish twaddle. Even Jack Brinsmade rarely risked his dignity and + reputation at an intellectual tilt. This was one of Virginia's grievances. + She often argued with her father, and, if the truth were told, had had + more than one victory over Judge Whipple. + </p> + <p> + Virginia's annoyance came from the fact that she perceived in Stephen a + natural and merciless logic,—a faculty for getting at the bottom of + things. His brain did not seem to be thrown out of gear by local magnetic + influences,—by beauty, for instance. He did not lose his head, as + did some others she knew, at the approach of feminine charms. Here was a + grand subject, then, to try the mettle of any woman. One with less mettle + would have given it up. But Virginia thought it would be delightful to + bring this particular Yankee to his knees; and—and leave him there. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brice,” she said, “I have not spoken to you since the night of my + party. I believe we danced together.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we did,” said he, “and I called, but was unfortunate.” + </p> + <p> + “You called?” + </p> + <p> + Ah, Virginia! + </p> + <p> + “They did not tell you!” cried Stephen. + </p> + <p> + Now Miss Carvel was complacency itself. + </p> + <p> + “Jackson is so careless with cards,” said she, “and very often I do not + take the trouble to read them.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry,” said he, “as I wished for the opportunity to tell you how + much I enjoyed myself. I have found everybody in St. Louis very kind to + strangers.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia was nearly disarmed. She remembered how, she had opposed his + coning. But honesty as well as something else prompted her to say: “It was + my father who invited you.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen did not reveal the shock his vanity had received. + </p> + <p> + “At least you were good enough to dance with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I could scarcely refuse a guest,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + He held up his head. + </p> + <p> + “Had I thought it would have given you annoyance,” he said quietly, “I + should not have asked you.” + </p> + <p> + “Which would have been a lack of good manners,” said Virginia, biting her + lips. + </p> + <p> + Stephen answered nothing, but wished himself in St. Louis. He could not + comprehend her cruelty. But, just then, the bell rang for supper, and the + Colonel appeared around the end of the house. + </p> + <p> + It was one of those suppers for which the South is renowned. And when at + length he could induce Stephen to eat no more, Colonel Carvel reached for + his broad-brimmed felt hat, and sat smoking, with his feet against the + mantle. Virginia, who had talked but little, disappeared with a tray on + which she had placed with her own hands some dainties to tempt the Judge. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel regaled Stephen, when she was gone, with the pedigree and + performance of every horse he had had in his stable. And this was a + relief, as it gave him an opportunity to think without interruption upon + Virginia's pronounced attitude of dislike. To him it was inconceivable + that a young woman of such qualities as she appeared to have, should + assail him so persistently for freeing a negress, and so depriving her of + a maid she had set her heart upon. There were other New England young men + in society. Mr. Weston and Mr. Carpenter, and more. They were not her + particular friends, to be sure. But they called on her and danced with + her, and she had shown them not the least antipathy. But it was to + Stephen's credit that he did not analyze her further. + </p> + <p> + He was reflecting on these things when he got to his room, when there came + a knock at the door. It was Mammy Easter, in bright turban and apron,—was + hospitality and comfort in the flesh. + </p> + <p> + “Is you got all you need, suh?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + Stephen replied that he had. But Mammy showed no inclination to go, and he + was too polite to shut the door: + </p> + <p> + “How you like Glencoe, Mistah Bride?” + </p> + <p> + He was charmed with it. + </p> + <p> + “We has some of de fust fam'lies out heah in de summer,” said she. “But de + Colonel, he a'n't much on a gran' place laik in Kaintuck. Shucks, no, suh, + dis ain't much of a 'stablishment! Young Massa won't have no lawns, no + greenhouses, no nothin'. He say he laik it wil' and simple. He on'y come + out fo' two months, mebbe. But Miss Jinny, she make it lively. Las' week, + until the Jedge come we hab dis house chuck full, two-three young ladies + in a room, an' five young gemmen on trunnle beds.” + </p> + <p> + “Until the Judge came?” echoed Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Yassuh. Den Miss Jinny low dey all hatter go. She say she a'n't gwineter + have 'em noun' 'sturbin' a sick man. De Colonel 'monstrated. He done give + the Judge his big room, and he say he and de young men gwine ober to + Mista, Catherwood's. You a'n't never seen Miss Jinny rise up, suh! She des + swep' 'em all out” (Mammy emphasized this by rolling her hands) “an' + declah she gwine ten' to the Jedge herself. She a'n't never let me bring + up one of his meals, suh.” And so she left Stephen with some food for + reflection. + </p> + <p> + Virginia was very gay at breakfast, and said that the Judge would see + Stephen; so he and the Colonel, that gentleman with his hat on, went up to + his room. The shutters were thrown open, and the morning sunlight filtered + through the leaves and fell on the four-poster where the Judge sat up, + gaunt and grizzled as ever. He smiled at his host, and then tried to + destroy immediately the effect of the smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Judge,” cried the Colonel, taking his hand, “I reckon we talked too + much.” + </p> + <p> + “No such thing, Carvel,” said the Judge, forcibly, “if you hadn't left the + room, your popular sovereignty would have been in rags in two minutes.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen sat down in a corner, unobserved, in expectation of a renewal. But + at this moment Miss Virginia swept into the room, very cool in a pink + muslin. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Carvel,” said she, sternly, “I am the doctor's deputy here. I was + told to keep the peace at any cost. And if you answer back, out you go, + like that!” and she snapped her fingers. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel laughed. But the Judge, whose mind was on the argument, + continued to mutter defiantly until his eye fell upon Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, well, sir,” he said, “you've turned up at last, have you? I + send you off with papers for a man, and I get back a piece of yellow paper + saying that he's borrowed you. What did he do with you, Mr. Brice?” + </p> + <p> + “He took me to Freeport, sir, where I listened to the most remarkable + speech I ever expect to hear.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried the Judge, “so far from Boston?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen hesitated, uncertain whether to laugh, until he chanced to look at + Virginia. She had pursed her lips. + </p> + <p> + “I was very much surprised, sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” grunted Mr. Whipple, “and what did you chink of that ruffian, + Lincoln?” + </p> + <p> + “He is the most remarkable man that I have ever met, sir,” answered + Stephen, with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “Humph!” + </p> + <p> + It seemed as if the grunt this time had in it something of approval. + Stephen had doubt as to the propriety of discussing Mr. Lincoln there, and + he reddened. Virginia's expression bore a trace of defiance, and Mr. + Carvel stood with his feet apart, thoughtfully stroking his goatee. But + Mr. Whipple seemed to have no scruples. + </p> + <p> + “So you admired Lincoln, Mr. Brice?” he went on. “You must agree with that + laudatory estimation of him which I read in the Missouri Democrat.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen fidgeted. + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir, most decidedly,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “I should hardly expect a conservative Bostonian, of the class which + respects property, to have said that. It might possibly be a good thing if + more from your town could hear those debates.” + </p> + <p> + “They will read them, sir; I feel confident of it.” + </p> + <p> + At this point the Colonel could contain himself no longer. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I might tell the man who wrote that Democrat article a few + things, if I could find out who he is,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Pa!” said Virginia, warningly. + </p> + <p> + But Stephen had turned a fiery red, “I wrote it, Colonel Carvel,” he said. + </p> + <p> + For a dubious instant of silence Colonel Carvel stared. Then—then he + slapped his knees, broke into a storm of laughter, and went out of the + room. He left Stephen in a moist state of discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + The Judge had bolted upright from the pillows. + </p> + <p> + “You have been neglecting your law, sir,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “I wrote the article at night,” said Stephen, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “Then it must have been Sunday night, Mr. Brice.” + </p> + <p> + At this point Virginia hid her face in her handkerchief which trembled + visibly. Being a woman, whose ways are unaccountable, the older man took + no notice of her. But being a young woman, and a pretty one, Stephen was + angry. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see what right you have to ask me that sir,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “The question is withdrawn, Mr. Brice,” said the Judge, “Virginia, you may + strike it from the records. And now, sir, tell me something about your + trip.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia departed. + </p> + <p> + An hour later Stephen descended to the veranda, and it was with + apprehension that he discerned Mr. Carvel seated under the vines at the + far end. Virginia was perched on the railing. + </p> + <p> + To Stephen's surprise the Colonel rose, and, coming toward him, laid a + kindly hand on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen,” said he, “there will be no law until Monday you must stay with + us until then. A little rest will do you good.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen was greatly touched. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I should like to very much. But I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said the Colonel. “I won't let the Judge interfere.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't that, sir. I shall have to go by the two o'clock train, I fear.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel turned to Virginia, who, meanwhile, had sat silently by. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny,” he said, “we must contrive to keep him.” + </p> + <p> + She slid off the railing. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid he is determined, Pa,” she answered. “But perhaps Mr. Brice + would like to see a little of the place before he goes. It is very + primitive,” she explained, “not much like yours in the East.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen thanked her, and bowed to the Colonel. And so she led him past the + low, crooked outbuildings at the back, where he saw old Uncle Ben busy + over the preparation of his dinner, and frisky Rosetta, his daughter, + playing with one of the Colonel's setters. Then Virginia took a well-worn + path, on each side of which the high grass bent with its load of seed, + which entered the wood. Oaks and hickories and walnuts and persimmons + spread out in a glade, and the wild grape twisted fantastically around the + trunks. All this beauty seemed but a fit setting to the strong girlish + figure in the pink frock before him. So absorbed was he in contemplation + of this, and in wondering whether indeed she were to marry her cousin, + Clarence Colfax, that he did not see the wonders of view unrolling in + front of him. She stopped at length beside a great patch of wild race + bushes. They were on the edge of the bluff, and in front of them a little + rustic summer-house, with seats on its five sides. Here Virginia sat down. + But Stephen, going to the edge, stood and marvelled. Far, far below him, + down the wooded steep, shot the crystal Meramec, chafing over the shallow + gravel beds and tearing headlong at the deep passes. + </p> + <p> + Beyond, the dimpled green hills rose and fell, and the stream ran indigo + and silver. A hawk soared over the water, the only living creature in all + that wilderness. + </p> + <p> + The glory of the place stirred his blood. And when at length he turned, he + saw that the girl was watching him. + </p> + <p> + “It is very beautiful,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Virginia had taken other young men here, and they had looked only upon + her. And yet she was not offended. This sincerity now was as new to her as + that with which he had surprised her in the Judge's room. + </p> + <p> + And she was not quite at her ease. A reply to those simple words of his + was impossible. At honest Tom Catherwood in the same situation she would + have laughed, Clarence never so much as glanced at scenery. Her replies to + him were either flippant, or else maternal, as to a child. + </p> + <p> + A breeze laden with the sweet abundance of that valley stirred her hair. + And with that womanly gesture which has been the same through the ages she + put up her hand; deftly tucking in the stray wisp behind. + </p> + <p> + She glanced at the New Englander, against whom she had been in strange + rebellion since she had first seen him. His face, thinned by the summer in + town, was of the sternness of the Puritan. Stephen's features were sharply + marked for his age. The will to conquer was there. Yet justice was in the + mouth, and greatness of heart. Conscience was graven on the broad + forehead. The eyes were the blue gray of the flint, kindly yet + imperishable. The face was not handsome. + </p> + <p> + Struggling, then yielding to the impulse, Virginia let herself be led on + into the years. Sanity was the word that best described him. She saw him + trusted of men, honored of women, feared by the false. She saw him in high + places, simple, reserved, poised evenly as he was now. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you go in this afternoon?” she asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + He started at the change in her tone. + </p> + <p> + “I wish that I might stay,” he said regretfully. “But I cannot, Miss + Carvel.” + </p> + <p> + He gave no reason. And she was too proud to ask it. Never before had she + stooped to urge young men to stay. The difficulty had always been to get + them to go. It was natural, perhaps, that her vanity was wounded. But it + hurt her to think that she had made the overture, had tried to conquer + whatever it was that set her against him, and had failed through him. + </p> + <p> + “You must find the city attractive. Perhaps,” she added, with a little + laugh, “perhaps it is Bellefontaine Road.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Then” (with a touch of derision), “then it is because you cannot miss an + afternoon's work. You are that kind.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not always that kind,” he answered. “I did not work at Harvard. But + now I have to or—or starve,” he said. + </p> + <p> + For the second time his complete simplicity had disarmed her. He had not + appealed to her sympathy, nor had he hinted at the luxury in which he was + brought up. She would have liked to question Stephen on this former life. + But she changed the subject suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “What did you really think of Mr. Lincoln?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I thought him the ugliest man I ever saw, and the handsomest as well.” + </p> + <p> + “But you admired him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Stephen, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “You believe with him that this government cannot exist half slave and + half free. Then a day will come, Mr. Brice, when you and I shall be + foreigners one to the other.” + </p> + <p> + “You have forgotten,” he said eagerly, “you have forgotten the rest of the + quotation. 'I do not expect the Union to be dissolved—I do not + expect the house to fall—but cease to be divided.' It will become + all one thing or all the other.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia laughed. “That seemed to me very equivocal,” said she. “Your + rail-sputter is well named.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you read the rest of that speech?” he asked + </p> + <p> + “Judge Whipple is very clever. He has made a convert of you,” she + answered. + </p> + <p> + “The Judge has had nothing to do with it,” cried Stephen. “He is not given + to discussion with me, and until I went to Springfield had never mentioned + Lincoln's name to me.” + </p> + <p> + Glancing at her, he surprised a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. Then she + laughed openly. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you suppose that you were sent to Springfield?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “With an important communication for Mr. Lincoln,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “And that most important communication was—your self. There, now, I + have told you,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “Was myself? I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia puckered her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Then you haven't the sense I thought you had,” she replied impatiently. + “Do you know what was in that note? No? Well, a year ago last June this + Black Republican lawyer whom you are all talking of made a speech before a + convention in Illinois. Judge Whipple has been crazy on the subject ever + since—he talks of Lincoln in his sleep; he went to Springfield and + spent two days with him, and now he can't rest until you have seen and + known and heard him. So he writes a note to Lincoln and asks him to take + you to the debate—” + </p> + <p> + She paused again to laugh at his amazement. + </p> + <p> + “But he told me to go to Springfield!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “He told you to find Lincoln. He knew that you would obey his orders, I + suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “But I didn't know—” Stephen began, trying to come pass within an + instant the memory of his year's experience with Mr. Whipple. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't know that he thought anything about you,” said Virginia. “That + is his way, Mr. Brice. He has more private charities on his list than any + man in the city except Mr. Brinsmade. Very few know it. He thinks a great + deal of you. But there,” she added, suddenly blushing crimson, “I am sorry + I told you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, but sat tapping the seat with her fingers. And when + she ventured to look at him, he had fallen into thought. + </p> + <p> + “I think it must be time for dinner,” said Virginia, “if you really wish + to catch the train.” + </p> + <p> + The coldness in her voice, rather than her words, aroused him. He rose, + took one lingering look at the river, and followed her to the house. + </p> + <p> + At dinner, when not talking about his mare, the Colonel was trying to + persuade Stephen to remain. Virginia did not join in this, and her father + thought the young man's refusal sprang from her lack of cordiality. + Colonel Carvel himself drove to the station. + </p> + <p> + When he returned, he found his daughter sitting idly on the porch. + </p> + <p> + “I like that young man, if he is a Yankee,” he declared. + </p> + <p> + “I don't,” said Virginia, promptly. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” said her father, voicing the hospitality of the Carvels, “I am + surprised at you. One should never show one's feelings toward a guest. As + mistress of this house it was your duty to press him to stay.” + </p> + <p> + “He did not want to stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know why he went, my dear,” asked the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “I asked him,” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Pa! I did not think it of you!” she cried. And then, “What was it?” she + demanded. + </p> + <p> + “He said that his mother was alone in town, and needed him.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia got up without a word, and went into Judge Whipple's room. And + there the Colonel found her some hours later, reading aloud from a + scrap-book certain speeches of Mr. Lincoln's which Judge Whipple had cut + from newspapers. And the Judge, lying back with his eyes half closed, was + listening in pure delight. Little did he guess at Virginia's penance! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Volume 4. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. AN EXCURSION + </h2> + <p> + I am going ahead two years. Two years during which a nation struggled in + agony with sickness, and even the great strength with which she was + endowed at birth was not equal to the task of throwing it off. In 1620 a + Dutch ship had brought from Guinea to his Majesty's Colony of Virginia the + germs of that disease for which the Nation's blood was to be let so + freely. During these years signs of dissolution, of death, were not + wanting. + </p> + <p> + In the city by the Father of Waters where the races met, men and women + were born into the world, who were to die in ancient Cuba, who were to be + left fatherless in the struggle soon to come, who were to live to see new + monsters rise to gnaw at the vitals of the Republic, and to hear again the + cynical laugh of Europe. But they were also to see their country a power + in the world, perchance the greatest power. While Europe had wrangled, the + child of the West had grown into manhood and taken a seat among the + highest, to share with them the responsibilities of manhood. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, Stephen Brice had been given permission to practise law in the + sovereign state of Missouri. Stephen understood Judge Whipple better. It + cannot be said that he was intimate with that rather formidable personage, + although the Judge, being a man of habits, had formed that of taking tea + at least once a week with Mrs. Brice. Stephen had learned to love the + Judge, and he had never ceased to be grateful to him for a knowledge of + that man who had had the most influence upon his life,—Abraham + Lincoln. + </p> + <p> + For the seed, sowed in wisdom and self-denial, was bearing fruit. The + sound of gathering conventions was in the land, and the Freeport Heresy + was not for gotten. + </p> + <p> + We shall not mention the number of clients thronging to Mr. Whipple's + office to consult Mr. Brice. These things are humiliating. Some of + Stephen's income came from articles in the newspapers of that day. What + funny newspapers they were, the size of a blanket! No startling headlines + such as we see now, but a continued novel among the advertisements on the + front page and verses from some gifted lady of the town, signed Electra. + And often a story of pure love, but more frequently of ghosts or other + eerie phenomena taken from a magazine, or an anecdote of a cat or a + chicken. There were letters from citizens who had the mania of print, + bulletins of different ages from all parts of the Union, clippings out of + day-before-yesterday's newspaper of Chicago or Cincinnati to three-weeks + letters from San Francisco, come by the pony post to Lexington and then + down the swift Missouri. Of course, there was news by telegraph, but that + was precious as fine gold,—not to be lightly read and cast aside. + </p> + <p> + In the autumn of '59, through the kindness of Mr. Brinsmade, Stephen had + gone on a steamboat up the river to a great convention in Iowa. On this + excursion was much of St. Louis's bluest blood. He widened his circle of + acquaintances, and spent much of his time walking the guards between Miss + Anne Brinsmade and Miss Puss Russell. Perhaps it is unfair to these young + ladies to repeat what they said about Stephen in the privacy of their + staterooms, gentle Anne remonstrating that they should not gossip, and + listening eagerly the while, and laughing at Miss Puss, whose mimicry of + Stephen's severe ways brought tears to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Clarence Colfax was likewise on the boat, and passing Stephen on the + guards, bowed distantly. But once, on the return trip, when Stephen had a + writing pad on his knee, the young Southerner came up to him in his + frankest manner and with an expression of the gray eyes which was not to + be withstood. + </p> + <p> + “Making a case, Brice?” he said. “I hear you are the kind that cannot be + idle even on a holiday.” + </p> + <p> + “Not as bad as all that,” replied Stephen, smiling at him. + </p> + <p> + “Reckon you keep a diary, then,” said Clarence, leaning against the rail. + He made a remarkably graceful figure, Stephen thought. He was tall, and + his movements had what might be called a commanding indolence. Stephen, + while he smiled, could not but admire the tone and gesture with which + Colfax bade a passing negro to get him a handkerchief from his cabin. The + alacrity of the black to do the errand was amusing enough. Stephen well + knew it had not been such if he wanted a handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + Stephen said it was not a diary. Mr. Colfax was too well bred to inquire + further; so he never found out that Mr. Brice was writing an account of + the Convention and the speechmaking for the Missouri Democrat. + </p> + <p> + “Brice,” said the Southerner, “I want to apologize for things I've done to + you and said about you. I hated you for a long time after you beat me out + of Hester, and—” he hesitated. + </p> + <p> + Stephen looked up. For the first time he actually liked Colfax. He had + been long enough among Colfax's people to understand how difficult it was + for him to say the thing he wished. + </p> + <p> + “You may remember a night at my uncle's, Colonel Carvel's, on the occasion + of my cousin's birthday?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Stephen, in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” blurted Clarence, boyishly, “I was rude to you in my uncle's + house, and I have since been sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “He held out his hand, and Stephen took it warmly. + </p> + <p> + “I was younger then, Mr. Colfax,” he said, “and I didn't understand your + point of view as well as I do now. Not that I have changed my ideas,” he + added quickly, “but the notion of the girl's going South angered me. I was + bidding against the dealer rather than against you. Had I then known Miss + Carvel—” he stopped abruptly. + </p> + <p> + The winning expression died from the face of the other. + </p> + <p> + He turned away, and leaning across the rail, stared at the high bluffs, + red-bronzed by the autumn sun. A score of miles beyond that precipice was + a long low building of stone, surrounded by spreading trees,—the + school for young ladies, celebrated throughout the West, where our mothers + and grandmothers were taught,—Monticello. Hither Miss Virginia + Carvel had gone, some thirty days since, for her second winter. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Stephen guessed the thought in the mind of his companion, for he + stared also. The music in the cabin came to an abrupt pause, and only the + tumbling of waters through the planks of the great wheels broke the + silence. They were both startled by laughter at their shoulders. There + stood Miss Russell, the picture of merriment, her arm locked in Anne + Brinsmade's. + </p> + <p> + “It is the hour when all devout worshippers turn towards the East,” she + said. “The goddess is enshrined at Monticello.” + </p> + <p> + Both young men, as they got to their feet, were crimson. Whereupon Miss + Russell laughed again. Anne, however, blushed for them. But this was not + the first time Miss Russell had gone too far. Young Mr. Colfax, with the + excess of manner which was his at such times, excused himself and left + abruptly. This to the further embarrassment of Stephen and Anne, and the + keener enjoyment of Miss Russell. + </p> + <p> + “Was I not right, Mr. Brice?” she demanded. “Why, you are even writing + verses to her!” + </p> + <p> + “I scarcely know Miss Carvel,” he said, recovering. “And as for writing + verse—” + </p> + <p> + “You never did such a thing in your life! I can well believe it.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Russell made a face in the direction Colfax had taken. + </p> + <p> + “He always acts like that when you mention her,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “But you are so cruel, Puss,” said Anne. “You can't blame him.” + </p> + <p> + “Hairpins!” said Miss Russell. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't she to marry him?” said Stephen, in his natural voice. + </p> + <p> + He remembered his pronouns too late. + </p> + <p> + “That has been the way of the world ever since Adam and Eve,” remarked + Puss. “I suppose you meant to ask: Mr. Brice, whether Clarence is to marry + Virginia Carvel.” + </p> + <p> + Anne nudged her. + </p> + <p> + “My dear, what will Mr. Brice think of us?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Mr. Brice,” Puss continued, undaunted. “I shall tell you some + gossip. Virginia was sent to Monticello, and went with her father to + Kentucky and Pennsylvania this summer, that she might be away from + Clarence. Colfax.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Puss!” cried Anne. + </p> + <p> + Miss Russell paid not the slightest heed. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Carvel is right,” she went on. “I should do the same thing. They + are first cousins, and the Colonel doesn't like that. I am fond of + Clarence. But he isn't good for anything in the world except horse racing + and—and fighting. He wanted to help drive the Black Republican + emigrants out of Kansas, and his mother had to put a collar and chain on + him. He wanted to go filibustering with Walker, and she had to get down on + her knees. And yet,” she cried, “if you Yankees push us as far as war, Mr. + Brice, just look out for him.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” Anne interposed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know what you are going to say,—that Clarence has money.” + </p> + <p> + “Puss!” cried Anne, outraged. “How dare you!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Russell slipped an arm around her waist. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Anne,” she said, “we mustn't interrupt the Senator any longer. He + is preparing his maiden speech.” + </p> + <p> + That was the way in which Stephen got his nickname. It is scarcely + necessary to add that he wrote no more until he reached his little room in + the house on Olive Street. + </p> + <p> + They had passed Alton, and the black cloud that hung in the still autumn + air over the city was in sight. It was dusk when the 'Jackson' pushed her + nose into the levee, and the song of the negro stevedores rose from below + as they pulled the gang-plank on to the landing-stage. Stephen stood apart + on the hurricane deck, gazing at the dark line of sooty warehouses. How + many young men with their way to make have felt the same as he did after + some pleasant excursion. The presence of a tall form beside him shook him + from his revery, and he looked up to recognize the benevolent face of Mr. + Brinsmade. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Brice may be anxious, Stephen, at the late hour,” said he. “My + carriage is here, and it will give me great pleasure to convey you to your + door.” + </p> + <p> + Dear Mr. Brinsmade! He is in heaven now, and knows at last the good he + wrought upon earth. Of the many thoughtful charities which Stephen + received from him, this one sticks firmest in his remembrance: A stranger, + tired and lonely, and apart from the gay young men and women who stepped + from the boat, he had been sought out by this gentleman, to whom had been + given the divine gift of forgetting none. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Puss,” cried Anne, that evening, for Miss Russell had come to spend + the night, “how could you have talked to him so? He scarcely spoke on the + way up in the carriage. You have offended him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I set him upon a pedestal?” said Puss, with a thread in her + mouth; “why should you all set him upon a pedestal? He is only a Yankee,” + said Puss, tossing her head, “and not so very wonderful.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not say he was wonderful,” replied Anne, with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “But you girls think him so. Emily and Eugenie and Maude. He had better + marry Belle Cluyme. A great man, he may give some decision to that family. + Anne!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I tell you a secret?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Anne. She was human, and she was feminine. + </p> + <p> + “Then—Virginia Carvel is in love with him.” + </p> + <p> + “With Mr. Brice!” cried astonished Anne. “She hates him!” + </p> + <p> + “She thinks she hates him,” said Miss Russell, calmly. + </p> + <p> + Anne looked up at her companion admiringly. Her two heroines were Puss and + Virginia. Both had the same kind of daring, but in Puss the trait had + developed into a somewhat disagreeable outspokenness which made many + people dislike her. Her judgments were usually well founded, and her + prophecies had so often come to pass that Anne often believed in them for + no other reason. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” said Anne, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember that September, a year ago, when we were all out at + Glencoe, and Judge Whipple was ill, and Virginia sent us all away and + nursed him herself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Anne. + </p> + <p> + “And did you know that Mr. Brice had gone out, with letters, when the + Judge was better?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Anne, breathless. + </p> + <p> + “It was a Saturday afternoon that he left, although they had begged him to + stay over Sunday. Virginia had written for me to come back, and I arrived + in the evening. I asked Easter where Jinny was, and I found her—” + </p> + <p> + “You found her—?” said Anne. + </p> + <p> + Sitting alone in the summer-house over the river. Easter said she had been + there for two hours. And I have never known Jinny to be such miserable + company as she was that night. + </p> + <p> + “Did she mention Stephen?” asked Anne. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “But you did,” said Anne, with conviction. + </p> + <p> + Miss Russell's reply was not as direct as usual. + </p> + <p> + “You know Virginia never confides unless she wants to,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Anne considered. + </p> + <p> + “Virginia has scarcely seen him since then,” she said. “You know that I + was her room-mate at Monticello last year, and I think I should have + discovered it.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she speak of him?” demanded Miss Russell. + </p> + <p> + “Only when the subject was mentioned. I heard her repeat once what Judge + Whipple told her father of him; that he had a fine legal mind. He was + often in my letters from home, because they have taken Pa's house next + door, and because Pa likes them. I used to read those letters to Jinny,” + said Anne, “but she never expressed any desire to hear them.” + </p> + <p> + “I, too, used to write Jinny about him,” confessed Puss. + </p> + <p> + “Did she answer your letter?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Miss Puss,—“but that was just before the holidays, you + remember. And then the Colonel hurried her off to see her Pennsylvania + relatives, and I believe they went to Annapolis, too, where the Carvels + come from.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen, sitting in the next house, writing out his account, little + dreamed that he was the subject of a conference in the third story front + of the Brinsmades'. Later, when the young ladies were asleep, he carried + his manuscript to the Democrat office, and delivered it into the hands of + his friend, the night editor, who was awaiting it. + </p> + <p> + Toward the end of that week, Miss Virginia Carvel was sitting with her + back to one of the great trees at Monticello reading a letter. Every once + in a while she tucked it under her cloak and glanced hastily around. It + was from Miss Anne Brinsmade. + </p> + <p> + “I have told you all about the excursion, my dear, and how we missed you. + You may remember” (ah, Anne, the guile there is in the best of us), “you + may remember Mr. Stephen Brice, whom we used to speak of. Pa and Ma take a + great interest in him, and Pa had him invited on the excursion. He is more + serious than ever, since he has become a full-fledged lawyer. But he has a + dry humor which comes out when you know him well, of which I did not + suspect him. His mother is the dearest lady I have ever known, so quiet, + so dignified, and so well bred. They come in to supper very often. And the + other night Mr. Brice told Pa so many things about the people south of + Market Street, the Germans, which he did not know; that Pa was astonished. + He told all about German history, and how they were persecuted at home, + and why they came here. Pa was surprised to hear that many of them were + University men, and that they were already organizing to defend the Union. + I heard Pa say, 'That is what Mr. Blair meant when he assured me that we + need not fear for the city.' + </p> + <p> + “Jinny dear, I ought not to have written you this, because you are for + Secession, and in your heart you think Pa a traitor, because he comes from + a slave state and has slaves of his own. But I shall not tear it up. + </p> + <p> + “It is sad to think how rich Mrs. Brice lived in Boston, and what she has + had to come to. One servant and a little house, and no place to go to in + the summer, when they used to have such a large one. I often go in to sew + with her, but she has never once mentioned her past to me. + </p> + <p> + “Your father has no doubt sent you the Democrat with the account of the + Convention. It is the fullest published, by far, and was so much admired + that Pa asked the editor who wrote it. Who do you think, but Stephen + Brice! So now Pa knows why Mr. Brice hesitated when Pa asked him to go up + the river, and then consented. This is not the end. Yesterday, when I went + in to see Mrs. Brice, a new black silk was on her bed, and as long as I + live I shall never forget how sweet was her voice when she said, 'It is a + surprise from my son, my dear. I did not expect ever to have another.' + Jinny, I just know he bought it with the money he got for the article. + That was what he was writing on the boat when Clarence Colfax interrupted + him. Puss accused him of writing verses to you.” + </p> + <p> + At this point Miss Virginia Carvel stopped reading. Whether she had read + that part before, who shall say? But she took Anne's letter between her + fingers and tore it into bits and flung the bits into the wind, so that + they were tossed about and lost among the dead leaves under the great + trees. And when she reached her room, there was the hated Missouri + Democrat lying, still open, on her table. A little later a great black + piece of it came tossing out of the chimney above, to the affright of + little Miss Brown, teacher of Literature, who was walking in the grounds, + and who ran to the principal's room with the story that the chimney was + afire. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE COLONEL IS WARNED + </h2> + <p> + It is difficult to refrain from mention of the leave-taking of Miss + Virginia Carvel from the Monticello “Female Seminary,” so called in the + 'Democrat'. Most young ladies did not graduate in those days. There were + exercises. Stephen chanced to read in the 'Republican' about these + ceremonies, which mentioned that Miss Virginia Carvel, “Daughter of + Colonel Comyn Carvel, was without doubt the beauty of the day. She wore—” + but why destroy the picture? I have the costumes under my hand. The words + are meaningless to all males, and young women might laugh at a critical + time. Miss Emily Russell performed upon “that most superb of all musical + instruments the human voice.” Was it 'Auld Robin Gray' that she sang? I am + sure it was Miss Maude Catherwood who recited 'To My Mother', with such + effect. Miss Carvel, so Stephen learned with alarm, was to read a poem by + Mrs. Browning, but was “unavoidably prevented.” The truth was, as he heard + afterward from Miss Puss Russell, that Miss Jinny had refused point blank. + So the Lady Principal, to save her reputation for discipline, had been + forced to deceive the press. + </p> + <p> + There was another who read the account of the exercises with intense + interest, a gentleman of whom we have lately forborne to speak. This is + Mr. Eliphalet Hopper. Eliphalet has prospered. It is to be doubted if that + somewhat easy-going gentleman, Colonel Carvel, realized the full + importance of Eliphalet to Carvel & Company. Mr. Hood had been + superseded. Ephum still opened the store in the mornings, but Mr. Hopper + was within the ground-glass office before the place was warm, and through + warerooms and shipping rooms, rubbing his hands, to see if any were late. + Many of the old force were missed, and a new and greater force were come + in. These feared Eliphalet as they did the devil, and worked the harder to + please him, because Eliphalet had hired that kind. To them the Colonel was + lifted high above the sordid affairs of the world. He was at the store + every day in the winter, and Mr. Hopper always followed him obsequiously + into the ground-glass office, called in the book-keeper, and showed him + the books and the increased earnings. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel thought of Mr. Hood and his slovenly management, and sighed, + in spite of his doubled income. Mr. Hopper had added to the Company's list + of customers whole districts in the growing Southwest, and yet the honest + Colonel did not like him. Mr. Hopper, by a gradual process, had taken upon + his own shoulders, and consequently off the Colonel's, responsibility + after responsibility. There were some painful scenes, of course, such as + the departure of Mr. Hood, which never would have occurred had not + Eliphalet proved without question the incapacity of the ancient manager. + Mr. Hopper only narrowed his lids when the Colonel pensioned Mr. Hood. But + the Colonel had a will before which, when roused, even Mr. Hopper + trembled. So that Eliphalet was always polite to Ephum, and careful never + to say anything in the darkey's presence against incompetent clerks or + favorite customers, who, by the charity of the Colonel, remained on his + books. + </p> + <p> + One spring day, after the sober home-coming of Colonel Carvel from the + Democratic Convention at Charleston, Ephum accosted his master as he came + into the store of a morning. Ephum's face was working with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with you, Ephum?” asked the Colonel, kindly. “You + haven't been yourself lately.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Marsa, I ain't 'zactly.” + </p> + <p> + Ephum put down the duster, peered out of the door of the private office, + and closed it softly. + </p> + <p> + “Marse Comyn?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Marse Comyn, I ain't got no use fo' dat Misteh Hoppa', Ise kinder + sup'stitious 'bout him, Marsa.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel put down his newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “Has he treated you badly, Ephum?” he asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + The faithful negro saw another question in his master's face. He well knew + that Colonel Carvel would not descend to ask an inferior concerning the + conduct of a superior. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, suh. And I ain't sayin' nuthin' gin his honesty. He straight, but + he powerful sharp, Marse Comyn. An' he jus' mussiless down to a cent.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel sighed. He realized that which was beyond the grasp of the + negro's mind. New and thriftier methods of trade from New England were + fast replacing the old open-handedness of the large houses. Competition + had begun, and competition is cruel. Edwards, James, & Company had + taken a Yankee into the firm. They were now Edwards, James, & + Doddington, and Mr. Edwards's coolness towards the Colonel was manifest + since the rise of Eliphalet. They were rivals now instead of friends. But + Colonel Carvel did not know until after years that Mr. Hopper had been + offered the place which Mr. Doddington filled later. + </p> + <p> + As for Mr. Hopper, increase of salary had not changed him. He still lived + in the same humble way, in a single room in Miss Crane's boarding-house, + and he paid very little more for his board than he had that first week in + which he swept out Colonel Carvel's store. He was superintendent, now, of + Mr. Davitt's Sunday School, and a church officer. At night, when he came + home from business, he would read the widow's evening paper, and the + Colonel's morning paper at the office. Of true Puritan abstemiousness, his + only indulgence was chewing tobacco. It was as early as 1859 that the + teller of the Boatman's Bank began to point out Mr. Hopper's back to + casual customers, and he was more than once seen to enter the president's + room, which had carpet on the floor. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet's suavity with certain delinquent customers from the Southwest + was A wording to Scripture. When they were profane, and invited him into + the street, he reminded them that the city had a police force and a jail. + While still a young man, he had a manner of folding his hands and smiling + which is peculiar to capitalists, and he knew the laws concerning + mortgages in several different states. + </p> + <p> + But Eliphalet was content still to remain in the sphere in which + Providence had placed him, and so to be an example for many of us. He did + not buy, or even hire, an evening suit. He was pleased to superintend some + of the details for a dance at Christmas-time before Virginia left + Monticello, but he sat as usual on the stair-landing. There Mr. Jacob + Cluyme (who had been that day in conversation with the teller of the + Boatman's Bank) chanced upon him. Mr. Cluyme was so charmed at the + facility with which Eliphalet recounted the rise and fall of sugar and + cotton and wheat that he invited Mr. Hopper to dinner. And from this meal + may be reckoned the first appearance of the family of which Eliphalet + Hopper was the head into polite society. If the Cluyme household was not + polite, it was nothing. Eliphalet sat next to Miss Belle, and heard the + private history of many old families, which he cherished for future use. + Mrs. Cluyme apologized for the dinner, which (if the truth were told) + needed an apology. All of which is significant, but sordid and + uninteresting. Jacob Cluyme usually bought stocks before a rise. + </p> + <p> + There was only one person who really bothered Eliphalet as he rose into + prominence, and that person was Captain Elijah Brent. If, upon entering + the ground-glass office, he found Eliphalet without the Colonel, Captain + Lige would walk out again just as if the office were empty. The inquiries + he made were addressed always to Ephum. Once, when Mr. Hopper had bidden + him good morning and pushed a chair toward him, the honest Captain had + turned his back and marched straight to the house or Tenth Street, where + he found the Colonel alone at breakfast. The Captain sat down opposite. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel,” said he, without an introduction. “I don't like this here + business of letting Hopper run your store. He's a fish, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel drank his coffee in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Lige,” he said gently, “he's nearly doubled my income. It isn't the old + times, when we all went our own way and kept our old customers year in and + year out. You know that.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain took a deep draught of the coffee which Jackson had laid + before him. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Carvel,” he said emphatically, “the fellow's a damned rascal, and + will ruin you yet if you don't take advice.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel shifted uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “The books show that he's honest, Lige.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” cried Lige, with his fist on the table. “Honest to a mill. But if + that fellow ever gets on top of you, or any one else, he'll grind you into + dust.” + </p> + <p> + “He isn't likely to get on top of me, Lige. I know the business, and keep + watch. And now that Jinny's coming home from Monticello, I feel that I can + pay more attention to her—kind of take her mother's place,” said the + Colonel, putting on his felt hat and tipping his chair. “Lige, I want that + girl to have every advantage. She ought to go to Europe and see the world. + That trip East last summer did her a heap of good. When we were at Calvert + House, Dan read her something that my grandfather had written about + London, and she was regularly fired. First I must take her to the Eastern + Shore to see Carvel Hall. Dan still owns it. Now it's London and Paris.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain walked over to the window, and said nothing. He did not see + the searching gray eyes of his old friend upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Lige!” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + The Captain turned. + </p> + <p> + “Lige, why don't you give up steamboating and come along to Europe? You're + not forty yet, and you have a heap of money laid by.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain shook his head with the vigor that characterized him. + </p> + <p> + “This ain't no time for me to leave,” he said. “Colonel; I tell you + there's a storm comin'.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel pulled his goatee uneasily. Here, at last, was a man in whom + there was no guile. + </p> + <p> + “Lige,” he said, “isn't it about time you got married?” + </p> + <p> + Upon which the Captain shook his head again, even with more vigor. He + could not trust himself to speak. After the Christmas holidays he had + driven Virginia across the frozen river, all the way to Monticello, in a + sleigh. It was night when they had reached the school, the light of its + many windows casting long streaks on the snow under the trees. He had + helped her out, and had taken her hand as she stood on the step. + </p> + <p> + “Be good, Jinny,” he had said. “Remember what a short time it will be + until June. And your Pa will come over to see you.” + </p> + <p> + She had seized him by the buttons of his great coat, and said tearfully: + “O Captain Lige! I shall be so lonely when you are away. Aren't you going + to kiss me?” + </p> + <p> + He had put his lips to her forehead, driven madly back to Alton, and spent + the night. The first thing he did the next day when he reached St. Louis + was to go straight to the Colonel and tell him bluntly of the + circumstance. + </p> + <p> + “Lige, I'd hate to give her up,” Mr. Carvel said; “but I'd rather you'd + marry her than any man I can think of.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. SIGNS OF THE TIMES + </h2> + <p> + In that spring of 1860 the time was come for the South to make her final + stand. And as the noise of gathering conventions shook the ground, Stephen + Brice was not the only one who thought of the Question at Freeport. The + hour was now at hand for it to bear fruit. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, his hero, the hewer of rails and forger of homely speech, + Abraham Lincoln, had made a little tour eastward the year before, and had + startled Cooper Union with a new logic and a new eloquence. They were the + same logic and the same eloquence which had startled Stephen. + </p> + <p> + Even as he predicted who had given it birth, the Question destroyed the + great Democratic Party. Colonel Carvel travelled to the convention in + historic Charleston soberly and fearing God, as many another Southern + gentleman. In old Saint Michael's they knelt to pray for harmony, for + peace; for a front bold and undismayed toward those who wronged them. All + through the week chosen orators wrestled in vain. Judge Douglas, you + flattered yourself that you had evaded the Question. Do you see the + Southern delegates rising in their seats? Alabama leaves the hall, + followed by her sister stakes. The South has not forgotten your Freeport + Heresy. Once she loved you now she will have none of you. + </p> + <p> + Gloomily, indeed, did Colonel Carvel return home. He loved the Union and + the flag for which his grandfather Richard had fought so bravely. That + flag was his inheritance. So the Judge, laying his hand upon the knee of + his friend, reminded him gravely. But the Colonel shook his head. The very + calmness of their argument had been portentous. + </p> + <p> + “No, Whipple,” said he. “You are a straightforward man. You can't disguise + it. You of the North are bent upon taking away from us the rights we had + when our fathers framed the Constitution. However the nigger got to this + country, sir, in your Bristol and Newport traders, as well as in our + Virginia and Maryland ships, he is here, and he was here when the + Constitution was written. He is happier in slavery than are your factory + hands in New England; and he is no more fit to exercise the solemn rights + of citizenship, I say, than the halfbreeds in the South American states.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge attempted to interrupt, but Mr. Carvel stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you deprive me of my few slaves, you do not ruin me. Yet you do + me as great a wrong as you do my friend Samuels, of Louisiana, who depends + on the labor of five hundred. Shall I stand by selfishly and see him + ruined, and thousands of others like him?” + </p> + <p> + Profoundly depressed, Colonel Carvel did not attend the adjourned + Convention at Baltimore, which split once more on Mason and Dixon's line. + The Democrats of the young Northwest stood for Douglas and Johnson, and + the solid South, in another hall, nominated Breckenridge and Lane. This, + of course, became the Colonel's ticket. + </p> + <p> + What a Babel of voices was raised that summer! Each with its cure for + existing ills. Between the extremes of the Black Republican Negro + Worshippers and the Southern Rights party of Breckenridge, your + conservative had the choice of two candidates,—of Judge Douglas or + Senator Bell. A most respectable but practically extinct body of gentlemen + in ruffled shirts, the Old Line Whigs, had likewise met in Baltimore. A + new name being necessary, they called themselves Constitutional Unionists + Senator Bell was their candidate, and they proposed to give the Nation + soothing-syrup. So said Judge Whipple, with a grunt of contempt, to Mr. + Cluyme, who was then a prominent Constitutional Unionist. Other and most + estimable gentlemen were also Constitutional Unionists, notably Mr. Calvin + Brinsmade. Far be it from any one to cast disrespect upon the reputable + members of this party, whose broad wings sheltered likewise so many weak + brethren. + </p> + <p> + One Sunday evening in May, the Judge was taking tea with Mrs. Brice. The + occasion was memorable for more than one event—which was that he + addressed Stephen by his first name for the first time. + </p> + <p> + “You're an admirer of Abraham Lincoln,” he had said. + </p> + <p> + Stephen, used to Mr. Whipple's ways, smiled quietly at his mother. He had + never dared mention to the Judge his suspicions concerning his journey to + Springfield and Freeport. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen,” said the Judge (here the surprise came in), “Stephen, what do + you think of Mr. Lincoln's chances for the Republican nomination?” + </p> + <p> + “We hear of no name but Seward's, sir,” said Stephen, When he had + recovered. + </p> + <p> + The Judge grunted. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that Lincoln would make a good President?” he added. + </p> + <p> + “I have thought so, sir, ever since you were good enough to give me the + opportunity of knowing him.” + </p> + <p> + It was a bold speech—the Judge drew his great eyebrows together, but + he spoke to Mrs. Brice. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not as strong as I was once, ma'am,” said he. “And yet I am going to + that Chicago convention.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brice remonstrated mildly, to the effect that he had done his share + of political work. He scarcely waited for her to finish. + </p> + <p> + “I shall take a younger man with me, in case anything happens. In fact, + ma'am, I had thought of taking your son, if you can spare him.” + </p> + <p> + And so it was that Stephen went to that most dramatic of political + gatherings,—in the historic Wigwam. It was so that his eyes were + opened to the view of the monster which maims the vitality of the + Republic,—the political machine. Mr. Seward had brought his machine + from New York,—a legion prepared to fill the Wigwam with their + bodies, and to drown with their cries all names save that of their master. + </p> + <p> + Stephen indeed had his eyes opened. Through the kindness of Judge Whipple + he heard many quiet talks between that gentleman and delegates from other + states—Pennsylvania and Illinois and Indiana and elsewhere. He + perceived that the Judge was no nonentity in this new party. Mr. Whipple + sat in his own room, and the delegates came and ranged themselves along + the bed. Late one night, when the delegates were gone, Stephen ventured to + speak what was in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lincoln did not strike me as the kind of man, sir; who would permit a + bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lincoln's at home playing barn-ball,” said the Judge, curtly. “He + doesn't expect the nomination.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Stephen, rather hotly, “I think you are unfair to him.” + </p> + <p> + You are expecting the Judge to thunder. Sometimes he liked this kind of + speech. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen, I hope that politics may be a little cleaner when you become a + delegate,” he answered, with just the suspicion of a smile. “Supposing you + are convinced that Abraham Lincoln is the only man who can save the Union, + and supposing that the one way to get him nominated is to meet Seward's + gang with their own methods, what would you do, sir? I want a practical + proposition, sir,” said Mr. Whipple, “one that we can use to-night. It is + now one 'clock.” + </p> + <p> + As Stephen was silent, the Judge advised him to go to bed. And the next + morning, while Mr. Seward's henchmen, confident and uproarious, were + parading the streets of Chicago with their bands and their bunting, the + vast Wigwam was quietly filling up with bony Westerners whose ally was + none other than the state of Pennsylvania. These gentlemen possessed wind + which they had not wasted in processions. And the Lord delivered Seward + and all that was his into their hands. + </p> + <p> + How the light of Mr. Seward's hope went out after the first ballot, and + how some of the gentlemen attached to his person wept; and how the voices + shook the Wigwam, and the thunder of the guns rolled over the tossing + water of the lake, many now living remember. That day a name was delivered + to the world through the mouths political schemers which was destined to + enter history that of the saviour of the Nation. + </p> + <p> + Down in little Springfield, on a vacant lot near the station, a tall man + in his shirt sleeves was playing barn-ball with some boys. The game + finished, he had put on his black coat and was starting homeward under the + tree—when a fleet youngster darted after him with a telegram. The + tall man read it, and continued on his walk his head bent and his feet + taking long strides, Later in the day he was met by a friend. + </p> + <p> + “Abe,” said the friend, “I'm almighty glad there somebody in this town's + got notorious at last.” + </p> + <p> + In the early morning of their return from Chicago Judge Whipple and + Stephen were standing in the front of a ferry-boat crossing the + Mississippi. The sun was behind them. The Judge had taken off his hat, and + his gray hair was stirred by the river breeze. Illness had set a yellow + seal on the face, but the younger man remarked it not. For Stephen, + staring at the black blur of the city outline, was filled with a strange + exaltation which might have belonged to his Puritan forefathers. Now at + length was come his chance to be of use in life,—to dedicate the + labor of his hands and of his brains to Abraham Lincoln uncouth prophet of + the West. With all his might he would work to save the city for the man + who was the hope of the Union. + </p> + <p> + The bell rang. The great paddles scattered the brow waters with white + foam, and the Judge voiced his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen,” said he, “I guess we'll have to put on shoulders to the wheel + this summer. If Lincoln is not elected I have lived my sixty-five years + for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + As he descended the plank, he laid a hand on Stephen's arm, and tottered. + The big Louisiana, Captain Brent's boat, just in from New Orleans, was + blowing off her steam as with slow steps they climbed the levee and the + steep pitch of the street beyond it. The clatter of hooves and the crack + of whips reached their ears, and, like many others before them and since, + they stepped into Carvel & Company's. On the inside of the glass + partition of the private office, a voice of great suavity was heard. It + was Eliphalet Hopper's. + </p> + <p> + “If you will give me the numbers of the bales, Captain Brent, I'll send a + dray down to your boat and get them.” + </p> + <p> + It was a very decisive voice that answered. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, I prefer to do business with my friend, Colonel Carvel. I guess + I can wait.” + </p> + <p> + “I could sell the goods to Texas buyers who are here in the store right + now.” + </p> + <p> + “Until I get instructions from one of the concern,” vowed Captain Lige, “I + shall do as I always have done, sir. What is your position here, Mr. + Hopper?” + </p> + <p> + “I am manager, I callate.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain's fist was heard to come down on the desk. + </p> + <p> + “You don't manage me,” he said, “and I reckon you don't manage the + Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper's face was not pleasant to see as he emerged. But at sight of + Judge Whipple on the steps his suavity returned. + </p> + <p> + “The Colonel will be in any minute, sir,” said he. + </p> + <p> + But the Judge walked past him without reply, and into the office. Captain + Brent, seeing him; sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, Judge,” said he, heartily, “you fellows have done it now, + sure. I'll say this for you, you've picked a smart man.” + </p> + <p> + “Better vote for him, Lige,” said the Judge, setting down. + </p> + <p> + The Captain smiled at Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “A man's got a lot of choice this year;” said he. “Two governments, + thirty-three governments, one government patched up for a year ox two.” + </p> + <p> + “Or no government,” finished the Judge. “Lige, you're not such a fool as + to vote against the Union?” + </p> + <p> + “Judge,” said the Captain, instantly, “I'm not the only one in this town + who will have to decide whether my sympathies are wrong. My sympathies are + with the South.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not a question of sympathy, Captain,” answered the Judge, dryly. + “Abraham Lincoln himself was born in Kentucky.” + </p> + <p> + They had not heard a step without. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen, mark my words. If Abraham Lincoln is elected, the South leaves + this Union.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge started, and looked up. The speaker was Colonel Carvel himself. + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir,” Mr. Whipple cried hotly, “then you will be chastised and + brought back. For at last we have chosen a man who is strong enough,—who + does not fear your fire-eaters,—whose electors depend on Northern + votes alone.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen rose apprehensively, So did Captain Lige The Colonel had taken a + step forward, and a fire was quick to kindle in his gray eyes. It was as + quick to die. Judge Whipple, deathly pale, staggered and fell into + Stephen' arms. But it was the Colonel who laid him on the horsehair sofa. + </p> + <p> + “Silas!” he said, “Silas!” + </p> + <p> + Nor could the two who listened sound the depth of the pathos the Colonel + put into those two words. + </p> + <p> + But the Judge had not fainted. And the brusqueness in his weakened voice + was even more pathetic— “Tut, tut,” said he. “A little heat, and no + breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel already had a bottle of the famous Bourbon day his hand, and + Captain Lige brought a glass of muddy iced water. Mr. Carvel made an + injudicious mixture of the two, and held it to the lips of his friend. He + was pushed away. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Silas,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No!” cried the Judge, and with this effort he slipped back again. Those + who stood there thought that the stamp of death was already on Judge + Whipple's face. + </p> + <p> + But the lips were firmly closed, bidding defiance, as ever, to the world. + The Colonel, stroking his goatee, regarded him curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Silas,” he said slowly, “if you won't drink it for me, perhaps you will + drink it—for—Abraham—Lincoln.” + </p> + <p> + The two who watched that scene have never forgotten it. Outside, in the + great cool store, the rattle of the trucks was heard, and Mr. Hopper + giving commands. Within was silence. The straight figure of the Colonel + towered above the sofa while he waited. A full minute passed. Once Judge + Whipple's bony hand opened and shut, and once his features worked. Then, + without warning, he sat up. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel,” said he, “I reckon I wouldn't be much use to Abe if I took + that. But if you'll send Ephum after, cup of coffee—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carvel set the glass down. In two strides he had reached the door and + given the order. Then he came hack and seated himself on the sofa. + </p> + <p> + Stephen found his mother at breakfast. He had forgotten the convention He + told her what had happened at Mr. Carvel's store, and how the Colonel had + tried to persuade Judge Whipple to take the Glencoe house while he was in + Europe, and how the Judge had refused. Tears were in the widow's eyes when + Stephen finished. + </p> + <p> + “And he means to stay here in the heat and go through, the campaign?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “He says that he will not stir.” + </p> + <p> + “It will kill him, Stephen,” Mrs. Brice faltered. + </p> + <p> + “So the Colonel told him. And he said that he would die willingly—after + Abraham Lincoln was elected. He had nothing to live for but to fight for + that. He had never understood the world, and had quarrelled with at all + his life.” + </p> + <p> + “He said that to Colonel Carvel?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Stephen!” + </p> + <p> + He didn't dare to look at his mother, nor she at him. And when he reached + the office, half an hour later, Mr. Whipple was seated in his chair, + defiant and unapproachable. Stephen sighed as he settled down to his work. + The thought of one who might have accomplished what her father could not + was in his head. She was at Monticello. + </p> + <p> + Some three weeks later Mr. Brinsmade's buggy drew up at Mrs. Brice's door. + The Brinsmade family had been for some time in the country. And + frequently, when that gentleman was detained in town by business, he would + stop at the little home for tea. The secret of the good man's visit came + out as he sat with them on the front steps afterward. + </p> + <p> + “I fear that it will be a hot summer, ma'am,” he had said to Mrs. Brice. + “You should go to the country.” + </p> + <p> + “The heat agrees with me remarkably, Mr. Brinsmade,” said the lady, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard that Colonel Carvel wishes to rent his house at Glencoe,” + Mr. Brinsmade continued, “The figure is not high.” He mentioned it. And it + was, indeed nominal. “It struck me that a change of air would do you good, + Mrs. Brice, and Stephen. Knowing that you shared in our uneasiness + concerning Judge Whipple, I thought—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, and looked at her. It was a hard task even for that best and + roost tactful of gentlemen, Mr. Brinsmade. He too had misjudged this calm + woman. + </p> + <p> + “I understand you, Mr. Brinsmade,” she said. She saw, as did Stephen, the + kindness behind the offer—Colonel Carvel's kindness and his own. The + gentleman's benevolent face brightened: + </p> + <p> + “And, my dear Madam, do not let the thought of this little house trouble + you. It was never my expectation to have it occupied in the summer. If we + could induce the Judge to go to Glencoe with you for the summer; I am sure + it would be a relief for us all.” + </p> + <p> + He did not press the matter; but begged Stephen to call on him in a day or + two, at the bank. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think, Stephen,” asked his mother, when Mr. Brinsmade was + gone, Stephen did not reply at once. What, indeed, could he say? The + vision of that proud figure of Miss Virginia was before him, and he + revolted. What was kindness from Colonel Carvel and Mr. Brinsmade was + charity from her. He could not bear the thought of living in a house + haunted by her. And yet why should he let his pride and his feelings stand + in the way of the health—perhaps of the life—of Judge Whipple? + </p> + <p> + It was characteristic of his mothers strength of mind not to mention the + subject again that evening. Stephen did not sleep in the hot night. But + when he rose in the morning he had made up his mind. After breakfast he + went straight to the Colonel's store, and fortunately found. Mr. Carvel at + his desk, winding up his affairs. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, when the train for the East pulled out of Illinoistown, + Miss Jinny Carvel stood on the plat form tearfully waving good-by to a + knot of friends. She was leaving for Europe. Presently she went into the + sleeping-car to join the Colonel, who wore a gray liners duster. For a + long time she sat gazing at the young, corn waving on the prairie, + fingering the bunch of June roses on her lap. Clarence had picked them + only a few hours ago, in the dew at Bellegarde. She saw her cousin + standing disconsolate under the train sheds, just as she had left him. She + pictured him riding out the Bellefontaine Road that afternoon, alone. Now + that the ocean was to be between them, was it love that she felt for + Clarence at last? She glanced at her father. Once or twice she had + suspected him of wishing to separate them. Her Aunt Lillian, indeed, had + said as much, and Virginia had silenced her. But when she had asked the + Colonel to take Clarence to Europe, he had refused. And yet she knew that + he had begged Captain Lige to go. + </p> + <p> + Virginia had been at home but a week. She had seen the change in Clarence + and exulted. The very first day she had surprised him on the porch at + Bellegarde with “Hardee's tactics”. From a boy Clarence had suddenly + become a man with a Purpose,—and that was the Purpose of the South. + </p> + <p> + “They have dared to nominate that dirty Lincoln,” he said.—“Do you + think that we will submit to nigger equality rule? Never! never!” he + cried. “If they elect him, I will stand and fight them until my legs are + shot from under me, and then I will shoot down the Yankees from the + ground.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia's heart had leaped within her at the words, and into her eyes had + flashed once more the look for which the boy had waited and hoped in vain. + He had the carriage of a soldier, the animation and endurance of the + thoroughbred when roused. He was of the stuff that made the resistance of + the South the marvel of the world. And well we know, whatever the sound of + it, that his speech was not heroics. Nor was it love for his cousin that + inspired it, save in this: he had apotheosized Virginia. To him she was + the inspired goddess of the South—his country. His admiration and + affection had of late been laid upon an altar. Her ambition for him he + felt was likewise the South's ambition for him. + </p> + <p> + His mother, Virginia's aunt, felt this too, and strove against it with her + feeble might. She never had had power over her son; nor over any man, save + the temporal power of beauty. And to her mortification she found herself + actually in fear of this girl who might have been her daughter. So in + Virginia's presence she became more trivial and petty than ever. It was + her one defence. + </p> + <p> + It had of course been a foregone conclusion that Clarence should join + Company A. Few young men of family did not. And now he ran to his room to + don for Virginia that glorious but useless full dress,—the high + bearskin rat, the red pigeon-tailed coat, the light blue trousers, and the + gorgeous, priceless shackle. Indeed, the boy looked stunning. He held his + big rifle like a veteran, and his face was set with a high resolve there + was no mistaking. The high color of her pride was on the cheek of the girl + as he brought his piece to the salute of her, his mistress. And yet, when + he was gone, and she sat alone amid the roses awaiting him, came wilfully + before her another face that was relentless determination,—the face + of Stephen Brice, as he had stood before her in the summer house at + Glencoe. Strive as she might against the thought, deny it to herself and + others, to Virginia Carvel his way become the face of the North. Her + patriotism and all that was in her of race rebelled. To conquer that face + she would have given her own soul, and Clarence's. Angrily she had arisen + and paced the garden walks, and cried out aloud that it was not + inflexible. + </p> + <p> + And now, by the car window, looking out over the endless roll of the + prairie, the memory of this was bitter within her. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she turned to her father. + </p> + <p> + “Did you rent our house at Glencoe?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, Jinny.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose Mr. Brice was too proud to accept it at your charitable rent, + even to save Mr. Whipple's life.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel turned to his daughter in mild surprise. She was leaning back + on the seat, her eyes half closed. + </p> + <p> + “Once you dislike a person, Jinny, you never get over it. I always had a + fancy for the young man, and now I have a better opinion of him than ever + before. It was I who insulted them by naming that rent.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he do?” Virginia demanded. + </p> + <p> + “He came to my office yesterday morning. 'Colonel Carvel,' said he, 'I + hear you wish to rent your house.' I said yes. 'You rented it once before, + sir,' said he. 'Yes,' said I. 'May I ask you what price you got for it?' + said he.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you say?” she asked, leaning forward. + </p> + <p> + “I told him,” said the Colonel, smiling. “But I explained that I could not + expect to command that price now on short notice. He replied that they + would pay it, or not consider the place.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia turned her head away and stared out over the fields. + </p> + <p> + “How could they afford it!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brinsmade tells me that young Brice won rather a remarkable case last + winter, and since then has had some practice. And that he writes for the + newspapers. I believe he declined some sort of an editorial position, + preferring to remain at the law.” + </p> + <p> + “And so they are going into the house?” she asked presently. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Colonel. “Whipple refused point-blank to go to the country. + He said that he would be shirking the only work of his life likely to be + worth anything. So the Brices remain in town.” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Carvel sighed. But Virginia said nothing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. RICHTER'S SCAR + </h2> + <p> + This was the summer when Mr. Stephen Brice began to make his appearance in + public. The very first was rather encouraging than otherwise, although + they were not all so. It was at a little town on the outskirts of the city + where those who had come to scoff and jeer remained to listen. + </p> + <p> + In writing that speech Stephen had striven to bear in mind a piece of + advice which Mr. Lincoln had given him. “Speak so that the lowest may + understand, and the rest will have no trouble.” And it had worked. At the + halting lameness of the beginning an egg was thrown,—fortunately + wide of the mark. After this incident Stephen fairly astonished his + audience,—especially an elderly gentleman who sat on a cracker-box + in the rear, out of sight of the stand. This may have been Judge Whipple, + although we have no proof of the fact. + </p> + <p> + Stephen himself would not have claimed originality for that speech. He + laughs now when it is spoken of, and calls it a boyish effort, which it + was. I have no doubt that many of the master's phrases slipped in, as + young Mr. Brice could repeat most of the Debates, and the Cooper Union + speech by heart. He had caught more than the phrasing, however. So imbued + was he with the spirit of Abraham Lincoln that his hearers caught it; and + that was the end of the rotten eggs and the cabbages. The event is to be + especially noted because they crowded around him afterward to ask + questions. For one thing, he had not mentioned abolition. Wasn't it true, + then, that this Lincoln wished to tear the negro from his master, give him + a vote and a subsidy, and set him up as the equal of the man that owned + him? “Slavery may stay where it is,” cried the young orator. “If it is + content there, so are we content. What we say is that it shall not go one + step farther. No, not one inch into a northern territory.” + </p> + <p> + On the next occasion Mr. Brice was one of the orators at a much larger + meeting in a garden in South St. Louis. The audience was mostly German. + And this was even a happier event, inasmuch as Mr. Brice was able to trace + with some skill the history of the Fatherland from the Napoleonic wars to + its Revolution. Incidentally he told them why they had emigrated to this + great and free country. And when in an inspired moment he coupled the + names of Abraham Lincoln and Father Jahn, the very leaves of the trees + above them trembled at their cheers. + </p> + <p> + And afterwards there was a long-remembered supper in the moonlit grove + with Richter and a party of his college friends from Jena. There was Herr + Tiefel with the little Dresden-blue eyes, red and round and jolly; and + Hauptmann, long and thin and sallow; and Korner, redbearded and ponderous; + and Konig, a little clean-cut man with a blond mustache that pointed + upward. They clattered their steins on the table and sang wonderful Jena + songs, while Stephen was lifted up and his soul carried off to far-away + Saxony,—to the clean little University town with its towers and + crooked streets. And when they sang the Trolksmelodie, “Bemooster Bursche + zieh' ich aus,—Ade!” a big tear rolled down the scar on Richter's + cheek. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Fahrt wohl, ihr Strassen grad and krumm + Ich zieh' nicht mehr in euch herum, + Durchton euch nicht mehr mit Gesang, + Mit Larm nicht mehr and Sporenklang.” + </pre> + <p> + As the deep tones died away, the soft night was steeped in the sadness of + that farewell song. It was Richter who brought the full force of it home + to Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Do you recall the day you left your Harvard, and your Boston, my friend?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + Stephen only nodded. He had never spoken of the bitterness of that, even + to his mother. And here was the difference between the Saxon and the + Anglo-Saxon. + </p> + <p> + Richter smoked his pipe 'mid dreamy silence, the tear still wet upon his + face. + </p> + <p> + “Tiefel and I were at the University together,” he said at length. “He + remembers the day I left Jena for good and all. Ah, Stephen, that is the + most pathetic thing in life, next to leaving the Fatherland. We dine with + our student club for the last time at the Burg Keller, a dingy little + tavern under a grim old house, but very dear to us. We swear for the last + time to be clean and honorable and patriotic, and to die for the + Fatherland, if God so wills. And then we march at the head of a slow + procession out of the old West Gate, two and two, old members first, then + the fox major and the foxes.” + </p> + <p> + “The foxes?” Stephen interrupted. + </p> + <p> + “The youngsters—the freshmen, you call them,” answered Richter, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “And after the foxes,” said Herr Tiefel, taking up the story, “after the + foxes comes the empty carriage, with its gay postilion and four. It is + like a long funeral. And every man is chanting that song. And so we go + slowly until we; come to the Oil Mill Tavern, where we have had many a + schlager-bout with the aristocrats. And the president of our society makes + his farewell speech under the vines, and we drink to you with all the + honors. And we drank to you, Carl, renowned swordsman!” And Herr Tiefel, + carried away by the recollection, rose to his feet. + </p> + <p> + The others caught fire, and stood up with their mugs high in the air, + shouting: + </p> + <p> + “Lebe wohl, Carl! Lebe wohl! Salamander, salamander, salamander! Ein ist + ein, zwei ist zwei, drei ist drei! Lebe wohl!” + </p> + <p> + And so they toasted every man present, even Stephen himself, whom they + complimented on his speech. And he soon learned to cry Salamander, and to + rub his mug on the table, German fashion. He was not long in discovering + that Richter was not merely a prime favorite with his companions, but + likewise a person of some political importance in South St. Louis. In the + very midst of their merriment an elderly man whom Stephen recognized as + one of the German leaders (he afterwards became a United States general) + came and stood smiling by the table and joined in the singing. But + presently he carried Richter away with him. + </p> + <p> + “What a patriot he would have made, had our country been spared to us!” + exclaimed Herr Konig. “I think he was the best man with the Schlager that + Jena ever saw. Even Korner likes not to stand against him in mask and + fencing hat, all padded. Eh, Rudolph?” + </p> + <p> + Herr Korner gave a good-natured growl of assent. + </p> + <p> + “I have still a welt that he gave me a month since,” he said. “He has left + his mark on many an aristocrat.” + </p> + <p> + “And why did you always fight the aristocrats?” Stephen asked. + </p> + <p> + They all tried to tell him at once, but Tiefel prevailed. + </p> + <p> + “Because they were for making our country Austrian, my friend,” he cried. + “Because they were overbearing, and ground the poor. Because the most of them + were immoral like the French, and we knew that it must be by morality and + pure living that our 'Vaterland' was to be rescued. And so we formed our + guilds in opposition to theirs. We swore to live by the standards of the + great Jahn, of whom you spoke. We swore to strive for the freedom of + Germany with manly courage. And when we were not duelling with the nobles, + we had Schlager-bouts among ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Broadswords?” exclaimed Stephen, in amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Ja wohl,” answered Korner, puffing heavily. The slit in his nose was + plain even in the moonlight. “To keep our hands in, as you would say. You + Americans are a brave people—without the Schlager. But we fought + that we might not become effete.” + </p> + <p> + It was then that Stephen ventured to ask a question that, had been long + burning within him. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Mr. Korner,” said he, “how did Richter come by that scar? He + always gets red when I mention it. He will never tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, I can well believe that,” answered Korner. “I will recount that + matter,—if you do not tell Carl, lieber Freund. He would not forgive + me. I was there in Berlin at the time. It was a famous time. Tiefel will + bear me out.” + </p> + <p> + “Ja, ja!” said Tiefel, eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brice,” Herr Korner continued, “has never heard of the Count von + Kalbach. No, of course. We at Jena had, and all Germany. Many of us of the + Burschenschaft will bear to the grave the marks of his Schlager. Von + Kalbach went to Bonn, that university of the aristocrats, where he was + worshipped. When he came to Berlin with his sister, crowds would gather to + look at them. They were like Wodan and Freya. 'Donner'!” exclaimed Herr + Korner, “there is something in blood, when all is said. He was as straight + and strong as an oak of the Black Forest, and she as fair as a poplar. It + is so with the Pomeranians. + </p> + <p> + “It was in the year '47, when Carl Richter was gone home to Berlin before + his last semester, to see his father: One fine morning von Kalbach rode in + at the Brandenburg gate on a great black stallion. He boasted openly that + day that none of the despised 'Burschenschaft' dare stand before him. And + Carl Richter took up the challenge. Before night all Berlin had heard of + the temerity of the young Liberal of the Jena 'Burschenschaft'. To our + shame be it said, we who knew and loved Carl likewise feared for him. + </p> + <p> + “Carl chose for his second Ebhardt, a man of our own Germanian Club at + Jena, since killed in the Breite Strasse. And if you will believe me, my + friend. I tell you that Richter came to the glade at daybreak smoking his + pipe. The place was filled, the nobles on one side and the Burschenschaft + on the other, and the sun coming up over the trees. Richter would not + listen to any of us, not even the surgeon. He would not have the silk + wound on his arm, nor the padded breeches, nor the neck covering—Nothing! + So Ebhardt put on his gauntlets and peaked cap, and his apron with the + device of the Germanians. + </p> + <p> + “There stood the Count in his white shirt in the pose of a statue. And + when it was seen that Richter likewise had no protection, but was calmly + smoking the little short pipe, with a charred bowl, a hush fell upon all. + At the sight of the pipe von Kalbach ground his heel in the turf, and when + the word was given he rushed at Richter like a wild beast. You, my friend, + who have never heard the whistle of sharp Schlager cannot know the song + which a skilled arm draws from the blade. It was music that morning: You + should have seen the noble's mighty strokes—'Prim und Second und + Terz und Quart'. You would have marked how Richter met him at every blow. + Von Kalbach never once took his eyes from the blue smoke from the bowl. He + was terrible in his fury, and I shiver now to think how we of the + Burschenschaft trembled when we saw that our champion was driven back a + step, and then another. You must know that it is a lasting disgrace to be + forced over one's own line. It seemed as if we could not bear the agony. + And then, while we counted out the last seconds of the half, came a snap + like that of a whip's lash, and the bowl of Richter's pipe lay smouldering + on the grass. The noble had cut the stem as clean as it were sapling twig, + and there stood Richter with the piece still clenched in his teeth, his + eyes ablaze, and his cheek running blood. He pushed the surgeon away when + he came forward with his needles. The Count was smiling as he put up his + sword, his friends crowding around him, when Ebhardt cried out that his + man could fight the second mensur,—though the wound was three + needles long. Then Kalbach cried aloud that he would kill him. But he had + not seen Carl's eyes. Something was in them that made us think as we + washed the cut. But when we spoke to him he said nothing. Nor could we + force the pipe stems from his teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Donner Schock!” exclaimed Herr Korner, but reverently, “if I live to a + hundred I never hope to see such a sight as that 'Mensur'. The word was + given. The Schlager flew so fast that we only saw the light and heard the + ring alone. Before we of the Burschenschaft knew what had happened the + Count von Kalbach was over his line and had flung his Schlager into a + great tree, and was striding from the place with his head hung and the + tears streamin down his face.” + </p> + <p> + Amid a silence, Herr Korner lifted his great mug and emptied it slowly. A + wind was rising, bearing with it song and laughter from distant groups,—Teutonic + song and, laughter. The moonlight trembled through the shifting leaves. + And Stephen was filled with a sense of the marvelous. It was as if this + fierce duel, so full of national significance to a German, had been fought + in another existence, It was incredible to him that the unassuming lawyer + he knew, so wholly Americanized, had been the hero of it. Strange, indeed, + that the striving life of these leaders of European Revolution had been + suddenly cut off in its vigor. There came to Stephen a flash of that + world-comprehension which marks great statesmen. Was it not with a divine + purpose that this measureless force of patriotism and high ideal had been + given to this youngest of the nations, that its high mission might be + fulfilled? + </p> + <p> + Miss Russell heard of Stephen's speeches. She and her brothers and Jack + Brinsmade used to banter him when he came a-visiting in Bellefontaine + Road. The time was not yet come when neighbor stared coldly upon neighbor, + when friends of long standing passed each other with averted looks. It was + not even a wild dream that white-trash Lincoln would be elected. And so + Mr. Jack, who made speeches for Breckenridge in the face of Mr. + Brinsmade's Union leanings, laughed at Stephen when he came to spend the + night. He joined forces with Puss in making clever fun of the booby Dutch, + which Stephen was wise enough to take good-naturedly. But once or twice + when he met Clarence Colfax at these houses he was aware of a decided + change in the attitude of that young gentleman. This troubled him more + than he cared to admit. For he liked Clarence, who reminded him of + Virginia—at once a pleasure and a pain. + </p> + <p> + It is no harm to admit (for the benefit of the Society for Psychical + Research) that Stephen still dreamed of her. He would go about his work + absently all the morning with the dream still in his head, and the girl so + vividly near him that he could not believe her to be travelling in + England, as Miss Russell said. Puss and Anne were careful to keep him + informed as to her whereabouts. Stephen set this down as a most natural + supposition on their part that all young men must have an interest in + Virginia Carvel. + </p> + <p> + How needless to add that Virginia in her correspondence never mentioned + Stephen, although Puss in her letters took pains to record the fact every + time that he addressed a Black Republican meeting: Miss Carvel paid no + attention to this part of the communications. Her concern for Judge + Whipple Virginia did not hide. Anne wrote of him. How he stood the rigors + of that campaign were a mystery to friend and foe alike. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. HOW A PRINCE CAME + </h2> + <p> + Who has not heard of the St. Louis Agricultural Fair. And what memories of + its October days the mere mention of at brings back to us who knew that + hallowed place as children. There was the vast wooden amphitheatre where + mad trotting races were run; where stolid cattle walked past the Chinese + pagoda in the middle circle, and shook the blue ribbons on their horns. + But it was underneath the tiers of seats (the whole way around the ring) + that the chief attractions lay hid. These were the church booths, where + fried oysters and sandwiches and cake and whit candy and ice-cream were + sold by your mothers and sister for charity. These ladies wore white + aprons as they waited on the burly farmers. And toward the close of the + day for which they had volunteered they became distracted. Christ Church + had a booth, and St. George's; and Dr. Thayer's, Unitarian, where Mrs. + Brice might be found and Mr. Davitt's, conducted by Mr. Eliphalet Hopper + on strictly business principles, and the Roman Catholic Cathedral, where + Miss Renault and other young ladies of French descent presided: and Dr. + Posthelwaite's, Presbyterian, which we shall come to presently. And + others, the whole way around the ring. + </p> + <p> + There is one Fair which old St. Louisans still delight to recall,—that + of the autumn of 1860—Think for a minute. You will remember that + Virginia Carvel came back from Europe; and made quite a stir in a town + where all who were worth knowing were intimates. Stephen caught a glimpse + of her an the street, received a distant bow, and dreamed of her that + night. Mr. Eliphalet Hopper, in his Sunday suit, was at the ferry to pay + his respects to the Colonel, to offer his services, and to tell him how + the business fared. His was the first St. Louis face that Virginia saw + (Captain Lige being in New Orleans), and if she conversed with Eliphalet + on the ferry with more warmth than ever before, there is nothing strange + in that. Mr. Hopper rode home with them in the carriage, and walked to + Miss Crane's with his heart thumping against his breast, and wild thoughts + whirling in his head. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, in Virginia's sunny front room tears and laughter + mingled. There was a present for Eugenie and Anne and Emily and Puss and + Maude, and a hear kiss from the Colonel for each. And more tears and + laughter and sighs as Mammy Easter and Rosetta unpacked the English + trunks, and with trembling hands and rolling eyes laid each Parisian gown + upon the bed. + </p> + <p> + But the Fair, the Fair! + </p> + <p> + At the thought of that glorious year my pen fails me. Why mention the + dread possibility of the negro-worshiper Lincoln being elected the very + next month? Why listen, to the rumblings in the South? Pompeii had + chariot-races to the mutterings of Vesuvius. St. Louis was in gala garb to + greet a Prince. + </p> + <p> + That was the year that Miss Virginia Carvel was given charge of the booth + in Dr. Posthelwaite's church,—the booth next one of the great arches + through which prancing horses and lowing cattle came. + </p> + <p> + Now who do you think stopped at the booth for a chat with Miss Jinny? Who + made her blush as pink as her Paris gown? Who slipped into her hand the + contribution for the church, and refused to take the cream candy she + laughingly offered him as an equivalent? + </p> + <p> + None other than Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, Duke of Saxony, Duke of + Cornwall and Rothesay, Earl of Chester and Carrick, Baron Renfrew, and + Lord of the Isles. Out of compliment to the Republic which he visited, he + bore the simple title of Lord Renfrew. + </p> + <p> + Bitter tears of envy, so it was said, were shed in the other booths. Belle + Cluyme made a remark which is best suppressed. Eliphalet Hopper, in Mr. + Davitt's booths, stared until his eyes watered. A great throng peered into + the covered way, kept clear for his Royal Highness and suite, and for the + prominent gentlemen who accompanied them. And when the Prince was seen to + turn to His Grace, the Duke of Newcastle, and the subscription was + forthcoming, a great cheer shook the building, while Virginia and the + young ladies with her bowed and blushed and smiled. Colonel Carvel, who + was a Director, laid his hand paternally on the blue coat of the young + Prince. Reversing all precedent, he presented his Royal Highness to his + daughter and to the other young ladies. It was done with the easy grace of + a Southern gentleman. Whereupon Lord Renfrew bowed and smiled too, and + stroked his mustache, which was a habit he had, and so fell naturally into + the ways of Democracy. + </p> + <p> + Miss Puss Russell, who has another name, and whose hair is now white, will + tell you how Virginia carried off the occasion with credit to her country. + </p> + <p> + It is safe to say that the Prince forgot “Silver Heels” and “Royal Oak,” + although they had been trotted past the Pagoda only that morning for his + delectation. He had forgotten his Honor the Mayor, who had held fast to + the young man's arm as the four coal-black horses had pranced through the + crowds all the way from Barnum's Hotel to the Fair Grounds. His Royal + Highness forgot himself still further, and had at length withdrawn his + hands from the pockets of his ample pantaloons and thrust his thumbs into + his yellow waistcoat. And who shall blame him if Miss Virginia's replies + to his sallies enchained him? + </p> + <p> + Not the least impressive of those who stood by, smiling, was the figure of + the tall Colonel, his hat off for once, and pride written on his face. Oh, + that his dear wife might have lived to see this! + </p> + <p> + What was said in that historic interview with a future Sovereign of + England, far from his royal palaces, on Democratic sawdust, with an + American Beauty across a board counter, was immediately recorded by the + Colonel, together with an exact description of his Royal Highness's blue + coat, and light, flowing pantaloons, and yellow waist-coat, and colored + kids; even the Prince's habit of stroking his mustache did not escape the + watchful eye. It is said that his Grace of Newcastle smiled twice at Miss + Virginia's retorts, and Lord Lyons, the British Minister, has more than + two to his credit. But suddenly a strange thing happened. Miss Virginia in + the very midst of a sentence paused, and then stopped. Her eyes had + strayed from the Royal Countenance, and were fixed upon a point in the row + of heads outside the promenade. Her sentence was completed—with some + confusion. Perhaps it is no wonder that my Lord Renfrew, whose intuitions + are quick, remarked that he had already remained too long, thus depriving + the booth of the custom it otherwise should have had. This was a graceful + speech, and a kingly. Followed by his retinue and the prominent citizens, + he moved on. And it was remarked by keen observers that his Honor the + Mayor had taken hold once more of the Prince's elbow, who divided his talk + with Colonel Carver. + </p> + <p> + Dear Colonel Carvel! What a true American of the old type you were. You, + nor the Mayor, nor the rest of the grave and elderly gentlemen were not + blinded by the light of a royal Presence. You saw in him only an amiable + and lovable young man, who was to succeed the most virtuous and lovable of + sovereigns, Victoria. You, Colonel Carvel, were not one to cringe to + royalty. Out of respect for the just and lenient Sovereign, his mother, + you did honor to the Prince. But you did not remind him, as you might + have, that your ancestors fought for the King at Marston Moor, and that + your grandfather was once an intimate of Charles James Fox. But what shall + we say of Mr. Cluyme, and of a few others whose wealth alone enabled them + to be Directors of the Fair? Miss Isabel Cluyme was duly presented, in + proper form, to his Royal Highness. Her father owned a “peerage,” and had + been abroad likewise. He made no such bull as the Colonel. And while the + celebrated conversation of which we have spoken was in progress, Mr. + Cluyme stood back and blushed for his countryman, and smiled + apologetically at the few gentlemen of the royal suite who glanced his + way. + </p> + <p> + His Royal Highness then proceeded to luncheon, which is described by a + most amiable Canadian correspondent who sent to his newspaper an account + of it that I cannot forbear to copy. You may believe what he says, or not, + just as you choose: “So interested was his Royal Highness in the + proceedings that he stayed in the ring three and a half hours witnessing + these trotting matches. He was invited to take lunch in a little wooden + shanty prepared for the Directors, to which he accordingly repaired, but + whether he got anything to eat or not, I cannot tell. After much trouble + he forced his way to the table, which he found surrounded by a lot of + ravenous animals. And upon some half dozen huge dishes were piled slices + of beef, mutton, and buffalo tongue; beside them were great jugs of lager + beer, rolls of bread, and plates of a sort of cabbage cut into thin + shreds, raw, and mixed with vinegar. There were neither salt spoons nor + mustard spoons, the knives the gentlemen were eating with serving in their + stead; and, by the aid of nature's forks, the slices of beef and mutton + were transferred to the plates of those who desired to eat. While your + correspondent stood looking at the spectacle, the Duke of Newcastle came + in, and he sat looking too. He was evidently trying to look democratic, + but could not manage it. By his side stood a man urging him to try the + lager beer, and cabbage also, I suppose. Henceforth, let the New York + Aldermen who gave to the Turkish Ambassador ham sandwiches and bad sherry + rest in peace.” + </p> + <p> + Even that great man whose memory we love and revere, Charles Dickens, was + not overkind to us, and saw our faults rather than our virtues. We were a + nation of grasshoppers, and spat tobacco from early morning until late at + night. This some of us undoubtedly did, to our shame be it said. And when + Mr. Dickens went down the Ohio, early in the '40's, he complained of the + men and women he met; who, bent with care, bolted through silent meals, + and retired within their cabins. Mr. Dickens saw our ancestors bowed in a + task that had been too great for other blood,—the task of bringing + into civilization in the compass of a century a wilderness three thousand + miles it breadth. And when his Royal Highness came to St. Louis and beheld + one hundred thousand people at the Fair, we are sure that he knew how + recently the ground he stood upon had been conquered from the forest. + </p> + <p> + A strange thing had happened, indeed. For, while the Prince lingered in + front of the booth of Dr. Posthelwaite's church and chatted with Virginia, + a crowd had gathered without. They stood peering over the barricade into + the covered way, proud of the self-possession of their young countrywoman. + And here, by a twist of fate, Mr. Stephen Brice found himself perched on a + barrel beside his friend Richter. It was Richter who discovered her first. + </p> + <p> + “Himmel! It is Miss Carvel herself, Stephen,” he cried, impatient at the + impassive face of his companion. “Look, Stephen, look there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Stephen, “I see.” + </p> + <p> + “Ach!” exclaimed the disgusted German, “will nothing move you? I have seen + German princesses that are peasant women beside her. How she carries it + off! See, the Prince is laughing!” + </p> + <p> + Stephen saw, and horror held him in a tremor. His one thought was of + escape. What if she should raise her eyes, and amid those vulgar stares + discern his own? And yet that was within him which told him that she would + look up. It was only a question of moments, and then,—and then she + would in truth despise him! Wedged tightly between the people, to move was + to be betrayed. He groaned. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he rallied, ashamed of his own false shame. This was because of + one whom he had known for the short, space of a day—whom he was to + remember for a lifetime. The man he worshipped, and she detested. Abraham + Lincoln would not have blushed between honest clerks and farmers Why + should Stephen Brice? And what, after all, was this girl to him? He could + not tell. Almost the first day he had come to St. Louis the wires of their + lives had crossed, and since then had crossed many times again, always + with a spark. By the might of generations she was one thing, and he + another. They were separated by a vast and ever-widening breach only to be + closed by the blood and bodies of a million of their countrymen. And yet + he dreamed of her. + </p> + <p> + Gradually, charmed like the simple people about him, Stephen became lost + in the fascination of the scene. Suddenly confronted at a booth in a + public fair with the heir to the English throne, who but one of her own + kind might have carried it off so well, have been so complete a mistress + of herself? Since, save for a heightened color, Virginia gave no sign of + excitement. Undismayed, forgetful of the admiring crowd, unconscious of + their stares until—until the very strength of his gaze had compelled + her own. Such had been the prophecy within him. Nor did he wonder because, + in that multitude of faces, her eyes had flown so straightly homeward to + his. + </p> + <p> + With a rough effort that made an angry stir, Stephen flung the people + aside and escaped, the astonished Richter following in his wake. Nor could + the honest German dissuade him from going back to the office for the rest + of the day, or discover what had happened. + </p> + <p> + But all through the afternoon that scene was painted on the pages of + Stephen's books. The crude booth in the darkened way. The free pose of the + girl standing in front of her companions, a blue wisp of autumn sunlight + falling at her feet. The young Prince laughing at her sallies, and the + elderly gentleman smiling with benevolence upon the pair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. INTO WHICH A POTENTATE COMES + </h2> + <p> + Virginia danced with the Prince, “by Special Appointment,” at the ball + that evening. So did her aunt, Mrs. Addison Colfax. So likewise was Miss + Belle Cluyme among those honored and approved. But Virginia wore the most + beautiful of her Paris gowns, and seemed a princess to one watching from + the gallery. Stephen was sure that his Royal Highness made that particular + dance longer than the others. It was decidedly longer than the one he had + with Miss Cluyme, although that young lady had declared she was in heaven. + </p> + <p> + Alas, that princes cannot abide with us forever! His Royal Highness bade + farewell to St. Louis, and presently that same 'City of Alton' which bore + him northward came back again in like royal state, and this time it was in + honor of a Democrat potentate. He is an old friend now, Senator and Judge + and Presidential Candidate,—Stephen Arnold Douglas,—father of + the doctrine of Local Sovereignty, which he has come to preach. So goes + the world. We are no sooner rid of one hero than we are ready for another. + </p> + <p> + Blow, you bandsmen on the hurricane deck, let the shores echo with your + national airs! Let the gay bunting wave in the river breeze! Uniforms + flash upon the guards, for no campaign is complete without the military. + Here are brave companies of the Douglas Guards, the Hickory Sprouts, and + the Little Giants to do honor to the person of their hero. Cannon are + booming as he steps into his open carriage that evening on the levee, + where the piles of river freight are covered with people. Transparencies + are dodging in the darkness. A fresh band strikes up “Hail Columbia,” and + the four horses prance away, followed closely by the “Independent Broom + Rangers.” “The shouts for Douglas,” remarked a keen observer who was + present, “must have penetrated Abraham's bosom at Springfield.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jacob Cluyme, who had been a Bell and Everett man until that day, was + not the only person of prominence converted. After the speech he assured + the Judge that he was now undergoing the greatest pleasure of his life in + meeting the popular orator, the true representative man of the Great West, + the matured statesman, and the able advocate of national principles. And + although Mr. Douglas looked as if he had heard something of the kind + before, he pressed Mr. Cluyme's hand warmly. + </p> + <p> + So was the author of Popular Sovereignty, “the great Bulwark of American + Independence,” escorted to the Court House steps, past houses of his + stanch supporters; which were illuminated in his honor. Stephen, wedged + among the people, remarked that the Judge had lost none of his + self-confidence since that day at Freeport. Who, seeing the Democratic + candidate smiling and bowing to the audience that blocked the wide square, + would guess that the Question troubled him at all, or that he missed the + votes of the solid South? How gravely the Judge listened to the eulogy of + the prominent citizen, who reminded him that his work was not yet + finished, and that he still was harnessed to the cause of the people! And + how happy was the choice of that word harnessed! + </p> + <p> + The Judge had heard (so he said) with deep emotion the remarks of the + chairman. Then followed one of those masterful speeches which wove a spell + about those who listened,—which, like the most popular of novels, + moved to laughter and to tears, to anger and to pity. Mr. Brice and Mr + Richter were not the only Black Republicans who were depressed that night. + And they trudged homeward with the wild enthusiasm still ringing in their + ears, heavy with the thought that the long, hot campaign of their own + Wide-Awakes might be in vain. + </p> + <p> + They had a grim reproof from Judge Whipple in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “So you too, gentlemen, took opium last night,” was all he said. + </p> + <p> + The dreaded possibility of Mr. Lincoln's election did not interfere with + the gayeties. The week after the Fair Mr. Clarence Colfax gave a great + dance at Bellegarde, in honor of his cousin, Virginia, to which Mr. + Stephen Brice was not invited. A majority of Company A was there. Virginia + would have liked to have had them in uniform. + </p> + <p> + It was at this time that Anne Brinsmade took the notion of having a ball + in costume. Virginia, on hearing the news, rode over from Bellegarde, and + flinging her reins to Nicodemus ran up to Anne's little dressing-room. + </p> + <p> + “Whom have you invited, Anne?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + Anne ran over the long list of their acquaintance, but there was one name + she omitted. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure that that is all?” asked Virginia, searchingly, when she had + finished. + </p> + <p> + Anne looked mystified. + </p> + <p> + “I have invited Stephen Brice, Jinny,” she said. “But!—” + </p> + <p> + “But!” cried Virginia. “I knew it. Am I to be confronted with that Yankee + everywhere I go? It is always 'Stephen Brice', and he is ushered in with a + but.” + </p> + <p> + Anne was quite overcome by this outburst. She had dignity, however, and + plenty of it. And she was a loyal friend. + </p> + <p> + “You have no right to criticise my guests, Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia, seated on the arm of a chair, tapped her foot on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Why couldn't things remain as they were?” she said. “We were so happy + before these Yankees came. And they are not content in trying to deprive + us of our rights. They must spoil our pleasure, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Stephen Brice is a gentleman,” answered Anne. “He spoils no one's + pleasure, and goes no place that he is not asked.” + </p> + <p> + “He has not behaved according to my idea of a gentleman, the few times + that I have been unfortunate enough to encounter him,” Virginia retorted. + </p> + <p> + “You are the only one who says so, then.” Here the feminine got the better + of Anne's prudence, and she added. “I saw you waltz with him once, Jinny + Carvel, and I am sure you never enjoyed a dance as much in your life.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia blushed purple. + </p> + <p> + “Anne Brinsmade!” she cried. “You may have your ball, and your Yankees, + all of them you want. But I shan't come. How I wish I had never seen that + horrid Stephen Brice! Then you would never have insulted me.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia rose and snatched her riding-whip. This was too much for Anne. + She threw her arms around her friend without more ado. + </p> + <p> + “Don't quarrel with me, Jinny,” she said tearfully. “I couldn't bear it. + He—Mr. Brice is not coming, I am sure.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia disengaged herself. + </p> + <p> + “He is not coming?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Anne. “You asked me if he was invited. And I was going on to + tell you that he could not come.” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and stared at Virginia in bewilderment. That young lady, + instead of beaming, had turned her back. She stood flicking her whip at + the window, gazing out over the trees, down the slope to the river. Miss + Russell might have interpreted these things. Simple Anne! + </p> + <p> + “Why isn't he coming?” said Virginia, at last. + </p> + <p> + “Because he is to be one of the speakers at a big meeting that night. Have + you seen him since you got home, Jinny? He is thinner than he was. We are + much worried about him, because he has worked so hard this summer.” + </p> + <p> + “A Black Republican meeting!” exclaimed Virginia, scornfully ignoring the + rest of what was said. “Then I'll come, Anne dear,” she cried, tripping + the length of the room. “I'll come as Titania. Who will you be?” + </p> + <p> + She cantered off down the drive and out of the gate, leaving a very + puzzled young woman watching her from the window. But when Virginia + reached the forest at the bend of the road, she pulled her horse down to a + walk. + </p> + <p> + She bethought herself of the gown which her Uncle Daniel had sent her from + Calvert House, and of the pearls. And she determined to go as her + great-grandmother, Dorothy Carvel. + </p> + <p> + Shades of romance! How many readers will smile before the rest of this + true incident is told? + </p> + <p> + What had happened was this. Miss Anne Brinsmade had driven to town in her + mother's Jenny Lind a day or two before, and had stopped (as she often + did) to pay a call on Mrs. Brice. This lady, as may be guessed, was not + given to discussion of her husband's ancestors, nor of her own. But on the + walls of the little dining-room hung a Copley and two Stuarts. One of the + Stuarts was a full length of an officer in the buff and blue of the + Continental Army. And it was this picture which caught Anne's eye that + day. + </p> + <p> + “How like Stephen!” she exclaimed. And added. “Only the face is much + older. Who is it, Mrs. Brice?” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Wilton Brice, Stephen's grandfather. There is a marked look about + all the Brices. He was only twenty years of age when the Revolution began. + That picture was painted much later in life, after Stuart came back to + America, when the Colonel was nearly forty. He had kept his uniform, and + his wife persuaded him to be painted in it.” + </p> + <p> + “If Stephen would only come as Colonel Wilton Brice!” she cried. “Do you + think he would, Mrs. Brice?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brice laughed, and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid not, Anne,” she said. “I have a part of the uniform upstairs, + but I could never induce him even to try it on.” + </p> + <p> + As she drove from shop to shop that day, Anne reflected that it certainly + would not be like Stephen to wear his grandfather's uniform to a ball. But + she meant to ask him, at any rate. And she had driven home immediately to + write her invitations. It was with keen disappointment that she read his + note of regret. + </p> + <p> + However, on the very day of the ball, Anne chanced to be in town again, + and caught sight of Stephen pushing his way among the people on Fourth + Street. She waved her hand to him, and called to Nicodemus to pull up at + the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + “We are all so sorry that you are not coming,” said she, impulsively. And + there she stopped short. For Anne was a sincere person, and remembered + Virginia. “That is, I am so sorry,” she added, a little hastily. “Stephen, + I saw the portrait of your grandfather, and I wanted you to come in his + costume.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen, smiling down on her, said nothing. And poor Anne, in her fear + that he had perceived the shade in her meaning, made another unfortunate + remark. + </p> + <p> + “If you were not a—a Republican—” she said. + </p> + <p> + “A Black Republican,” he answered, and laughed at her discomfiture. “What + then?” + </p> + <p> + Anne was very red. + </p> + <p> + “I only meant that if you were not a Republican, there would be no meeting + to address that night.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not make any difference to you what my politics are, does it?” he + asked, a little earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Stephen!” she exclaimed, in gentle reproof. + </p> + <p> + “Some people have discarded me,” he said, striving to smile. + </p> + <p> + She wondered whether he meant Virginia, and whether he cared. Still + further embarrassed, she said something which she regretted immediately. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't you contrive to come?” + </p> + <p> + He considered. + </p> + <p> + “I will come, after the meeting, if it is not too late,” he said at + length. “But you must not tell any one.” + </p> + <p> + He lifted his hat, and hurried on, leaving Anne in a quandary. She wanted + him. But what was she to say to Virginia? Virginia was coming on the + condition that he was not to be there. And Anne was scrupulous. + </p> + <p> + Stephen, too, was almost instantly sorry that he had promised. The little + costumer's shop (the only one in the city at that time) had been ransacked + for the occasion, and nothing was left to fit him. But when he reached + home there was a strong smell of camphor in his mother's room. Colonel + Brice's cocked hat and sword and spurs lay on the bed, and presently + Hester brought in the blue coat and buff waistcoat from the kitchen, where + she had been pressing them. Stephen must needs yield to his mother's + persuasions and try them on—they were more than a passable fit. But + there were the breeches and cavalry boots to be thought of, and the + ruffled shirt and the powdered wig. So before tea he hurried down to the + costumer's again, not quite sure that he was not making a fool of himself, + and yet at last sufficiently entered into the spirit of the thing. The + coat was mended and freshened. And when after tea he dressed in the + character, his appearance was so striking that his mother could not + refrain from some little admiration. As for Hester, she was in transports. + Stephen was human, and young. But still the frivolity of it all troubled + him. He had inherited from Colonel Wilton Brice, the Puritan, other things + beside clothes. And he felt in his heart as he walked soberly to the hall + that this was no time for fancy dress balls. All intention of going was + banished by the time his turn had come to speak. + </p> + <p> + But mark how certain matters are beyond us. Not caring to sit out the + meeting on the platform, he made his way down the side of the crowded + hall, and ran into (of all people) big Tom Catherwood. As the Southern + Rights politics of the Catherwood family were a matter of note in the + city, Stephen did not attempt to conceal his astonishment. Tom himself was + visibly embarrassed. He congratulated Stephen on his speech, and + volunteered the news that he had come in a spirit of fairness to hear what + the intelligent leaders of the Republican party, such as Judge Whipple, + had to say. After that he fidgeted. But the sight of him started in + Stephen a train of thought that closed his ears for once to the Judge's + words. He had had before a huge liking for Tom. Now he admired him, for it + was no light courage that took one of his position there. And Stephen + remembered that Tom was not risking merely the displeasure of his family + and his friends, but likewise something of greater value than, either. + From childhood Tom had been the devoted slave of Virginia Carvel, with as + little chance of marrying her as a man ever had. And now he was + endangering even that little alliance. + </p> + <p> + And so Stephen began to think of Virginia, and to wonder what she would + wear at Anne's party; and to speculate how she would have treated him if + had gone. To speak truth, this last matter had no little weight in his + decision to stay away. But we had best leave motives to those whose + business and equipment it is to weigh to a grain. Since that agonizing + moment when her eyes had met his own among the curiously vulgar at the + Fair, Stephen's fear of meeting Virginia had grown to the proportions of a + terror. And yet there she was in his mind, to take possession of it on the + slightest occasion. + </p> + <p> + When Judge Whipple had finished, Tom rose. He awoke Mr. Brice from a + trance. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen,” said he, “of course you're going to the Brinsmade's.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said Tom, in surprise. “Haven't you a costume?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, you've got to come with me,” says Tom, heartily. “It isn't too + late, and they'll want you. I've a buggy, and I'm going to the Russells' + to change my clothes. Come along!” + </p> + <p> + Steven went. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. AT MR. BRINSMADE'S GATE + </h2> + <p> + The eastern side of the Brinsmade house is almost wholly taken up by the + big drawing-room where Anne gave her fancy-dress ball. From the windows + might be seen, through the trees in the grounds, the Father of Waters + below. But the room is gloomy now, that once was gay, and a heavy coat of + soot is spread on the porch at the back, where the apple blossoms still + fall thinly in the spring. The huge black town has coiled about the place + the garden still struggles on, but the giants of the forest are dying and + dead. Bellefontaine Road itself, once the drive of fashion, is no more. + Trucks and cars crowd the streets which follow its once rural windings, + and gone forever are those comely wooded hills and green pastures,—save + in the memory of those who have been spared to dream. + </p> + <p> + Still the old house stands, begrimed but stately, rebuking the sordid life + around it. Still come into it the Brinsmades to marriage and to death. + Five and sixty years are gone since Mr. Calvin Brinsmade took his bride + there. They sat on the porch in the morning light, harking to the whistle + of the quail in the corn, and watching the frightened deer scamper across + the open. Do you see the bride in her high-waisted gown, and Mr. Calvin in + his stock and his blue tail-coat and brass buttons? + </p> + <p> + Old people will tell you of the royal hospitality then, of the famous men + and women who promenaded under those chandeliers, and sat down to the + game-laden table. In 1835 General Atkinson and his officers thought + nothing of the twenty miles from Jefferson Barracks below, nor of dancing + all night with the Louisville belles, who were Mrs. Brinsmade's guests. + Thither came Miss Todd of Kentucky, long before she thought of taking for + a husband that rude man of the people, Abraham Lincoln. Foreigners of + distinction fell in love with the place, with its open-hearted master and + mistress, and wrote of it in their journals. Would that many of our + countrymen, who think of the West as rough, might have known the quality + of the Brinsmades and their neighbors! + </p> + <p> + An era of charity, of golden simplicity, was passing on that October night + of Anne Brinsmade's ball. Those who made merry there were soon to be + driven and scattered before the winds of war; to die at Wilson's Creek, or + Shiloh, or to be spared for heroes of the Wilderness. Some were to eke out + a life of widowhood in poverty. All were to live soberly, chastened by + what they had seen. A fear knocked at Colonel Carvel's heart as he stood + watching the bright figures. + </p> + <p> + “Brinsmade,” he said, “do you remember this room in May, '46?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brinsmade, startled, turned upon him quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Colonel, you have read my very thoughts,” he said. “Some of those + who were here then are—are still in Mexico.” + </p> + <p> + “And some who came home, Brinsmade, blamed God because they had not + fallen,” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Comyn, His will be done,” he answered; “He has left a daughter to + comfort you.” + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously their eyes sought Virginia. In her gown of faded primrose + and blue with its quaint stays and short sleeves, she seemed to have + caught the very air of the decorous century to which it belonged. She was + standing against one of the pilasters at the side of the room, laughing + demurely at the antics of Becky Sharp and Sir John Falstaff,—Miss + Puss Russell and Mr. Jack Brinsmade, respectively. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Tennyson's “Idylls” having appeared but the year before, Anne was + dressed as Elaine, a part which suited her very well. It was strange + indeed to see her waltzing with Daniel Boone (Mr. Clarence Colfax) in his + Indian buckskins. Eugenie went as Marie Antoinette. Tall Maude Catherwood + was most imposing as Rebecca; and her brother George made a towering Friar + Tuck, Even little fifteen-year-old Spencer Catherwood, the contradiction + of the family, was there. He went as the lieutenant Napoleon, walking + about with his hands behind his back and his brows thoughtfully + contracted. + </p> + <p> + The Indian summer night was mild. It was at tine very height of the + festivities that Dorothy Carvel and Mr. Daniel Boone were making their way + together to the porch when the giant gate-keeper of Kenilworth Castle came + stalking up the steps out of the darkness, brandishing his club in their + faces. Dorothy screamed, and even the doughty Daniel gave back a step. + </p> + <p> + “Tom Catherwood! How dare you? You frightened me nearly to death.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, Jinny, indeed I am,” said the giant, repentant, and holding + her hand in his. + </p> + <p> + “Where have you been?” demanded Virginia, a little mollified. “What makes + you so late?” + </p> + <p> + “I've been to a Lincoln meeting,” said honest Tom; “where I heard a very + fine speech from a friend of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia tossed her head. + </p> + <p> + “You might have been better employed,” said she, and added, with dignity, + “I have no friends who speak at Black Republican meetings.” + </p> + <p> + “How about Judge Whipple?” said Tom. + </p> + <p> + She stopped. “Did you mean the Judge?” she asked, over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Tom, “I meant—” + </p> + <p> + He got no further. Virginia slipped her arm through Clarence's, and they + went off together to the end of the veranda. Poor Tom! He passed on into + the gay drawing-room, but the zest had been taken out of his antics for + that night. + </p> + <p> + “Whom did he mean, Jinny?” said Clarence, when they were on the seat under + the vines. + </p> + <p> + “He meant that Yankee, Stephen Brice,” answered Virginia, languidly. “I am + so tired of hearing about him.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I,” said Clarence, with a fervor by no means false. “By George, I + think he will make a Black Republican out of Tom, if he keeps on. Puss and + Jack have been talking about him all summer, until I am out of patience. I + reckon he has brains. But suppose he has addressed fifty Lincoln meetings, + as they say, is that any reason for making much of him? I should not have + him at Bellegarde. I am surprised that Mr. Russell allows him in his + house. I can see why Anne likes him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “He is on the Brinsmade charity list.” + </p> + <p> + “He is not on their charity list, nor on any other,” said Virginia, + quickly. “Stephen Brice is the last person who would submit to charity.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are the last person who I supposed would stand up for him,” cried + her cousin, surprised and nettled. + </p> + <p> + There was an instant's silence. + </p> + <p> + “I want to be fair, Max,” she said quietly. “Pa offered them our Glencoe + House last summer at a low price, and they insisted on paying what Mr. + Edwards gave five years ago,—or nothing. You know that I detest a + Yankee as much as you do,” she continued, indignation growing in her + voice. “I did not come out here with you to be insulted.” + </p> + <p> + With her hand on the rail, she made as if to rise. Clarence was perforce + mollified. + </p> + <p> + “Don't go, Jinny,” he said beseechingly. “I didn't mean to make you angry—” + </p> + <p> + “I can't see why you should always be dragging in this Mr. Brice,” she + said, almost tearfully. (It will not do to pause now and inquire into + Virginia's logic.) “I came out to hear what you had to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “Jinny, I have been made second lieutenant of Company A.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Max, I am so glad! I am so proud of you!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that you have heard the result of the October elections, + Jinny.” + </p> + <p> + “Pa said something about them to-night,” she answered; “why?” + </p> + <p> + “It looks now as if there were a chance of the Republicans winning,” he + answered. But it was elation that caught his voice, not gloom. + </p> + <p> + “You mean that this white trash Lincoln may be President?” she exclaimed, + seizing his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” he cried. “The South will not submit to that until every man who + can bear arms is shot down.” He paused. The strains of a waltz mingled + with talk and laughter floated out of the open window. His voice dropped + to a low intensity. “We are getting ready in Company A,” he said; “the + traitors will be dropped. We are getting ready to fight for Missouri and + for the South.” + </p> + <p> + The girl felt his excitement, his exaltation. + </p> + <p> + “And if you were not, Max, I should disown you,” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + He leaned forward until his face was close to hers. + </p> + <p> + “And now?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready to work, to starve, to go to prison, to help—” + </p> + <p> + He sank back heavily into the corner. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all, Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + “All?” she repeated. “Oh, if a woman could only do more!” + </p> + <p> + “And is there nothing—for me?” + </p> + <p> + Virginia straightened. + </p> + <p> + “Are you doing this for a reward?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered passionately. “You know that I am not. Do you remember + when you told me that I was good for nothing, that I lacked purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Max.” + </p> + <p> + “I have thought it over since,” he went on rapidly; “you were right. I + cannot work—it is not in me. But I have always felt that I could + make a name for myself—for you—in the army. I am sure that I + could command a regiment. And now the time is coming.” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer him, but absently twisted the fringe of his buckskins + in her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Ever since I have known what love is I have loved you, Jinny. It was so + when we climbed the cherry trees at Bellegarde. And you loved me then—I + know you did. You loved me when I went East to school at the Military + Institute. But it has not been the same of late,” he faltered. “Something + has happened. I felt it first on that day you rode out to Bellegarde when + you said that my life was of no use. Jinny, I don't ask much. I am content + to prove myself. War is coming, and we shall have to free ourselves from + Yankee insolence. It is what we have both wished for. When I am a general, + will you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + For a wavering instant she might have thrown herself into his outstretched + arms. Why not, and have done with sickening doubts? Perhaps her hesitation + hung on the very boyishness of his proposal. Perhaps the revelation that + she did not then fathom was that he had not developed since those childish + days. But even while she held back, came the beat of hoofs on the gravel + below them, and one of the Bellegarde servants rode into the light pouring + through the open door. He called for his master. + </p> + <p> + Clarence muttered his dismay as he followed his cousin to the steps. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked Virginia, alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; I forgot to sign the deed to the Elleardsville property, and + Worington wants it to-night.” Cutting short Sambo's explanations, Clarence + vaulted on the horse. Virginia was at his stirrup. Leaning over in the + saddle, he whispered: “I'll be back in a quarter of an hour Will you + wait?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, so that he barely heard. + </p> + <p> + “Here?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + He was away at a gallop, leaving Virginia standing bareheaded to the + night, alone. A spring of pity, of affection for Clarence suddenly welled + up within her. There came again something of her old admiration for a boy, + impetuous and lovable, who had tormented and defended her with the same + hand. + </p> + <p> + Patriotism, stronger in Virginia than many of us now can conceive, was on + Clarence's side. Ambition was strong in her likewise. Now was she all + afire with the thought that she, a woman, might by a single word give the + South a leader. That word would steady him, for there was no question of + her influence. She trembled at the reckless lengths he might go in his + dejection, and a memory returned to her of a day at Glencoe, before he had + gone off to school, when she had refused to drive with him. Colonel Carvel + had been away from home. She had pretended not to care. In spite of Ned's + beseechings Clarence had ridden off on a wild thoroughbred colt and had + left her to an afternoon of agony. Vividly she recalled his home-coming in + the twilight, his coat torn and muddy, a bleeding cut on his forehead, and + the colt quivering tame. + </p> + <p> + In those days she had thought of herself unreservedly as meant for him. + Dash and courage and generosity had been the beacon lights on her horizon. + But now? Were there not other qualities? Yes, and Clarence should have + these, too. She would put them into him. She also had been at fault, and + perhaps it was because of her wavering loyalty to him that he had not + gained them. + </p> + <p> + Her name spoken within the hall startled Virginia from her reverie, and + she began to walk rapidly down the winding drive. A fragment of the air to + which they were dancing brought her to a stop. It was the Jenny Lind + waltz. And with it came clear and persistent the image she had sought to + shut out and failed. As if to escape it now, she fairly ran all the way to + the light at the entrance and hid in the magnolias clustered beside the + gateway. It was her cousin's name she whispered over and over to herself + as she waited, vibrant with a strange excitement. It was as though the + very elements might thwart her wail. Clarence would be delayed, or they + would miss her at the house, and search. It seemed an eternity before she + heard the muffled thud of a horse cantering in the clay road. + </p> + <p> + Virginia stood out in the light fairly between the gate posts. Too late + she saw the horse rear as the rider flew back in his seat, for she had + seized the bridle. The beams from the lamp fell upon a Revolutionary + horseman, with cooked hat and sword and high riding-boots. For her his + profile was in silhouette, and the bold nose and chin belonged to but one + man she knew. He was Stephen Brice. She gave a cry of astonishment and + dropped the rein in dismay. Hot shame was surging in her face. Her impulse + was to fly, nor could she tell what force that stayed her feet. + </p> + <p> + As for Stephen, he stood high in his stirrups and stared down at the girl. + She was standing full in the light,—her lashes fallen, her face + crimson. But no sound of surprise escaped him because it was she, nor did + he wonder at her gown of a gone-by century. Her words came first, and they + were low. She did not address him by name. + </p> + <p> + “I—I thought that you were my cousin,” she said. “What must you + think of me!” + </p> + <p> + Stephen was calm. + </p> + <p> + “I expected it,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + She gave a step backward, and raised her frightened eyes to his. + </p> + <p> + “You expected it?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “I can't say why,” he said quickly, “but it seems to me as if this had + happened before. I know that I am talking nonsense—” + </p> + <p> + Virginia was trembling now. And her answer was not of her own choosing. + </p> + <p> + “It has happened before,” she cried. “But where? And when?” + </p> + <p> + “It may have been in a dream,” he answered her, “that I saw you as you + stand there by my bridle. I even know the gown you wear.” + </p> + <p> + She put her hand to her forehead. Had it been a dream? And what mystery + was it that sent him here this night of all nights? She could not even + have said that it was her own voice making reply. + </p> + <p> + “And I—I have seen you, with the sword, and the powdered hair, and + the blue coat and the buff waistcoat. It is a buff waistcoat like that my + great-grandfather wears in his pictures.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a buff waistcoat,” he said, all sense of strangeness gone. + </p> + <p> + The roses she held dropped on the gravel, and she put out her hand against + his horse's flank. In an instant he had leaped from his saddle, and his + arm was holding her. She did not resist, marvelling rather at his own + steadiness, nor did she then resent a tenderness in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will forgive me—Virginia,” he said. “I should not have + mentioned this. And yet I could not help it.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him rather wildly. + </p> + <p> + “It was I who stopped you,” she said; “I was waiting for—” + </p> + <p> + “For whom?” + </p> + <p> + The interruption brought remembrance. + </p> + <p> + “For my cousin, Mr. Colfax,” she answered, in another tone. And as she + spoke she drew away from him, up the driveway. But she had scarcely taken + five steps whey she turned again, her face burning defiance. “They told me + you were not coming,” she said almost fiercely. “Why did you come?” + </p> + <p> + It was a mad joy that Stephen felt. + </p> + <p> + “You did not wish me to come?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, why do you ask that?” she cried. “You know I would not have been here + had I thought you were coming. Anne promised me that you would not come.” + </p> + <p> + What would she not have given for those words back again + </p> + <p> + Stephen took astride toward her, and to the girl that stride betokened a + thousand things that went to the man's character. Within its compass the + comparison in her mind was all complete. He was master of himself when he + spoke. + </p> + <p> + “You dislike me, Miss Carvel,” he said steadily. “I do not blame you. Nor + do I flatter myself that it is only because you believe one thing, and I + another. But I assure you that it is my misfortune rather than my fault + that I have not pleased you,—that I have met you only to anger you.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, for she did not seem to hear him. She was gazing at the distant + lights moving on the river. Had he come one step farther?—but he did + not. Presently she knew that he was speaking again, in the same measured + tone. + </p> + <p> + “Had Miss Brinsmade told me that my presence here would cause you + annoyance, I should have stayed away. I hope that you will think nothing + of the—the mistake at the gate. You may be sure that I shall not + mention it. Good night, Miss Carvel.” + </p> + <p> + He lifted his hat, mounted his horse, and was gone. She had not even known + that he could ride—that was strangely the first thought. The second + discovered herself intent upon the rhythm of his canter as it died + southward upon the road. There was shame in this, mingled with a + thankfulness that he would not meet Clarence. She hurried a few steps + toward the house, and stopped again. What should she say to Clarence now? + What could she say to him? + </p> + <p> + But Clarence was not in her head. Ringing there was her talk with Stephen + Brice, as though it were still rapidly going on. His questions and her + replies—over and over again. Each trivial incident of an encounter + real and yet unreal! His transformation in the uniform, which had seemed + so natural. Though she strove to make it so, nothing of all this was + unbearable now, nor the remembrance of the firm torch of his arm about her + nor yet again his calling her by her name. + </p> + <p> + Absently she took her way again up the drive, now pausing, now going on, + forgetful. First it was alarm she felt when her cousin leaped down at her + side,—then dread. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I should never get back,” he cried breathlessly, as he threw + his reins to Sambo. “I ought not to have asked you to wait outside. Did it + seem long, Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + She answered something, There was a seat near by under the trees. To lead + her to it he seized her hand, but it was limp and cold, and a sudden fear + came into his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + She resisted, and he dropped her fingers. She remembered long how he stood + in the scattered light from the bright windows, a tall, black figure of + dismay. She felt the yearning in his eyes. But her own response, warm half + an hour since, was lifeless. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny,” he said, “what is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, Max. Only I was very foolish to say I would wait for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—then you won't marry me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Max,” she cried, “it is no time to talk of that now. I feel to-night + as if something dreadful were to happen.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean war?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said. “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But war is what we want,” he cried, “what we have prayed for, what we + have both been longing for to-night, Jinny. War alone will give us our + rights—” + </p> + <p> + He stopped short. Virginia had bowed her head an her hands, and he saw her + shoulders shaken by a sob. Clarence bent over her in bewilderment and + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “You are not well, Jinny,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I am not well,” she answered. “Take me into the house.” + </p> + <p> + But when they went in at the door, he saw that her eyes were dry. + </p> + <p> + Those were the days when a dozen young ladies were in the habit of staying + all night after a dance in the country; of long whispered talks (nay, not + always whispered) until early morning. And of late breakfasts. Miss + Russell had not been the only one who remarked Virginia's long absence + with her cousin; but Puss found her friend in one of those moods which + even she dared not disturb. Accordingly Miss Russell stayed all night with + Anne. + </p> + <p> + And the two spent most of the dark hours remaining in unprofitable + discussion as to whether Virginia were at last engaged to her cousin, and + in vain queried over another unsolved mystery. This mystery was taken up + at the breakfast table the next morning, when Miss Carvel surprised Mrs. + Brinsmade and the male household by appearing at half-past seven. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jinny,” cried Mr. Brinsmade, “what does this mean? I always thought + that young ladies did not get up after a ball until noon.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia smiled a little nervously. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to ask you to take me to town when you go, Mr. Brinsmade.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, certainly, my dear,” he said. “But I under stood that your aunt was + to send for you this afternoon from Bellegarde.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia shook her head. “There is something I wish to do in town.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll drive her in, Pa,” said Jack. “You're too old. Will you go with me, + Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “But you must eat some breakfast, Jinny,” said Mrs Brinsmade, glancing + anxiously at the girl. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brinsmade put down his newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “Where was Stephen Brice last night, Jack?” he asked. “I understood Anne + to say that he had spoke; of coming late.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir,” said Jack, “that's what we can't make out. Tom Catherwood, who + is always doing queer things, you know, went to a Black Republican meeting + last night, and met Stephen there. They came out in Tom's buggy to the + Russells', and Tom got into his clothes first and rode over. Stephen was + to have followed on Puss Russell's horse. But he never got here. At least + I can find no one who saw him. Did you, Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + But Virginia did not raise her eyes from her plate. A miraculous + intervention came through Mrs. Brinsmade. + </p> + <p> + “There might have been an accident, Jack,” said that lady, with concern. + “Send Nicodemus over to Mrs. Russell's at once to inquire. You know that + Mr. Brice is a Northerner, and may not be able to ride.” + </p> + <p> + Jack laughed. + </p> + <p> + “He rides like a dragoon, mother,” said he. “I don't know where he picked + it up.” + </p> + <p> + “The reason I mentioned him,” said Mr. Brinsmade, lifting the blanket + sheet and adjusting his spectacles, “was because his name caught my eye in + this paper. His speech last night at the Library Hall is one of the few + sensible Republican speeches I have read. I think it very remarkable for a + man as young as he.” Mr. Brinsmade began to read: “'While waiting for the + speaker of the evening, who was half an hour late, Mr. Tiefel rose in the + audience and called loudly for Mr. Brice. Many citizens in the hall were + astonished at the cheering which followed the mention of this name. Mr. + Brice is a young lawyer with a quiet manner and a determined face, who has + sacrificed much to the Party's cause this summer. He was introduced by + Judge Whipple, in whose office he is. He had hardly begun to speak before + he had the ear of everyone in the house. Mr. Brice's personality is + prepossessing, his words are spoken sharply, and he has a singular + emphasis at times which seems to drive his arguments into the minds of his + hearers. We venture to say that if party orators here and elsewhere were + as logical and temperate as Mr. Brice; if, like him, they appealed to + reason rather than to passion, those bitter and lamentable differences + which threaten our country's peace might be amicably adjusted.' Let me + read what he said.” + </p> + <p> + But he was interrupted by the rising of Virginia. A high color was on the + girl's face as she said: + </p> + <p> + “Please excuse me, Mrs. Brinsmade, I must go and get ready.” + </p> + <p> + “But you've eaten nothing, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia did not reply. She was already on the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “You ought not have read that, Pa,” Mr. Jack remonstrated; “you know that + she detests Yankees.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE BREACH BECOMES TOO WIDE ABRAHAM LINCOLN! + </h2> + <p> + At the foot of Breed's Hill in Charlestown an American had been born into + the world, by the might of whose genius that fateful name was sped to the + uttermost parts of the nation. Abraham Lincoln was elected President of + the United States. And the moan of the storm gathering in the South grew + suddenly loud and louder. + </p> + <p> + Stephen Brice read the news in the black headlines and laid down the + newspaper, a sense of the miraculous upon him. There again was the angled, + low-celled room of the country tavern, reeking with food and lamps and + perspiration; for a central figure the man of surpassing homeliness,—coatless, + tieless, and vestless,—telling a story in the vernacular. He + reflected that it might well seem strange yea, and intolerable—to + many that this comedian of the country store, this crude lawyer and + politician, should inherit the seat dignified by Washington and the + Adamses. + </p> + <p> + And yet Stephen believed. For to him had been vouchsafed the glimpse + beyond. + </p> + <p> + That was a dark winter that followed, the darkest in our history. Gloom + and despondency came fast upon the heels of Republican exultation. Men + rose early for tidings from Charleston, the storm centre. The Union was + cracking here and there. Would it crumble in pieces before Abraham Lincoln + got to Washington? + </p> + <p> + One smoky morning early in December Stephen arrived late at the office to + find Richter sitting idle on his stool, concern graven on his face. + </p> + <p> + “The Judge has had no breakfast, Stephen,” he whispered. “Listen! Shadrach + tells me he has been doing that since six this morning, when he got his + newspaper.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen listened, and he heard the Judge pacing and pacing in his room. + Presently the door was flung open, And they saw Mr. Whipple standing in + the threshold, stern and dishevelled. Astonishment did not pause here. He + came out and sat down in Stephen's chair, striking the newspaper in his + hand, and they feared at first that his Mind had wandered. + </p> + <p> + “Propitiate!” he cried, “propitiate, propitiate, and again propitiate. How + long, O Lord?” Suddenly he turned upon Stephen, who was frightened. But + now his voice was natural, and he thrust the paper into the young man's + lap. “Have you read the President's message to Congress, sir? God help me + that I am spared to call that wobbling Buchanan President. Read it. Read + it, sir. You have a legal brain. Perhaps you can tell me why, if a man + admits that it is wrong for a state to abandon this Union, he cannot call + upon Congress for men and money to bring her back. No, this weakling lets + Floyd stock the Southern arsenals. He pays tribute to Barbary. He is for + bribing them not to be angry. Take Cuba from Spain, says he, and steal the + rest of Mexico that the maw of slavery may be filled, and the demon + propitiated.” + </p> + <p> + They dared not answer him. And so he went back into his room, shutting the + door. That day no clients saw him, even those poor ones dependent on his + charity whom had never before denied. Richter and Stephen took counsel + together, and sent Shadrach out for his dinner. + </p> + <p> + Three weeks passed. There arrived a sparkling Sunday, brought down the + valley of the Missouri from the frozen northwest. The Saturday had been + soggy and warm. + </p> + <p> + Thursday had seen South Carolina leave that Union into which she was born, + amid prayers and the ringing of bells. Tuesday was to be Christmas day. A + young lady, who had listened to a solemn sermon of Dr. Posthelwaite's, + slipped out of Church before the prayers were ended, and hurried into that + deserted portion of the town about the Court House where on week days + business held its sway. + </p> + <p> + She stopped once at the bottom of the grimy flight of steps leading to + Judge Whipple's office. At the top she paused again, and for a short space + stood alert, her glance resting on the little table in the corner, on top + of which a few thumbed law books lay neatly piled. Once she made a + hesitating step in this direction. Then, as if by a resolution quickly + taken, she turned her back and softly opened the door of the Judge's room. + He was sitting upright in his chair. A book was open in his lap, but it + did not seem to Virginia that he was reading it. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Silas,” she said, “aren't you coming to dinner any more?” + </p> + <p> + He looked up swiftly from under his shaggy brows. The book fell to the + floor. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Silas,” said Virginia, bravely, “I came to get you to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Never before had she known him to turn away from man or woman, but now + Judge Whipple drew his handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose + violently. A woman's intuition told her that locked tight in his heart was + what he longed to say, and could not. The shiny black overcoat he wore was + on the bed. Virginia picked it up and held it out to him, an appeal in her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + He got into it. Then she handed him his hat. Many people walking home from + church that morning marvelled as they saw these two on Locust Street + together, the young girl supporting the elderly man over the slippery + places at the crossings. For neighbor had begun to look coldly upon + neighbor. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Carvel beheld them from his armchair by the sitting-room window, + and leaned forward with a start. His lips moved as he closed his Bible + reverently and marked his place. At the foot of the stairs he surprised + Jackson by waving him aside, for the Colonel himself flung open the door + and held out his hand to his friend. The Judge released Virginia's arm, + and his own trembled as he gave it. + </p> + <p> + “Silas,” said the Colonel, “Silas, we've missed you.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia stood by, smiling, but her breath came deeply. Had she done + right? Could any good come of it all? Judge Whipple did not go in at the + door—He stood uncompromisingly planted on the threshold, his head + flung back, and actual fierceness in his stare. + </p> + <p> + “Do you guess we can keep off the subject, Comyn?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + Even Mr. Carvel, so used to the Judge's ways, was a bit taken aback by + this question. It set him tugging at his goatee, and his voice was not + quite steady as he answered: + </p> + <p> + “God knows, Silas. We are human, and we can only try.” + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Whipple marched in. It lacked a quarter of an hour of dinner,—a + crucial period to tax the resources of any woman. Virginia led the talk, + but oh, the pathetic lameness of it. Her own mind was wandering when it + should not, and recollections she had tried to strangle had sprung up once + more. Only that morning in church she had lived over again the scene by + Mr. Brinsmade's gate, and it was then that a wayward but resistless + impulse to go to the Judge's office had seized her. The thought of the old + man lonely and bitter in his room decided her. On her knees she prayed + that she might save the bond between him and her father. For the Colonel + had been morose on Sundays, and had taken to reading the Bible, a custom + he had not had since she was a child. + </p> + <p> + In the dining-room Jackson, bowing and smiling, pulled out the Judge's + chair, and got his customary curt nod as a reward. Virginia carved. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Uncle Silas,” she cried, “I am so glad that we have a wild turkey. + And you shall have your side-bone.” The girl carved deftly, feverishly, + talking the while, aided by that most kind and accomplished of hosts, her + father. In the corner the dreaded skeleton of the subject grinned + sardonically. Were they going to be able to keep it off? There was to be + no help from Judge Whipple, who sat in grim silence. A man who feels his + soul burning is not given to small talk. Virginia alone had ever possessed + the power to make him forget. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Silas, I am sure there are some things about our trip that we never + told you. How we saw Napoleon and his beautiful Empress driving in the + Bois, and how Eugenie smiled and bowed at the people. I never saw such + enthusiasm in my life. And oh, I learned such a lot of French history. All + about Francis the First, and Pa took me to see his chateaus along the + Loire. Very few tourists go there. You really ought to have gone with us.” + </p> + <p> + Take care, Virginia! + </p> + <p> + “I had other work to do, Jinny,” said the Judge. + </p> + <p> + Virginia rattled on. + </p> + <p> + “I told you that we stayed with a real lord in England, didn't I?” said + she. “He wasn't half as nice as the Prince. But he had a beautiful house + in Surrey, all windows, which was built in Elizabeth's time. They called + the architecture Tudor, didn't they, Pa?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” said the Colonel, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “The Countess was nice to me,” continued the girl, “and took me to garden + parties. But Lord Jermyn was always talking politics.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel was stroking his goatee. + </p> + <p> + “Tell Silas about the house, Jinny—Jackson, help the Judge again.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Virginia, drawing a breath. “I'm going to tell him about that + queer club where my great-grand-father used to bet with Charles Fox. We + saw a great many places where Richard Carvel had been in England. That was + before the Revolution. Uncle Daniel read me some of his memoirs when we + were at Calvert House. I know that you would be interested in them, Uncle + Silas. He sailed under Paul Jones.” + </p> + <p> + “And fought for his country and for his flag, Virginia,” said the Judge, + who had scarcely spoken until then. “No, I could not bear to read them + now, when those who should love that country are leaving it in passion.” + </p> + <p> + There was a heavy silence. Virginia did not dare to look at her father. + But the Colonel said, gently: + </p> + <p> + “Not in passion, Silas, but in sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge tightened his lips. But the effort was beyond him, and the flood + within him broke loose. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Carvel,” he cried, “South Carolina is mad—She is departing + in sin, in order that a fiendish practice may be perpetuated. If her + people stopped to think they would know that slavery cannot exist except + by means of this Union. But let this milksop of a President do his worst. + We have chosen a man who has the strength to say, 'You shall not go!'” + </p> + <p> + It was an awful moment. The saving grace of it was that respect and love + for her father filled Virginia's heart. In his just anger Colonel Carvel + remembered that he was the host, and strove to think only of his affection + for his old friend. + </p> + <p> + “To invade a sovereign state, sir, is a crime against the sacred spirit of + this government,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “There is no such thing as a sovereign state, sir,” exclaimed the Judge, + hotly. “I am an American, and not a Missourian.” + </p> + <p> + “When the time comes, sir,” said the Colonel, with dignity, “Missouri will + join with her sister sovereign states against oppression.” + </p> + <p> + “Missouri will not secede, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, sir!” demanded the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Because, sir, when the worst comes, the Soothing Syrup men will rally for + the Union. And there are enough loyal people here to keep her straight.” + </p> + <p> + “Dutchmen, sir! Hessians? Foreign Republican hirelings, sir,” exclaimed + the Colonel, standing up. “We shall drive them like sheep if they oppose + us. You are drilling them now that they may murder your own blood when you + think the time is ripe.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel did not hear Virginia leave the room, so softly had she gone, + He made a grand figure of a man as he stood up, straight and tall, those + gray eyes a-kindle at last. But the fire died as quickly as it had flared. + Pity had come and quenched it,—pity that an unselfish life of + suffering and loneliness should be crowned with these. The Colonel longed + then to clasp his friend in his arms. Quarrels they had had by the + hundred, never yet a misunderstanding. God had given to Silas Whipple a + nature stern and harsh that repelled all save the charitable few whose + gift it was to see below the surface, and Colonel Carvel had been the + chief of them. But now the Judge's vision was clouded. + </p> + <p> + Steadying himself by his chair, he had risen glaring, the loose skin + twitching on his sallow face. He began firmly but his voice shook ere he + had finished. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Carvel,” said he, “I expect that the day has come when you go + your way and I go mine. It will be better if—we do not meet again, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + And so he turned from the man whose friendship had stayed him for the + score of years he had battled with his enemies, from that house which had + been for so long his only home. For the last time Jackson came forward to + help him with his coat. The Judge did not see him, nor did he see the + tearful face of a young girl leaning over the banisters above. Ice was on + the stones. And Mr. Whipple, blinded by a moisture strange to his eyes, + clung to the iron railing as he felt his way down the steps. Before he + reached the bottom a stronger arm had seize his own, and was helping him. + </p> + <p> + The Judge brushed his eyes with his sleeve, and turned a defiant face upon + Captain Elijah Brent—then his voice broke. His anger was suddenly + gone, and his thought had flown back to the Colonel's thousand charities. + </p> + <p> + “Lige,” he said, “Lige, it has come.” + </p> + <p> + In answer the Captain pressed the Judge's hand, nodding vigorously to hide + his rising emotion. There was a pause. + </p> + <p> + “And you, Lige?” said Mr. Whipple, presently. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” cried the Captain, “I wish I knew.” + </p> + <p> + “Lige,” said the Judge, gravely, “you're too good a man to be for Soothing + Syrup.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain choked. + </p> + <p> + “You're too smart to be fooled, Lige,” he said, with a note near to + pleading. “The time has come when you Bell people and the Douglas people + have got to decide. Never in my life did I know it to do good to dodge a + question. We've got to be white or black, Lige. Nobody's got much use for + the grays. And don't let yourself be fooled with Constitutional Union + Meetings, and compromises. The time is almost here, Lige, when it will + take a rascal to steer a middle course.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Lige listened, and he shifted from one foot to the other, and + rubbed his hands, which were red. Some odd trick of the mind had put into + his head two people—Eliphalet Hopper and Jacob Cluyme. Was he like + them? + </p> + <p> + “Lige, you've got to decide. Do you love your country, sir? Can you look + on while our own states defy us, and not lift a hand? Can you sit still + while the Governor and all the secessionists in this state are plotting to + take Missouri, too, out of the Union? The militia is riddled with rebels, + and the rest are forming companies of minute men.” + </p> + <p> + “And you Black Republicans,” the Captain cried “have organized your Dutch + Wideawakes, and are arming them to resist Americans born.” + </p> + <p> + “They are Americans by our Constitution, sir, which the South pretends to + revere,” cried the Judge. “And they are showing themselves better + Americans than many who have been on the soil for generations.” + </p> + <p> + “My sympathies are with the South,” said the Captain, doggedly, “and my + love is for the South.” + </p> + <p> + “And your conscience?” said the Judge. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. Both men raised their eyes to the house of him whose + loving hospitality had been a light in the lives of both. When at last the + Captain spoke, his voice was rent with feeling. + </p> + <p> + “Judge,” he began, “when I was a poor young man on the old 'Vicksburg', + second officer under old Stetson, Colonel Carvel used to take me up to his + house on Fourth Street to dinner. And he gave me the clothes on my back, + so that I might not be ashamed before the fashion which came there. He + treated me like a son, sir. One day the sheriff sold the Vicksburg. You + remember it. That left me high and dry in the mud. Who bought her, sir? + Colonel Carvel. And he says to me, 'Lige, you're captain now, the youngest + captain on the river. And she's your boat. You can pay me principal and + interest when you get ready.' + </p> + <p> + “Judge Whipple, I never had any other home than right in, this house. I + never had any other pleasure than bringing Jinny presents, and tryin' to + show 'em gratitude. He took me into his house and cared for me at a time + when I wanted to go to the devil along with the stevedores when I was a + wanderer he kept me out of the streets, and out of temptation. Judge, I'd + a heap rather go down and jump off the stern of my boat than step in here + and tell him I'd fight for the North.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge steadied himself on his hickory stick and walked off without a + word. For a while Captain Lige stood staring after him. Then he slowly + climbed the steps and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER, XV. MUTTERINGS + </h2> + <p> + Early in the next year, 1861,—that red year in the Calendar of our + history,—several gentlemen met secretly in the dingy counting-room + of a prominent citizen to consider how the state of Missouri might be + saved to the Union. One of these gentlemen was Judge Whipple, another, Mr. + Brinsmade; and another a masterly and fearless lawyer who afterward became + a general, and who shall be mentioned in these pages as the Leader. By his + dash and boldness and statesmanlike grasp of a black situation St. Louis + was snatched from the very bosom of secession. + </p> + <p> + Alas, that chronicles may not stretch so as to embrace all great men of a + time. There is Captain Nathaniel Lyon,—name with the fateful ring. + Nathaniel Lyon, with the wild red hair and blue eye, born and bred a + soldier, ordered to St. Louis, and become subordinate to a wavering + officer of ordnance. Lyon was one who brooked no trifling. He had the face + of a man who knows his mind and intention; the quick speech and action + which go with this. Red tape made by the reel to bind him, he broke. + Courts-martial had no terrors for him. He proved the ablest of lieutenants + to the strong civilian who was the Leader. Both were the men of the + occasion. If God had willed that the South should win, there would have + been no occasion. + </p> + <p> + Even as Judge Whipple had said, the time was come for all men to decide. + Out of the way, all hopes of compromises that benumbed Washington. No + Constitutional Unionists, no Douglas Democrats, no Republicans now. + </p> + <p> + All must work to save the ship. The speech-making was not done with yet. + Partisanship must be overcome, and patriotism instilled in its place. One + day Stephen Brice saw the Leader go into Judge Whipple's room, and + presently he was sent for. After that he was heard of in various + out-of-the-way neighborhoods, exhorting all men to forget their quarrels + and uphold the flag. + </p> + <p> + The Leader himself knew not night from day in his toil,—in + organizing, conciliating, compelling when necessary. Letters passed + between him and Springfield. And, after that solemn inauguration, between + him and Washington. It was an open secret that the Governor of Missouri + held out his arms to Jefferson Davis, just elected President of the new + Southern Confederacy. It soon became plain to the feeblest brain what the + Leader and his friends had perceived long before, that the Governor + intended to use the militia (purged of Yankee sympathizers) to save the + state for the South. + </p> + <p> + The Government Arsenal, with its stores of arms and ammunition, was the + prize. This building and its grounds lay to the south of the City, + overlooking the river. It was in command of a doubting major of ordnance; + the corps of officers of Jefferson Barracks hard by was mottled with + secession. Trade was still. The Mississippi below was practically closed. + In all the South, Pickens and Sumter alone stood stanch to the flag. A + general, wearing the uniform of the army of the United States, surrendered + the whole state of Texas. + </p> + <p> + The St. Louis Arsenal was next in succession, and the little band of + regulars at the Barracks was powerless to save it. What could the Leader + and Captain Lyon do without troops? That was the question that rang in + Stephen's head, and in the heads of many others. For, if President Lincoln + sent troops to St. Louis, that would precipitate the trouble. And the + President had other uses for the handful in the army. + </p> + <p> + There came a rain-sodden night when a mysterious message arrived at the + little house in Olive Street. Both anxiety and pride were in Mrs. Brice's + eyes as they followed her son out of the door. At Twelfth Street two men + were lounging on the corners, each of whom glanced at him listessly as he + passed. He went up a dark and narrow stair into a lighted hall with + shrouded windows. Men with sober faces were forming line on the sawdust of + the floors. The Leader was there giving military orders in a low voice. + That marked the beginning of the aggressive Union movement. + </p> + <p> + Stephen, standing apart at the entrance, remarked that many of the men + were Germans. Indeed, he spied his friend Tiefel there, and presently + Richter came from the ranks to greet him. + </p> + <p> + “My friend,” he said, “you are made second lieutenant of our company, the + Black Jaegers.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have never drilled in my life,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind. Come and see the Leader.” + </p> + <p> + The Leader, smiling a little, put a vigorous stop to his protestations, + and told him to buy a tactics. The next man Stephen saw was big Tom + Catherwood, who blushed to the line of his hair as he returned Stephen's + grip. + </p> + <p> + “Tom, what does this mean?” He asked. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Tom, embarrassed, “a fellow has got to do what he think's + right.” + </p> + <p> + “And your family?” asked Stephen. + </p> + <p> + A spasm crossed Tom's face. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon they'll disown me, Stephen, when they find it out.” + </p> + <p> + Richter walked home as far as Stephen's house. He was to take the Fifth + Street car for South St. Louis. And they talked of Tom's courage, and of + the broad and secret military organization the Leader had planned that + night. But Stephen did not sleep till the dawn. Was he doing right? Could + he afford to risk his life in the war that was coming, and leave his + mother dependent upon charity? + </p> + <p> + It was shortly after this that Stephen paid his last visit for many a long + day upon Miss Puss Russell. It was a Sunday afternoon, and Puss was + entertaining, as usual, a whole parlor-full of young men, whose leanings + and sympathies Stephen divined while taking off his coat in the hall. Then + he heard Miss Russell cry: + </p> + <p> + “I believe that they are drilling those nasty Dutch hirelings in secret.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure they are,” said George Catherwood. “One of the halls is on + Twelfth Street, and they have sentries posted out so that you can't get + near them. Pa has an idea that Tom goes there. And he told him that if he + ever got evidence of it, he'd show him the door.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really think that Tom is with the Yankees?” asked Jack Brinsmade. + </p> + <p> + “Tom's a fool,” said George, with emphasis, “but he isn't a coward. He'd + just as soon tell Pa to-morrow that he was drilling if the Yankee leaders + wished it known.” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia will never speak to him again,” said Eugenie, in an awed voice. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said Puss, “Tom never had a chance with Jinny. Did he, George? + Clarence is in high favor now. Did you ever know any one to change so, + since this military business has begun? He acts like a colonel. I hear + that they are thinking of making him captain of a company of dragoons.” + </p> + <p> + “They are,” George answered. “And that is the company I intend to join.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” began Puss, with her usual recklessness, “it's a good thing for + Clarence that all this is happening. I know somebody else—” + </p> + <p> + Poor Stephen in the hall knew not whether to stay or fly. An accident + decided the question. Emily Russell came down the stairs at that instant + and spoke to him. As the two entered the parlor, there was a hush pregnant + with many things unsaid. Puss's face was scarlet, but her hand was cold as + she held it out to him. For the first time in that house he felt like an + intruder. Jack Brinsmade bowed with great ceremony, and took his + departure. There was scarcely a distant cordiality in the greeting of the + other young men. And Puss, whose tongue was loosed again, talked rapidly + of entertainments to which Stephen either had not been invited, or from + which he had stayed away. The rest of the company were almost moodily + silent. + </p> + <p> + Profoundly depressed, Stephen sat straight in the velvet chair, awaiting a + seasonable time to bring his visit to a close. + </p> + <p> + This was to be the last, then, of his intercourse with a warmhearted and + lovable people. This was to be the end of his friendship with this + impetuous and generous girl who had done so much to brighten his life + since he had come to St: Louis. Henceforth this house would be shut to + him, and all others save Mr. Brinsmade's. + </p> + <p> + Presently, in one of the intervals of Miss Russell's feverish talk, he + rose to go. Dusk was gathering, and a deep and ominous silence penetrated + like the shadows into the tall room. No words came to him. Impulsively, + almost tearfully, Puss put her hand in his. Then she pressed it + unexpectedly, so that he had to gulp down a lump that was in his throat. + Just then a loud cry was heard from without, the men jumped from their + chairs, and something heavy dropped on the carpet. + </p> + <p> + Some ran to the window, others to the door. Directly across the street was + the house of Mr. Harmsworth, a noted Union man. One of the third story + windows was open, and out of it was pouring a mass of gray wood smoke. + George Catherwood was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “I hope it will burn down,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Stephen picked up the object on the floor, which had dropped from his + pocket, and handed it to him. + </p> + <p> + It was a revolver. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Volume 5. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE GUNS OF SUMTER + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Was the flag still there? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brice was a brave woman. She walked that night with God. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, mother?” he said. + </p> + <p> + She said: “Stephen, I am afraid that the war has come.” + </p> + <p> + He sat up, blindly. Even he did not guess the agony in her heart. + </p> + <p> + “You will have to go, Stephen.” + </p> + <p> + It was long before his answer came. + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “Remember Wilton Brice. Stephen—I can get along. I can sew.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I will not go, mother,” he said. “If at length every man is needed, that + will be different.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I have had to do that before, mother,” he replied calmly. “I cannot leave + you dependent upon charity.” + </p> + <p> + She went back into her room to pray, for she knew that he had laid his + ambition at her feet. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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? + </p> + <p> + “Carl,” he said at length, “I—I cannot go.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you cannot go? You who have done so much already! And why?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen did not answer. But Richter, suddenly divining, laid his hands + impulsively on Stephen's shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Ach, I see,” he said. “Stephen, I have saved some money. It shall be for + your mother while you are away.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “It is my duty to stay here, Carl,” he said brokenly. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the office the stern figure of the Judge appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Brice!” he said sharply. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen met the look squarely. “No, sir,” he answered, steadily, “not + now.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He remembers me!” cried Stephen + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + What right had he to pull down that flag, to die on the pavement before + that house? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. CAMP JACKSON + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Half a mile nearer the river, on the house of the Minute Men, the strange + flag leaps wildly in the wind this day. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Clarence, we are proud of you, sir,” he says. + </p> + <p> + And Virginia, repeats his words, her eyes sparkling, her fingers caressing + the silken curve of Jefferson's neck. + </p> + <p> + “Clarence, you will drive Captain Lyon and his Hessians into the river.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia laughed. “I had forgotten,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “You will have your cousin court-martialed, my dear,” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + To the discomfiture of the young ladies, Colonel Carvel pulled his goatee + and guffawed. Virginia was for moving away. + </p> + <p> + “How mean, Pa,” she said indignantly. “How car, you expect them to do it + right the first day, and in this wind?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Jinny, look at Maurice!” exclaimed Maude, giggling. “He is pulled + over on his head.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You will see that they can fight,” she said. “They can beat the Yankees + and Dutch.” + </p> + <p> + This speech made the Colonel glance around him: Then he smiled,—in + response to other smiles. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Jinny stamped her foot + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not, Colonel Carvel?” cried Maude. She had forgotten that one of her + brothers was with the Yankees and Hessians. + </p> + <p> + “Why aren't women made generals and governors?” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “If we were,” answered Virginia, “something might be accomplished.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't Clarence enough of a fire-eater to suit you?” asked her father. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Jinny,” cried her cousin, “let us go over to the main camp.” + </p> + <p> + “And walk on Davis Avenue,” said Virginia, flushing with pride. “Isn't + there a Davis Avenue?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and a Lee Avenue, and a Beauregard Avenue,” said George, taking his + sister's arm. + </p> + <p> + “We shall walk in them all,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “It's a fine day,” said Mr. Hopper. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” she exclaimed, “I'd like to know what she's doing here!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Eliphalet; “but I cal'late she's got stouter.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” Miss Belle demanded. + </p> + <p> + “That Union principles must be healthy,” said he, and laughed. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at Eliphalet, to find that his eyes were fixed on the + approaching couple. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper lied. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + There was a point of light now in each of Mr. Hopper's green eyes. But Mr. + Cluyme continued: + </p> + <p> + “What a pity, I say, that he should run the risk of crippling himself by + his opinions. Times are getting hard.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Hopper. + </p> + <p> + “And southwestern notes are not worth the paper they are written on—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ......................... +</pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen,” said he, “they are serving out cartridges and uniforms to the + regiments at the arsenal. Would you like to go down with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Does that mean Camp Jackson?” asked Stephen, when they had reached the + street. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Lyon is not the man to sit still and let the Governor take the + first trick, sir,” said the Judge. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Whipple,” he said, “this nation is going to the devil; eh?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The Judge shook his head. “We may pull out,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I have faith in Mr. Lincoln. He is calling out volunteers.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Judge expressed his belief in this, and also that Mr. Lincoln would + draw all the water before he got through. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I can't go, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” demanded Mr. Sherman. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Major looked at Stephen, and his expression changed. + </p> + <p> + “Find it pretty hard?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Stephen's expression must have satisfied him, but he nodded again, more + vigorously than before. + </p> + <p> + “Just you WAIT, Mr. Brice,” he said. “It won't hurt you any.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you the young man who made the Union speech in Mercantile Library + Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the Judge. “He is.” + </p> + <p> + At that the Major put out his hand impulsively, and gripped Stephen's. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I heard Mr. Lincoln's debate with Judge Douglas at 'Freeport,” said + Stephen; beginning to be amused. + </p> + <p> + The Major laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I admire your frankness, sir,” he said. “I meant to say that its logic + rather than its substance reminded one of Lincoln.” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to learn what I could from him, Major Sherman.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “To Camp Jackson?” asked Stephen. + </p> + <p> + Richter shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “We are not consulted, my friend,” he said. “Will you come into my + quarters and have a bottle of beer with Tiefel?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. THE STONE THAT IS REJECTED + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brice dropped her knitting in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Stephen?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brice looked fixedly at her son, and then smiled in spite of the + apprehension she felt. + </p> + <p> + “Is that why you were working over that map of the city last night?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He must be a bold man,” murmured Mrs. Brice. + </p> + <p> + “Does he think that the—the Rebellion can be put down?” + </p> + <p> + “Not with seventy-five thousand men, nor with ten times that number.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brice sighed, and furtively wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid we shall see great misery, Stephen,” she said. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + The sound of feet was heard on the pavement. Stephen rose, glancing at his + mother. Her face was still upon her knitting. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to the Arsenal,” he said. “I must see what as happening.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet's equanimity was far from shaken. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Cluyme ran his hand through his chop whiskers, and lowered his voice. + </p> + <p> + “You're right, Hopper,” he assented. “And if this city is going to be + Union, we ought to know it right away.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Then Stephen stared at him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Blair, my name is Grant,” he said briefly. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel faced quickly about, and held out his gloved hand cordially, + “Captain Ulysses Grant,” said he; “of the old army?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Grant nodded. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to wish you luck,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Grant,” answered the Colonel. “But you? Where are you living + now?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you going in, Grant?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “John,” said Mr. Brinsmade, sternly, “I cannot let you join a mob. I + cannot let you shoot at men who carry the Union flag.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “He is a rebel,” she faltered. “It will break my father's heart.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at Stephen appealingly, unashamed of the tears in her eyes. + Then she, too went in. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot stay here mother,” he said. + </p> + <p> + As he slammed the gate, Anne ran down the steps calling his name. He + paused, and she caught his sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + The song ceased amid peals of girlish laughter. Stephen was rooted to the + spot. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny! Jinny Carvel, how dare you!” came through the shutters. “We shall + have a whole regiment of Hessians in here.” + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “Mistah Brice, if de Dutch take Camp Jackson, is we niggers gwinter be + free?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen did not answer, for the piano had started again, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THE TENTH OF MAY + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” exclaimed Virginia, passionately, “I believe you want them to + surrender. I should rather see Clarence dead than giving his sword to a + Yankee.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Camp Jackson has surrendered!” + </p> + <p> + They heard the patter of his bare feet on the pavement, and the cry + repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Camp Jackson has surrendered!” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + How hard it is for us of this age to understand that feeling. + </p> + <p> + “I do not believe it!” she cried. “I cannot believe it!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he was saying, “they—they surrendered. There was nothing else + for them to do. They were surrounded and overpowered.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Catherwood uttered an oath. But it did not shock Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “And not a shot fired?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And not a shot fired?” Virginia repeated, mechanically. Both men turned. + Mr. Barbo took off his hat. + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how could they!” exclaimed Virginia. + </p> + <p> + Her words seemed to arouse Mr. Catherwood from a kind of stupor. He + turned, and took her hand. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Here they are,—the dragoons! Three cheers for Colfax! Down with the + Yankees!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Lie down, Brice! For God's sake lie down!” Mr. Sherman cried. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Curse you!” he cried, reaching out wildly, “curse you, you d—d + Yankee. I'll teach you to fight!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Curse you!” he panted; “curse you, you let me go and I'll kill you,—you + Yankee upstart!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + For a moment the other two stood staring after him. Then Mr. Sherman took + his boy by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen stammered his acknowledgments. And Mr. Sherman, nodding his head + vigorously, went away southward through the grove, toward Market Street. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Had she waited, she might have seen a solitary figure leaving the line of + march and striding across to Pine Street. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen,” he said, “I have been searching the city for John. Did you see + him at Camp Jackson—was he hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not, sir,” Stephen answered, with clear eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I saw him walking southward after the firing was all over.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen, you did not tell me that you saw John,” said his mother, when + the door was closed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. IN THE ARSENAL + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you going to the Planters' House, Pa The Colonel turned, and tried + to smile. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon not to-night, Jinny. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “To find out what they are going to do with Clarence,” she said + indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon they don't know at the Planters' House,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then—” began Virginia, and stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Then what?” he asked, stroking her hair. + </p> + <p> + “Then why not go to the Barracks? Order the carriage, and I will go with + you.” + </p> + <p> + His smile faded. He stood looking down at her fixedly, as was sometimes + his habit. Grave tenderness was in his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny,” he said slowly, “Jinny, do you mean to marry Clarence?” + </p> + <p> + The suddenness of the question took her breath. But she answered steadily: + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you love him? + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered. But her lashes fell. + </p> + <p> + Still he stood, and it seemed to her that her father's gaze pierced to her + secret soul. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, my dear,” he said. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She laid her hand upon his. + </p> + <p> + “And did you think I would care, dear?” she asked gently. “I can bear with + poverty and rags, to win this war.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Pa,” said Virginia, presently, “do you trust Mr. Hopper?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel gave a start. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Lige doesn't like him.” + </p> + <p> + “Lige has prejudices.” + </p> + <p> + “So have I,” said Virginia. “Eliphalet Hopper will serve you so long as he + serves himself. No longer.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish he had,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Is my bag packed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Marsa.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” cried Virginia, in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “To Jefferson City, dear, to see the Governor. I got word this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “In the rain?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled, and stooped to kiss her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll get it for you,” said Virginia, used to her aunt's vagaries. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, tell me. I am much too nervous to read it.” + </p> + <p> + “It says that they will be paroled to-day, and that they passed a + comfortable night.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is Comyn?” inquired Mrs. Colfax. “Has he gone down to see + Clarence?” + </p> + <p> + “He went to Jefferson City last night,” replied Virginia. “The Governor + sent for him.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Colfax exclaimed in horror at this news. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I do not go on my knees to any man,” she said. “Rosetta, tell Ned I wish + the carriage at once.” + </p> + <p> + Her aunt seized her convulsively by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going, Jinny?” she demanded. “Your Pa would never forgive + me if anything happened to you.” + </p> + <p> + A smile, half pity, crossed the girl's anxious face. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid that I must risk adding to your misfortune, Aunt Lillian,” + she said, and left the room. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + And Yankee and Rebel alike sought his help and counsel in time of + perplexity or trouble, rather than hotheaded advice from their own + leaders. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny, it was so good of you to come. You don't, hate me?” + </p> + <p> + “Hate you, Anne dear!” + </p> + <p> + “Because we are Union,” said honest Anne, wishing to have no shadow of + doubt. + </p> + <p> + Virginia was touched. “Anne,” she cried, “if you were German, I believe I + should love you.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Heard what?” asked Virginia, alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + It was then that Virginia forgot Clarence. She drew Anne to the sofa and + kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Even good Mr. Brinsmade smiled at the slip she had nearly made. He + understood the girl, and admired her. He also understood Mrs. Colfax. + </p> + <p> + “I'll drive to the Arsenal with you, Jinny,” he answered. “I know Captain + Lyon, and we shall find out certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do nothing of the kind, sir,” said Virginia, with emphasis. “Had + I known this—about John, I should not have come.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be most grateful, Major. Sit down, sir.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Stephen Brice!” exclaimed Mr. Brinsmade, in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brinsmade grew a little excited. “Are you sure that you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “As sure as I know you,” said the Major, with excessive conviction. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, sir, I saw a bad burn of some kind on his forehead.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “But Jack? What did Jack do?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Brinsmade,” cried Virginia. “Can't you tell me something bad + about him? Just once.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know if Clarence Colfax has gone home?” Mr. Brinsmade inquired. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The young man is Quixotic,” declared the elder Catherwood, who was not + himself in the best of humors. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And why should he be made to, Captain Lyon? In what way has he opposed + the United States troops?” + </p> + <p> + It was Virginia who spoke. Both looked at her in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “You will pardon me, Miss Carvel,” said Captain Lyon, gravely, “if I + refuse to discuss that question with you.” Virginia bit her tongue. + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Virginia, curtly. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Max, you are going to stay here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, until I am exchanged.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Why did Uncle Comyn not come?” asked Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “He has gone to Jefferson City, to see the Governor..” + </p> + <p> + “And you came alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Brinsmade brought me.” + </p> + <p> + “And mother?” + </p> + <p> + She was waiting for that question. What a relief that should have come + among the first. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will be honored for it when the news reaches town.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so, Jinny?” Clarence asked eagerly, “I reckon they will + think me a fool!” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to hear any one say so,” she flashed out. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Clarence did not answer at once. Finally he said. “I do not want to be + released.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not want to be released,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. “They can exchange me. If I remain a prisoner, it will have + a greater effect—for the South.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE STAMPEDE + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Colfax fainted. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?' + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Jinny, you ain't gwineter leave yo' ol mammy?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + Ah, here is Ned back again. Has Mr. Brinsmade come? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the Germans are not moving on the city?” she said. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + She glanced hurriedly at Stephen, who said gently; “I do not wish to delay + you, Miss Carvel, if you are bent upon going.” + </p> + <p> + She wavered. His tone was not resentful, simply quiet. Ephum turned the + corner of the street, the perspiration running on his black face. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Jinny, dey ain't no carridges to be had in this town. No'm, not for + fifty dollars.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What, you black rascal! You won't obey me?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Colfax drew her shawl about her shoulders with dignity. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “If I can be of any service, Miss Carvel,” he said, “I shall be happy.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced at him wildly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she cried, “no. Drive on, Ned!” + </p> + <p> + And as the horses slipped and started she slammed the door in his face. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Virginia, where are we going?” Virginia did not move + </p> + <p> + “Jinny!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that there are enough men left in it to save it,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the Captain?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + “He's down below—ma'am,” he replied. “Can—can I do anything?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, with abrupt maliciousness, “you may tell me where you are + going.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Do you care?” she demanded, curiously. Eliphalet grinned. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Dang me!” he said, “if here ain't pig-headed Brent, steaming the + 'Jewanita' straight to destruction.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, are you sure it's Captain Brent?” cried Virginia. The Captain looked + around in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “You ain't goin' in, Brent?” shouted the Barbara's captain. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” responded Mr. Brent. At the sound of his voice Virginia could + have wept. + </p> + <p> + “The Dutch are sacking the city,” said Vance. “Didn't they tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “The Dutch—hell!” said Mr. Brent, calmly. “Who's afraid of the + Dutch?” + </p> + <p> + A general titter went along the guards, and Virginia blushed. Why could + not the Captain see her? + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Seems to be a little more loaded than common,” remarked Captain Lige, + dryly, at which there was another general laugh. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” answered Mr. Brent; “I'm bound for the barbecue.” And he gave + a command. + </p> + <p> + While the two great boats were manoeuvring, and slashing with one wheel + and the other, the gongs sounding, Virginia ran into the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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: + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did you bring, my girl?” asked the Captain, glancing at the + parcel she held so tightly under her arm. + </p> + <p> + He never knew why she blushed so furiously. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THE STRAINING OF ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP + </h2> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + “Jinny,” said the Captain, “did you ever know why cabins are called + staterooms?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no,” answered she, puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yea,” said Virginia; “why didn't you tell me long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'll bet you can't say,” the Captain continued, “why this house we're + standing on is called the texas.” + </p> + <p> + “Because it is annexed to the states,” she replied, quick a flash. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you're bright,” said he. “Old Tufts got that notion, when Texas + came in. Like to see Bill Jenks?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “William,” said the young lady, roguishly, “how is the eye, location, and + memory?” + </p> + <p> + William abandoned himself to a laugh. When this happened it was put in the + Juanita's log. + </p> + <p> + “So the Cap'n be still harpin' on that?” he said, “Miss Jinny, he's just + plumb crazy on a pilot's qualifications.” + </p> + <p> + “He says that you are the best pilot on the river, but I don't believe + it,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “And—and do you think the city is safe?” + </p> + <p> + “Safe!” he cried. “As safe as London!” He checked himself. “Jinny, would + you like to blow the whistle?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Lige,” he says, “this is the first time to my knowledge.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Pa,” said Virginia, “did you volunteer?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel laughed. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Virginia related the occurrences of Saturday. The Colonel listened with + many exclamations, slapping his knee from time to time as she proceeded. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Pa, are you ill?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + He pushed his chair away, such suffering in his look as she had never + seen. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny,” he said, “I reckon Lige is for the Yankees.” + </p> + <p> + “I have known it all along,” she said, but faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Did he tell you?” her father demanded. “No.” + </p> + <p> + “My God,” cried the Colonel, in agony, “to think that he kept it from me I + to think that Lige kept it from me!” + </p> + <p> + “It is because he loves you, Pa,” answered the girl, gently, “it is + because he loves us.” + </p> + <p> + He said nothing to that. Virginia got up, and went softly around the + table. She leaned over his shoulder. “Pa!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, his voice lifeless. + </p> + <p> + But her courage was not to be lightly shaken. “Pa, will you forbid him to + come here—now?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Colonel. “As long as I have a roof, Lige may come under + it.” + </p> + <p> + He rose abruptly and seized his hat. 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. + </p> + <p> + Shall we follow him? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “That'll be the first street-car used in the city of New Orleans, if it + ever gets there, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel jumped. Captain Lige was standing beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Lige, is that you? We waited supper for you.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Carvel shook his head. “You were never too busy to come for + supper, Lige. I reckon the cargo isn't all.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Lige shot at him a swift look. He gulped. + </p> + <p> + “Come over here on the levee,” said the Colonel, sternly. They walked out + together, and for some distance in silence. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “And you wouldn't tell me, Lige? You kept it from me.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Lige!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Colonel.” + </p> + <p> + He came back, wondering, across the rough stones until he stood beside the + tall figure. Below them, the lights glided along the dark water. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Pa, I knew you would bring him back,” she said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. OF CLARENCE + </h2> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia stood in front of him. “Won't you let me go?” she pleaded + </p> + <p> + The Colonel was taken aback. He stood looking down at her, stroking his + goatee, and marvelling at the ways of woman. + </p> + <p> + “The horses have been out all day, Jinny,” he said, “I am going in the + cars.” + </p> + <p> + “I can go in the cars, too.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel looked at Captain Lige. + </p> + <p> + “There is only a chance that we shall see Clarence,” he went on, uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “It is better than sitting still,” cried Virginia, as she ran away to get + the bonnet with the red strings. + </p> + <p> + “Lige,—” said the Colonel, as the two stood awaiting her in the + hall, “I can't make her out. Can you?” + </p> + <p> + The Captain did not answer. + </p> + <p> + 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”. + </p> + <p> + “Commandant's orders, sir. No one admitted,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Is Captain Colfax here?” asked Mr. Carver + </p> + <p> + “Captain Colfax was taken to Illinois in a skiff, quarter of an hour + since.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Lige gave vent to a long, low whistle. + </p> + <p> + “A skiff!” he exclaimed, “and the river this high! A skiff!” + </p> + <p> + Virginia clasped his arm in terror. “Is there danger?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Anything happened?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + Worington glanced at the sentry, and pulled the Colonel past the entrance + and into the street. Virginia and Captain Lige followed. + </p> + <p> + “They have started across with him in a light skiff——four men + and a captain. The young fool! We had him rescued.” + </p> + <p> + “Rescued!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what have you heard?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “He is alive,” said the Captain, tremulously, “alive and well, and escaped + South.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Lige,” she said, “—are you sure that this is not—a kindness?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And how do you know?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK III. + </h2> + <p> + Volume 6. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. INTRODUCING A CAPITALIST + </h2> + <p> + A cordon of blue regiments surrounded the city at first from Carondelet to + North St. Louis, like an open fan. The crowds liked best to go to Compton + Heights, where the tents of the German citizen-soldiers were spread out + like so many slices of white cake on the green beside the city's + reservoir. Thence the eye stretched across the town, catching the dome of + the Court House and the spire of St. John's. Away to the west, on the line + of the Pacific railroad that led halfway across the state, was another + camp. Then another, and another, on the circle of the fan, until the river + was reached to the northward, far above the bend. Within was a peace that + passed understanding,—the peace of martial law. + </p> + <p> + Without the city, in the great state beyond, an irate governor had + gathered his forces from the east and from the west. Letters came and went + between Jefferson City and Jefferson Davis, their purport being that the + Governor was to work out his own salvation, for a while at least. Young + men of St. Louis, struck in a night by the fever of militarism, arose and + went to Glencoe. Prying sergeants and commissioned officers, mostly of + hated German extraction, thundered at the door of Colonel Carvel's house, + and other houses, there—for Glencoe was a border town. They searched + the place more than once from garret to cellar, muttered guttural oaths, + and smelled of beer and sauerkraut, The haughty appearance of Miss Carvel + did not awe them—they were blind to all manly sensations. The + Colonel's house, alas, was one of many in Glencoe written down in red ink + in a book at headquarters as a place toward which the feet of the young + men strayed. Good evidence was handed in time and time again that the + young men had come and gone, and red-faced commanding officers cursed + indignant subalterns, and implied that Beauty had had a hand in it. + Councils of war were held over the advisability of seizing Mr. Carvel's + house at Glencoe, but proof was lacking until one rainy night in June a + captain and ten men spurred up the drive and swung into a big circle + around the house. The Captain took off his cavalry gauntlet and knocked at + the door, more gently than usual. Miss Virginia was home so Jackson said. + The Captain was given an audience more formal than one with the queen of + Prussia could have been, Miss Carvel was infinitely more haughty than her + Majesty. Was not the Captain hired to do a degrading service? Indeed, he + thought so as he followed her about the house and he felt like the lowest + of criminals as he opened a closet door or looked under a bed. He was a + beast of the field, of the mire. How Virginia shrank from him if he had + occasion to pass her! Her gown would have been defiled by his touch. And + yet the Captain did not smell of beer, nor of sauerkraut; nor did he swear + in any language. He did his duty apologetically, but he did it. He pulled + a man (aged seventeen) out from under a great hoop skirt in a little + closet, and the man had a pistol that refused its duty when snapped in the + Captain's face. This was little Spencer Catherwood, just home from a + military academy. + </p> + <p> + Spencer was taken through the rain by the chagrined Captain to the + headquarters, where he caused a little embarrassment. No damning evidence + was discovered on his person, for the pistol had long since ceased to be a + firearm. And so after a stiff lecture from the Colonel he was finally + given back into the custody of his father. Despite the pickets, the young + men filtered through daily,—or rather nightly. Presently some of + them began to come back, gaunt and worn and tattered, among the grim + cargoes that were landed by the thousands and tens of thousands on the + levee. And they took them (oh, the pity of it!) they took them to Mr. + Lynch's slave pen, turned into a Union prison of detention, where their + fathers and grandfathers had been wont to send their disorderly and + insubordinate niggers. They were packed away, as the miserable slaves had + been, to taste something of the bitterness of the negro's lot. So came + Bert Russell to welter in a low room whose walls gave out the stench of + years. How you cooked for them, and schemed for them, and cried for them, + you devoted women of the South! You spent the long hot summer in town, and + every day you went with your baskets to Gratiot Street, where the infected + old house stands, until—until one morning a lady walked out past the + guard, and down the street. She was civilly detained at the corner, + because she wore army boots. After that permits were issued. If you were a + young lady of the proper principles in those days, you climbed a steep + pair of stairs in the heat, and stood in line until it became your turn to + be catechised by an indifferent young officer in blue who sat behind a + table and smoked a horrid cigar. He had little time to be courteous. He + was not to be dazzled by a bright gown or a pretty face; he was + indifferent to a smile which would have won a savage. His duty was to look + down into your heart, and extract therefrom the nefarious scheme you had + made to set free the man you loved ere he could be sent north to Alton or + Columbus. My dear, you wish to rescue him, to disguise him, send him south + by way of Colonel Carvel's house at Glencoe. Then he will be killed. At + least, he will have died for the South. + </p> + <p> + First politics, and then war, and then more politics, in this our country. + Your masterful politician obtains a regiment, and goes to war, sword in + hand. He fights well, but he is still the politician. It was not a case + merely of fighting for the Union, but first of getting permission to + fight. Camp Jackson taken, and the prisoners exchanged south, Captain + Lyon; who moved like a whirlwind, who loved the Union beyond his own life, + was thrust down again. A mutual agreement was entered into between the + Governor and the old Indian fighter in command of the Western Department, + to respect each other. A trick for the Rebels. How Lyon chafed, and paced + the Arsenal walks while he might have saved the state. Then two gentlemen + went to Washington, and the next thing that happened was Brigadier General + Lyon, Commander of the Department of the West. + </p> + <p> + Would General Lyon confer with the Governor of Missouri? Yes, the General + would give the Governor a safe-conduct into St. Louis, but his Excellency + must come to the General. His Excellency came, and the General deigned to + go with the Union leader to the Planters House. Conference, five hours; + result, a safe-conduct for the Governor back. And this is how General Lyon + ended the talk. His words, generously preserved by a Confederate colonel + who accompanied his Excellency, deserve to be writ in gold on the National + Annals. + </p> + <p> + “Rather than concede to the state of Missouri the right to demand that my + Government shall not enlist troops within her limits, or bring troops into + the state whenever it pleases; or move its troops at its own will into, + out of, or through, the state; rather than concede to the state of + Missouri for one single instant the right to dictate to my Government in + any matter, however unimportant, I would” (rising and pointing in turn to + every one in the room) “see you, and you, and you, and you, and every man, + woman, and child in this state, dead and buried.” Then, turning to the + Governor, he continued, “This means war. In an hour one of my officers + will call for you and conduct you out of my lines.” + </p> + <p> + And thus, without another word, without an inclination of the head, he + turned upon his heel and strode out of the room, rattling his spurs and + clanking his sabre. + </p> + <p> + It did mean war. In less than two months that indomitable leader was lying + dead beside Wilson's Creek, among the oaks on Bloody Hill. What he would + have been to this Union, had God spared him, we shall never know. He saved + Missouri, and won respect and love from the brave men who fought against + him. + </p> + <p> + Those first fierce battles in the state! What prayers rose to heaven, and + curses sank to hell, when the news of them came to the city by the river! + Flags were made by loving fingers, and shirts and bandages. Trembling + young ladies of Union sympathies presented colors to regiments on the + Arsenal Green, or at Jefferson Barracks, or at Camp Benton to the + northwest near the Fair Grounds. And then the regiments marched through + the streets with bands playing that march to which the words of the Battle + Hymn were set, and those bright ensigns snapping at the front; bright now, + and new, and crimson. But soon to be stained a darker red, and rent into + tatters, and finally brought back and talked over and cried over, and + tenderly laid above an inscription in a glass case, to be revered by + generations of Americans to confer What can stir the soul more than the + sight of those old flags, standing in ranks like the veterans they are, + whose duty has been nobly done? The blood of the color-sergeant is there, + black now with age. But where are the tears of the sad women who stitched + the red and the white and the blue together? + </p> + <p> + The regiments marched through the streets and aboard the boats, and pushed + off before a levee of waving handkerchiefs and nags. Then heart-breaking + suspense. Later—much later, black headlines, and grim lists three + columns long,—three columns of a blanket sheet! “The City of Alton + has arrived with the following Union dead and wounded, and the following + Confederate wounded (prisoners).” Why does the type run together? + </p> + <p> + In a never-ceasing procession they steamed up the river; those calm boats + which had been wont to carry the white cargoes of Commerce now bearing the + red cargoes of war. And they bore away to new battlefields thousands of + fresh-faced boys from Wisconsin and Michigan and Minnesota, gathered at + Camp Benton. Some came back with their color gone and their red cheeks + sallow and bearded and sunken. Others came not back at all. + </p> + <p> + Stephen Brice, with a pain over his heart and a lump in his throat, walked + on the pavement beside his old company, but his look avoided their faces. + He wrung Richter's hand on the landing-stage. Richter was now a captain. + The good German's eyes were filled as he said good-by. + </p> + <p> + “You will come, too, my friend, when the country needs you,” he said. + “Now” (and he shrugged his shoulders), “now have we many with no cares to + go. I have not even a father—” And he turned to Judge Whipple, who + was standing by, holding out a bony hand. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, Carl,” said the Judge And Carl could scarce believe his + ears. He got aboard the boat, her decks already blue with troops, and as + she backed out with her whistle screaming, the last objects he saw were + the gaunt old man and the broad-shouldered young man side by side on the + edge of the landing. + </p> + <p> + Stephen's chest heaved, and as he walked back to the office with the + Judge, he could not trust himself to speak. Back to the silent office + where the shelves mocked them. The Judge closed the ground-glass door + behind him, and Stephen sat until five o'clock over a book. No, it was not + Whittlesey, but Hardee's “Tactics.” He shut it with a slam, and went to + Verandah Hall to drill recruits on a dusty floor,—narrow-chested + citizens in suspenders, who knew not the first motion in right about face. + For Stephen was an adjutant in the Home Guards—what was left of + them. + </p> + <p> + One we know of regarded the going of the troops and the coming of the + wounded with an equanimity truly philosophical. When the regiments passed + Carvel & Company on their way riverward to embark, Mr. Hopper did not + often take the trouble to rise from his chair, nor was he ever known to go + to the door to bid them Godspeed. This was all very well, because they + were Union regiments. But Mr. Hopper did not contribute a horse, nor even + a saddle-blanket, to the young men who went away secretly in the night, + without fathers or mothers or sisters to wave at them. Mr. Hopper had + better use for his money. + </p> + <p> + One scorching afternoon in July Colonel Carvel came into the office, too + hurried to remark the pain in honest Ephum's face as he watched his + master. The sure signs of a harassed man were on the Colonel. Since May he + had neglected his business affairs for others which he deemed public, and + which were so mysterious that even Mr. Hopper could not get wind of them. + These matters had taken the Colonel out of town. But now the necessity of + a pass made that awkward, and he went no farther than Glencoe, where he + spent an occasional Sunday. Today Mr. Hopper rose from his chair when Mr. + Carvel entered,—a most unprecedented action. The Colonel cleared his + throat. Sitting down at his desk, he drummed upon it uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hopper!” he said at length. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet crossed the room quickly, and something that was very near a + smile was on his face. He sat down close to Mr. Carvel's chair with a + semi-confidential air,—one wholly new, had the Colonel given it a + thought. He did not, but began to finger some printed slips of paper which + had indorsements on their backs. His fine lips were tightly closed, as if + in pain. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hopper,” he said, “these Eastern notes are due this week, are they + not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel glanced up swiftly. + </p> + <p> + “There is no use mincing matters, Hopper. You know as well as I that there + is no money to pay them,” said he, with a certain pompous attempt at + severity which characterized his kind nature. “You have served me well. + You have brought this business up to a modern footing, and made it as + prosperous as any in the town. I am sorry, sir, that those contemptible + Yankees should have forced us to the use of arms, and cut short many + promising business careers such as yours, sir. But we have to face the + music. We have to suffer for our principles. + </p> + <p> + “These notes cannot be met, Mr. Hopper.” And the good gentleman looked out + of the window. He was thinking of a day, before the Mexican War, when his + young wife had sat in the very chair filled by Mr. Hopper now. “These + notes cannot be met,” he repeated, and his voice was near to breaking. + </p> + <p> + The flies droning in the hot office made the only sound. Outside the + partition, among the bales, was silence. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel,” said Mr. Hopper, with a remarkable ease, “I cal'late these + notes can be met.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel jumped as if he had heard a shot, and one of the notes fell to + the floor. Eliphalet picked it up tenderly, and held it. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, sir?” Mr. Carvel cried. “There isn't a bank in town + that will lend me money. I—I haven't a friend—a friend I may + ask who can spare it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper lifted up his hand. It was a fat hand. Suavity was come upon it + like a new glove and changed the man. He was no longer cringing. Now he + had poise, such poise as we in these days are accustomed to see in leather + and mahogany offices. The Colonel glared at him uncomfortably. + </p> + <p> + “I will take up those notes myself, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” cried the Colonel, incredulously, “You?” + </p> + <p> + We must do Eliphalet justice. There was not a deal of hypocrisy in his + nature, and now he did not attempt the part of Samaritan. He did not beam + upon the Colonel and remind him of the day on which, homeless and + friendless, he had been frightened into his store by a drove of mules. No. + But his day,—the day toward which he had striven unknown and + unnoticed for so many years—the day when he would laugh at the pride + of those who had ignored and insulted him, was dawning at last. When we + are thoughtless of our words, we do not reckon with that spark in little + bosoms that may burst into flame and burn us. Not that Colonel Carvel had + ever been aught but courteous and kind to all. His station in life had + been his offence to Eliphalet, who strove now to hide an exultation that + made him tremble. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, sir?” demanded the Colonel, again. + </p> + <p> + “I cal'late that I can gather together enough to meet the notes, Colonel. + Just a little friendly transaction.” Here followed an interval of sheer + astonishment to Mr. Carvel. + </p> + <p> + “You have this money?” he said at length. Mr. Hopper nodded. + </p> + <p> + “And you will take my note for the amount?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel pulled his goatee, and sat back in his chair, trying to face + the new light in which he saw his manager. He knew well enough that the + man was not doing this out of charity, or even gratitude. He reviewed his + whole career, from that first morning when he had carried bales to the + shipping room, to his replacement of Mr. Hood, and there was nothing with + which to accuse him. He remembered the warnings of Captain Lige and + Virginia. He could not in honor ask a cent from the Captain now. He would + not ask his sister-in-law, Mrs. Colfax, to let him touch the money he had + so ably invested for her; that little which Virginia's mother had left the + girl was sacred. + </p> + <p> + Night after night Mr. Carvel had lain awake with the agony of those + Eastern debts. Not to pay was to tarnish the name of a Southern gentleman. + He could not sell the business. His house would bring nothing in these + times. He rose and began to pace the floor, tugging at his chin. Twice he + paused to stare at Mr. Hopper, who sat calmly on, and the third time + stopped abruptly before him. + </p> + <p> + “See here,” he cried. “Where the devil did you get this money, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper did not rise. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't been extravagant, Colonel, since I've worked for you,” he said. + “It don't cost me much to live. I've been fortunate in investments.” + </p> + <p> + The furrows in the Colonel's brow deepened. + </p> + <p> + “You offer to lend me five times more than I have ever paid you, Mr. + Hopper. Tell me how you have made this money before I accept it.” + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet had never been able to meet that eye since he had known it. He + did not meet it now. But he went to his desk, and drew a long sheet of + paper from a pigeonhole. + </p> + <p> + “These be some of my investments,” he answered, with just a tinge of + surliness. “I cal'late they'll stand inspection. I ain't forcing you to + take the money, sir,” he flared up, all at once. “I'd like to save the + business.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carvel was disarmed. He went unsteadily to his desk, and none save God + knew the shock that his pride received that day. To rescue a name which + had stood untarnished since he had brought it into the world, he drew + forth some blank notes, and filled them out. But before he signed them he + spoke: + </p> + <p> + “You are a business man, Mr. Hopper,” said he, “And as a business man you + must know that these notes will not legally hold. It is martial law. The + courts are abolished, and all transactions here in St. Louis are invalid.” + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet was about to speak. + </p> + <p> + “One moment, sir,” cried the Colonel, standing up and towering to his full + height. “Law or no law, you shall have the money and interest, or your + security, which is this business. I need not tell you, sir, that my word + is sacred, and binding forever upon me and mine.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not afraid, Colonel,” answered Mr. Hopper, with a feeble attempt at + geniality. He was, in truth, awed at last. + </p> + <p> + “You need not be, sir!” said the Colonel, with equal force. “If you were—this + instant you should leave this place.” He sat down, and continued more + calmly: “It will not be long before a Southern Army marches into St. + Louis, and the Yankee Government submits.” He leaned forward. “Do you + reckon we can hold the business together until then, Mr. Hopper?” + </p> + <p> + God forbid that we should smile at the Colonel's simple faith. And if + Eliphalet Hopper had done so, his history would have ended here. + </p> + <p> + “Leave that to me, Colonel,” he said soberly. + </p> + <p> + Then came the reaction. The good Colonel sighed as he signed, away that + business which had been an honor to the city where it was founded, I thank + heaven that we are not concerned with the details of their talk that day. + Why should we wish to know the rate of interest on those notes, or the + time? It was war-time. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper filled out his check, and presently departed. It was the signal + for the little force which remained to leave. Outside, in the store; Ephum + paced uneasily, wondering why his master did not come out. Presently he + crept to the door of the office, pushed it open, and beheld Mr. Carvel + with his head bowed, down in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Marse Comyn!” he cried, “Marse Comyn!” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel looked up. His face was haggard. + </p> + <p> + “Marse Comyn, you know what I done promise young MISS long time ago, befo'—befo' + she done left us?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Ephum.” + </p> + <p> + He saw the faithful old negro but dimly. Faintly he heard the pleading + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Marse Comyn, won' you give Ephum a pass down, river, ter fotch Cap'n + Lige?” + </p> + <p> + “Ephum,” said the Colonel, sadly, “I had a letter from the Captain + yesterday. He is at Cairo. His boat is a Federal transport, and he is in + Yankee pay.” + </p> + <p> + Ephum took a step forward, appealingly, “But de Cap'n's yo' friend, Marse + Comyn. He ain't never fo'get what you done fo' him, Marse Comyn. He ain't + in de army, suh.” + </p> + <p> + “And I am the Captain's friend, Ephum,” answered the Colonel, quietly. + “But I will not ask aid from any man employed by the Yankee Government. No—not + from my own brother, who is in a Pennsylvania regiments.” + </p> + <p> + Ephum shuffled out, and his heart was lead as he closed the store that + night. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper has boarded a Fifth Street car, which jangles on with many + halts until it comes to Bremen, a German settlement in the north of the + city. At Bremen great droves of mules fill the street, and crowd the + entrances of the sale stables there. Whips are cracking like pistol shots, + Gentlemen with the yellow cavalry stripe of the United States Army are + pushing to and fro among the drivers and the owners, and fingering the + frightened animals. A herd breaks from the confusion and is driven like a + whirlwind down the street, dividing at the Market House. They are going to + board the Government transport—to die on the battlefields of + Kentucky and Missouri. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper alights from the car with complacency. He stands for a while on + a corner, against the hot building, surveying the busy scene, unnoticed. + Mules! Was it not a prophecy,—that drove which sent him into Mr. + Carvel's store? + </p> + <p> + Presently a man with a gnawed yellow mustache and a shifty eye walks out + of one of the offices, and perceives our friend. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Mr. Hopper?” says he. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet extends a hand to be squeezed and returned. “Got them vouchers?” + he asks. He is less careful of his English here. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I jest reckon,” is the answer: The fellow was interrupted by the + appearance of a smart young man in a smart uniform, who wore an air of + genteel importance. He could not have been more than two and twenty, and + his face and manners were those of a clerk. The tan of field service was + lacking on his cheek, and he was black under the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Ford,” he said, jocularly. + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Cap,” retorted the other. “Wal, suh, that last lot was an extry, + fo' sure. As clean a lot as ever I seed. Not a lump on 'em. Gov'ment ain't + cheated much on them there at one-eighty a head, I reckon.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ford said this with such an air of conviction and such a sober face + that the Captain smiled. And at the same time he glanced down nervously at + the new line of buttons on his chest. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I know a mule from a Newfoundland dog by this time,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Wal, I jest reckon,” asserted Mr. Ford, with a loud laugh. “Cap'n + Wentworth, allow me to make you acquainted with Mr. Hopper. Mr. Hopper, + Cap'n Wentworth.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain squeezed Mr. Hoppers hand with fervor. “You interested in + mules, Mr. Hopper?” asked the military man. + </p> + <p> + “I don't cal'late to be,” said. Mr. Hopper. Let us hope that our worthy + has not been presented as being wholly without a sense of humor. He + grinned as he looked upon this lamb in the uniform of Mars, and added, + “I'm just naturally patriotic, I guess. Cap'n, 'll you have a drink?” + </p> + <p> + “And a segar,” added Mr. Ford. + </p> + <p> + “Just one,” says the Captain. “It's d—d tiresome lookin' at mules + all day in the sun.” + </p> + <p> + Well for Mr. Davitt that his mission work does not extend to Bremen, that + the good man's charity keeps him at the improvised hospital down town. Mr. + Hopper has resigned the superintendency of his Sunday School, it is true, + but he is still a pillar of the church. + </p> + <p> + The young officer leans against the bar, and listens to stories by Mr. + Ford, which it behooves no church members to hear. He smokes Mr. Hopper's + cigar and drinks his whiskey. And Eliphalet understands that the good Lord + put some fools into the world in order to give the smart people a chance + to practise their talents. Mr. Hopper neither drinks nor smokes, but he + uses the spittoon with more freedom in this atmosphere. + </p> + <p> + When at length the Captain has marched out, with a conscious but manly + air, Mr. Hopper turns to Ford—“Don't lose no time in presenting them + vouchers at headquarters,” says he. “Money is worth something now. And + there's grumbling about this Department in the Eastern papers, If we have + an investigation, we'll whistle. How much to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Three thousand,” says Mr. Ford. He tosses off a pony of Bourbon, but his + face is not a delight to look upon, “Hopper, you'll be a d—d rich + man some day.” + </p> + <p> + “I cal'late to.” + </p> + <p> + “I do the dirty work. And because I ain't got no capital, I only get four + per cent.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't one-twenty a day suit you?” + </p> + <p> + “You get blasted near a thousand. And you've got horse contracts, and + blanket contracts besides. I know you. What's to prevent my goin' south + when the vouchers is cashed?” he cried. “Ain't it possible?” + </p> + <p> + “I presume likely,” said Mr. Hopper, quietly. “Then your mother'll have to + move out of her little place.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. NEWS FROM CLARENCE + </h2> + <p> + The epithet aristocrat may become odious and fatal on the banks of the + Mississippi as it was on the banks of the Seine. Let no man deceive + himself! These are fearful times. Thousands of our population, by the + sudden stoppage of business, are thrown out of employment. When gaunt + famine intrudes upon their household, it is but natural that they should + inquire the cause. Hunger began the French Revolution. + </p> + <p> + Virginia did not read this editorial, because it appeared in that abhorred + organ of the Mudsills, the 'Missouri Democrat.' The wheels of fortune were + turning rapidly that first hot summer of the war time. Let us be thankful + that our flesh and blood are incapable of the fury of the guillotine. But + when we think calmly of those days, can we escape without a little pity + for the aristocrats? Do you think that many of them did not know hunger + and want long before that cruel war was over? + </p> + <p> + How bravely they met the grim spectre which crept so insidiously into + their homes! + </p> + <p> + “Virginia, child.” said Mrs. Colfax, peevishly, one morning as they sat at + breakfast, “why do you persist it wearing that old gown? It has gotten on + my nerves, my dear. You really must have something new made, even if there + are no men here to dress for.” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Lillian, you must not say such things. I do not think that I ever + dressed to please men.” + </p> + <p> + “Tut, tut; my dear, we all do. I did, even after married your uncle. It is + natural. We must not go shabby in such times as these, or be out of + fashion, Did you know that Prince Napoleon was actually coming here for a + visit this autumn? We must be ready for him. I am having a fitting at Miss + Elder's to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia was learning patience. She did not reply as she poured out her + aunt's coffee. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny,” said that lady, “come with me to Elder's, and I will give you + some gowns. If Comyn had been as careful of his own money as of mine, you + could dress decently.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I do dress decently, Aunt Lillian,” answered the girl. “I do not + need the gowns. Give me the money you intend to pay for them, and I can + use it for a better purpose.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Colfax arranged her lace pettishly. + </p> + <p> + “I am sick and tired of this superiority, Jinny.” And in the same breath. + “What would you do with it?” + </p> + <p> + Virginia lowered her voice. “Hodges goes through the lines to-morrow + night. I should send it to Clarence.” “But you have no idea where Clarence + is.” + </p> + <p> + “Hodges can find him.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” exclaimed her aunt, “I would not trust him. How do you know that + he will get through the Dutch pickets to Price's army? Wasn't Souther + captured last week, and that rash letter of Puss Russell's to Jack + Brinsmade published in the Democrat?” She laughed at the recollection, and + Virginia was fain to laugh too. “Puss hasn't been around much since. I + hope that will cure her of saying what she thinks of people.” + </p> + <p> + “It won't,” said Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “I'll save my money until Price drives the Yankees from the state, and + Clarence marches into the city at the head of a regiment,” Mrs. Colfax + went on, “It won't be long now.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia's eyes flashed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you can't have read the papers. And don't you remember the letter + Maude had from George? They need the bare necessities of life, Aunt + Lillian. And half of Price's men have no arms at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Jackson,” said Mrs. Colfax, “bring me a newspaper. Is there any news + to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Virginia, quickly. “All we know is that Lyon has left + Springfield to meet our troops, and that a great battle is coming, Perhaps—perhaps + it is being fought to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Colfax burst into tears, “Oh, Jinny,” she cried, “how can you be so + cruel!” + </p> + <p> + That very evening a man, tall and lean, but with the shrewd and kindly eye + of a scout, came into the sitting-room with the Colonel and handed a + letter to Mrs. Colfax. In the hall he slipped into Virginia's hand + another, in a “Jefferson Davis” envelope, and she thrust it in her gown—the + girl was on fire as he whispered in her ear that he had seen Clarence, and + that he was well. In two days an answer might be left at Mr. Russell's + house. But she must be careful what she wrote, as the Yankee scouts were + active. + </p> + <p> + Clarence, indeed, had proven himself a man. Glory and uniform became him + well, but danger and deprivation better. The words he had written, + careless and frank and boyish, made Virginia's heart leap with pride. Mrs. + Colfax's letter began with the adventure below the Arsenal, when the frail + skiff had sunk near the island, He told how he had heard the captain of + his escort sing out to him in the darkness, and how he had floated down + the current instead, until, chilled and weary, he had contrived to seize + the branches of a huge tree floating by. And how by a miracle the moon had + risen. When the great Memphis packet bore down upon him, he had, been seen + from her guards, and rescued and made much of; and set ashore at the next + landing, for fear her captain would get into trouble. In the morning he + had walked into the country, first providing himself with butternuts and + rawhide boots and a bowie-knife. Virginia would never have recognized her + dashing captain of dragoons in this guise. + </p> + <p> + The letter was long for Clarence, and written under great difficulties + from date to date. For nearly a month he had tramped over mountains and + across river bottoms, waiting for news of an organized force of resistance + in Missouri. Begging his way from cabin to cabin, and living on greasy + bacon and corn pone, at length he crossed the swift Gasconade (so named by + the French settlers because of its brawling ways) where the bridge of the + Pacific railroad had been blown up by the Governor's orders. Then he + learned that the untiring Lyon had steamed up the Missouri and had taken + possession of Jefferson City without a blow, and that the ragged rebel + force had fought and lost at Booneville. Footsore, but undaunted, he + pushed on to join the army, which he heard was retreating southward along + the western tier of counties of the state. + </p> + <p> + On the banks of the Osage he fell in with two other young amen in as bad a + plight as himself. They travelled together, until one day some rough + farmers with shotguns leaped out of a bunch of willows on the borders of a + creek and arrested all three for Union spies. And they laughed when Mr. + Clarence tried to explain that he had not long since been the dapper + captain of the State Dragoons. + </p> + <p> + His Excellency, the Governor of Missouri (so acknowledged by all good + Southerners), likewise laughed when Mr. Colfax and the two others were + brought before him. His Excellency sat in a cabin surrounded by a camp + which had caused the dogs of war to howl for very shame. + </p> + <p> + “Colfax!” cried the Governor. “A Colfax of St. Louis in butternuts and + rawhide boots?” + </p> + <p> + “Give me a razor,” demanded Clarence, with indignation, “a razor and a + suit of clothes, and I will prove it.” The Governor laughed once more. + </p> + <p> + “A razor, young man! A suit of clothes You know not what you ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Are there any gentlemen from St. Louis here?” George Catherwood was + brought in,—or rather what had once been George. Now he was a big + frontiersman with a huge blond beard, and a bowie, knife stuck into his + trousers in place of a sword. He recognized his young captain of dragoons + the Governor apologized, and Clarence slept that night in the cabin. The + next day he was given a horse, and a bright new rifle which the Governor's + soldiers had taken from the Dutch at Cole Camp on the way south, And + presently they made a junction with three thousand more who were their + images. This was Price's army, but Price had gone ahead into Kansas to beg + the great McCulloch and his Confederates to come to their aid and save the + state. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Dear mother, I wish that you and Jinny and Uncle Comyn could have + seen this country rabble. How you would have laughed, and cried, + because we are just like them. In the combined army two thousand + have only bowie-knives or clubs. Some have long rifles of Daniel + Boone's time, not fired for thirty years. And the impedimenta are a + sight. Open wagons and conestogas and carryalls and buggies, and + even barouches, weighted down with frying-pans and chairs and + feather beds. But we've got spirit, and we can whip Lyon's Dutchmen + and Yankees just as we are. Spirit is what counts, and the Yankees + haven't got it, I was made to-day a Captain of Cavalry under + Colonel Rives. I ride a great, raw-boned horse like an elephant. + He jolts me until I am sore,—not quite as easy as my thoroughbred, + Jefferson. Tell Jinny to care for him, and have him ready when we + march into St. Louis.” + + “COWSKIN PRAIRIE, 9th July. + + “We have whipped Sigel on the prairie by Coon Creek and killed—we + don't know how many. Tell Maude that George distinguished himself + in the fight. We cavalry did not get a chance. + + “We have at last met McCulloch and his real soldiers. We cheered + until we cried when we saw their ranks of gray, with the gold + buttons and the gold braid and the gold stars. General McCulloch + has taken me on his staff, and promised me a uniform. But how to + clothe and feed and arm our men! We have only a few poor cattle, + and no money. But our men don't complain. We shall whip the + Yankees before we starve.” + </pre> + <p> + For many days Mrs. Colfax did not cease to bewail the hardship which her + dear boy was forced to endure. He, who was used to linen sheets and eider + down, was without rough blanket or shelter; who was used to the best table + in the state, was reduced to husks. + </p> + <p> + “But, Aunt Lillian,” cried Virginia, “he is fighting for the South. If he + were fed and clothed like the Yankees, we should not be half so proud of + him.” + </p> + <p> + Why set down for colder gaze the burning words that Clarence wrote to + Virginia. How she pored over that letter, and folded it so that even the + candle-droppings would not be creased and fall away! He was happy, though + wretched because he could not see her. It was the life he had longed for. + At last (and most pathetic!) he was proving his usefulness in this world. + He was no longer the mere idler whom she had chidden. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Jinny, do you remember saying so many years ago that our ruin would + come of our not being able to work? How I wish you could see us + felling trees to make bullet-moulds, and forging slugs for canister, + and making cartridges at night with our bayonets as candlesticks. + Jinny dear, I know that you will keep up your courage. I can see + you sewing for us, I can hear you praying for us.” + </pre> + <p> + It was, in truth, how Virginia learned to sew. She had always detested it. + Her fingers were pricked and sore weeks after she began. Sad to relate, + her bandages, shirts, and havelocks never reached the front,—those + havelocks, to withstand the heat of the tropic sun, which were made in + thousands by devoted Union women that first summer of the war, to be + ridiculed as nightcaps by the soldiers. + </p> + <p> + “Why should not our soldiers have them, too?” said Virginia to the Russell + girls. They were never so happy as when sewing on them against the arrival + of the Army of Liberation, which never came. + </p> + <p> + The long, long days of heat dragged slowly, with little to cheer those + families separated from their dear ones by a great army. Clarence might + die, and a month—perhaps a year—pass without news, unless he + were brought a prisoner to St. Louis. How Virginia envied Maude because + the Union lists of dead and wounded would give her tidings of her brother + Tom, at least! How she coveted the many Union families, whose sons and + brothers were at the front, this privilege! + </p> + <p> + We were speaking of the French Revolution, when, as Balzac remarked, to be + a spy was to be a patriot. Heads are not so cheap in our Anglo-Saxon + countries; passions not so fierce and uncontrollable. Compare, with a + prominent historian, our Boston Massacre and St. Bartholomew. + </p> + <p> + They are both massacres. Compare Camp Jackson, or Baltimore, where a few + people were shot, with some Paris street scenes after the Bastille. + Feelings in each instance never ran higher. Our own provost marshal was + hissed in the street, and called “Robespierre,” and yet he did not fear + the assassin's knife. Our own Southern aristocrats were hemmed in in a + Union city (their own city). No women were thrown into prison, it is true. + Yet one was not permitted to shout for Jeff Davis on the street corner + before the provost's guard. Once in a while a detachment of the Home + Guards, commanded by a lieutenant; would march swiftly into a street and + stop before a house, whose occupants would run to the rear, only to + encounter another detachment in the alley. + </p> + <p> + One day, in great excitement, Eugenie Renault rang the bell of the Carvel + house, and ran past the astounded Jackson up the stairs to Virginia's + room, the door of which she burst open. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jinny!” she cried, “Puss Russell's house is surrounded by Yankees, + and Puss and Emily and all the family are prisoners!” + </p> + <p> + “Prisoners! What for?” said Virginia, dropping in her excitement her last + year's bonnet, which she was trimming with red, white, and red. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said Eugenie, sputtering with indignation “because they waved + at some of our poor fellows who were being taken to the slave pen. They + were being marched past Mr. Russell's house under guard—Puss had a + small—” + </p> + <p> + “Confederate flag,” put in Virginia, smiling in spite of herself. + </p> + <p> + “And she waved it between the shutters,” Eugenie continued. “And some one + told, the provost marshal. He has had the house surrounded, and the family + have to stay there.” + </p> + <p> + “But if the food gives out?” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Miss Renault, in a voice of awe, “then each one of the family + is to have just a common army ration. They are to be treated as + prisoners.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, those Yankees are detestable!” exclaimed Virginia. “But they shall + pay for it. As soon as our army is organized and equipped, they shall pay + for it ten times over.” She tried on the bonnet, conspicuous with its red + and white ribbons, before the glass. Then she ran to the closet and drew + forth the white gown with its red trimmings. “Wait for me, Genie,” she + said, “and we'll go down to Puss's house together. It may cheer her to see + us.” + </p> + <p> + “But not in that dress,” said Eugenie, aghast. “They will arrest you.” + “Oh, how I wish they would!” cried Virginia. And her eyes flashed so that + Eugenie was frightened. “How I wish they would!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Renault regarded her friend with something of adoration from beneath + her black lashes. It was about five in the afternoon when they started out + together under Virginia's white parasol, Eugenie's slimmer courage upheld + by her friend's bearing. We must remember that Virginia was young, and + that her feelings were akin to those our great-grandmothers experienced + when the British held New York. It was as if she had been born to wear the + red and white of the South. Elderly gentlemen of Northern persuasion + paused in their homeward walk to smile in admiration,—some sadly, as + Mr. Brinsmade. Young gentlemen found an excuse to retrace their steps a + block or two. But Virginia walked on air, and saw nothing. She was between + fierce anger and exaltation. She did not deign to drop her eyes as low as + the citizen sergeant and guard in front of Puss Russell's house (these men + were only human, after all); she did not so much as glance at the curious + people standing on the corner, who could not resist a murmur of delight. + The citizen sergeant only smiled, and made no move to arrest the young + lady in red and white. Nor did Puss fling open the blinds and wave at her. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose its because Mr. Russell won't let her,” said Virginia, + disconsolately, “Genie, let's go to headquarters, and show this Yankee + General Fremont that we are not afraid of him.” + </p> + <p> + Eugenie's breath was taken away by the very boldness of this proposition.. + She looked up timidly into Virginia's face, and hero-worship got the + better of prudence. + </p> + <p> + The house which General Fremont appropriated for his use when he came back + from Europe to assume command in the West was not a modest one. It still + stands, a large mansion of brick with a stone front, very tall and very + wide, with an elaborate cornice and plate-glass windows, both tall and + broad, and a high basement. Two stately stone porches capped by elaborate + iron railings adorn it in front and on the side. The chimneys are generous + and proportional. In short, the house is of that type built by many + wealthy gentlemen in the middle of the century, which has best stood the + test of time,—the only type which, if repeated to-day, would not + clash with the architectural education which we are receiving. A spacious + yard well above the pavement surrounds it, sustained by a wall of dressed + stones, capped by an iron fence. The whole expressed wealth, security, + solidity, conservatism. Alas, that the coal deposits under the black mud + of our Western states should, at length, have driven the owners of these + houses out of them! They are now blackened, almost buried in soot; empty, + or half-tenanted by boarders, Descendants of the old families pass them on + their way to business or to the theatre with a sigh. The sons of those who + owned them have built westward, and west-ward again, until now they are + six miles from the river. + </p> + <p> + On that summer evening forty years ago, when Virginia and Eugenie came in + sight of the house, a scene of great animation was before them. Talk was + rife over the commanding general's pomp and circumstance. He had just + returned from Europe, where pomp and circumstance and the military were + wedded. Foreign officers should come to America to teach our army dress + and manners. A dashing Hungarian commanded the general's body-guard, which + honorable corps was even then drawn up in the street before the house, + surrounded at a respectable distance by a crowd that feared to jest. They + felt like it save when they caught the stern military eye of the Hungarian + captain. Virginia gazed at the glittering uniforms, resplendent in the + sun, and at the sleek and well-fed horses, and scalding tears came as she + thought of the half-starved rabble of Southern patriots on the burning + prairies. Just then a sharp command escaped in broken English from the + Hungarian. The people in the yard of the mansion parted, and the General + himself walked proudly out of the gate to the curb, where his charger was + pawing the gutter. As he put foot to the stirrup, the eye of the great man + (once candidate, and again to be, for President) caught the glint of red + and white on the corner. For an instant he stood transfixed to the spot, + with one leg in the air. Then he took it down again and spoke to a young + officer of his staff, who smiled and began to walk toward them. Little + Eugenie's knees trembled. She seized Virginia's arm, and whispered in + agony. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jinny, you are to be arrested, after all. Oh, I wish you hadn't been + so bold!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush,” said Virginia, as she prepared to slay the young officer with a + look. She felt like flying at his throat, and choking him for the + insolence of that smile. How dare he march undaunted to within six paces + of those eyes? The crowd drew back, But did Miss Carvel retreat? Not a + step. “Oh, I hope he will arrest me,” she said passionately, to Eugenie. + “He will start a conflagration beyond the power of any Yankee to quell.” + </p> + <p> + But hush! he was speaking. “You are my prisoners”? No, those were not the + words, surely. The lieutenant had taken off his cap. He bowed very low and + said: + </p> + <p> + “Ladies, the General's compliments, and he begs that this much of the + sidewalk may be kept clear for a few moments.” + </p> + <p> + What was left for them, after that, save a retreat? But he was not + precipitate. Miss Virginia crossed the street with a dignity and bearing + which drew even the eyes of the body-guard to one side. And there she + stood haughtily until the guard and the General had thundered away. A + crowd of black-coated civilians, and quartermasters and other officers in + uniform, poured out of the basement of the house into the yards. One + civilian, a youngish man a little inclined to stoutness, stopped at the + gate, stared, then thrust some papers in his pocket and hurried down the + side street. Three blocks thence he appeared abreast of Miss Carvel. More + remarkable still, he lifted his hat clear of his head. Virginia drew back. + Mr. Hopper, with his newly acquired equanimity and poise, startled her. + </p> + <p> + “May I have the pleasure,” said that gentleman, “of accompanying you + home?” + </p> + <p> + Eugenie giggled, Virginia was more annoyed than she showed. + </p> + <p> + “You must not come out of your way,” she said. Then she added. “I am sure + you must go back to the store. It is only six o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + Had Virginia but known, this occasional tartness in her speech gave + Eliphalet an infinite delight, even while it hurt him. His was a nature + which liked to gloat over a goal on the horizon He cared not a whit for + sweet girls; they cloyed. But a real lady was something to attain. He had + revised his vocabulary for just such an occasion, and thrown out some of + the vernacular. + </p> + <p> + “Business is not so pressing nowadays, Miss Carvel,” he answered, with a + shade of meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Then existence must be rather heavy for you,” she said. She made no + attempt to introduce him to Eugenie. “If we should have any more victories + like Bull Run, prosperity will come back with a rush,” said the son of + Massachusetts. “Southern Confederacy, with Missouri one of its stars an + industrial development of the South—fortunes in cotton.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia turned quickly, “Oh, how dare you?” she cried. “How dare you + speak flippantly of such things?” His suavity was far from overthrown. + </p> + <p> + “Flippantly Miss Carvel?” said he. “I assure you that I want to see the + South win.” What he did not know was that words seldom convince women. But + he added something which reduced her incredulity for the time. “Do you + cal'late,” said he,—that I could work for your father, and wish ruin + to his country?” + </p> + <p> + “But you are a Yankee born,” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “There be a few sane Yankees,” replied Mr. Hopper, dryly. A remark which + made Eugenie laugh outright, and Virginia could not refrain from a smile. + </p> + <p> + But much against her will he walked home with her. She was indignant by + the time she reached Locust Street. He had never dared do such a thing + before, What had got into the man? Was it because he had become a manager, + and governed the business during her father's frequent absences? No matter + what Mr. Hopper's politics, he would always be to her a low-born Yankee, a + person wholly unworthy of notice. + </p> + <p> + At the corner of Olive Street, a young man walking with long strides + almost bumped into them. He paused looked back, and bowed as if uncertain + of an acknowledgment. Virginia barely returned his bow. He had been very + close to her, and she had had time to notice that his coat was threadbare. + When she looked again, he had covered half the block. Why should she care + if Stephen Brice had seen her in company with Mr. Hopper? Eliphalet, too, + had seen Stephen, and this had added zest to his enjoyment. It was part of + the fruits of his reward. He wished in that short walk that he might meet + Mr. Cluyme and Belle, and every man and woman and child in the city whom + he knew. From time to time he glanced at the severe profile of the + aristocrat beside him (he had to look up a bit, likewise), and that look + set him down among the beasts of prey. For she was his rightful prey, and + he meant not to lose one tittle of enjoyment in the progress of the game. + Many and many a night in the bare little back room at Miss Crane's, + Eliphalet had gloated over the very event which was now come to pass. Not + a step of the way but what he had lived through before. + </p> + <p> + The future is laid open to such men as he. Since he had first seen the + black cloud of war rolling up from the South, a hundred times had he + rehearsed the scene with Colonel Carvel which had actually taken place a + week before. A hundred times had he prepared his speech and manner for + this first appearance in public with Virginia after he had forced the + right to walk in her company. The words he had prepared—commonplace, + to be sure, but carefully chosen—flowed from his lips in a continual + nasal stream. The girl answered absently, her feminine instinct groping + after a reason for it all. She brightened when she saw her father at the + doors and, saying good by to Eugenie, tripped up the steps, bowing to + Eliphalet coldly. + </p> + <p> + “Why, bless us, Jinny,” said the Colonel, “you haven't been parading the + town in that costume! You'll have us in Lynch's slave pen by to-morrow + night. My land!” laughed he, patting her under the chin, “there's no doubt + about your sentiments, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “I've been over to Puss Russell's house,” said she, breathless. “They've + closed it up, you know—” (He nodded.) “And then we went—Eugenie + and I, to headquarters, just to see what the Yankees would do.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel's smile faded. He looked grave. “You must take care, honey,” + he said, lowering his voice. “They suspect me now of communicating with + the Governor and McCulloch. Jinny, it's all very well to be brave, and to + stand by your colors. But this sort of thing,” said he, stroking the gown, + “this sort of thing doesn't help the South, my dear, and only sets spies + upon us. Ned tells me that there was a man in plain clothes standing in + the alley last night for three hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Pa,” cried the girl, “I'm so sorry.” Suddenly searching his face with a + swift instinct, she perceived that these months had made it yellow and + lined. “Pa, dear, you must come to Glencoe to-morrow and rest You must not + go off on any more trips.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel shook his head sadly. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't the trips, Jinny There are duties, my dear, pleasant duties—Jinny—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel's eye had suddenly fallen on Mr. Hopper, who was still + standing at the bottom of the steps. He checked himself abruptly as + Eliphalet pulled off his hat, + </p> + <p> + “Howdy, Colonel?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Virginia was motionless, with her back to the intruder, She was frozen by + a presentiment. As she saw her father start down the steps, she yearned to + throw herself in front of him—to warn him of something; she knew not + what. Then she heard the Colonel's voice, courteous and kindly as ever. + And yet it broke a little as he greeted his visitor. + </p> + <p> + “Won't—won't you come in, Mr. Hopper?” + </p> + <p> + Virginia started + </p> + <p> + “I don't know but what I will, thank you, Colonel,” he answered; easily. + “I took the liberty of walking home with your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia fairly flew into the house and up the stairs. Gaining her room, + she shut the door and turned the key, as though he might pursue her there. + The man's face had all at once become a terror. She threw herself on the + lounge and buried her face in her hands, and she saw it still leering at + her with a new confidence. Presently she grew calmer; rising, she put on + the plainest of her scanty wardrobe, and went down the stairs, all in a + strange trepidation new to her. She had never been in fear of a man + before. She hearkened over the banisters for his voice, heard it, and + summoned all her courage. How cowardly she had been to leave her father + alone with him. + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet stayed to tea. It mattered little to him that Mrs. Colfax + ignored him as completely as if his chair had been vacant He glanced at + that lady once, and smiled, for he was tasting the sweets of victory. It + was Virginia who entertained him, and even the Colonel never guessed what + it cost her. Eliphalet himself marvelled at her change of manner, and + gloated over that likewise. Not a turn or a quiver of the victim's pain is + missed by your beast of prey. The Colonel was gravely polite, but + preoccupied. Had he wished it, he could not have been rude to a guest. He + offered Mr. Hopper a cigar with the same air that he would have given it + to a governor. + </p> + <p> + “Thank'ee, Colonel, I don't smoke,” he said, waving the bog away. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Colfax flung herself out of the room. + </p> + <p> + It was ten o'clock when Eliphalet reached Miss Crane's, and picked his way + up the front steps where the boarders were gathered. + </p> + <p> + “The war doesn't seem to make any difference in your business, Mr. + Hopper,” his landlady remarked, “where have you been so late?” + </p> + <p> + “I happened round at Colonel Carvel's this afternoon, and stayed for tea + with 'em,” he answered, striving to speak casually. + </p> + <p> + Miss Crane lingered in Mrs. Abner Reed's room later than usual that night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE SCOURGE OF WAR + </h2> + <p> + “Virginia,” said Mrs. Colfax, the next morning on coming downstairs, “I am + going back to Bellegarde today. I really cannot put up with such a person + as Comyn had here to tea last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Aunt Lillian. At what time shall I order the carriage?” + </p> + <p> + The lady was surprised. It is safe to say that she had never accurately + gauged the force which Virginia's respect for her elders, and affection + for her aunt through Clarence, held in check. Only a moment since Mrs. + Colfax had beheld her niece. Now there had arisen in front of her a tall + person of authority, before whom she deferred instinctively. It was not + what Virginia said, for she would not stoop to tirade. Mrs. Colfax sank + into a chair, seeing only the blurred lines of a newspaper the girl had + thrust into her hand. + </p> + <p> + “What—what is it?” she gasped. “I cannot read.” + </p> + <p> + “There has been a battle at Wilson's Creek,” said Virginia, in an + emotionless voice. “General Lyon is killed, for which I suppose we should + be thankful. More than seven hundred of the wounded are on their way here. + They are bringing them one hundred and twenty miles, from Springfield to + Rollo, in rough army wagons, with scarcely anything to eat or drink.” + </p> + <p> + “And—Clarence?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is not there.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” exclaimed Mrs. Colfax. “Are the Yankees beaten?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Virginia, coldly. “At what time shall I order the carriage to + take you to Bellegarde?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Colfax leaned forward and caught the hem of her niece's gown. “Oh, + let me stay,” she cried, “let me stay. Clarence may be with them.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia looked down at her without pity. + </p> + <p> + “As you please, Aunt Lillian,” she answered. “You know that you may always + stay here. I only beg of you one thing, that when you have anything to + complain of, you will bring it to me, and not mention it before Pa. He has + enough to worry him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jinny,” sobbed the lady, in tears again, “how can you be so cruel at + such a time, when my nerves are all in pieces?” + </p> + <p> + But she did not lift her voice at dinner, which was very poor indeed for + Colonel Carvel's house. All day long Virginia, assisted by Uncle Ben and + Aunt Easter, toiled in the stifling kitchen, preparing dainties which she + had long denied herself. At evening she went to the station at Fourteenth + Street with her father, and stood amongst the people, pressed back by the + soldiers, until the trains came in. Alas, the heavy basket which the + Colonel carried on his arm was brought home again. The first hundred to + arrive, ten hours in a hot car without food or water, were laid groaning + on the bottom of great furniture vans, and carted to the new House of + Refuge Hospital, two miles to the south of the city. + </p> + <p> + The next day many good women went there, Rebel and Union alike, to have + their hearts wrung. The new and cheap building standing in the hot sun + reeked with white wash and paint. The miserable men lay on the hard floor, + still in the matted clothes they had worn in battle. Those were the first + days of the war, when the wages of our passions first came to appal us. + Many of the wounds had not been tended since they were dressed on the + field weeks before. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Colfax went too, with the Colonel and her niece, although she + declared repeatedly that she could not go through with such an ordeal. She + spoke the truth, for Mr. Carvel had to assist her to the waiting-room. + Then he went back to the improvised wards to find Virginia busy over a + gaunt Arkansan of Price's army, whose pitiful, fever-glazed eyes were + following her every motion. His frontiersman's clothes, stained with + blackened blood, hung limp over his wasted body. At Virginia's bidding the + Colonel ran downstairs for a bucket of fresh water, and she washed the + caked dust from his face and hands. It was Mr. Brinsmade who got the + surgeon to dress the man's wound, and to prescribe some of the broth from + Virginia's basket. For the first time since the war began something of + happiness entered her breast. + </p> + <p> + It was Mr. Brinsmade who was everywhere that day, answering the questions + of distracted mothers and fathers and sisters who thronged the place; + consulting with the surgeons; helping the few who knew how to work in + placing mattresses under the worst cases; or again he might have been seen + seated on the bare floor with a pad on his knee, taking down the names of + dear ones in distant states,—that he might spend his night writing + to them. + </p> + <p> + They put a mattress under the Arkansan. Virginia did not leave him until + he had fallen asleep, and a smile of peace was come upon his sunken face. + Dismayed at the fearful sights about her, awed by the groans that rose on + every side, she was choosing her way swiftly down the room to join her + father and aunt in the carriage below. + </p> + <p> + The panic of flight had seized her. She felt that another little while in + this heated, horrible place would drive her mad. She was almost at the + door when she came suddenly upon a sight that made her pause. + </p> + <p> + An elderly lady in widow's black was kneeling beside a man groaning in + mortal agony, fanning away the flies already gathering about his face. He + wore the uniform of a Union sergeant,—dusty and splotched and torn. + A small Testament was clasped convulsively in the fingers of his right + band. The left sleeve was empty. Virginia lingered, whelmed in pity, + thrilled by a wonderful womanliness of her who knelt there. Her face the + girl had not even seen, for it was bent over the man. The sweetness of her + voice held Virginia as in a spell, and the sergeant stopped groaning that + he might listen: + </p> + <p> + “You have a wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “And a child?” + </p> + <p> + The answer came so painfully. + </p> + <p> + “A boy, ma'am—born the week—before I came—away.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall write to your wife,” said the lady, so gently that Virginia could + scarce hear, “and tell her that you are cared for. Where does she live?” + </p> + <p> + He gave the address faintly—some little town in Minnesota. Then he + added, “God bless you, lady.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the chief surgeon came and stood over them. The lady turned her + face up to him, and tears sparkled in her eyes. Virginia felt them wet in + her own. Her worship was not given to many. Nobility, character, + efficiency,-all were written on that face. Nobility spoke in the large + features, in the generous mouth, in the calm, gray eyes. Virginia had seen + her often before, but not until now was the woman revealed to her. + </p> + <p> + “Doctor, could this man's life be saved if I took him to my home?” + </p> + <p> + The surgeon got down beside her and took the man's pulse. The eyes closed. + For a while the doctor knelt there, shaking his head. “He has fainted,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he can be saved?” asked the lady again. The surgeon smiled,—such + a smile as a good man gives after eighteen hours of amputating, of + bandaging, of advising,—work which requires a firm hand, a clear eye + and brain, and a good heart. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mrs. Brice,” he said, “I shall be glad to get you permission to + take him, but we must first make him worth the taking. Another hour would + have been too late.” He glanced hurriedly about the busy room, and then + added, “We must have one more to help us.” + </p> + <p> + Just then some one touched Virginia's arm. It was her father. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid we must go, dear,” he said, “your aunt is getting impatient.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you please go without me, Pa?” she asked. “Perhaps I can be of some + use.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel cast a wondering glance at the limp uniform, and went away. + The surgeon, who knew the Carvel family, gave Virginia a look of + astonishment. It was Mrs. Brice's searching gaze that brought the color to + the girl's, face. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dear,” she said simply. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he could get his sister-in-law off to Locust Street in the + carriage, Colonel Carvel came back. For two reeking hours he stood against + the newly plastered wall. Even he was surprised at the fortitude and skill + Virginia showed from the very first, when she had deftly cut away the + stiffened blue cloth, and helped to take off the rough bandages. At length + the fearful operation was finished, and the weary surgeon, gathering up + his box, expressed with all the energy left to him, his thanks to the two + ladies. + </p> + <p> + Virginia stood up, faint and dizzy. The work of her hands had sustained + her while it lasted, but now the ordeal was come. She went down the stairs + on her father's arm, and out into the air. All at once she knew that Mrs. + Brice was beside her, and had taken her by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “My dear?” she was saying, “God will reward you for this act. You have + taught many of us to-day a lesson we should have learned in our Bibles.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia trembled with many emotions, but she answered nothing. The mere + presence of this woman had a strange effect upon the girl,—she was + filled with a longing unutterable. It was not because Margaret Brice was + the mother of him whose life had been so strangely blended with hers—whom + she saw in her dreams. And yet now some of Stephen's traits seemed to come + to her understanding, as by a revelation. Virginia had labored through the + heat of the day by Margaret Brice's side doing His work, which levels all + feuds and makes all women sisters. One brief second had been needful for + the spell. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel bowed with that courtesy and respect which distinguished him, + and Mrs. Brice left them to go back into the room of torment, and watch by + the sergeant's pallet. Virginia's eyes followed her up the stairs, and + then she and her father walked slowly to the carriage. With her foot on + the step Virginia paused. + </p> + <p> + “Pa,” she said, “do you think it would be possible to get them to let us + take that Arkansan into our house?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, honey, I'll ask Brinsmade if you like,” said the Colonel. “Here he + comes now, and Anne.” + </p> + <p> + It was Virginia who put the question to him. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” replied that gentleman, patting her, “I would do anything in + the world for you. I'll see General Fremont this very afternoon. + Virginia,” he added, soberly, “it is such acts as yours to-day that give + us courage to live in these times.” + </p> + <p> + Anne kissed her friend. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jinny, I saw what you were doing for one of our men. What am I + saying?” she cried. “They are your men, too. This horrible war cannot + last. It cannot last. It was well that Virginia did not see the smile on + the face of the commanding general when Mr. Brinsmade at length got to him + with her request. This was before the days when the wounded arrived by the + thousands, when the zeal of the Southern ladies threatened to throw out of + gear the workings of a great system. But the General, had had his eye on + Mr. Carvel from the first. Therefore he smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Carvel,” said Mr. Brinsmade, with dignity, “is a gentleman. When + he gives his word, it is sacred, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Even to an enemy,” the General put in, “By George, Brinsmade, unless I + knew you, I should think that you were half rebel yourself. Well, well, he + may have his Arkansan.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brinsmade, when he conveyed the news to the Carvel house, did not say + that he had wasted a precious afternoon in the attempt to interview his + Excellency, the Commander in-chief. It was like obtaining an audience with + the Sultan or the Czar. Citizens who had been prominent in affairs for + twenty years, philanthropists and patriotic-spirited men like Mr. + Brinsmade, the mayor, and all the ex-mayors mopped their brows in one of + the general's anterooms of the big mansion, and wrangled with beardless + youths in bright uniforms who were part of the chain. The General might + have been a Richelieu, a Marlborough. His European notions of uniformed + inaccessibility he carried out to the letter. He was a royal personage, + seldom seen, who went abroad in the midst of a glittering guard. It did + not seem to weigh with his Excellency that these simple and democratic + gentlemen would not put up with this sort of thing. That they who had + saved the city to the Union were more or less in communication with a + simple and democratic President; that in all their lives they had never + been in the habit of sitting idly for two hours to mop their brows. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, once you got beyond the gold lace and the etiquette, + you discovered a good man and a patriot. It was far from being the + General's fault that Mr. Hopper and others made money in mules and + worthless army blankets. Such things always have been, and always will be + unavoidable when this great country of ours rises from the deep sleep of + security into which her sons have lulled her, to demand her sword. We + shall never be able to realize that the maintenance of a standing army of + comfortable size will save millions in the end. So much for Democracy when + it becomes a catchword. + </p> + <p> + The General was a good man, had he done nothing else than encourage the + Western Sanitary Commission, that glorious army of drilled men and women + who gave up all to relieve the suffering which the war was causing. Would + that a novel—a great novel—might be written setting forth with + truth its doings. The hero of it could be Calvin Brinsmade, and a nobler + hero than he was never under a man's hand. For the glory of generals fades + beside his glory. + </p> + <p> + It was Mr. Brinsmade's carriage that brought Mrs. Brice home from her + trying day in the hospital. Stephen, just returned from drill at Verandah + hall, met her at the door. She would not listen to his entreaties to rest, + but in the evening, as usual, took her sewing to the porch behind the + house, where there was a little breeze. + </p> + <p> + “Such a singular thing happened to-day, Stephen,” she said. “It was while + we were trying to save the life of a poor sergeant who had lost his arm. I + hope we shall be allowed to have him here. He is suffering horribly.” + </p> + <p> + “What happened, mother?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “It was soon after I had come upon this poor fellow,” she said. “I saw the—the + flies around him. And as I got down beside him to fan them away I had such + a queer sensation. I knew that some one was standing behind me, looking at + me. Then Dr. Allerdyce came, and I asked him about the man, and he said + there was a chance of saving him if we could only get help. Then some one + spoke up,—such a sweet voice. It was that Miss Carvel my dear, with + whom you had such a strange experience when you bought Hester, and to + whose party you once went. Do you remember that they offered us their + house in Glencoe when the Judge was so ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “She is a wonderful creature,” his mother continued. “Such personality, + such life! And wasn't it a remarkable offer for a Southern woman to make? + They feel so bitterly, and—and I do not blame them.” The good lady + put down on her lap the night-shirt she was making. “I saw how it + happened. The girl was carried away by her pity. And, my dear, her + capability astonished me. One might have thought that she had always been + a nurse. The experience was a dreadful one for me—what must it have + been for her. After the operation was over, I followed her downstairs to + where she was standing with her father in front of the building, waiting + for their carriage. I felt that I must say something to her, for in all my + life I have never seen a nobler thing done. When I saw her there, I + scarcely knew what to say. Words seemed so inadequate. It was then three + o'clock, and she had been working steadily in that place since morning. I + am sure she could not have borne it much longer. Sheer courage carried her + through it, I know, for her hand trembled so when I took it, and she was + very pale. She usually has color, I believe. Her father, the Colonel, was + with her, and he bowed to me with such politeness. He had stood against + the wall all the while we had worked, and he brought a mattress for us. I + have heard that his house is watched, and that they have him under + suspicion for communicating with the Confederate leaders.” Mrs. Brice + sighed. “He seems such a fine character. I hope they will not get into any + trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not, mother,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + It was two mornings later that Judge Whipple and Stephen drove to the Iron + Mountain depot, where they found a German company of Home Guards drawn up. + On the long wooden platform under the sheds Stephen caught sight of Herr + Korner and Herr Hauptmann amid a group of their countrymen. Little Korner + came forward to clasp his hands. The tears ran on his cheeks, and he could + not speak for emotion. Judge Whipple, grim and silent, stood apart. But he + uncovered his head with the others when the train rolled in. Reverently + they entered a car where the pine boxes were piled one on another, and + they bore out the earthly remains of Captain Carl Richter. + </p> + <p> + Far from the land of his birth, among those same oaks on Bloody Hill where + brave Lyon fell, he had gladly given up his life for the new country and + the new cause he had made his own. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon in the cemetery, as the smoke of the last salute to a hero + hung in the flickering light and drifted upward through the great trees, + as the still air was yet quivering with the notes of the bugle-call which + is the soldiers requiem, a tall figure, gaunt and bent, stepped out from + behind the blue line of the troops. It was that of Judge Whipple. He + carried in his hand a wreath of white roses—the first of many to be + laid on Richter's grave. + </p> + <p> + Poor Richter! How sad his life had been! And yet he had not filled it with + sadness. For many a month, and many a year, Stephen could not look upon + his empty place without a pang. He missed the cheery songs and the earnest + presence even more than he had thought. Carl Richter,—as his father + before him,—had lived for others. Both had sacrificed their bodies + for a cause. One of them might be pictured as he trudged with Father Jahn + from door to door through the Rhine country, or shouldering at sixteen a + heavy musket in the Landwehr's ranks to drive the tyrant Napoleon from the + beloved Fatherland Later, aged before his time, his wife dead of misery, + decrepit and prison-worn in the service of a thankless country, his hopes + lived again in Carl, the swordsman of Jena. Then came the pitiful + Revolution, the sundering of all ties, the elder man left to drag out his + few weary days before a shattered altar. In Carl a new aspiration had + sprung up, a new patriotism stirred. His, too, had been the sacrifice. + Happy in death, for he had helped perpetuate that great Union which should + be for all time the refuge of the oppressed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE LIST OF SIXTY + </h2> + <p> + One chilling day in November, when an icy rain was falling on the black + mud of the streets, Virginia looked out of the window. Her eye was caught + by two horses which were just skeletons with the skin stretched over them. + One had a bad sore on his flank, and was lame. They were pulling a + rattle-trap farm wagon with a buckled wheel. On the seat a man, pallid and + bent and scantily clad, was holding the reins in his feeble hands, while + beside him cowered a child of ten wrapped in a ragged blanket. In the body + of the wagon, lying on a mattress pressed down in the midst of broken, + cheap furniture and filthy kitchen ware, lay a gaunt woman in the rain. + Her eyes were closed, and a hump on the surface of the dirty quilt beside + her showed that a child must be there. From such a picture the girl fled + in tears. But the sight of it, and of others like it, haunted her for + weeks. Through those last dreary days of November, wretched families, + which a year since had been in health and prosperity, came to the city, + beggars, with the wrecks of their homes. The history of that hideous + pilgrimage across a state has never been written. Still they came by the + hundred, those families. Some brought little corpses to be buried. The + father of one, hale and strong when they started, died of pneumonia in the + public lodging-house. The walls of that house could tell many tales to + wring the heart. So could Mr. Brinsmade, did he choose to speak of his own + charities. He found time, between his labors at the big hospital newly + founded, and his correspondence, and his journeys of love,—between + early morning and midnight,—to give some hours a day to the + refugees. + </p> + <p> + Throughout December they poured in on the afflicted city, already + overtaxed. All the way to Springfield the road was lined with remains of + articles once dear—a child's doll, a little rocking-chair, a colored + print that has hung in the best room, a Bible text. + </p> + <p> + Anne Brinsmade, driven by Nicodemus, went from house to house to solicit + old clothes, and take them to the crowded place of detention. Christmas + was drawing near—a sorry Christmas, in truth. And many of the + wanderers were unclothed and unfed. + </p> + <p> + More battles had been fought; factions had arisen among Union men. Another + general had come to St. Louis to take charge of the Department, and the + other with his wondrous body-guard was gone. + </p> + <p> + The most serious problem confronting the new general—was how to care + for the refugees. A council of citizens was called at headquarters, and + the verdict went forth in the never-to-be-forgotten Orders No. 24. + </p> + <p> + “Inasmuch,” said the General, “as the Secession army had driven these + people from their homes, Secession sympathizers should be made to support + them.” He added that the city was unquestionably full of these. + </p> + <p> + Indignation was rife the day that order was published. Sixty prominent + “disloyalists” were to be chosen and assessed to make up a sum of ten + thousand dollars. + </p> + <p> + “They may sell my house over my head before I will pay a cent,” cried Mr. + Russell. And he meant it. This was the way the others felt. Who were to be + on this mysterious list of “Sixty”? That was the all-absorbing question of + the town. It was an easy matter to pick the conspicuous ones. Colonel + Carvel was sure to be there, and Mr. Catherwood and Mr. Russell and Mr. + James, and Mr. Worington the lawyer. Mrs. Addison Colfax lived for days in + a fermented state of excitement which she declared would break her down; + and which, despite her many cares and worries, gave her niece not a little + amusement. For Virginia was human, and one morning she went to her aunt's + room to read this editorial from the newspaper:— “For the relief of + many palpitating hearts it may be well to state that we understand only + two ladies are on the ten thousand dollar list.” + </p> + <p> + “Jinny,” she cried, “how can you be so cruel as to read me that, when you + know that I am in a state of frenzy now? How does that relieve me? It + makes it an absolute certainty that Madame Jules and I will have to pay. + We are the only women of importance in the city.” + </p> + <p> + That afternoon she made good her much-uttered threat, and drove to + Bellegarde. Only the Colonel and Virginia and Mammy Easter and Ned were + left in the big house. Rosetta and Uncle Ben and Jackson had been hired + out, and the horses sold,—all save old Dick, who was running, + long-haired, in the fields at Glencoe. + </p> + <p> + Christmas eve was a steel-gray day, and the sleet froze as it fell. Since + morning Colonel Carvel had sat poking the sitting-room fire, or pacing the + floor restlessly. His occupation was gone. He was observed night and day + by Federal detectives. Virginia strove to amuse him, to conceal her + anxiety as she watched him. Well she knew that but for her he would long + since have fled southward, and often in the bitterness of the night-time + she blamed herself for not telling him to go. Ten years had seemed to pass + over him since the war had begun. + </p> + <p> + All day long she had been striving to put away from her the memory of + Christmas eves past and gone of her father's early home-coming from the + store, a mysterious smile on his face; of Captain Lige stamping noisily + into the house, exchanging uproarious jests with Ned and Jackson. The + Captain had always carried under his arm a shapeless bundle which he would + confide to Ned with a knowing wink. And then the house would be lighted + from top to bottom, and Mr. Russell and Mr. Catherwood and Mr. Brinsmade + came in for a long evening with Mr. Carvel over great bowls of apple toddy + and egg-nog. And Virginia would have her own friends in the big parlor. + That parlor was shut up now, and icy cold. + </p> + <p> + Then there was Judge Whipple, the joyous event of whose year was his + Christmas dinner at Colonel Carvel's house. Virginia pictured him this + year at Mrs. Brice's little table, and wondered whether he would miss them + as much as they missed him. War may break friendships, but it cannot take + away the sacredness of memories. + </p> + <p> + The sombre daylight was drawing to an early close as the two stood looking + out of the sitting-room window. A man's figure muffled in a greatcoat + slanting carefully across the street caught their eyes. Virginia started. + It was the same United States deputy marshal she had seen the day before + at Mr. Russell's house. + </p> + <p> + “Pa,” she cried, “do you think he is coming here?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon so, honey.” + </p> + <p> + “The brute! Are you going to pay?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Jinny.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they will take away the furniture.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon they will.” + </p> + <p> + “Pa, you must promise me to take down the mahogany bed in your room. It—it + was mother's. I could not bear to see them take that. Let me put it in the + garret.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel was distressed, but he spoke without a tremor. + </p> + <p> + “No, Jinny. We must leave this house just as it is.” Then he added, + strangely enough for him, “God's will be done.” + </p> + <p> + The bell rang sharply. And Ned, who was cook and housemaid, came in with + his apron on. + </p> + <p> + “Does you want to see folks, Marse Comyn?” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel rose, and went to the door himself. He was an imposing figure + as he stood in the windy vestibule, confronting the deputy. Virginia's + first impulse was to shrink under the stairs. Then she came out and stood + beside her father. + </p> + <p> + “Are you Colonel Carvel?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I am. Will you come in?” + </p> + <p> + The officer took off his cap. He was a young man with a smooth face, and a + frank brown eye which paid its tribute to Virginia. He did not appear to + relish the duty thrust upon him. He fumbled in his coat and drew from his + inner pocket a paper. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Carvel,” said he, “by order of Major General Halleck, I serve you + with this notice to pay the sum of three hundred and fifty dollars for the + benefit of the destitute families which the Rebels have driven from their + homes. In default of payment within a reasonable time such personal + articles will be seized and sold at public auction as will satisfy the + demand against you.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel took the paper. “Very well, sir,” he said. “You may tell the + General that the articles may be seized. That I will not, while in my + right mind, be forced to support persons who have no claim upon me.” + </p> + <p> + It was said in the tone in which he might have refused an invitation to + dinner. The deputy marvelled. He had gone into many houses that week; had + seen indignation, hysterics, frenzy. He had even heard men and women whose + sons and brothers were in the army of secession proclaim their loyalty to + the Union. But this dignity, and the quiet scorn of the girl who had stood + silent beside them, were new. He bowed, and casting his eyes to the + vestibule, was glad to escape from the house. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel shut the door. Then he turned toward Virginia, thoughtfully + pulled his goatee, and laughed gently. “Lordy, we haven't got three + hundred and fifty dollars to our names,” said he. + </p> + <p> + The climate of St. Louis is capricious. That fierce valley of the + Missouri, which belches fitful blizzards from December to March, is + sometimes quiet. Then the hot winds come up from the Gulf, and sleet + melts, and windows are opened. In those days the streets will be fetlock + deep in soft mud. It is neither summer, nor winter, nor spring, nor + anything. + </p> + <p> + It was such a languorous afternoon in January that a furniture van, + accompanied by certain nondescript persons known as United States Police, + pulled up at the curb in front of Mr. Carvel's house. Eugenie, watching at + the window across the street, ran to tell her father, who came out on his + steps and reviled the van with all the fluency of his French ancestors. + </p> + <p> + Mammy Easter opened the door, and then stood with her arms akimbo, amply + filling its place. Her lips protruded, and an expression of defiance hard + to describe sat on her honest black face. + </p> + <p> + “Is this Colonel Carvel's house?” + </p> + <p> + “Yassir. I 'low you knows dat jes as well as me.” An embarrassed silence, + and then from Mammy, “Whaffor you laffin at?” + </p> + <p> + “Is the Colonel at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Now I reckon you knows dat he ain't. Ef he was, you ain't come here + 'quirin' in dat honey voice.” (Raising her own voice.) “You tink I dunno + whaffor you come? You done come heah to rifle, an' to loot, an' to steal, + an' to seize what ain't your'n. You come heah when young Marse ain't to + home ter rob him.” (Still louder.) “Ned, whaffor you hidin' yonder? Ef yo' + ain't man to protect Marse Comyn's prop-ty, jes han' over Marse Comyn's + gun.” + </p> + <p> + The marshal and his men had stood, half amused, more than half baffled by + this unexpected resistance. Mammy Easter looked so dangerous that it was + evident she was not to be passed without extreme bodily discomfort. + </p> + <p> + “Is your mistress here?” + </p> + <p> + This question was unfortunate in the extreme. + </p> + <p> + “You—you white trash!” cried Mammy, bursting with indignation. “Who + is you to come heah 'quiring fo' her! I ain't agwine—” + </p> + <p> + “Mammy!” + </p> + <p> + “Yas'm! Yas, Miss Jinny.” Mammy backed out of the door and clutched at her + bandanna. + </p> + <p> + “Mammy, what is all this noise about?” The torrent was loosed once more. + </p> + <p> + “These heah men, Miss Jinny, was gwine f'r t' carry away all yo' pa's + blongin's. I jes' tol' 'em dey ain't comin' in ovah dis heah body.” + </p> + <p> + The deputy had his foot on the threshold. He caught sight of the face of + Miss Carvel within, and stopped abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “I have a warrant here from the Provost Marshal, ma'am, to seize personal + property to satisfy a claim against Colonel Carvel.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia took the order, read it, and handed it back. “I do not see how I + am to prevent you,” she said. The deputy was plainly abashed. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, Miss. I—I can't tell you how sorry I am. But it's got to + be done.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia nodded coldly. And still the man hesitated. “What are you waiting + for?” she said. + </p> + <p> + The deputy wiped his muddy feet. He made his men do likewise. Then he + entered the chill drawing-room, threw open the blinds and glanced around + him. + </p> + <p> + “I expect all that we want is right here,” he said. And at the sight of + the great chandelier, with its cut-glass crystals, he whistled. Then he + walked over to the big English Rothfield piano and lifted the lid. + </p> + <p> + The man was a musician. Involuntarily he rested himself on the mahogany + stool, and ran his fingers over the keys. They seemed to Virginia, + standing motionless in the ball, to give out the very chords of agony. + </p> + <p> + The piano, too, had been her mother's. It had once stood in the brick + house of her grandfather Colfax at Halcyondale. The songs of Beatrice lay + on the bottom shelf of the what-not near by. No more, of an evening when + they were alone, would Virginia quietly take them out and play them over + to the Colonel, as he sat dreaming in the window with his cigar,—dreaming + of a field on the borders of a wood, of a young girl who held his hand, + and sang them softly to herself as she walked by his side. And, when they + reached the house in the October twilight, she had played them for him on + this piano. Often he had told Virginia of those days, and walked with her + over those paths. + </p> + <p> + The deputy closed the lid, and sent out to the van for a truck. Virginia + stirred. For the first time she heard the words of Mammy Easter. + </p> + <p> + “Come along upstairs wid yo' Mammy, honey. Dis ain't no place for us, I + reckon.” Her words were the essence of endearment. And yet, while she + pronounced them, she glared unceasingly at the intruders. “Oh, de good + Lawd'll burn de wicked!” + </p> + <p> + The men were removing the carved legs. Virginia went back into the room + and stood before the deputy. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there something else you could take? Some jewellery?” She flushed. + “I have a necklace—” + </p> + <p> + “No, miss. This warrant's on your father. And there ain't nothing quite so + salable as pianos.” + </p> + <p> + She watched them, dry-eyed, as they carried it away. It seemed like a + coffin. Only Mammy Easter guessed at the pain in Virginia's breast, and + that was because there was a pain in her own. They took the rosewood + what-not, but Virginia snatched the songs before the men could touch them, + and held them in her arms. They seized the mahogany velvet-bottomed + chairs, her uncle's wedding present to her mother; and, last of all, they + ruthlessly tore up the Brussels carpet, beginning near the spot where + Clarence had spilled ice-cream at one of her children's parties. + </p> + <p> + She could not bear to look into the dismantled room when they had gone. It + was the embodied wreck of her happiness. Ned closed the blinds once more, + and she herself turned the key in the lock, and went slowly up the stairs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. THE AUCTION + </h2> + <p> + “Stephen,” said the Judge, in his abrupt way, “there isn't a great deal + doing. Let's go over to the Secesh property sales.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen looked up in surprise. The seizures and intended sale of secession + property had stirred up immense bitterness and indignation in the city. + There were Unionists (lukewarm) who denounced the measure as unjust and + brutal. The feelings of Southerners, avowed and secret, may only be + surmised. Rigid ostracism was to be the price of bidding on any goods + displayed, and men who bought in handsome furniture on that day because it + was cheap have still, after forty years, cause to remember it. + </p> + <p> + It was not that Stephen feared ostracism. Anne Brinsmade was almost the + only girl left to him from among his former circle of acquaintances. Miss + Carvel's conduct is known. The Misses Russell showed him very plainly that + they disapproved of his politics. The hospitable days at that house were + over. Miss Catherwood, when they met on the street, pretended not to see + him, and Eugenie Renault gave him but a timid nod. The loyal families to + whose houses he now went were mostly Southerners, in sentiment against + forced auctions. + </p> + <p> + However, he put on his coat, and sallied forth into the sharp air, the + Judge leaning on his arm. They walked for some distance in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen,” said he, presently, “I guess I'll do a little bidding.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen did not reply. But he was astonished. He wondered what Mr. Whipple + wanted with fine furniture. And, if he really wished to bid, Stephen knew + likewise that no consideration would stop him. + </p> + <p> + “You don't approve of this proceeding, sir, I suppose,” said the Judge. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, on large grounds. War makes many harsh things necessary.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the Judge, tartly, “by bidding, we help to support starving + Union families. You should not be afraid to bid, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen bit his lip. Sometimes Mr. Whipple made him very angry. + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid to bid, Judge Whipple.” He did not see the smile on the + Judge's face. + </p> + <p> + “Then you will bid in certain things for me,” said Mr. Whipple. Here he + hesitated, and shook free the rest of the sentence with a wrench. “Colonel + Carvel always had a lot of stuff I wanted. Now I've got the chance to buy + it cheap.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence again, for the space of a whole block. Finally, Stephen + managed to say:— “You'll have to excuse me, sir. I do not care to do + that.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried the Judge, stopping in the middle of a cross-street, so that + a wagon nearly ran over his toes. + </p> + <p> + “I was once a guest in Colonel Carvel's house, sir. And—” + </p> + <p> + “And what?” + </p> + <p> + Neither the young man nor the old knew all it was costing the other to say + these things. The Judge took a grim pleasure in eating his heart. And as + for Stephen, he often went to his office through Locust Street, which was + out of his way, in the hope that he might catch a glimpse of Virginia. He + had guessed much of the privations she had gone through. He knew that the + Colonel had hired out most of his slaves, and he had actually seen the + United States Police drive across Eleventh Street with the piano that she + had played on. + </p> + <p> + The Judge was laughing quietly,—not a pleasant laugh to hear,—as + they came to Morgan's great warerooms. A crowd blocked the pavement, and + hustled and shoved at the doors,—roughs, and soldiers off duty, and + ladies and gentlemen whom the Judge and Stephen knew, and some of whom + they spoke to. All of these were come out of curiosity, that they might + see for themselves any who had the temerity to bid on a neighbor's + household goods. The long hall, which ran from street to street, was + packed, the people surging backward and forward, and falling roughly + against the mahogany pieces; and apologizing, and scolding, and swearing + all in a breath. The Judge, holding tightly to Stephen, pushed his way + fiercely to the stand, vowing over and over that the commotion was a + secession trick to spoil the furniture and stampede the sale. In truth, it + was at the Judge's suggestion that a blue provost's guard was called in + later to protect the seized property. + </p> + <p> + How many of those mahogany pieces, so ruthlessly tumbled about before the + public eye, meant a heartache! Wedding presents of long ago, dear to many + a bride with silvered hair, had been torn from the corner where the + children had played—children who now, alas, were grown and gone to + war. Yes, that was the Brussels rug that had lain before the fire, and + which the little feet had worn in the corner. Those were the chairs the + little hands had harnessed, four in a row, and fallen on its side was the + armchair—the stage coach itself. There were the books, held up to + common gaze, that a beloved parent had thumbed with affection. Yes, and + here in another part of the hall were the family horses and the family + carriage that had gone so often back and forth from church with the happy + brood of children, now scattered and gone to war. + </p> + <p> + As Stephen reached his place beside the Judge, Mr. James's effects were + being cried. And, if glances could have killed, many a bidder would have + dropped dead. The heavy dining-room table which meant so much to the + family went for a song to a young man recently come from Yankeeland, whose + open boast it was—like Eliphalet's secret one—that he would + one day grow rich enough to snap his fingers in the face of the Southern + aristocrats. Mr. James was not there. But Mr. Catherwood, his face haggard + and drawn, watched the sideboard he had given his wife on her silver + wedding being sold to a pawnbroker. + </p> + <p> + Stephen looked in vain for Colonel Carvel—for Virginia. He did not + want to see them there. He knew by heart the list of things which had been + taken from their house. He understood the feeling which had sent the Judge + here to bid them in. And Stephen honored him the more. + </p> + <p> + When the auctioneer came to the Carvel list, and the well-known name was + shouted out, the crowd responded with a stir and pressed closer to the + stand. And murmurs were plainly heard in more than one direction. + </p> + <p> + “Now, gentlemen, and ladies,” said the seller, “this here is a genuine + English Rothfield piano once belonging to Colonel Carvel, and the + celebrated Judge Colfax of Kaintucky.” He lingered fondly over the names, + that the impression might have time to sink deep. “This here magnificent + instrument's worth at the very least” (another pause) “twelve hundred + dollars. What am I bid?” + </p> + <p> + He struck a base note of the keys, then a treble, and they vibrated in the + heated air of the big hall. Had he hit the little C of the top octave, the + tinkle of that also might have been heard. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen and ladies, we have to begin somewheres. What am I bid?” + </p> + <p> + A menacing murmur gave place to the accusing silence. Some there were who + gazed at the Rothfield with longing eyes, but who had no intention of + committing social suicide. Suddenly a voice, the rasp of which penetrated + to St. Charles Street, came out with a bid. The owner was a seedy man with + a straw-colored, drunkard's mustache. He was leaning against the body of + Mrs. Russell's barouche (seized for sale), and those about him shrank away + as from smallpox. His hundred-dollar offer was followed by a hiss. What + followed next Stephen will always remember. When Judge Whipple drew + himself up to his full six feet, that was a warning to those that knew + him. As he doubled the bid, the words came out with the aggressive + distinctness of a man who through a long life has been used to opposition. + He with the gnawed yellow mustache pushed himself clear of the barouche, + his smouldering cigar butt dropping to the floor. But there were no hisses + now. + </p> + <p> + And this is how Judge Whipple braved public opinion once more. As he stood + there, defiant, many were the conjectures as to what he could wish to do + with the piano of his old friend. Those who knew the Judge (and there were + few who did not) pictured to themselves the dingy little apartment where + he lived, and smiled. Whatever his detractors might have said of him, no + one was ever heard to avow that he had bought or sold anything for gain. + </p> + <p> + A tremor ran through the people. Could it have been of admiration for the + fine old man who towered there glaring defiance at those about him? “Give + me a strong and consistent enemy,” some great personage has said, “rather + than a lukewarm friend.” Three score and five years the Judge had lived, + and now some were beginning to suspect that he had a heart. Verily he had + guarded his secret well. But it was let out to many more that day, and + they went home praising him who had once pronounced his name with + bitterness. + </p> + <p> + This is what happened. Before he of the yellow mustache could pick up his + cigar from the floor and make another bid, the Judge had cried out a sum + which was the total of Colonel Carvel's assessment. Many recall to this + day how fiercely he frowned when the applause broke forth of itself; and + when he turned to go they made a path for him, in admiration, the length + of the hall, down which he stalked, looking neither to the right nor left. + Stephen followed him, thankful for the day which had brought him into the + service of such a man. + </p> + <p> + And so it came about that the other articles were returned to Colonel + Carvel with the marshal's compliments, and put back into the cold parlor + where they had stood for many years. The men who brought them offered to + put down the carpet, but by Virginia's orders the rolls were stood up in + the corner, and the floor left bare. And days passed into weeks, and no + sign or message came from Judge Whipple in regard to the piano he had + bought. Virginia did not dare mention it to the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + Where was it? It had been carried by six sweating negroes up the narrow + stairs into the Judge's office. Stephen and Shadrach had by Mr. Whipple's + orders cleared a corner of his inner office and bedroom of papers and + books and rubbish, and there the bulky instrument was finally set up. It + occupied one-third of the space. The Judge watched the proceeding grimly, + choking now and again from the dust that was raised, yet uttering never a + word. He locked the lid when the van man handed him the key, and thrust + that in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Stephen had of late found enough to do in St. Louis. He was the kind of + man to whom promotions came unsought, and without noise. In the autumn he + had been made a captain in the Halleck Guards of the State Militia, as a + reward for his indefatigable work in the armories and his knowledge of + tactics. Twice his company had been called out at night, and once they + made a campaign as far as the Merimec and captured a party of recruits who + were destined for Jefferson Davis. Some weeks passed before Mr. Brinsmade + heard of his promotion and this exploit, and yet scarcely a day went by + that he did not see the young man at the big hospital. For Stephen helped + in the work of the Sanitary Commission too, and so strove to make up in + zeal for the service in the field which he longed to give. + </p> + <p> + After Christmas Mr. and Mrs. Brinsmade moved out to their place on the + Bellefontaine Road. This was to force Anne to take a rest. For the girl + was worn out with watching at the hospitals, and with tending the + destitute mothers and children from the ranks of the refugees. The + Brinsmade place was not far from the Fair Grounds,—now a receiving + camp for the crude but eager regiments of the Northern states. To Mr. + Brinsmade's, when the day's duty was done, the young Union officers used + to ride, and often there would be half a dozen of them to tea. That house, + and other great houses on the Bellefontaine Road with which this history + has no occasion to deal, were as homes to many a poor fellow who would + never see home again. Sometimes Anne would gather together such young + ladies of her acquaintance from the neighbor hood and the city as their + interests and sympathies permitted to waltz with a Union officer, and + there would be a little dance. To these dances Stephen Brice was usually + invited. + </p> + <p> + One such occasion occurred on a Friday in January, and Mr. Brinsmade + himself called in his buggy and drove Stephen to the country early in the + afternoon. He and Anne went for a walk along the river, the surface of + which was broken by lumps of yellow ice. Gray clouds hung low in the sky + as they picked their way over the frozen furrows of the ploughed fields. + The grass was all a yellow-brown, but the north wind which swayed the bare + trees brought a touch of color to Anne's cheeks. Before they realized + where they were, they had nearly crossed the Bellegarde estate, and the + house itself was come into view, standing high on the slope above the + withered garden. They halted. + </p> + <p> + “The shutters are up,” said Stephen. “I understood that Mrs. Colfax had + come out here not long a—” + </p> + <p> + “She came out for a day just before Christina,” said Anne, smiling, “and + then she ran off to Kentucky. I think she was afraid that she was one of + the two women on the list of Sixty.” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been a blow to her pride when she found that she was not,” + said Stephen, who had a keen remembrance of her conduct upon a certain + Sunday not a year gone. + </p> + <p> + Impelled by the same inclination, they walked in silence to the house and + sat down on the edge of the porch. The only motion in the view was the + smoke from the slave quarters twisting in the wind, and the hurrying ice + in the stream. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Jinny!” said Anne, with a sigh, “how she loved to romp! What good + times we used to have here together!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think that she is unhappy?” Stephen demanded, involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” said Anne. “How can you ask? But you could not make her show + it. The other morning when she came out to our house I found her sitting + at the piano. I am sure there were tears in her eyes, but she would not + let me see them. She made some joke about Spencer Catherwood running away. + What do you think the Judge will do with that piano, Stephen?” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “The day after they put it in his room he came in with a great black + cloth, which he spread over it. You cannot even see the feet.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence. And Anne, turning to him timidly, gave him a long, + searching look. + </p> + <p> + “It is growing late,” she said. “I think that we ought to go back.” + </p> + <p> + They went out by the long entrance road, through the naked woods. Stephen + said little. Only a little while before he had had one of those vivid + dreams of Virginia which left their impression, but not their substance, + to haunt him. On those rare days following the dreams her spirit had its + mastery over his. He pictured her then with a glow on her face which was + neither sadness nor mirth,—a glow that ministered to him alone. And + yet, he did not dare to think that he might have won her, even if politics + and war had not divided them. + </p> + <p> + When the merriment of the dance was at its height that evening, Stephen + stood at the door of the long room, meditatively watching the bright gowns + and the flash of gold on the uniforms as they flitted past. Presently the + opposite door opened, and he heard Mr. Brinsmade's voice mingling with + another, the excitable energy of which recalled some familiar episode. + Almost—so it seemed—at one motion, the owner of the voice had + come out of the door and had seized Stephen's hand in a warm grasp,—a + tall and spare figure in the dress of a senior officer. The military + frock, which fitted the man's character rather than the man, was + carelessly open, laying bare a gold-buttoned white waistcoat and an + expanse of shirt bosom which ended in a black stock tie. The ends of the + collar were apart the width of the red clipped beard, and the mustache was + cropped straight along the line of the upper lip. The forehead rose high, + and was brushed carelessly free of the hair. The nose was almost straight, + but combative. A fire fairly burned in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The boy doesn't remember me,” said the gentleman, in quick tones, smiling + at Mr. Brinsmade. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I do,” Stephen made haste to answer. He glanced at the star on + the shoulder strap, and said. “You are General Sherman.” + </p> + <p> + “First rate!” laughed the General, patting him. “First rate!” + </p> + <p> + “Now in command at Camp Benton, Stephen,” Mr. Brinsmade put in. “Won't you + sit down, General?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the General, emphatically waving away the chair. “No, rather + stand.” Then his keen face suddenly lighted with amusement,—and + mischief, Stephen thought. “So you've heard of me since we met, sir?” + “Yes, General.” + </p> + <p> + “Humph! Guess you heard I was crazy,” said the General, in his downright + way. + </p> + <p> + Stephen was struck dumb. + </p> + <p> + “He's been reading the lies in the newspapers too, Brinsmade,” the General + went on rapidly. “I'll make 'em eat their newspapers for saying I was + crazy. That's the Secretary of War's doings. Ever tell you what Cameron + did, Brinsmade? He and his party were in Louisville last fall, when I was + serving in Kentucky, and came to my room in the Galt House. Well, we + locked the door, and Miller sent us up a good lunch and wine, After lunch, + the Secretary lay on my bed, and we talked things over. He asked me what I + thought about things in Kentucky. I told him. I got a map. I said, 'Now, + Mr. Secretary, here is the whole Union line from the Potomac to Kansas. + Here's McClellan in the East with one hundred miles of front. Here's + Fremont in the West with one hundred miles. Here we are in Kentucky, in + the centre, with three hundred miles to defend. McClellan has a hundred + thousand men, Fremont has sixty thousand. You give us fellows with over + three hundred miles only eighteen thousand.' 'How many do you want?' says + Cameron, still on the bed. 'Two hundred thousand before we get through,' + said I. Cameron pitched up his hands in the air. 'Great God?' says he, + 'where are they to come from?' 'The northwest is chuck full of regiments + you fellows at Washington won't accept,' said I. 'Mark my words, Mr. + Secretary, you'll need 'em all and more before we get done with this + Rebellion.' Well, sir, he was very friendly before we finished, and I + thought the thing was all thrashed out. No, sir! he goes back to + Washington and gives it out that I'm crazy, and want two hundred thousand + men in Kentucky. Then I am ordered to report to Halleck in Missouri here, + and he calls me back from Sedalia because he believes the lies.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen, who had in truth read the stories in question a month or two + before, could not conceal his embarrassment He looked at the man in front + of him,—alert, masterful intelligent, frank to any stranger who took + his fancy,—and wondered how any one who had talked to him could + believe them. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brinsmade smiled. “They have to print something, General,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I'll give 'em something to print later on,” answered the General, grimly. + Then his expression changed. “Brinsmade, you fellows did have a session + with Fremont, didn't you? Anderson sent me over here last September, and + the first man I ran across at the Planters' House was Appleton. '—What + are you in town for?' says he. 'To see Fremont,' I said. You ought to have + heard Appleton laugh. 'You don't think Fremont'll see you, do you?' says + he. 'Why not?' 'Well,' says Tom, 'go 'round to his palace at six to-morrow + morning and bribe that Hungarian prince who runs his body-guard to get you + a good place in the line of senators and governors and first citizens, and + before nightfall you may get a sight of him, since you come from Anderson. + Not one man in a hundred,' says Appleton, I not one man in a hundred, + reaches his chief-of-staff.' Next morning,” the General continued in a + staccato which was often his habit, “had breakfast before daybreak and + went 'round there. Place just swarming with Californians—army + contracts.” (The General sniffed.) “Saw Fremont. Went back to hotel. More + Californians, and by gad—old Baron Steinberger with his nose hanging + over the register.” + </p> + <p> + “Fremont was a little difficult to get at, General,” said Mr. Brinsmade. + “Things were confused and discouraged when those first contracts were + awarded. Fremont was a good man, and it wasn't his fault that the + inexperience of his quartermasters permitted some of those men to get + rich.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the General. “His fault! Certainly not. Good man! To be sure he + was—didn't get along with Blair. These court-martials you're having + here now have stirred up the whole country. I guess we'll hear now how + those fortunes were made. To listen to those witnesses lie about each + other on the stand is better than the theatre.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen laughed at the comical and vivid manner in which the General set + this matter forth. He himself had been present one day of the sittings of + the court-martial when one of the witnesses on the prices of mules was + that same seedy man with the straw-colored mustache who had bid for + Virginia's piano against the Judge. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Stephen,” said the General, abruptly, “run and snatch one of those + pretty girls from my officers. They're having more than their share.” + </p> + <p> + “They deserve more, sir,” answered Stephen. Whereupon the General laid his + hand impulsively on the young man's shoulder, divining what Stephen did + not say. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said be; “you are doing the work in this war, not we. We do + the damage—you repair it. If it were not for Mr. Brinsmade and you + gentlemen who help him, where would our Western armies be? Don't you go to + the front yet a while, young man. We need the best we have in reserve.” He + glanced critically at Stephen. “You've had military training of some + sort?” + </p> + <p> + “He's a captain in the Halleck Guards, sir,” said Mr. Brinsmade, + generously, “and the best drillmaster we've had in this city. He's seen + service, too, General.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen reddened furiously and started to protest, when the General cried:— + “It's more than I have in this war. Come, come, I knew he was a soldier. + Let's see what kind of a strategist he'll make. Brinsmade, have you got + such a thing as a map?” Mr. Brinsmade had, and led the way back into the + library. The General shut the door, lighted a cigar with a single vigorous + stroke of a match, and began to smoke with quick puffs. Stephen was + puzzled how to receive the confidences the General was giving out with + such freedom. + </p> + <p> + When the map was laid on the table, the General drew a pencil from his + pocket and pointed to the state of Kentucky. Then he drew a line from + Columbus to Bowling Green, through Forts Donelson and Henry. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Stephen,” said he, “there's the Rebel line. Show me the proper place + to break it.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen hesitated a while, and then pointed at the centre. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said the General. “Very good!” He drew a heavy line across the + first, and it ran almost in the bed of the Tennessee River. He swung on + Mr. Brinsmade. “Very question Halleck asked me the other day, and that's + how I answered it. Now, gentlemen, there's a man named Grant down in that + part of the country. Keep your eyes on him. Ever heard of him, Brinsmade? + He used to live here once, and a year ago he was less than I was. Now he's + a general.” + </p> + <p> + The recollection of the scene in the street by the Arsenal that May + morning not a year gone came to Stephen with a shock. + </p> + <p> + “I saw him,” he cried; “he was Captain Grant that lived on the Gravois + Road. But surely this can't be the same man who seized Paducah and was in + that affair at Belmont.” + </p> + <p> + “By gum!” said the General, laughing. “Don't wonder you're surprised. + Grant has stuff in him. They kicked him around Springfield awhile, after + the war broke out, for a military carpet-bagger. Then they gave him for a + regiment the worst lot of ruffians you ever laid eyes on. He fixed 'em. He + made 'em walk the plank. He made 'em march halfway across the state + instead of taking the cars the Governor offered. Belmont! I guess he is + the man that chased the Rebs out of Belmont. Then his boys broke loose + when they got into the town. That wasn't Grant's fault. The Rebs came back + and chased 'em out into their boats on the river. Brinsmade, you remember + hearing about that. + </p> + <p> + “Grant did the coolest thing you ever saw. He sat on his horse at the top + of the bluff while the boys fell over each other trying to get on the + boat. Yes, sir, he sat there, disgusted, on his horse, smoking a cigar, + with the Rebs raising pandemonium all around him. And then, sir,” cried + the General, excitedly, “what do you think he did? Hanged if he didn't + force his horse right on to his haunches, slide down the whole length of + the bank and ride him across a teetering plank on to the steamer. And the + Rebs just stood on the bank and stared. They were so astonished they + didn't even shoot the man. You watch Grant,” said the General. “And now, + Stephen,” he added, “just you run off and take hold of the prettiest girl + you can find. If any of my boys object, say I sent you.” + </p> + <p> + The next Monday Stephen had a caller. It was little Tiefel, now a first + lieutenant with a bristly beard and tanned face, come to town on a few + days' furlough. He had been with Lyon at Wilson's Creek, and he had a sad + story to tell of how he found poor Richter, lying stark on that bloody + field, with a smile of peace upon his face. Strange that he should at + length have been killed by a sabre! + </p> + <p> + It was a sad meeting for those two, since each reminded the other of a + dear friend they would see no more on earth. They went out to sup together + in the German style; and gradually, over his beer, Tiefel forgot his + sorrow. Stephen listened with an ache to the little man's tales of the + campaigns he had been through. So that presently Tiefel cried out: + </p> + <p> + “Why, my friend, you are melancholy as an owl. I will tell you a funny + story. Did you ever hear of one General Sherman? He that they say is + crazy?” + </p> + <p> + “He is no more crazy than I am,” said Stephen, warmly— + </p> + <p> + “Is he not?” answered Tiefel, “then I will show you a mistake. You recall + last November he was out to Sedalia to inspect the camp there, and he + sleeps in a little country store where I am quartered. Now up gets your + General Sherman in the middle of the night,—midnight,—and + marches up and down between the counters, and waves his arms. So, says he, + 'land so,' says he, 'Sterling Price will be here, and Steele here, and + this column will take that road, and so-and-so's a damned fool. Is not + that crazy? So he walks up and down for three eternal hours. Says he, + 'Pope has no business to be at Osterville, and Steele here at Sedalia with + his regiments all over the place. They must both go into camp at La Mine + River, and form brigades and divisions, that the troops may be handled.'” + </p> + <p> + “If that's insanity,” cried Stephen so strongly as to surprise the little + man; “then I wish we had more insane generals. It just shows how a + malicious rumor will spread. What Sherman said about Pope's and Steele's + forces is true as Gospel, and if you ever took the trouble to look into + that situation, Tiefel, you would see it.” And Stephen brought down his + mug on the table with a crash that made the bystanders jump. + </p> + <p> + “Himmel!” exclaimed little Tiefel. But he spoke in admiration. + </p> + <p> + It was not a month after that that Sherman's prophecy of the quiet general + who had slid down the bluff at Belmont came true. The whole country bummed + with Grant's praises. Moving with great swiftness and secrecy up the + Tennessee, in company with the gunboats of Commodore Foote, he had pierced + the Confederate line at the very point Sherman had indicated. Fort Henry + had fallen, and Grant was even then moving to besiege Donelson. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brinsmade prepared to leave at once for the battlefield, taking with + him too Paducah physicians and nurses. All day long the boat was loading + with sanitary stores and boxes of dainties for the wounded. It was muggy + and wet—characteristic of that winter—as Stephen pushed + through the drays on the slippery levee to the landing. + </p> + <p> + He had with him a basket his mother had put up. He also bore a message to + Mr. Brinsmade from the Judge It was while he was picking his way along the + crowded decks that he ran into General Sherman. The General seized him + unceremoniously by the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Stephen,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, General,” said Stephen, shifting his basket to shake hands. “Are + you going away?” + </p> + <p> + “Ordered to Paducah,” said the General. He pulled Stephen off the guards + into an empty cabin. “Brice,” said he, earnestly, “I haven't forgotten how + you saved young Brinsmade at Camp Jackson. They tell me that you are + useful here. I say, don't go in unless you have to. I don't mean force, + you understand. But when you feel that you can go in, come to me or write + me a letter. That is,” he added, seemingly inspecting Stephen's white + teeth with approbation, “if you're not afraid to serve under a crazy man.” + </p> + <p> + It has been said that the General liked the lack of effusiveness of + Stephen's reply. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. ELIPHALET PLAYS HIS TRUMPS + </h2> + <p> + Summer was come again. Through interminable days, the sun beat down upon + the city; and at night the tortured bricks flung back angrily the heat + with which he had filled them. Great battles had been fought, and vast + armies were drawing breath for greater ones to come. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny,” said the Colonel one day, “as we don't seem to be much use in + town, I reckon we may as well go to Glencoe.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia, threw her arms around her father's neck. For many months she had + seen what the Colonel himself was slow to comprehend—that his + usefulness was gone. The days melted into weeks, and Sterling Price and + his army of liberation failed to come. The vigilant Union general and his + aides had long since closed all avenues to the South. For, one fine + morning toward the end of the previous summer, when the Colonel was + contemplating a journey, he had read that none might leave the city + without a pass, whereupon he went hurriedly to the office of the Provost + Marshal. There he had found a number of gentlemen in the same plight, each + waving a pass made out by the Provost Marshal's clerks, and waiting for + that officer's signature. The Colonel also procured one of these, and fell + into line. The Marshal gazed at the crowd, pulled off his coat, and + readily put his name to the passes of several gentlemen going east. Next + came Mr. Bub Ballington, whom the Colonel knew, but pretended not to. + </p> + <p> + “Going to Springfield?” asked the Marshal, genially. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bub. + </p> + <p> + “Not very profitable to be a minute-man, eh?” in the same tone. + </p> + <p> + The Marshal signs his name, Mr. Ballington trying not to look indignant as + he makes for the door. A small silver bell rings on the Marshal's desk, + the one word: “Spot!” breaks the intense silence, which is one way of + saying that Mr. Ballington is detained, and will probably be lodged that + night at Government expense. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Colonel Carvel, what can I do for you this morning?” asked the + Marshal, genially. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel pushed back his hat and wiped his brow. “I reckon I'll wait + till next week, Captain,” said Mr. Carvel. “It's pretty hot to travel just + now.” + </p> + <p> + The Provost Marshal smiled sweetly. There were many in the office who + would have liked to laugh, but it did not pay to laugh at some people. + Colonel Carvel was one of them. + </p> + <p> + In the proclamation of martial law was much to make life less endurable + than ever. All who were convicted by a court-martial of being rebels were + to have property confiscated, and slaves set free. Then there was a + certain oath to be taken by all citizens who did not wish to have + guardians appointed over their actions. There were many who swallowed this + oath and never felt any ill effects. Mr. Jacob Cluyme was one, and came + away feeling very virtuous. It was not unusual for Mr. Cluyme to feel + virtuous. Mr. Hopper did not have indigestion after taking it, but Colonel + Carvel would sooner have eaten, gooseberry pie, which he had never tasted + but once. + </p> + <p> + That summer had worn away, like a monster which turns and gives hot gasps + when you think it has expired. It took the Arkansan just a month, under + Virginia's care, to become well enough to be sent to a Northern prison He + was not precisely a Southern gentleman, and he went to sleep over the + “Idylls of the King.” But he was admiring, and grateful, and wept when he + went off to the boat with the provost's guard, destined for a Northern + prison. Virginia wept too. He had taken her away from her aunt (who would + have nothing to do with him), and had given her occupation. She nor her + father never tired of hearing his rough tales of Price's rough army. + </p> + <p> + His departure was about the time when suspicions were growing set. The + favor had caused comment and trouble, hence there was no hope of giving + another sufferer the same comfort. The cordon was drawn tighter. One of + the mysterious gentlemen who had been seen in the vicinity of Colonel + Carvel's house was arrested on the ferry, but he had contrived to be rid + of the carpet-sack in which certain precious letters were carried. + </p> + <p> + Throughout the winter, Mr. Hopper's visits to Locust Street had continued + at intervals of painful regularity. It is not necessary to dwell upon his + brilliant powers of conversation, nor to repeat the platitudes which he + repeated, for there was no significance in Mr. Hopper's tales, not a + particle. The Colonel had found that out, and was thankful. His manners + were better; his English decidedly better. + </p> + <p> + It was for her father's sake, of course, that Virginia bore with him. Such + is the appointed lot of women. She tried to be just, and it occurred to + her that she had never before been just. Again and again she repeated to + herself that Eliphalet's devotion to the Colonel at this low ebb of his + fortunes had something in it of which she did not suspect him. She had a + class contempt for Mr. Hopper as an uneducated Yankee and a person of + commercial ideals. But now he was showing virtues,—if virtues they + were,—and she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. With his + great shrewdness and business ability, why did he not take advantage of + the many opportunities the war gave to make a fortune? For Virginia had of + late been going to the store with the Colonel,—who spent his + mornings turning over piles of dusty papers, and Mr. Hopper had always + been at his desk. + </p> + <p> + After this, Virginia even strove to be kind to him, but it was uphill + work. The front door never closed after one of his visits that suspicion + was not left behind. Antipathy would assert itself. Could it be that there + was a motive under all this plotting? He struck her inevitably as the kind + who would be content to mine underground to attain an end. The worst she + could think of him was that he wished to ingratiate himself now, in the + hope that, when the war was ended, he might become a partner in Mr. + Carvel's business. She had put even this away as unworthy of her. + </p> + <p> + Once she had felt compelled to speak to her father on the subject. + </p> + <p> + “I believe I did him an injustice, Pa,” she said. “Not that I like him any + better now. I must be honest about that. I simply can't like him. But I do + think that if he had been as unscrupulous as I thought, he would have + deserted you long ago for something more profitable. He would not be + sitting in the office day after day making plans for the business when the + war is over.” + </p> + <p> + She remembered how sadly he had smiled at her over the top of his paper. + </p> + <p> + “You are a good girl, Jinny,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Toward the end of July of that second summer riots broke out in the city, + and simultaneously a bright spot appeared on Virginia's horizon. This took + the form, for Northerners, of a guerilla scare, and an order was promptly + issued for the enrollment of all the able-bodied men in the ten wards as + militia, subject to service in the state, to exterminate the roving bands. + Whereupon her Britannic Majesty became extremely popular,—even with + some who claimed for a birthplace the Emerald Isle. Hundreds who + heretofore had valued but lightly their British citizenship made haste to + renew their allegiance; and many sought the office of the English Consul + whose claims on her Majesty's protection were vague, to say the least. + Broken heads and scandal followed. For the first time, when Virginia + walked to the store with her father, Eliphalet was not there. It was + strange indeed that Virginia defended him. + </p> + <p> + “I don't blame him for not wanting to fight for the Yankees,” she said. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel could not resist a retort. + </p> + <p> + “Then why doesn't he fight for the South he asked” + </p> + <p> + “Fight for the South!” cried the young lady, scornfully. “Mr. Hopper + fight? I reckon the South wouldn't have him.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon not, too,” said the Colonel, dryly. + </p> + <p> + For the following week curiosity prompted Virginia to take that walk with + the Colonel. Mr. Hopper being still absent, she helped him to sort the + papers—those grimy reminders of a more prosperous time gone by. + Often Mr. Carvel would run across one which seemed to bring some incident + to his mind; for he would drop it absently on his desk, his hand seeking + his chin, and remain for half an hour lost in thought. Virginia would not + disturb him. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile there had been inquiries for Mr. Hopper. The Colonel answered + them all truthfully—generally with that dangerous suavity for which + he was noted. Twice a seedy man with a gnawed yellow mustache had come in + to ask Eliphalet's whereabouts. On the second occasion this individual + became importunate. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know nothin' about him, you say?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + The man took a shuffle forward. + </p> + <p> + “My name's Ford,” he said. “I 'low I kin 'lighten you a little.” + </p> + <p> + “Good day, sir,” said the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “I guess you'll like to hear what I've got to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Ephum,” said Mr. Carvel in his natural voice, “show this man out.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Ford slunk out without Ephum's assistance. But he half turned at the + door, and shot back a look that frightened Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Pa,” she cried, in alarm, “what did he mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't tell you, Jinny,” he answered. But she noticed that he was + very thoughtful as they walked home. The next morning Eliphalet had not + returned, but a corporal and guard were waiting to search the store for + him. The Colonel read the order, and invited them in with hospitality. He + even showed them the way upstairs, and presently Virginia heard them all + tramping overhead among the bales. Her eye fell upon the paper they had + brought, which lay unfolded on her father's desk. It was signed Stephen A. + Brice, Enrolling Officer. + </p> + <p> + That very afternoon they moved to Glencoe, and Ephum was left in sole + charge of the store. At Glencoe, far from the hot city and the cruel war, + began a routine of peace. Virginia was a child again, romping in the woods + and fields beside her father. The color came back to her cheeks once more, + and the laughter into her voice. The two of them, and Ned and Mammy, spent + a rollicking hour in the pasture the freedom of which Dick had known so + long, before the old horse was caught and brought back into bondage. After + that Virginia took long drives with her father, and coming home, they + would sit in the summer house high above the Merimec, listening to the + crickets' chirp, and watching the day fade upon the water. The Colonel, + who had always detested pipes, learned to smoke a corncob. He would sit by + the hour, with his feet on the rail of the porch and his hat tilted back, + while Virginia read to him. Poe and Wordsworth and Scott he liked, but + Tennyson was his favorite. Such happiness could not last. + </p> + <p> + One afternoon when Virginia was sitting in the summer house alone, her + thoughts wandering back, as they sometimes did, to another afternoon she + had spent there,—it seemed so long ago,—when she saw Mammy + Easter coming toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Honey, dey's comp'ny up to de house. Mister Hopper's done arrived. He's + on de porch, talkin' to your Pa. Lawsey, look wha he come!” + </p> + <p> + In truth, the solid figure of Eliphalet himself was on the path some + twenty yards behind her. His hat was in his hand; his hair was plastered + down more neatly than ever, and his coat was a faultless and sober + creation of a Franklin Avenue tailor. He carried a cane, which was unheard + of. Virginia sat upright, and patted her skirts with a gesture of + annoyance—what she felt was anger, resentment. Suddenly she rose, + swept past Mammy, and met him ten paces from the summer house. + </p> + <p> + “How-dy-do, Miss Virginia,” he cried pleasantly. “Your father had a notion + you might be here.” He said fayther. + </p> + <p> + Virginia gave him her hand limply. Her greeting would have frozen a man of + ardent temperament. But it was not precisely ardor that Eliphalet showed. + The girl paused and examined him swiftly. There was something in the man's + air to-day. + </p> + <p> + “So you were not caught?” she said. + </p> + <p> + Her words seemed to relieve some tension in him. He laughed noiselessly. + </p> + <p> + “I just guess I wahn't.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you escape?” she asked, looking at him curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I did, first of all. You're considerable smart, Miss Jinny, but + I'll bet you can't tell me where I was, now.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not care to know. The place might save you again.” + </p> + <p> + He showed his disappointment. “I cal'lated it might interest you to know + how I dodged the Sovereign State of Missouri. General Halleck made an + order that released a man from enrolling on payment of ten dollars. I + paid. Then I was drafted into the Abe Lincoln Volunteers; I paid a + substitute. And so here I be, exercising life, and liberty, and the + pursuit of happiness.” + </p> + <p> + “So you bought yourself free?” said Virginia. “If your substitute gets + killed, I suppose you will have cause for congratulation.” + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet laughed, and pulled down his cuffs. “That's his lookout, I + cal'late,” said he. He glanced at the girl in a way that made her vaguely + uneasy. She turned from him, back toward the summer house. Eliphalet's + eyes smouldered as they rested upon her figure. He took a step forward. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Jinny?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “I've heard considerable about the beauties of this place. Would you mind + showing me 'round a bit?” Virginia started. It was his tone now. Not since + that first evening in Locust Street had it taken on such assurance, And + yet she could not be impolite to a guest. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” she replied, but without looking up. Eliphalet led the + way. He came to the summer house, glanced around it with apparent + satisfaction, and put his foot on the moss-grown step. Virginia did a + surprising thing. She leaped quickly into the doorway before him, and + stood facing him, framed in the climbing roses. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Hopper!” she cried. “Please, not in here.” He drew back, staring + in astonishment at the crimson in her face. + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked suspiciously—almost brutally. She had been + groping wildly for excuses, and found none. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” she said, “because I ask you not to.” With dignity: “That + should be sufficient.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Eliphalet, with an abortive laugh, “that's funny, now. + Womenkind get queer notions, which I cal'late we've got to respect and put + up with all our lives—eh?” + </p> + <p> + Her anger flared at his leer and at his broad way of gratifying her whim. + And she was more incensed than ever at his air of being at home—it + was nothing less. + </p> + <p> + The man's whole manner was an insult. She strove still to hide her + resentment. + </p> + <p> + “There is a walk along the bluff,” she said, coldly, “where the view is + just as good.” + </p> + <p> + But she purposely drew him into the right-hand path, which led, after a + little, back to the house. Despite her pace he pressed forward to her + side. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Jinny,” said he, precipitately, “did I ever strike you as a marrying + man?” + </p> + <p> + Virginia stopped, and put her handkerchief to her face, the impulse strong + upon her to laugh. Eliphalet was suddenly transformed again into the + common commercial Yankee. He was in love, and had come to ask her advice. + She might have known it. + </p> + <p> + “I never thought of you as of the marrying kind, Mr. Hopper,” she + answered, her voice quivering. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he was irresistibly funny as he stood hot and ill at ease. The + Sunday coat bore witness to his increasing portliness by creasing across + from the buttons; his face, fleshy and perspiring, showed purple veins, + and the little eyes receded comically, like a pig's. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I've been thinking serious of late about getting married,” he + continued, slashing the rose bushes with his stick. “I don't cal'late to + be a sentimental critter. I'm not much on high-sounding phrases, and such + things, but I'd give you my word I'd make a good husband.” + </p> + <p> + “Please be careful of those roses, Mr. Hopper.” + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon,” said Eliphalet. He began to lose track of his tenses—that + was the only sign he gave of perturbation. “When I come to St. Louis + without a cent, Miss Jinny, I made up my mind I'd be a rich man before I + left it. If I was to die now, I'd have kept that promise. I'm not + thirty-four, and I cal'late I've got as much money in a safe place as a + good many men you call rich. I'm not saying what I've got, mind you. All + in proper time. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a pretty steady kind. I've stopped chewing—there was a time + when I done that. And I don't drink nor smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “That is all very commendable, Mr. Hopper,” Virginia said, stifling a + rebellious titter. “But,—but why did you give up chewing?” + </p> + <p> + “I am informed that the ladies are against it,” said Eliphalet,—“dead + against it. You wouldn't like it in a husband, now, would you?” + </p> + <p> + This time the laugh was not to be put down. “I confess I shouldn't,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + “Thought so,” he replied, as one versed. His tones took on a nasal twang. + “Well, as I was saying, I've about got ready to settle down, and I've had + my eye on the lady this seven years.” + </p> + <p> + “Marvel of constancy!” said Virginia. “And the lady?” + </p> + <p> + “The lady,” said Eliphalet, bluntly, “is you.” He glanced at her + bewildered face and went on rapidly: “You pleased me the first day I set + eyes on you in the store I said to myself, 'Hopper, there's the one for + you to marry.' I'm plain, but my folks was good people. I set to work + right then to make a fortune for you, Miss Jinny. You've just what I need. + I'm a plain business man with no frills. You'll do the frills. You're the + kind that was raised in the lap of luxury. You'll need a man with a + fortune, and a big one; you're the sort to show it off. I've got the + foundations of that fortune, and the proof of it right here. And I tell + you,”—his jaw was set,—“I tell you that some day Eliphalet + Hopper will be one of the richest men in the West.” + </p> + <p> + He had stopped, facing her in the middle of the way, his voice strong, his + confidence supreme. At first she had stared at him in dumb wonder. Then, + as she began to grasp the meaning of his harangue, astonishment was still + dominant,—sheer astonishment. She scarcely listened. But, as he + finished, the thatch of the summer house caught her eye. A vision arose of + a man beside whom Eliphalet was not worthy to crawl. She thought of + Stephen as he had stood that evening in the sunset, and this proposal + seemed a degradation. This brute dared to tempt her with money. Scalding + words rose to her lips. But she caught the look on Eliphalet's face, and + she knew that he would not understand. This was one who rose and fell, who + lived and loved and hated and died and was buried by—money. + </p> + <p> + For a second she looked into his face as one who escapes a pit gazes over + the precipice, and shuddered. As for Eliphalet, let it not be thought that + he had no passion. This was the moment for which he had lived since the + day he had first seen her and been scorned in the store. That type of + face, that air,—these were the priceless things he would buy with + his money. Crazed with the very violence of his long-pent desire, he + seized her hand. She wrung it free again. + </p> + <p> + “How—how dare you!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + He staggered back, and stood for a moment motionless, as though stunned. + Then, slowly, a light crept into his little eyes which haunted her for + many a day. + </p> + <p> + “You—won't—marry me?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how dare you ask me!” exclaimed Virginia, her face burning with the + shame of it. She was standing with her hands behind her, her back against + a great walnut trunk, the crusted branches of which hung over the bluff. + Even as he looked at her, Eliphalet lost his head, and indiscretion + entered his soul. + </p> + <p> + “You must!” he said hoarsely. “You must! You've got no notion of my money, + I say.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she cried, “can't you understand? If you owned the whole of + California, I would not marry you.” Suddenly he became very cool. He + slipped his hand into a pocket, as one used to such a motion, and drew out + some papers. + </p> + <p> + “I cal'late you ain't got much idea of the situation, Miss Carvel,” he + said; “the wheels have been a-turning lately. You're poor, but I guess you + don't know how poor you are,—eh? The Colonel's a man of honor, ain't + he?” + </p> + <p> + For her life she could not have answered,—nor did she even know why + she stayed to listen. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “after all, there ain't much use in your lookin' over + them papers. A woman wouldn't know. I'll tell you what they say: they say + that if I choose, I am Carvel & Company.” + </p> + <p> + The little eyes receded, and he waited a moment, seemingly to prolong a + physical delight in the excitement and suffering of a splendid creature. + The girl was breathing fast and deep. + </p> + <p> + “I cal'late you despise me, don't you?” he went on, as if that, too, gave + him pleasure. “But I tell you the Colonel's a beggar but for me. Go and + ask him if I'm lying. All you've got to do is to say you'll be my wife, + and I tear these notes in two. They go over the bluff.” (He made the + motion with his hands.) “Carvel & Company's an old firm,—a + respected firm. You wouldn't care to see it go out of the family, I + cal'late.” + </p> + <p> + He paused again, triumphant. But she did none of the things he expected. + She said, simply:—“Will you please follow me, Mr. Hopper.” + </p> + <p> + And he followed her,—his shrewdness gone, for once. + </p> + <p> + Save for the rise and fall of her shoulders she seemed calm. The path + wound through a jungle of waving sunflowers and led into the shade in + front of the house. There was the Colonel sitting on the porch. His pipe + lay with its scattered ashes on the boards, and his head was bent forward, + as though listening. When he saw the two, he rose expectantly, and went + forward to meet them. Virginia stopped before him. + </p> + <p> + “Pa,” she said, “is it true that you have borrowed money from this man?” + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet had seen Mr. Carvel angry once, and his soul had quivered. + Terror, abject terror, seized him now, so that his knees smote together. + As well stare into the sun as into the Colonel's face. In one stride he + had a hand in the collar of Eliphalet's new coat, the other pointing down + the path. + </p> + <p> + “It takes just a minute to walk to that fence, sir,” he said sternly. “If + you are any longer about it, I reckon you'll never get past it. You're a + cowardly hound, sir!” Mr. Hopper's gait down the flagstones was an + invention of his own. It was neither a walk, nor a trot, nor a run, but a + sort of sliding amble, such as is executed in nightmares. Singing in his + head was the famous example of the eviction of Babcock from the store,—the + only time that the Colonel's bullet had gone wide. And down in the small + of his back Eliphalet listened for the crack of a pistol, and feared that + a clean hole might be bored there any minute. Once outside, he took to the + white road, leaving a trail of dust behind him that a wagon might have + raised. Fear lent him wings, but neglected to lift his feet. + </p> + <p> + The Colonel passed his arm around his daughter, and pulled his goatee + thoughtfully. And Virginia, glancing shyly upward, saw a smile in the + creases about his mouth: She smiled, too, and then the tears hid him from + her. + </p> + <p> + Strange that the face which in anger withered cowards and made men look + grave, was capable of such infinite tenderness,—tenderness and + sorrow. The Colonel took Virginia in his arms, and she sobbed against his + shoulder, as of old. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny, did he—?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—” + </p> + <p> + “Lige was right, and—and you, Jinny—I should never have + trusted him. The sneak!” + </p> + <p> + Virginia raised her head. The sun was slanting in yellow bars through the + branches of the great trees, and a robin's note rose above the bass chorus + of the frogs. In the pauses, as she listened, it seemed as if she could + hear the silver sound of the river over the pebbles far below. + </p> + <p> + “Honey,” said the Colonel,—“I reckon we're just as poor as white + trash.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia smiled through her tears. + </p> + <p> + “Honey,” he said again, after a pause, “I must keep my word and let him + have the business.” + </p> + <p> + She did not reproach him. + </p> + <p> + “There is a little left, a very little,” he continued slowly, painfully. + “I thank God that it is yours. It was left you by Becky—by your + mother. It is in a railroad company in New York, and safe, Jinny.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Pa, you know that I do not care,” she cried. “It shall be yours and + mine together. And we shall live out here and be happy.” + </p> + <p> + But she glanced anxiously at him nevertheless. He was in his familiar + posture of thought, his legs slightly apart, his felt hat pushed back, + stroking his goatee. But his clear gray eyes were troubled as they sought + hers, and she put her hand to her breast. + </p> + <p> + “Virginia,” he said, “I fought for my country once, and I reckon I'm some + use yet awhile. It isn't right that I should idle here, while the South + needs me, Your Uncle Daniel is fifty-eight, and Colonel of a Pennsylvania + regiment.—Jinny, I have to go.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia said nothing. It was in her blood as well as his. The Colonel had + left his young wife, to fight in Mexico; he had come home to lay flowers + on her grave. She knew that he thought of this; and, too, that his heart + was rent at leaving her. She put her hands on his shoulders, and he + stooped to kiss her trembling lips. + </p> + <p> + They walked out together to the summer-house, and stood watching the glory + of the light on the western hills. “Jinn,” said the Colonel, “I reckon you + will have to go to your Aunt Lillian. It—it will be hard. But I know + that my girl can take care of herself. In case—in case I do not come + back, or occasion should arise, find Lige. Let him take you to your Uncle + Daniel. He is fond of you, and will be all alone in Calvert House when the + war is over. And I reckon that is all I have to say. I won't pry into your + heart, honey. If you love Clarence, marry him. I like the boy, and I + believe he will quiet down into a good man.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia did not answer, but reached out for her father's hand and held + its fingers locked tight in her own. From the kitchen the sound of Ned's + voice rose in the still evening air. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Sposin' I was to go to N' Orleans an' take sick and die, + Laik a bird into de country ma spirit would fly.” + </pre> + <p> + And after a while down the path the red and yellow of Mammy Easter's + bandanna was seen. + </p> + <p> + “Supper, Miss Jinny. Laws, if I ain't ramshacked de premises fo' you bof. + De co'n bread's gittin' cold.” + </p> + <p> + That evening the Colonel and Virginia thrust a few things into her little + leather bag they had chosen together in London. Virginia had found a + cigar, which she hid until they went down to the porch, and there she gave + it to him; when he lighted the match she saw that his hand shook. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later he held her in his arms at the gate, and she heard his + firm tread die in the dust of the road. The South had claimed him at last. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Volume 7. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. WITH THE ARMIES OF THE WEST + </h2> + <p> + We are at Memphis,—for a while,—and the Christmas season is + approaching once more. And yet we must remember that war recognizes no + Christmas, nor Sunday, nor holiday. The brown river, excited by rains, + whirled seaward between his banks of yellow clay. Now the weather was + crisp and cold, now hazy and depressing, and again a downpour. Memphis had + never seen such activity. A spirit possessed the place, a restless spirit + called William T. Sherman. He prodded Memphis and laid violent hold of + her. She groaned, protested, turned over, and woke up, peopled by a new + people. When these walked, they ran, and they wore a blue uniform. They + spoke rapidly and were impatient. Rain nor heat nor tempest kept them in. + And yet they joked, and Memphis laughed (what was left of her), and + recognized a bond of fellowship. The General joked, and the Colonels and + the Commissary and the doctors, down to the sutlers and teamsters and the + salt tars under Porter, who cursed the dishwater Mississippi, and also a + man named Eads, who had built the new-fangled iron boxes officially known + as gunboats. The like of these had never before been seen in the waters + under the earth. The loyal citizens—loyal to the South—had + been given permission to leave the city. The General told the assistant + quartermaster to hire their houses and slaves for the benefit of the + Federal Government. Likewise he laid down certain laws to the Memphis + papers defining treason. He gave out his mind freely to that other army of + occupation, the army of speculation, that flocked thither with permits to + trade in cotton. The speculators gave the Confederates gold, which they + needed most, for the bales, which they could not use at all. + </p> + <p> + The forefathers of some of these gentlemen were in old Egypt under Pharaoh—for + whom they could have had no greater respect and fear than their + descendants had in New Egypt for Grant or Sherman. Yankees were there + likewise in abundance. And a certain acquaintance of ours materially added + to his fortune by selling in Boston the cotton which cost him fourteen + cents, at thirty cents. + </p> + <p> + One day the shouting and the swearing and the running to and fro came to a + climax. Those floating freaks which were all top and drew nothing, were + loaded down to the guards with army stores and animals and wood and men,—men + who came from every walk in life. + </p> + <p> + Whistles bellowed, horses neighed. The gunboats chased hither and thither, + and at length the vast processions paddled down the stream with naval + precision, under the watchful eyes of a real admiral. + </p> + <p> + Residents of Memphis from the river's bank watched the pillar of smoke + fade to the southward and ruminated on the fate of Vicksburg. The General + paced the deck in thought. A little later he wrote to the + Commander-in-Chief at Washington, “The valley of the Mississippi is + America.” + </p> + <p> + Vicksburg taken, this vast Confederacy would be chopped in two. + </p> + <p> + Night fell to the music of the paddles, to the scent of the officers' + cigars, to the blood-red vomit of the tall stacks and the smoky flame of + the torches. Then Christmas Day dawned, and there was Vicksburg lifted two + hundred feet above the fever swamps, her court-house shining in the + morning sun. Vicksburg, the well-nigh impregnable key to America's + highway. When old Vick made his plantation on the Walnut Hills, he chose a + site for a fortress of the future Confederacy that Vauban would have + delighted in. + </p> + <p> + Yes, there were the Walnut Hills, high bluffs separated from the + Mississippi by tangled streams and bayous, and on their crests the + Parrotts scowled. It was a queer Christmas Day indeed, bright and warm; no + snow, no turkeys nor mince pies, no wine, but just hardtack and bacon and + foaming brown water. + </p> + <p> + On the morrow the ill-assorted fleet struggled up the sluggish Yazoo, past + impenetrable forests where the cypress clutched at the keels, past + long-deserted cotton fields, until it came at last to the black ruins of a + home. In due time the great army was landed. It spread out by brigade and + division and regiment and company, the men splashing and paddling through + the Chickasaw and the swamps toward the bluffs. The Parrotts began to + roar. A certain regiment, boldly led, crossed the bayou at a narrow place + and swept resistless across the sodden fields to where the bank was + steepest. The fire from the battery scorched the hair of their heads. But + there they stayed, scooping out the yellow clay with torn hands, while the + Parrotts, with lowered muzzles, ploughed the slope with shells. There they + stayed, while the blue lines quivered and fell back through the forests on + that short winter's afternoon, dragging their wounded from the stagnant + waters. But many were left to die in agony in the solitude. + </p> + <p> + Like a tall emblem of energy, General Sherman stood watching the attack + and repulse, his eyes ever alert. He paid no heed to the shells which tore + the limbs from the trees about him, or sent the swamp water in thick spray + over his staff. Now and again a sharp word broke from his lips, a forceful + home thrust at one of the leaders of his columns. + </p> + <p> + “What regiment stayed under the bank?” + </p> + <p> + “Sixth Missouri, General,” said an aide, promptly. + </p> + <p> + The General sat late in the Admiral's gunboat that night, but when he + returned to his cabin in the Forest Queen, he called for a list of + officers of the Sixth Missouri. His finger slipping down the roll paused + at a name among the new second lieutenants. + </p> + <p> + “Did the boys get back?” he asked. “Yes, General, when it fell dark.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see the casualties,—quick.” + </p> + <p> + That night a fog rolled up from the swamps, and in the morning jack-staff + was hid from pilot-house. Before the attack could be renewed, a political + general came down the river with a letter in his pocket from Washington, + by virtue of which he took possession of the three army core, and their + chief, subpoenaed the fleet and the Admiral, and went off to capture + Arkansas Post. + </p> + <p> + Vicksburg had a breathing spell. + </p> + <p> + Three weeks later, when the army was resting at Napoleon, Arkansas, a + self-contained man, with a brown beard arrived from Memphis, and took + command. This way General U. S. Grant. He smoked incessantly in his cabin. + He listened. He spoke but seldom. He had look in his face that boded ill + to any that might oppose him. Time and labor be counted as nothing, + compared with the accomplishment of an object. Back to Vicksburg paddled + the fleet and transports. Across the river from the city, on the pasty mud + behind the levee's bank were dumped Sherman's regiments, condemned to week + of ditch-digging, that the gunboats might arrive at the bend of the + Mississippi below by a canal, out of reach of the batteries. Day in and + day out they labored, officer and men. Sawing off stumps under the water, + knocking poisonous snakes by scores from the branches, while the river + rose and rose and rose, and the rain crept by inches under their tent + flies, and the enemy walked the parapet of Vicksburg and laughed. Two + gunboats accomplished the feat of running the batteries, that their smiles + might be sobered. + </p> + <p> + To the young officers who were soiling their uniform with the grease of + saws, whose only fighting was against fever and water snakes, the news of + an expedition into the Vicksburg side of the river was hailed with caps in + the air. To be sure, the saw and axe, and likewise the levee and the + snakes, were to be there, too. But there was likely to be a little + fighting. The rest of the corps that was to stay watched grimly as the + detachment put off in the little 'Diligence' and 'Silver Wave'. + </p> + <p> + All the night the smoke-pipes were batting against the boughs of oak and + cottonwood, and snapping the trailing vines. Some other regiments went by + another route. The ironclads, followed in hot haste by General Sherman in + a navy tug, had gone ahead, and were even then shoving with their noses + great trunks of trees in their eagerness to get behind the Rebels. The + Missouri regiment spread out along the waters, and were soon waist deep, + hewing a path for the heavier transports to come. Presently the General + came back to a plantation half under water, where Black Bayou joins Deer + Creek, to hurry the work in cleaning out that Bayou. The light transports + meanwhile were bringing up more troops from a second detachment. All + through the Friday the navy great guns were heard booming in the distance, + growing quicker and quicker, until the quivering air shook the hanging + things in that vast jungle. Saws stopped, and axes were poised over + shoulders, and many times that day the General lifted his head anxiously. + As he sat down in the evening in a slave cabin redolent with corn pone and + bacon, the sound still hovered among the trees and rolled along the still + waters. + </p> + <p> + The General slept lightly. It was three o'clock Saturday morning when the + sharp challenge of a sentry broke the silence. A negro, white eyed, + bedraggled, and muddy, stood in the candle light under the charge of a + young lieutenant. The officer saluted, and handed the General a roll of + tobacco. + </p> + <p> + “I found this man in the swamp, sir. He has a message from the Admiral—” + </p> + <p> + The General tore open the roll and took from it a piece of tissue paper + which he spread out and held under the candle. He turned to a staff + officer who had jumped from his bed and was hurrying into his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Porter's surrounded,” he said. The order came in a flash. “Kilby Smith + and all men here across creek to relief at once. I'll take canoe through + bayou to Hill's and hurry reenforcements.” + </p> + <p> + The staff officer paused, his hand on the latch of the door. + </p> + <p> + “But your escort, General. You're not going through that sewer in a canoe + without an escort!” + </p> + <p> + “I guess they won't look for a needle in that haystack,” the General + answered. For a brief second he eyed the lieutenant. “Get back to your + regiment, Brice, if you want to go,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Stephen saluted and went out. All through the painful march that followed, + though soaked in swamp water and bruised by cypress knees, he thought of + Sherman in his canoe, winding unprotected through the black labyrinth, + risking his life that more men might be brought to the rescue of the + gunboats. + </p> + <p> + The story of that rescue has been told most graphically by Sherman + himself. How he picked up the men at work on the bayou and marched them on + a coal barge; how he hitched the barge to a navy tug; how he met the + little transport with a fresh load of troops, and Captain Elijah Brent's + reply when the General asked if he would follow him. “As long as the boat + holds together, General.” And he kept his word. The boughs hammered at the + smoke-pipes until they went by the board, and the pilothouse fell like a + pack of cards on the deck before they had gone three miles and a half. + Then the indomitable Sherman disembarked, a lighted candle in his hand, + and led a stiff march through thicket and swamp and breast-deep backwater, + where the little drummer boys carried their drums on their heads. At + length, when they were come to some Indian mounds, they found a picket of + three, companies of the force which had reached the flat the day before, + and had been sent down to prevent the enemy from obstructing further the + stream below the fleet. + </p> + <p> + “The Admiral's in a bad way, sir,” said the Colonel who rode up to meet + the General. “He's landlocked. Those clumsy ironclads of his can't move + backward or forward, and the Rebs have been peppering him for two days.” + </p> + <p> + Just then a fusillade broke from the thickets, nipping the branches from + the cottonwoods about them. + </p> + <p> + “Form your line,” said the General. “Drive 'em out.” + </p> + <p> + The force swept forward, with the three picket companies in the swamp on + the right. And presently they came in sight of the shapeless ironclads + with their funnels belching smoke, a most remarkable spectacle. How Porter + had pushed them there was one of the miracles of the war. + </p> + <p> + Then followed one of a thousand memorable incidents in the life of a + memorable man. General Sherman, jumping on the bare back of a scrawny + horse, cantered through the fields. And the bluejackets, at sight of that + familiar figure, roared out a cheer that might have shaken the drops from + the wet boughs. The Admiral and the General stood together on the deck, + their hands clasped. And the Colonel astutely remarked, as he rode up in + answer to a summons, that if Porter was the only man whose daring could + have pushed a fleet to that position, Sherman was certainly the only man + who could have got him out of it. + </p> + <p> + “Colonel,” said the General, “that move was well executed, sir. Admiral, + did the Rebs put a bullet through your rum casks? We're just a little + tired. And now,” he added, wheeling on the Colonel when each had a glass + in his hand, “who was in command of that company on the right, in the + swamp? He handled them like a regular.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a second lieutenant, General, in the Sixth Missouri. Captain wounded + at Hindman, and first lieutenant fell out down below. His name is Brice, I + believe.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so,” said the General. + </p> + <p> + Some few days afterward, when the troops were slopping around again at + Young's Point, opposite Vicksburg, a gentleman arrived on a boat from St. + Louis. He paused on the levee to survey with concern and astonishment the + flood of waters behind it, and then asked an officer the way to General + Sherman's headquarters. The officer, who was greatly impressed by the + gentleman's looks, led him at once to a trestle bridge which spanned the + distance from the levee bank over the flood to a house up to its first + floor in the backwaters. The orderly saluted. + </p> + <p> + “Who shall I say, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The officer looked inquiringly at the gentleman, who gave his name. + </p> + <p> + The officer could not repress a smile at the next thing that happened. Out + hurried the General himself, with both hands outstretched. + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul!” he cried, “if it isn't Brinsmade. Come right in, come + right in and take dinner. The boys will be glad to see you. I'll send and + tell Grant you're here. Brinsmade, if it wasn't for you and your friends + on the Western Sanitary Commission, we'd all have been dead of fever and + bad food long ago.” The General sobered abruptly. “I guess a good many of + the boys are laid up now,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “I've come down to do what I can, General,” responded Mr. Brinsmade, + gravely. “I want to go through all the hospitals to see that our nurses + are doing their duty and that the stores are properly distributed.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall, sir, this minute,” said the General. He dropped instantly the + affairs which he had on hand, and without waiting for dinner the two + gentlemen went together through the wards where the fever raged. The + General surprised his visitor by recognizing private after private in the + cots, and he always had a brief word of cheer to brighten their faces, to + make them follow him with wistful eyes as he passed beyond them. “That's + poor Craig,” he would say, “corporal, Third Michigan. They tell me he + can't live,” and “That's Olcott, Eleventh Indiana. Good God!” cried the + General, when they were out in the air again, “how I wish some of these + cotton traders could get a taste of this fever. They keep well—the + vultures—And by the way, Brinsmade, the man who gave me no peace at + all at Memphis was from your city. Why, I had to keep a whole corps on + duty to watch him.” + </p> + <p> + “What was his name, sir?” Mr. Brinsmade asked. + </p> + <p> + “Hopper!” cried the General, with feeling. “Eliphalet Hopper. As long as I + live I shall never forget it. How the devil did he get a permit? What are + they about at Washington?” + </p> + <p> + “You surprise me,” said Mr. Brinsmade. “He has always seemed inoffensive, + and I believe he is a prominent member of one of our churches.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess that's so,” answered the General, dryly. “I ever I set eyes on + him again, he's clapped into the guardhouse. He knows it, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Speaking of St. Louis, General,” said Mr. Brinsmade, presently, “have you + ever heard of Stephen Brice? joined your army last autumn. You may + remember talking to him one evening at my house.” + </p> + <p> + “He's one of my boys!” cried the General. “Remember him? Guess I do!” He + paused on the very brink of relating again the incident at Camp Jackson, + when Stephen had saved the life of Mr. Brinsmade's own son. “Brinsmade, + for three days I've had it on my mind to send for that boy. I'll have him + at headquarters now. I like him,” cried General Sherman, with tone and + gesture there was no mistaking. And good Mr. Brinsmade, who liked Stephen, + too, rejoiced at the story he would have to tell the widow. “He has + spirit, Brinsmade. I told him to let me know when he was ready to go to + war. No such thing. He never came near me. The first thing I hear of him + is that he's digging holes in the clay of Chickasaw Bluff, and his cap is + fanned off by the blast of a Parrott six feet above his head. Next thing + he turns up on that little expedition we took to get Porter to sea again. + When we got to the gunboats, there was Brice's company on the flank. He + handled those men surprisingly, sir—surprisingly. I shouldn't have + blamed the boy if one or two Rebs got by him. But no, he swept the place + clean.” By this time they had come back to the bridge leading to + headquarters, and the General beckoned quickly to an orderly. + </p> + <p> + “My compliments to Lieutenant Stephen Brice, Sixth Missouri, and ask him + to report here at once. At once, you understand!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, General.” + </p> + <p> + It so happened that Mr. Brice's company were swinging axes when the + orderly arrived, and Mr. Brice had an axe himself, and was up to his boot + tops in yellow mud. + </p> + <p> + The orderly, who had once been an Iowa farmer, was near grinning when he + gave the General's message and saw the lieutenant gazing ruefully at his + clothes. + </p> + <p> + Entering headquarters, Stephen paused at the doorway of the big room where + the officers of the different staffs were scattered about, smoking, while + the negro servants were removing the dishes from the table. The sunlight, + reflected from the rippling water outside, danced on the ceiling. At the + end of the room sat General Sherman, his uniform, as always, a trifle + awry. His soft felt hat with the gold braid was tilted forward, and his + feet, booted and spurred, were crossed. Small wonder that the Englishman + who sought the typical American found him in Sherman. + </p> + <p> + The sound that had caught Stephen's attention was the General's voice, + somewhat high-pitched, in the key that he used in telling a story. These + were his closing words. + </p> + <p> + “Sin gives you a pretty square deal, boys, after all. Generally a man + says, 'Well, I can resist, but I'll have my fun just this once.' That's + the way it happens. They tell you that temptation comes irresistibly. + Don't believe it. Do you, Mr. Brice? Come over here, sir. Here's a friend + of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen made his way to the General, whose bright eyes wandered rapidly + over him as he added: + </p> + <p> + “This is the condition my officers report in, Brinsmade,—mud from + head to heel.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen had sense enough to say nothing, but the staff officers laughed, + and Mr. Brinsmade smiled as he rose and took Stephen's hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am delighted to see that you are well, sir,” said he, with that formal + kindliness which endeared him to all. “Your mother will be rejoiced at my + news of you. You will be glad to hear that I left her well, Stephen.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen inquired for Mrs. Brinsmade and Anne. + </p> + <p> + “They are well, sir, and took pleasure in adding to a little box which + your mother sent. Judge Whipple put in a box of fine cigars, although he + deplores the use of tobacco.” + </p> + <p> + “And the Judge, Mr. Brinsmade—how is he?” + </p> + <p> + The good gentleman's face fell. + </p> + <p> + “He is ailing, sir, it grieves me to say. He is in bed, sir. But he is + ably looked after. Your mother desired to have him moved to her house, but + he is difficult to stir from his ways, and he would not leave his little + room. He is ably nursed. We have got old Nancy, Hester's mother, to stay + with him at night, and Mrs. Brice divides the day with Miss Jinny Carvel, + who comes in from Bellegarde every afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Carvel?” exclaimed Stephen, wondering if he heard aright. And at the + mention of her name he tingled. + </p> + <p> + “None other, sir,” answered Mr. Brinsmade. “She has been much honored for + it. You may remember that the Judge was a close friend of her father's + before the war. And—well, they quarrelled, sir. The Colonel went + South, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “When—when was the Judge taken ill, Mr. Brinsmade?” Stephen asked. + The thought of Virginia and his mother caring for him together was + strangely sweet. + </p> + <p> + “Two days before I left, sir, Dr. Polk had warned him not to do so much. + But the Doctor tells me that he can see no dangerous symptoms.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen inquired now of Mr. Brinsmade how long he was to be with them. + </p> + <p> + “I am going on to the other camps this afternoon,” said he. “But I should + like a glimpse of your quarters, Stephen, if you will invite me. Your + mother would like a careful account of you, and Mr. Whipple, and—your + many friends in St. Louis.” + </p> + <p> + “You will find my tent a little wet, air,” replied Stephen, touched. + </p> + <p> + Here the General, who had been sitting by watching them with a very + curious expression, spoke up. + </p> + <p> + “That's hospitality for you, Brinsmade!” + </p> + <p> + Stephen and Mr. Brinsmade made their way across plank and bridge to + Stephen's tent, and his mess servant arrived in due time with the package + from home. But presently, while they sat talking of many things, the + canvas of the fly was thrust back with a quick movement, and who should + come stooping in but General Sherman himself. He sat down on a cracker + box. Stephen rose confusedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, Brice,” said the General, winking at Mr. Brinsmade, “I think + you might have invited me to the feast. Where are those cigars Mr. + Brinsmade was talking about?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen opened the box with alacrity. The General chose one and lighted + it. + </p> + <p> + “Don't smoke, eh?” he inquired. “Why, yes, sir, when I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Then light up, sir,” said the General, “and sit down, I've been thinking + lately of court-martialing you, but I decided to come 'round and talk it + over with you first. That isn't strictly according to the rules of the + service. Look here, Mr. Brice, why did you leave St. Louis?” + </p> + <p> + “They began to draft, sir, and I couldn't stand it any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “But you wouldn't have been drafted. You were in the Home Guards, if I + remember right. And Mr. Brinsmade tells me you were useful in many ways + What was your rank in the Home Guards?” + </p> + <p> + “Lieutenant colonel, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are you here?” + </p> + <p> + “A second lieutenant in temporary command, General.” “You have commanded + men?” + </p> + <p> + “Not in action, sir. I felt that that was different.” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't they do better for you than a second-lieutenancy?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen did not reply at once, Mr. Brinsmade spoke up, “They offered him a + lieutenant-colonelcy.” + </p> + <p> + The General was silent a moment: Then he said “Do you remember meeting me + on the boat when I was leaving St. Louis, after the capture of Fort + Henry?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen smiled. “Very well, General,” he replied, General Sherman leaned + forward. + </p> + <p> + “And do you remember I said to you, 'Brice, when you get ready to come + into this war, let me know.' Why didn't you do it?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen thought a minute. Then he said gravely, but with just a suspicion + of humor about his mouth:— “General, if I had done that, you + wouldn't be here in my tent to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Like lightning the General was on his feet, his hand on Stephen's + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “By gad, sir,” he cried, delighted, “so I wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. A STRANGE MEETING + </h2> + <p> + The story of the capture of Vicksburg is the old, old story of failure + turned into success, by which man is made immortal. It involves the + history of a general who never retraced his steps, who cared neither for + mugwump murmurs nor political cabals, who took both blame and praise with + equanimity. Through month after month of discouragement, and work gone for + naught, and fever and death, his eyes never left his goal. And by grace of + the wisdom of that President who himself knew sorrow and suffering and + defeat and unjust censure, General Grant won. + </p> + <p> + Boldness did it. The canal abandoned, one red night fleet and transports + swept around the bend and passed the city's heights, on a red river. The + Parrotts and the Dahlgrens roared, and the high bluffs flung out the sound + over the empty swamp land. + </p> + <p> + Then there came the landing below, and the cutting loose from a base—unheard + of. Corps behind cursed corps ahead for sweeping the country clear of + forage. Battles were fought. Confederate generals in Mississippi were + bewildered. + </p> + <p> + One night, while crossing with his regiment a pontoon bridge, Stephen + Brice heard a shout raised on the farther shore. Sitting together on a log + under a torch, two men in slouch hats were silhouetted. That one talking + with rapid gestures was General Sherman. The impassive profile of the + other, the close-cropped beard and the firmly held cigar that seemed to go + with it,—Stephen recognized as that of the strange Captain Grant who + had stood beside him in the street by the Arsenal He had not changed a + whit. Motionless, he watched corps after corps splash by, artillery, + cavalry, and infantry, nor gave any sign that he heard their plaudits. + </p> + <p> + At length the army came up behind the city to a place primeval, where the + face of the earth was sore and tortured, worn into deep gorges by the + rains, and flung up in great mounds. Stripped of the green magnolias and + the cane, the banks of clay stood forth in hideous yellow nakedness, save + for a lonely stunted growth, or a bare trunk that still stood tottering on + the edge of a banks its pitiful withered roots reaching out below. The May + weather was already sickly hot. + </p> + <p> + First of all there was a murderous assault, and a still more murderous + repulse. Three times the besiegers charged, sank their color staffs into + the redoubts, and three times were driven back. Then the blue army settled + into the earth and folded into the ravines. Three days in that narrow + space between the lines lay the dead and wounded suffering untold agonies + in the moist heat. Then came a truce to bury the dead, to bring back what + was left of the living. + </p> + <p> + The doomed city had no rest. Like clockwork from the Mississippi's banks + beyond came the boom and shriek of the coehorns on the barges. The big + shells hung for an instant in the air like birds of prey, and then could + be seen swooping down here and there, while now and anon a shaft of smoke + rose straight to the sky, the black monument of a home. + </p> + <p> + Here was work in the trenches, digging the flying sap by night and + deepening it by day, for officers and men alike. From heaven a host of + blue ants could be seen toiling in zigzags forward, ever forward, along + the rude water-cuts and through the hills. A waiting carrion from her + vantage point on high marked one spot then another where the blue ants + disappeared, and again one by one came out of the burrow to hurry down the + trench,—each with his ball of clay. + </p> + <p> + In due time the ring of metal and sepulchred voices rumbled in the ground + beneath the besieged. Counter mines were started, and through the narrow + walls of earth commands and curses came. Above ground the saps were so + near that a strange converse became the rule. It was “Hello, Reb!” “Howdy, + Yank!” Both sides were starving, the one for tobacco and the other for + hardtack and bacon. These necessities were tossed across, sometimes + wrapped in the Vicksburg news-sheet printed on the white side of a homely + green wall paper. At other times other amenities were indulged in. + Hand-grenades were thrown and shells with lighted fuses rolled down on the + heads of acquaintances of the night before, who replied from wooden + coehorns hooped with iron. + </p> + <p> + The Union generals learned (common item in a siege) that the citizens of + Vicksburg were eating mule meat. Not an officer or private in the + Vicksburg armies who does not remember the 25th of June, and the hour of + three in an afternoon of pitiless heat. Silently the long blue files wound + into position behind the earth barriers which hid them from the enemy, + coiled and ready to strike when the towering redoubt on the Jackson road + should rise heavenwards. By common consent the rifle crack of day and + night was hushed, and even the Parrotts were silent. Stillness closed + around the white house of Shirley once more, but not the stillness it had + known in its peaceful homestead days. This was the stillness of the death + prayer. Eyes staring at the big redoubt were dimmed. At last, to those + near, a little wisp of blue smoke crept out. + </p> + <p> + Then the earth opened with a quake. The sun was darkened, and a hot blast + fanned the upturned faces. In the sky, through the film of shattered clay, + little black dots scurried, poised, and fell again as arms and legs and + head less trunks and shapeless bits of wood and iron. Scarcely had the + dust settled when the sun caught the light of fifty thousand bayonets, and + a hundred shells were shrieking across the crater's edge. Earth to earth, + alas, and dust to dust! Men who ran across that rim of a summer's + after-noon died in torture under tier upon tier of their comrades,—and + so the hole was filled. + </p> + <p> + An upright cannon marks the spot where a scrawny oak once stood on a + scarred and baked hillside, outside of the Confederate lines at Vicksburg. + Under the scanty shade of that tree, on the eve of the Nation's birthday, + stood two men who typified the future and the past. As at Donelson, a + trick of Fortune's had delivered one comrade of old into the hands of + another. Now she chose to kiss the one upon whom she had heaped obscurity + and poverty and contumely. He had ceased to think or care about Fortune. + And hence, being born a woman, she favored him. + </p> + <p> + The two armies watched and were still. They noted the friendly greeting of + old comrades, and after that they saw the self-contained Northerner biting + his cigar, as one to whom the pleasantries of life were past and gone. The + South saw her General turn on his heel. The bitterness of his life was + come. Both sides honored him for the fight he had made. But war does not + reward a man according to his deserts. + </p> + <p> + The next day—the day our sundered nation was born Vicksburg + surrendered: the obstinate man with the mighty force had conquered. See + the gray regiments marching silently in the tropic heat into the folds of + that blue army whose grip has choked them at last. Silently, too, the blue + coats stand, pity and admiration on the brick-red faces. The arms are + stacked and surrendered, officers and men are to be parolled when the + counting is finished. The formations melt away, and those who for months + have sought each other's lives are grouped in friendly talk. The coarse + army bread is drawn eagerly from the knapsacks of the blue, smoke quivers + above a hundred fires, and the smell of frying bacon brings a wistful look + into the gaunt faces. Tears stand in the eyes of many a man as he eats the + food his Yankee brothers have given him on the birthday of their country. + </p> + <p> + Within the city it is the same. Stephen Brice, now a captain in General + Lauman's brigade, sees with thanksgiving the stars and stripes flutter + from the dome of that court-house which he had so long watched from afar. + </p> + <p> + Later on, down a side street, he pauses before a house with its face blown + away. On the verge of one of its jagged floors is an old four-posted bed, + and beside it a child's cot is standing pitifully,—the tiny pillow + still at the head and the little sheets thrown across the foot. So much + for one of the navy's shells. + </p> + <p> + While he was thinking of the sadness of it all, a little scene was acted: + the side door of the house opened, a weeping woman came out, and with her + was a tall Confederate Colonel of cavalry. Gallantly giving her his arm, + he escorted her as far as the little gate, where she bade him good by with + much feeling. With an impulsive movement he drew some money from his + pocket, thrust it upon her, and started hurriedly away that he might not + listen to her thanks. Such was his preoccupation that he actually brushed + into Stephen, who was standing beside a tree. He stopped and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, seh,” he said contritely. “I beg your pardon, seh.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said Stephen, smiling; “it was my fault for getting in your + way.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, seh,” said the cavalry Colonel; “my clumsiness, seh.” He did + not pass on, but stood pulling with some violence a very long mustache. + “Damn you Yankees,” he continued, in the same amiable tone, “you've + brought us a heap of misfortune. Why, seh, in another week we'd been + fo'ced to eat niggers.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel made such a wry face that Stephen laughed in spite of himself. + He had marked the man's charitable action, and admired his attempt to + cover it. The Colonel seemed to be all breadth, like a card. His shoulders + were incredible. The face was scant, perchance from lack of food, the nose + large, with a curved rim, and the eyes blue gray. He wore clay-flecked + cavalry boots, and was six feet five if an inch, so that Stephen's six + seemed insignificant beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Captain,” he said, taking in Stephen's rank, “so we won't qua'l as to + who's host heah. One thing's suah,” he added, with a twinkle, “I've been + heah longest. Seems like ten yeahs since I saw the wife and children down + in the Palmetto State. I can't offer you a dinner, seh. We've eaten all + the mules and rats and sugar cane in town.” (His eye seemed to interpolate + that Stephen wouldn't be there otherwise.) “But I can offer you something + choicer than you have in the No'th.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon he drew from his hip a dented silver flask. The Colonel remarked + that Stephen's eyes fell on the coat of arms. + </p> + <p> + “Prope'ty of my grandfather, seh, of Washington's Army. My name is + Jennison,—Catesby Jennison, at your service, seh,” he said. “You + have the advantage of me, Captain.” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Brice,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + The big Colonel bowed decorously, held out a great, wide hand, and + thereupon unscrewed the flask. Now Stephen had never learned to like + straight whiskey, but he took down his share without a face. The exploit + seemed to please the Colonel, who, after he likewise had done the liquor + justice, screwed on the lid with ceremony, offered Stephen his arm with + still greater ceremony, and they walked off down the street together. + Stephen drew from his pocket several of Judge Whipple's cigars, to which + his new friend gave unqualified praise. + </p> + <p> + On every hand Vicksburg showed signs of hard usage. Houses with gaping + chasms in their sides, others mere heaps of black ruins; great trees + felled, cabins demolished, and here and there the sidewalk ploughed across + from curb to fence. + </p> + <p> + “Lordy,” exclaimed the Colonel. “Lordy I how my ears ache since your + damned coehorns have stopped. The noise got to be silence with us, seh, + and yesterday I reckoned a hundred volcanoes had bust. Tell me,” said he + “when the redoubt over the Jackson road was blown up, they said a nigger + came down in your lines alive. Is that so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Stephen, smiling; “he struck near the place where my company + was stationed. His head ached a mite. That seemed to be all.” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he fell on it,” said Colonel Catesby Jennison, as if it were a + matter of no special note. + </p> + <p> + “And now tell me something,” said Stephen. “How did you burn our + sap-rollers?” + </p> + <p> + This time the Colonel stopped, and gave himself up to hearty laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Why, that was a Yankee trick, sure enough,” he cried. “Some ingenious + cuss soaked port fire in turpentine, and shot the wad in a large-bore + musket.” + </p> + <p> + “We thought you used explosive bullets.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel laughed again, still more heartily. “Explosive bullets!—Good + Lord, it was all we could do to get percussion caps. Do you know how we + got percussion caps, seh? Three of our officers—dare-devils, seh—floated + down the Mississippi on logs. One fellow made his way back with two + hundred thousand. He's the pride of our Vicksburg army. Not afraid of + hell. A chivalrous man, a forlorn-hope man. The night you ran the + batteries he and some others went across to your side in skiffs—in + skiffs, seh, I say—and set fire to the houses in De Soto, that we + might see to shoot. And then he came back in the face of our own batteries + and your guns. That man was wounded by a trick of fate, by a cussed bit of + shell from your coehorns while eating his dinner in Vicksburg. He's pretty + low, now, poor fellow,” added the Colonel, sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Where is he?” demanded Stephen, fired with a desire to see the man. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he ain't a great ways from here,” said the Colonel. “Perhaps you + might be able to do something for him,” he continued thoughtfully. “I'd + hate to see him die. The doctor says he'll pull through if he can get care + and good air and good food.” He seized Stephen's arm in a fierce grip. + “You ain't fooling?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I am not,” said Stephen. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Colonel, thoughtfully, as to himself, “you don't look like + the man to fool.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon he set out with great strides, in marked contrast to his former + languorous gait, and after a while they came to a sort of gorge, where the + street ran between high banks of clay. There Stephen saw the magazines + which the Confederates had dug out, and of which he had heard. But he saw + something, too, of which he had not heard, Colonel Catesby Jennison + stopped before an open doorway in the yellow bank and knocked. A woman's + voice called softly to him to enter. + </p> + <p> + They went into a room hewn out of the solid clay. Carpet was stretched on + the floor, paper was on the walls, and even a picture. There was a little + window cut like a port in a prison cell, and under it a bed, beside which + a middle-aged lady was seated. She had a kindly face which seemed to + Stephen a little pinched as she turned to them with a gesture of + restraint. She pointed to the bed, where a sheet lay limply over the + angles of a wasted frame. The face was to the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said the lady,—“it is the first time in two days that he has + slept.” + </p> + <p> + But the sleeper stirred wearily, and woke with a start. He turned over. + The face, so yellow and peaked, was of the type that grows even more + handsome in sickness, and in the great fever-stricken eyes a high spirit + burned. For an instant only the man stared at Stephen, and then he dragged + himself to the wall. + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the other two were both fixed on the young Union Captain. + </p> + <p> + “My God!” cried Jennison, seizing Stephen's rigid arm, “does he look as + bad as that? We've seen him every day.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I know him,” answered Stephen. He stepped quickly to the bedside, + and bent over it. “Colfax!” he said. “Colfax!” + </p> + <p> + “This is too much, Jennison,” came from the bed a voice that was pitifully + weak; “why do you bring Yankees in here?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain Brice is a friend of yours, Colfax,” said the Colonel, tugging at + his mustache. + </p> + <p> + “Brice?” repeated Clarence, “Brice? Does he come from St. Louis?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you come from St. Louis, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I have met Captain Colfax—” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Colonel Colfax, before the war! And if he would like to go to St. Louis, + I think I can have it arranged at once.” + </p> + <p> + In silence they waited for Clarence's answer Stephen well knew what was + passing in his mind, and guessed at his repugnance to accept a favor from + a Yankee. He wondered whether there was in this case a special + detestation. And so his mind was carried far to the northward to the + memory of that day in the summer-house on the Meramee heights. Virginia + had not loved her cousin then—of that Stephen was sure. But now,—now + that the Vicksburg army was ringing with his praise, now that he was + unfortunate—Stephen sighed. His comfort was that he would be the + instrument. + </p> + <p> + The lady in her uneasiness smoothed the single sheen that covered the sick + man. From afar came the sound of cheering, and it was this that seemed to + rouse him. He faced them again, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “I have reason to remember Mr. Brice,” he said steadily. And then, with + some vehemence, “What is he doing in Vicksburg?” + </p> + <p> + Stephen looked at Jennison, who winced. + </p> + <p> + “The city has surrendered,” said that officer. + </p> + <p> + They counted on a burst of anger. Colfax only groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Then you can afford to be generous,” he said, with a bitter laugh. “But + you haven't whipped us yet, by a good deal. Jennison,” he cried, + “Jennison, why in hell did you give up?” + </p> + <p> + “Colfax,” said Stephen, coming forward, “you're too sick a man to talk. + I'll look up the General. It may be that I can have you sent North + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do as you please,” said Clarence, coldly, “with a—prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + The blood rushed to Stephen's face. Bowing to the lady, he strode out of + the room. Colonel Jennison, running after him, caught him in the street. + </p> + <p> + “You're not offended, Brice?” he said. “He's sick—and God Almighty, + he's proud—I reckon,” he added with a touch of humility that went + straight to Stephen's heart. “I reckon that some of us are too derned + proud—But we ain't cold.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen grasped his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Offended!” he said. “I admire the man. I'll go to the General directly. + But just let me thank you. And I hope, Colonel, that we may meet again—as + friends.” “Hold on, seh,” said Colonel Catesby Jennison; “we may as well + drink to that.” + </p> + <p> + Fortunately, as Stephen drew near the Court House, he caught sight of a + group of officers seated on its steps, and among them he was quick to + recognize General Sherman. + </p> + <p> + “Brice,” said the General, returning his salute, “been celebrating this + glorious Fourth with some of our Rebel friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” answered Stephen, “and I came to ask a favor for one of them.” + Seeing that the General's genial, interested expression did not change, he + was emboldened to go on. “This is one of their colonels, sir. You may have + heard of him. He is the man who floated down the river on a log and + brought back two hundred thousand percussion caps—” + </p> + <p> + “Good Lord,” interrupted the General, “I guess we all heard of him after + that. What else has he done to endear himself?” he asked, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Well, General, he rowed across the river in a skiff the night we ran + these batteries, and set fire to De Soto to make targets for their + gunners.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to see that man,” said the General, in his eager way. “Where is + he?” + </p> + <p> + “What I was going to tell you, sir. After he went through all this, he was + hit by a piece of mortar shell, while sitting at his dinner. He's rather + far gone now, General, and they say he can't live unless he can be sent + North. I—I know who he is in St. Louis. And I thought that as long + as the officers are to be paroled I might get your permission to send him + up to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “What's his name?” + </p> + <p> + “Colfax, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The General laughed. “I know the breed,” said he, “I'll bet he didn't + thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, he didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I like his grit,” said the General, emphatically, “These young bloods are + the backbone of this rebellion, Brice. They were made for war. They never + did anything except horse-racing and cock-fighting. They ride like the + devil, fight like the devil, but don't care a picayune for anything. + Walker had some of 'em. Crittenden had some. And, good Lord, how they hate + a Yankee! I know this Colfax, too. He's a cousin of that fine-looking girl + Brinsmade spoke of. They say he's engaged to her. Be a pity to disappoint + her—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, General.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Captain, I believe you would like to marry her yourself! Take my + advice, sir, and don't try to tame any wildcats.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to do a favor for that young man,” said the General, when + Stephen had gone off with the slip of paper he had given him. “I like to + do that kind of a favor for any officer, when I can. Did you notice how he + flared up when I mentioned the girl?” + </p> + <p> + This is why Clarence Colfax found himself that evening on a hospital + steamer of the Sanitary Commission, bound north for St. Louis. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. BELLEGARDE ONCE MORE + </h2> + <p> + Supper at Bellegarde was not the simple meal it had been for a year past + at Colonel Carvel's house in town. Mrs. Colfax was proud of her table, + proud of her fried chickens and corn fritters and her desserts. How + Virginia chafed at those suppers, and how she despised the guests whom her + aunt was in the habit of inviting to some of them! And when none was + present, she was forced to listen to Mrs. Colfax's prattle about the + fashions, her tirades against the Yankees. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure he must be dead,” said that lady, one sultry evening in July. + Her tone, however, was not one of conviction. A lazy wind from the river + stirred the lawn of Virginia's gown. The girl, with her hand on the wicker + back of the chair, was watching a storm gather to the eastward, across the + Illinois prairie. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why you say that, Aunt Lillian,” she replied. “Bad news + travels faster than good.” + </p> + <p> + “And not a word from Comyn. It is cruel of him not to send us a line, + telling us where his regiment is.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia did not reply. She had long since learned that the wisdom of + silence was the best for her aunt's unreasonableness. Certainly, if + Clarence's letters could not pass the close lines of the Federal troops, + news of her father's Texas regiment could not come from Red River. + </p> + <p> + “How was Judge Whipple to-day?” asked Mrs. Colfax presently. + </p> + <p> + “Very weak. He doesn't seem to improve much.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't see why Mrs. Brice,—isn't that her name?—doesn't take + him to her house. Yankee women are such prudes.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia began to rock slowly, and her foot tapped the porch. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Brice has begged the Judge to come to her. But he says he has lived + in those rooms, and that he will die there,—when the time comes.” + </p> + <p> + “How you worship that woman, Virginia! You have become quite a Yankee + yourself, I believe, spending whole days with her, nursing that old man.” + </p> + <p> + “The Judge is an old friend of my father's; I think he would wish it,” + replied the girl, in a lifeless voice. + </p> + <p> + Her speech did not reveal all the pain and resentment she felt. She + thought of the old man racked with pain and suffering in the heat, lying + patient on his narrow bed, the only light of life remaining the presence + of the two women. They came day by day, and often Margaret Brice had taken + the place of the old negress who sat with him at night. Worship Margaret + Brice! Yes, it was worship; it had been worship since the day she and her + father had gone to the little whitewashed hospital. Providence had brought + them together at the Judge's bedside. The marvellous quiet power of the + older woman had laid hold of the girl in spite of all barriers. + </p> + <p> + Often when the Judge's pain was eased sufficiently for him to talk, he + would speak of Stephen. The mother never spoke of her son, but a light + would come into her eyes at this praise of him which thrilled Virginia to + see. And when the good lady was gone, and the Judge had fallen into + slumber, it would still haunt her. + </p> + <p> + Was it out of consideration for her that Mrs. Brice would turn the Judge + from this topic which he seemed to love best? Virginia could not admit to + herself that she resented this. She had heard Stephen's letters to the + Judge. They came every week. Strong and manly they were, with plenty of + praises for the Southern defenders of Vicksburg. Only yesterday Virginia + had read one of these to Mr. Whipple, her face burning. Well that his face + was turned to the window, and that Stephen's mother was not there! + </p> + <p> + “He says very little about himself,” Mr. Whipple complained. “Had it not + been for Brinsmade, we should never know that Sherman had his eye on him, + and had promoted him. We should never have known of that exploit at + Chickasaw Bluff. But what a glorious victory was Grant's capture of + Vicksburg, on the Fourth of July! I guess we'll make short work of the + Rebels now.” + </p> + <p> + No, the Judge had not changed much, even in illness. He would never + change. Virginia laid the letter down, and tears started to her eyes as + she repressed a retort. It was not the first time this had happened. At + every Union victory Mr. Whipple would loose his tongue. How strange that, + with all his thought of others, he should fall short here! + </p> + <p> + One day, after unusual forbearance, Mrs. Brice had overtaken Virginia on + the stairway. Well she knew the girl's nature, and how difficult she must + have found repression. Margaret Brice had taken her hand. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” she had said, “you are a wonderful woman.” That was all. But + Virginia had driven back to Bellegarde with a strange elation in her + heart. + </p> + <p> + Some things the Judge had forborne to mention, and for this Virginia was + thankful. One was the piano. But she had overheard Shadrach telling old + Nancy how Mrs. Brice had pleaded with him to move it, that he might have + more room and air. He had been obdurate. And Colonel Carvel's name had + never once passed his lips. + </p> + <p> + Many a night the girl had lain awake listening to the steamboats as they + toiled against the river's current, while horror held her. Horror lest her + father at that moment be in mortal agony amongst the heaps left by the + battle's surges; heaps in which, like mounds of ashes, the fire was not + yet dead. Fearful tales she had heard in the prison hospitals of wounded + men lying for days in the Southern sun between the trenches at Vicksburg, + or freezing amidst the snow and sleet at Donelson. + </p> + <p> + Was her bitterness against the North not just? What a life had been + Colonel Carvel's! It had dawned brightly. One war had cost him his wife. + Another, and he had lost his fortune, his home, his friends, all that was + dear to him. And that daughter, whom he loved best in all the world, he + was perchance to see no more. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Colfax, yawning, had taken a book and gone to bed. Still Virginia sat + on the porch, while the frogs sang of rain, and the lightning quivered + across the eastern sky. She heard the crunch of wheels in the gravel. + </p> + <p> + A bar of light, peopled by moths, slanted out of the doorway and fell on a + closed carriage. A gentleman slowly ascended the steps. Virginia + recognized him as Mr. Brinsmade. + </p> + <p> + “Your cousin Clarence has come home, my dear,” he said. “He was among the + captured at Vicksburg, and is paroled by General Grant.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia gave a little cry and started forward. But he held her hands. + </p> + <p> + “He has been wounded!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she exclaimed, “yes. Oh, tell me, Mr. Brinsmade, tell me—all—” + </p> + <p> + “No, he is not dead, but he is very low. Mr. Russell has been kind enough + to come with me.” + </p> + <p> + She hurried to call the servants. But they were all there in the light, in + African postures of terror,—Alfred, and Sambo, and Mammy Easter, and + Ned. They lifted the limp figure in gray, and carried it into the hall + chamber, his eyes closed, his face waxen under a beard brown and shaggy. + Heavily, Virginia climbed the stairs to break the news to her aunt. + </p> + <p> + There is little need to dwell on the dark days which followed—Clarence + hanging between life and death. That his life was saved was due to + Virginia and to Mammy Easter, and in no particle to his mother. Mrs. + Colfax flew in the face of all the known laws of nursing, until Virginia + was driven to desperation, and held a council of war with Dr. Polk. Then + her aunt grew jealous, talked of a conspiracy, and threatened to send for + Dr. Brown—which Dr. Polk implored her to do. By spells she wept, + when they quietly pushed her from the room and locked the door. She would + creep in to him in the night during Mammy Easter's watches and talk him + into a raging fever. But Virginia slept lightly and took the alarm. More + than one scene these two had in the small hours, while Ned was riding post + haste over the black road to town for the Doctor. + </p> + <p> + By the same trusty messenger did Virginia contrive to send a note to Mrs. + Brice, begging her to explain her absence to Judge Whipple. By day or + night Virginia did not leave Bellegarde. And once Dr. Polk, while walking + in the garden, found the girl fast asleep on a bench, her sewing on her + lap. Would that a master had painted his face as he looked down at her! + </p> + <p> + 'Twas he who brought Virginia daily news of Judge Whipple. Bad news, alas! + for he seemed to miss her greatly. He had become more querulous and + exacting with patient Mrs. Brice, and inquired for her continually. + </p> + <p> + She would not go. But often, when he got into his buggy the Doctor found + the seat filled with roses and fresh fruit. Well he knew where to carry + them. + </p> + <p> + What Virginia's feelings were at this time no one will ever know. God had + mercifully given her occupation, first with the Judge, and later, when she + needed it more, with Clarence. It was she whom he recognized first of all, + whose name was on his lips in his waking moments. With the petulance of + returning reason, he pushed his mother away. Unless Virginia was at his + bedside when he awoke, his fever rose. He put his hot hand into her cool + one, and it rested there sometimes for hours. Then, and only then, did he + seem contented. + </p> + <p> + The wonder was that her health did not fail. People who saw her during + that fearful summer, fresh and with color in her cheeks, marvelled. + Great-hearted Puss Russell, who came frequently to inquire, was quieted + before her friend, and the frank and jesting tongue was silent in that + presence. Anne Brinsmade came with her father and wondered. A miracle had + changed Virginia. Her poise, her gentleness, her dignity, were the effects + which people saw. Her force people felt. And this is why we cannot of + ourselves add one cubit to our stature. It is God who changes,—who + cleanses us of our levity with the fire of trial. Happy, thrice happy, + those whom He chasteneth. And yet how many are there who could not bear + the fire—who would cry out at the flame. + </p> + <p> + Little by little Clarence mended, until he came to sit out on the porch in + the cool of the afternoon. Then he would watch for hours the tassels + stirring over the green fields of corn and the river running beyond, while + the two women sat by. At times, when Mrs. Colfax's headaches came on, and + Virginia was alone with him, he would talk of the war; sometimes of their + childhood, of the mad pranks they played here at Bellegarde, of their + friends. Only when Virginia read to him the Northern account of the + battles would he emerge from a calm sadness into excitement; and he + clenched his fists and tried to rise when he heard of the capture of + Jackson and the fall of Port Hudson. Of love he spoke not a word, and now + that he was better he ceased to hold her hand. But often when she looked + up from her book, she would surprise his dark eyes fixed upon her, and a + look in them of but one interpretation. She was troubled. + </p> + <p> + The Doctor came but every other day now, in the afternoon. It was his + custom to sit for a while on the porch chatting cheerily with Virginia, + his stout frame filling the rocking-chair. Dr. Polk's indulgence was + gossip—though always of a harmless nature: how Mr. Cluyme always + managed to squirm over to the side which was in favor, and how Maude + Catherwood's love-letter to a certain dashing officer of the Confederate + army had been captured and ruthlessly published in the hateful Democrat. + It was the Doctor who gave Virginia news of the Judge, and sometimes he + would mention Mrs. Brice. Then Clarence would raise his head; and once + (she saw with trepidation) he had opened his lips to speak. + </p> + <p> + One day the Doctor came, and Virginia looked into his face and divined + that he had something to tell her. He sat but a few moments, and when he + arose to go he took her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I have a favor to beg of you, Jinny,” he said, “Judge has lost his nurse. + Do you think Clarence could spare you for a little while every day? I + shouldn't ask it,” Dr. Polk continued, somewhat hurriedly for him, “but + the Judge cannot bear a stranger near him, and I am afraid to have him + excited while in this condition.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Brice is ill?” she cried. And Clarence, watching, saw her color go. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Dr. Polk, “but her son Stephen has come home from the army. + He was transferred to Lauman's brigade, and then he was wounded.” He + jangled the keys in his pocket and continued “It seems that he had no + business in the battle. Johnston in his retreat had driven animals into + all the ponds and shot them, and in the hot weather the water was soon + poisoned. Mr. Brice was scarcely well enough to stand when they made the + charge, and he is now in a dreadful condition He is a fine fellow,” added + the Doctor, with a sigh, “General Sherman sent a special physician to the + boat with him. He is—” Subconsciously the Doctor's arm sought + Virginia's back, as though he felt her swaying. But he was looking at + Clarence, who had jerked himself forward in his chair, his thin hands + convulsively clutching at the arms of it. He did not appear to see + Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen Brice, did you say?” he cried, “will he die?” + </p> + <p> + In his astonishment the Doctor passed his palm across his brow, and for a + moment he did not answer. Virginia had taken a step from him, and was + standing motionless, almost rigid, her eyes on his face. + </p> + <p> + “Die?” he said, repeating the word mechanically; “my God, I hope not. The + danger is over, and he is resting easily. If he were not,” he said quickly + and forcibly, “I should not be here.” + </p> + <p> + The Doctor's mare passed more than one fleet—footed trotter on the + road to town that day. And the Doctor's black servant heard his master + utter the word “fool” twice, and with great emphasis. + </p> + <p> + For a long time Virginia stood on the end of the porch, until the heaving + of the buggy harness died on the soft road, She felt Clarence gaze upon + her before she turned to face him. + </p> + <p> + “Virginia!” He had called her so of late. “Yes, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia, sit here a moment; I have something to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + She came and took the chair beside him, her heart beating, her breast + rising and falling. She looked into his eyes, and her own lashes fell + before the hopelessness there But he put out his fingers wasted by + illness, and she took them in her own. + </p> + <p> + He began slowly, as if every word cost him pain. + </p> + <p> + “Virginia, we were children together here. I cannot remember the time when + I did not love you, when I did not think of you as my wife. All I did when + we played together was to try to win your applause. That was my nature I + could not help it. Do you remember the day I climbed out on the rotten + branch of the big pear tree yonder to get you that pear—when I fell + on the roof of Alfred's cabin? I did not feel the pain. It was because you + kissed it and cried over me. You are crying now,” he said tenderly. + “Don't, Jinny. It isn't to make you sad that I am saying this. + </p> + <p> + “I have had a great deal of time to think lately, Jinny, I was not brought + up seriously,—to be a man. I have been thinking of that day just + before you were eighteen, when you rode out here. How well I remember it. + It was a purple day. The grapes were purple, and a purple haze was over + there across the river. You had been cruel to me. You were grown a woman + then, and I was still nothing but a boy. Do you remember the doe coming + out of the forest, and how she ran screaming when I tried to kiss you? You + told me I was good for nothing. Please don't interrupt me. It was true + what you said, that I was wild and utterly useless, I had never served or + pleased any but myself,—and you. I had never studied or worked, You + were right when you told me I must learn something,—do something,—become + of some account in the world. I am just as useless to day.” + </p> + <p> + “Clarence, after what you have done for the South?” + </p> + <p> + He smiled with peculiar bitterness. + </p> + <p> + “What have I done for her?” he added. “Crossed the river and burned + houses. I could not build them again. Floated down the river on a log + after a few percussion caps. That did not save Vicksburg.” + </p> + <p> + “And how many had the courage to do that?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh,” he said, “courage! the whole South has it, Courage! If I did not + have that, I would send Sambo to my father's room for his ebony box and + blow my brains out. No, Jinny, I am nothing but a soldier of fortune. I + never possessed any quality but a wild spirit for adventure, to shirk + work. I wanted to go with Walker, you remember. I wanted to go to Kansas. + I wanted to distinguish myself,” he added with a gesture. “But that is all + gone now, Jinny. I wanted to distinguish myself for you. Now I see how an + earnest life might have won you. No, I have not done yet.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her head, frightened, and looked at him searchingly. + </p> + <p> + “One day,” he said, “one day a good many years ago you and I and Uncle + Comyn were walking along Market Street in front of Judge Whipple's office, + and a slave auction was going on. A girl was being sold on whom you had + set your heart. There was some one in the crowd, a Yankee, who bid her in + and set her free. Do you remember him?” + </p> + <p> + He saw her profile, her lips parted, her look far away, She inclined her + head. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said her cousin, “so do I remember him. He has crossed my path many + times since, Virginia. And mark what I say—it was he whom you had in + mind on that birthday when you implored me to make something of myself, It + was Stephen Brice.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes flashed upon him quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how dare you?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “I dare anything, Virginia,” he answered quietly. “I am not blaming you. + And I am sure that you did not realize that he was the ideal which you had + in mind.” + </p> + <p> + “The impression of him has never left it. Fate is in it. Again, that night + at the Brinsmades', when we were in fancy dress, I felt that I had lost + you when I got back. He had been there when I was away, and gone again. + And—and—you never told me.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a horrible mistake, Max,” she faltered. “I was waiting for you + down the road, and stopped his horse instead. It—it was nothing—” + </p> + <p> + “It was fate, Jinny. In that half-hour I lost you. How I hated that man,” + he cried, “how I hated him?” + </p> + <p> + “Hated!” exclaimed Virginia, involuntarily. “Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, “hated! I would have killed him if I could. But now—” + </p> + <p> + “But now?” + </p> + <p> + “Now he has saved my life. I have not—I could not tell you before: + He came into the place where I was lying in Vicksburg, and they told him + that my only chance was to come North, I turned my back upon him, insulted + him. Yet he went to Sherman and had me brought home—to you, + Virginia. If he loves you,—and I have long suspected that he does—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” she cried, hiding her face “No.” + </p> + <p> + “I know he loves you, Jinny,” her cousin continued calmly, inexorably. + “And you know that he does. You must feel that he does. It was a brave + thing to do, and a generous. He knew that you were engaged to me. He + thought that he was saving me for you. He was giving up the hope of + marrying you himself.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia sprang to her feet. Unless you had seen her then, you had never + known the woman in her glory. + </p> + <p> + “Marry a Yankee!” she cried. “Clarence Colfax, have you known and loved me + all my life that you might accuse me of this? Never, never, never!” + Transformed, he looked incredulous admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny, do you mean it?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + In answer she bent down with all that gentleness and grace that was hers, + and pressed her lips to his forehead. Long after she had disappeared in + the door he sat staring after her. + </p> + <p> + But later, when Mammy Easter went to call her mistress for supper, she + found her with her face buried in the pillows. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. IN JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE + </h2> + <p> + After this Virginia went to the Judge's bedside every day, in the morning, + when Clarence took his sleep. She read his newspapers to him when he was + well enough. She read the detested Missouri Democrat, which I think was + the greatest trial Virginia ever had to put up with. To have her beloved + South abused, to have her heroes ridiculed, was more than she could bear. + Once, when the Judge was perceptibly better, she flung the paper out of + the window, and left the room. He called her back penitently. + </p> + <p> + “My dear,” he said, smiling admiration, “forgive an old bear. A selfish + old bear, Jinny; my only excuse is my love for the Union. When you are not + here, I lie in agony, lest she has suffered some mortal blow unknown to + me, Jinny. And if God sees fit to spare our great country, the day will + come when you will go down on your knees and thank Him for the inheritance + which He saved for your children. You are a good woman, my dear, and a + strong one. I have hoped that you will see the right. That you will marry + a great citizen, one unwavering in his service and devotion to our + Republic.” The Judge's voice trembled with earnestness as he spoke. And + the gray eyes under the shaggy brows were alight with the sacred fire of + his life's purpose. Undaunted as her spirit was, she could not answer him + then. + </p> + <p> + Once, only once, he said to her: “Virginia, I loved your father better + than any man I ever knew. Please God I may see him again before I die.” + </p> + <p> + He never spoke of the piano. But sometimes at twilight his eyes would rest + on the black cloth that hid it. + </p> + <p> + Virginia herself never touched that cloth to her it seemed the shroud upon + a life of happiness that was dead and gone. + </p> + <p> + Virginia had not been with Judge Whipple during the critical week after + Stephen was brought home. But Anne had told her that his anxiety was a + pitiful thing to see, and that it had left him perceptibly weaker. Certain + it was that he was failing fast. So fast that on some days Virginia, + watching him, would send Ned or Shadrach in hot haste for Dr. Polk. + </p> + <p> + At noon Anne would relieve Virginia,—Anne or her mother,—and + frequently Mr. Brinsmade would come likewise. For it is those who have the + most to do who find the most time for charitable deeds. As the hour for + their coming drew near, the Judge would be seeking the clock, and scarce + did Anne's figure appear in the doorway before the question had arisen to + his lips—“And how is my young Captain to-day?” + </p> + <p> + That is what he called him,—“My young Captain.” Virginia's choice of + her cousin, and her devotion to him, while seemingly natural enough, had + drawn many a sigh from Anne. She thought it strange that Virginia herself + had never once asked her about Stephen's condition and she spoke of this + one day to the Judge with as much warmth as she was capable of. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny's heart is like steel where a Yankee is concerned. If her best + friend were a Yankee—” + </p> + <p> + Judge Whipple checked her, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “She has been very good to one Yankee I know of,” he said. “And as for + Mrs. Brice, I believe she worships her.” + </p> + <p> + “But when I said that Stephen was much better to-day, she swept out of the + room as if she did not care whether he lived or died.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Anne,” the Judge had answered, “you women are a puzzle to me. I + guess you don't understand yourselves,” he added. + </p> + <p> + That was a strange month in the life of Clarence Colfax,—the last of + his recovery, while he was waiting for the news of his exchange. + Bellegarde was never more beautiful, for Mrs. Colfax had no whim of + letting the place run down because a great war was in progress. Though + devoted to the South, she did not consecrate her fortune to it. Clarence + gave as much as he could. + </p> + <p> + Whole afternoons Virginia and he would sit in the shaded arbor seat; or at + the cool of the day descend to the bench on the lower tier of the summer + garden, to steep, as it were, in the blended perfumes of the roses and the + mignonettes and the pinks. He was soberer than of old. Often through the + night he pondered on the change in her. She, too, was grave. But he was + troubled to analyze her gravity, her dignity. Was this merely strength of + character, the natural result of the trials through which she had passed, + the habit acquired of being the Helper and comforter instead of the helped + and comforted? Long years afterward the brightly colored portrait of her + remained in his eye,—the simple linen gown of pink or white, the + brown hair shining in the sunlight, the graceful poise of the head. And + the background of flowers—flowers everywhere, far from the field of + war. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes, when she brought his breakfast on a tray in the morning, there + was laughter in her eyes. In the days gone by they had been all laughter. + </p> + <p> + They were engaged. She was to be his wife. He said it over to himself + many, many times in the day. He would sit for a space, feasting his eyes + upon her until she lifted her look to his, and the rich color flooded her + face. He was not a lover to sit quietly by, was Clarence. And yet, as the + winged days flew on, that is what he did, It was not that she did not + respond to his advances, he did not make them. Nor could he have told why. + Was it the chivalry inherited from a long life of Colfaxes who were + gentlemen? Not wholly. Something of awe had crept into his feeling for + her. + </p> + <p> + As the month wore on, and the time drew near for him to go back to the + war, a state that was not quite estrangement, and yet something very like + it, set in. Poor Clarence. Doubts bothered him, and he dared not give them + voice. By night he would plan his speeches,—impassioned, imploring. + To see her in her marvellous severity was to strike him dumb. Horrible + thought! Whether she loved him, whether she did not love him, she would + not give him up. Through the long years of their lives together, he would + never know. He was not a weak man now, was Clarence Colfax. He was merely + a man possessed of a devil, enchained by the power of self-repression come + upon her whom he loved. + </p> + <p> + And day by day that power seemed to grow more intense,—invulnerable. + Among her friends and in the little household it had raised Virginia to + heights which she herself did not seem to realize. She was become the + mistress of Bellegarde. Mrs. Colfax was under its sway, and doubly + miserable because Clarence would listen to her tirades no more. + </p> + <p> + “When are you to be married?” she had ventured to ask him once. Nor had + she taken pains to hide the sarcasm in her voice. + </p> + <p> + His answer, bringing with it her remembrance of her husband at certain + times when it was not safe to question him, had silenced her. Addison + Colfax had not been a quiet man. When he was quiet he was dangerous. + </p> + <p> + “Whenever Virginia is ready, mother,” he had replied. Whenever Virginia + was ready! He knew in his heart that if he were to ask her permission to + send for Dr. Posthelwaite to-morrow that she would say yes. Tomorrow came,—and + with it a great envelope, an official, answer to Clarence's report that he + was fit for duty once more. He had been exchanged. He was to proceed to + Cairo, there to await the arrival of the transport Indianapolis, which was + to carry five hundred officers and men from Sandusky Prison, who were + going back to fight once more for the Confederacy. O that they might have + seen the North, all those brave men who made that sacrifice. That they + might have realized the numbers and the resources and the wealth arrayed + against them! + </p> + <p> + It was a cool day for September, a perfect day, an auspicious day, and yet + it went the way of the others before it. This was the very fulness of the + year, the earth giving out the sweetness of her maturity, the corn in + martial ranks, with golden plumes nodding. The forest still in its glory + of green. They walked in silence the familiar paths, and Alfred, clipping + the late roses for the supper table, shook his white head as they passed + him. The sun, who had begun to hurry on his southward journey, went to bed + at six. The few clothes Clarence was to take with him had been packed by + Virginia in his bag, and the two were standing in the twilight on the + steps of the house, when Ned came around the corner. He called his young + mistress by name, but she did not hear him. He called again. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Jinny!” + </p> + <p> + She started as from a sleep, and paused. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Johnson,” said she, and smiled. He wore that air of mystery so + dear to darkeys. + </p> + <p> + “Gemmen to see you, Miss Jinny.” + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman!” she said in surprise. “Where?” + </p> + <p> + The negro pointed to the lilac shrubbery. + </p> + <p> + “Thar!” + </p> + <p> + “What's all this nonsense, Ned?” said Clarence, sharply: “If a man is + there, bring him here at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Reckon he won't come, Marse Clarence.” said Ned, “He fearful skeered ob + de light ob day. He got suthin very pertickler fo' Miss Jinny.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him?” Clarence demanded. + </p> + <p> + “No sah—yessah—leastwise I'be seed 'um. Name's Robimson.” + </p> + <p> + The word was hardly out of his mouth before Virginia had leaped down the + four feet from the porch to the flower-bed and was running across the lawn + toward the shrubbery. Parting the bushes after her, Clarence found his + cousin confronting a large man, whom he recognized as the carrier who + brought messages from the South. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, Jinny?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Pa has got through the lines,” she said breathlessly. “He—he came + up to see me. Where is he, Robinson?” + </p> + <p> + “He went to Judge Whipple's rooms, ma'am. They say the Judge is dying. I + reckoned you knew it, Miss Jinny,” Robinson added contritely. + </p> + <p> + “Clarence,” she said, “I must go at once.” + </p> + <p> + “I will go with you,” he said; “you cannot go alone.” In a twinkling Ned + and Sambo had the swift pair of horses harnessed, and the light carriage + was flying over the soft clay road toward the city. As they passed Mr. + Brinsmade's place, the moon hung like a great round lantern under the + spreading trees about the house. Clarence caught a glimpse of his cousin's + face in the light. She was leaning forward, her gaze fixed intently on the + stone posts which stood like monuments between the bushes at the entrance. + Then she drew back again into the dark corner of the barouche. She was + startled by a sharp challenge, and the carriage stopped. Looking out, she + saw the provost's guard like black card figures on the road, and Ned + fumbling for his pass. + </p> + <p> + On they drove into the city streets until the dark bulk of the Court House + loomed in front of them, and Ned drew rein at the little stairway which + led to the Judge's rooms. Virginia, leaping out of the carriage, flew up + the steps and into the outer office, and landed in the Colonel's arms. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Pa!” she cried. “Why do you risk your life in this way? If the + Yankees catch you—” + </p> + <p> + “They won't catch me, honey,” he answered, kissing her. Then he held her + out at arm's length and gazed earnestly into her face. Trembling, she + searched his own. “Pa, how old you look!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not precisely young, my dear,” he said, smiling. His hair was nearly + white, and his face scared. But he was a fine erect figure of a man, + despite the shabby clothes he wore, and the mud-bespattered boots. + </p> + <p> + “Pa,” she whispered, “it was foolhardy to come here. Why did you come to + St. Louis at all?” + </p> + <p> + “I came to see you, Jinny, I reckon. And when I got home to-night and + heard Silas was dying, I just couldn't resist. He's the oldest friend I've + got in St. Louis, honey and now—now—” + </p> + <p> + “Pa, you've been in battle?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And you weren't hurt; I thank God for that,” she whispered. After a + while: “Is Uncle Silas dying?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Jinny; Dr. Polk is in there now, and says that he can't last through + the night. Silas has been asking for you, honey, over and over. He says + you were very good to him,—that you and Mrs. Brice gave up + everything to nurse him.” + </p> + <p> + “She did,” Virginia faltered. “She was here night and day until her son + came home. She is a noble woman—” + </p> + <p> + “Her son?” repeated the Colonel. “Stephen Brice? Silas has done nothing + the last half-hour but call his name. He says he must see the boy before + he dies. Polk says he is not strong enough to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, he is not strong enough,” cried Virginia. The Colonel looked down + at her queerly. “Where is Clarence?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She had not thought of Clarence. She turned hurriedly, glanced around the + room, and then peered down the dark stairway. + </p> + <p> + “Why, he came in with me. I wonder why he did not follow me up?” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Pa.” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia, are you happy?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, Pa.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to marry Clarence?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have promised,” she said simply. + </p> + <p> + Then after a long pause, seeing her father said nothing, she added, + “Perhaps he was waiting for you to see me alone. I will go down to see if + he is in the carriage.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel started with her, but she pulled him back in alarm. + </p> + <p> + “You will be seen, Pa,” she cried. “How can you be so reckless?” + </p> + <p> + He stayed at the top of the passage, holding open the door that she might + have light. When she reached the sidewalk, there was Ned standing beside + the horses, and the carriage empty. + </p> + <p> + “Ned!” + </p> + <p> + “Yass'm, Miss Jinny.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Mr. Clarence?” + </p> + <p> + “He done gone, Miss Tinny.” + </p> + <p> + “Gone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yass'm. Fust I seed was a man plump out'n Willums's, Miss Jinny. He was + a-gwine shufflin' up de street when Marse Clarence put out after him, pos' + has'e. Den he run.” + </p> + <p> + She stood for a moment on the pavement in thought, and paused on the + stairs again, wondering whether it were best to tell her father. Perhaps + Clarence had seen—she caught her breath at the thought and pushed + open the door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Pa, do you think you are safe here?” she cried. “Why, yes, honey, I + reckon so,” he answered. “Where's Clarence?” + </p> + <p> + “Ned says he ran after a man who was hiding in an entrance. Pa, I am + afraid they are watching the place.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so, Jinny. I came here with Polk, in his buggy, after + dark.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia, listening, heard footsteps on the stairs, and seized her + father's sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Think of the risk you are running, Pa,” she whispered. She would have + dragged him to the closet. But it was too late. The door opened, and Mr. + Brinsmade entered, and with him a lady veiled. + </p> + <p> + At sight of Mr. Carvel Mr. Brinsmade started back in surprise. How long he + stared at his old friend Virginia could not say. It seemed to her an + eternity. But Mrs. Brice has often told since how straight the Colonel + stood, his fine head thrown back, as he returned the glance. Then Mr. + Brinsmade came forward, with his hand outstretched. + </p> + <p> + “Comyn,” said he, his voice breaking a little, “I have known you these + many years as a man of unstained honor. You are safe with me. I ask no + questions. God will judge whether I have done my duty.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Carvel took his friend's hand. “Thank you, Calvin,” he said. “I give + you my word of honor as a gentleman that I came into this city for no + other reason than to see my daughter. And hearing that my old friend was + dying, I could not resist the temptation, sir—” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Brinsmade finished for him. And his voice shook. + </p> + <p> + “To come to his bedside. How many men do you think would risk their lives + so, Mrs. Brice?” + </p> + <p> + “Not many, indeed, Mr. Brinsmade,” she answered. “Thank God he will now + die happy. I know it has been much on his mind.” + </p> + <p> + The Colonel bowed over her hand. + </p> + <p> + “And in his name, madam,—in the name of my oldest and best friend,—I + thank you for what you have done for him. I trust that you will allow me + to add that I have learned from my daughter to respect and admire you. I + hope that your son is doing well.” + </p> + <p> + “He is, thank you, Colonel Carvel. If he but knew that the Judge were + dying, I could not have kept him at home. Dr. Polk says that he must not + leave the house, or undergo any excitement.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the door of the inner room opened, and Dr. Polk came out. He + bowed gravely to Mrs. Brice and Mr. Brinsmade, and he patted Virginia. + </p> + <p> + “The Judge is still asleep,” he said gently. “And—he may not wake up + in this world.” + </p> + <p> + Silently, sadly, they went together into that little room where so much of + Judge Whipple's life had been spent. How little it was! And how completely + they filled it,—these five people and the big Rothfield covered with + the black cloth. Virginia pressed her father's arm as they leaned against + it, and brushed her eyes. The Doctor turned the wick of the night-lamp. + </p> + <p> + What was that upon the sleeper's face from which they drew back? A smile? + Yes, and a light. The divine light which is shed upon those who have lived + for others, who have denied themselves the lusts of the flesh, For a long + space, perhaps an hour, they stayed, silent save for a low word now and + again from the Doctor as he felt the Judge's heart. Tableaux from the past + floated before Virginia's eyes. Of the old days, of the happy days in + Locust Street, of the Judge quarrelling with her father, and she and + Captain Lige smiling nearby. And she remembered how sometimes when the + controversy was finished the Judge would rub his nose and say: + </p> + <p> + “It's my turn now, Lige.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon the Captain would open the piano, and she would play the hymn + that he liked best. It was “Lead, Kindly Light.” + </p> + <p> + What was it in Silas Whipple's nature that courted the pain of memories? + What pleasure could it have been all through his illness to look upon this + silent and cruel reminder of days gone by forever? She had heard that + Stephen Brice had been with the Judge when he had bid it in. She wondered + that he had allowed it, for they said that he was the only one who had + ever been known to break the Judge's will. Virginia's eyes rested on + Margaret Brice, who was seated at the head of the bed, smoothing the + pillows The strength of Stephen's features were in hers, but not the + ruggedness. Her features were large, indeed, yet stanch and softened. The + widow, as if feeling Virginia's look upon her, glanced up from the Judge's + face and smiled at her. The girl colored with pleasure, and again at the + thought which she had had of the likeness between mother and son. + </p> + <p> + Still the Judge slept on, while they watched. And at length the thought of + Clarence crossed Virginia's mind. + </p> + <p> + Why had he not returned? Perhaps he was in the office without. Whispering + to her father, she stole out on tiptoe. The office was empty. Descending + to the street, she was unable to gain any news of Clarence from Ned, who + was becoming alarmed likewise. + </p> + <p> + Perplexed and troubled, she climbed the stairs again. No sound came from + the Judge's room Perhaps Clarence would be back at any moment. Perhaps her + father was in danger. She sat down to think,—her elbows on the desk + in front of her, her chin in her hand, her eyes at the level of a line of + books which stood on end.—Chitty's Pleadings, Blackstone, Greenleaf + on Evidence. Absently; as a person whose mind is in trouble, she reached + out and took one of them down and opened it. Across the flyleaf, in a high + and bold hand, was written the name, Stephen Atterbury Brice. + </p> + <p> + It was his desk! She was sitting in his chair! + </p> + <p> + She dropped the book, and, rising abruptly, crossed quickly to the other + side of the room. Then she turned, hesitatingly, and went back. This was + his desk—his chair, in which he had worked so faithfully for the man + who lay dying beyond the door. For him whom they all loved—whose + last hours they were were to soothe. Wars and schisms may part our bodies, + but stronger ties unite our souls. Through Silas Whipple, through his + mother, Virginia knew that she was woven of one piece with Stephen Brice. + In a thousand ways she was reminded, lest she drive it from her belief. + She might marry another, and that would not matter. + </p> + <p> + She sank again into his chair, and gave herself over to the thoughts + crowding in her heart. How the threads of his life ran next to hers, and + crossed and recrossed them. The slave auction, her dance with him, the + Fair, the meeting at Mr. Brinsmade's gate,—she knew them all. Her + love and admiration for his mother. Her dreams of him—for she did + dream of him. And now he had saved Clarence's life that she might marry + her cousin. Was it true that she would marry Clarence? That seemed to her + only a dream. It had never seemed real. Again she glanced at the signature + in the book, as if fascinated by the very strength of it. She turned over + a few pages of the book, “Supposing the defendant's counsel essays to + prove by means of—” that was his writing again, a marginal, note. + There were marginal notes on every page—even the last was covered + with them, And then at the end, “First reading, February, 1858. Second + reading, July, 1858. Bought with some of money obtained by first article + for M. D.” That capacity for work, incomparable gift, was what she had + always coveted the most. Again she rested her elbows on the desk and her + chin on her hands, and sighed unconsciously. + </p> + <p> + She had not heard the step on the stair. She had not seen the door open. + She did not know that any one wage in the room until she heard his voice, + and then she thought that she was dreaming. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Carvel!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” Her head did not move. He took a step toward her. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Carvel!” + </p> + <p> + Slowly she raised her face to his, unbelief and wonder in her eyes,—unbelief + and wonder and fright. No; it could not be he. But when she met the + quality of his look, the grave tenderness of it, she trembled, and our + rendered her own to the page where his handwriting quivered and became a + blur. + </p> + <p> + He never knew the effort it cost her to rise and confront him. She herself + had not measured or fathomed the power which his very person exhaled. It + seemed to have come upon him suddenly. He needed not to have spoken for + her to have felt that. What it was she could not tell. She knew alone that + it was nigh irresistible, and she grasped the back of the chair as though + material support might sustain her. + </p> + <p> + “Is he—dead?” + </p> + <p> + She was breathing hard. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said. “Not—not yet, They are waiting for the end.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” he asked in grave surprise, glancing at the door of the Judge's + room. + </p> + <p> + Then she remembered Clarence. + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting for my cousin,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Even as she spoke she was with this man again at the Brinsmade gate. Those + had been her very words! Intuition told her that he, too, was thinking of + that time. Now he had found her at his desk, and, as if that were not + humiliation enough, with one of his books taken down and laid open at his + signature. Suffused, she groped for words to carry her on. + </p> + <p> + “I am waiting for Clarence, Mr. Brice. He was here, and is gone + somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + He did not seem to take account of the speech. And his silence—goad + to indiscretion—pressed her to add:— “You saved him, Mr. + Brice. I—we all—thank you so much. And that is not all I want + to say. It is a poor enough acknowledgment of what you did,—for we + have not always treated you well.” Her voice faltered almost to faintness, + as he raised his hand in pained protest. But she continued: “I shall + regard it as a debt I can never repay. It is not likely that in my life to + come I can ever help you, but I shall pray for that opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + He interrupted her. + </p> + <p> + “I did nothing, Miss Carvel, nothing that the most unfeeling man in our + army would not do. Nothing that I would not have done for the merest + stranger.” + </p> + <p> + “You saved him for me,” she said. + </p> + <p> + O fateful words that spoke of themselves! She turned away from him for + very shame, and yet she heard him saying:— “Yes, I saved him for + you.” + </p> + <p> + His voice was in the very note of the sadness which has the strength to + suffer, to put aside the thought of self. A note to which her soul + responded with anguish when she turned to him with the natural cry of + woman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you ought not to have come here to-night. Why did you come? The + Doctor forbade it. The consequences may kill you.” + </p> + <p> + “It does not matter much,” he answered. “The Judge was dying.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you know?” + </p> + <p> + “I guessed it,—because my mother had left me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you ought not to have come!” she said again. + </p> + <p> + “The Judge has been my benefactor,” he answered quietly. “I could walk, + and it was my duty to come.” + </p> + <p> + “You did not walk!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + He smiled, “I had no carriage,” he said. + </p> + <p> + With the instinct of her sex she seized the chair and placed it under him. + “You must sit down at once,” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “But I am not tired,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you must sit down, you must, Captain Brice.” He started at the title, + which came so prettily from her lips, “Won't you please!” she said + pleadingly. + </p> + <p> + He sat down. And, as the sun peeps out of a troubled sky, she smiled. + </p> + <p> + “It is your chair,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He glanced at the book, and the bit of sky was crimson. But still he said + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “It is your book,” she stammered. “I did not know that it was yours when I + took it down. I—I was looking at it while I was waiting for + Clarence.” + </p> + <p> + “It is dry reading,” he remarked, which was not what he wished to say. + </p> + <p> + “And yet—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “And yet you have read it twice.” The confession had slipped to her lips. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting on the edge of his desk, looking down at him. Still he did + not look at her. All the will that was left him averted his head. And the + seal of honor was upon his speech. And he wondered if man were ever more + tempted. + </p> + <p> + Then the evil spread its wings, and soared away into the night. And the + moment was past. Peace seemed to come upon them both, quieting the tumult + in their hearts, and giving them back their reason. Respect like wise came + to the girl,—respect that was akin to awe. It was he who spoke + first. + </p> + <p> + “My mother has me how faithfully you nursed the Judge, Miss Carvel. It was + a very noble thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Not noble at all,” she replied hastily, “your mother did the most of it, + And he is an old friend of my father—” + </p> + <p> + “It was none the less noble,” said Stephen, warmly, “And he quarrelled + with Colonel Carvel.” + </p> + <p> + “My father quarrelled with him,” she corrected. “It was well that I should + make some atonement. And yet mine was no atonement, I love Judge Whipple. + It was a—a privilege to see your mother every day—oh, how he + would talk of you! I think he loves you better than any one on this + earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about him,” said Stephen, gently. + </p> + <p> + Virginia told him, and into the narrative she threw the whole of her + pent-up self. How patient the Judge had been, and the joy he had derived + from Stephen's letters. “You were very good to write to him so often,” she + said. It seemed like a dream to Stephen, like one of the many dreams of + her, the mystery of which was of the inner life beyond our ken. He could + not recall a time when she had not been rebellious, antagonistic. And now—as + he listened to her voice, with its exquisite low tones and modulations, as + he sat there in this sacred intimacy, perchance to be the last in his + life, he became dazed. His eyes, softened, with supreme eloquence cried + out that she, was his, forever and forever. The magnetic force which God + uses to tie the worlds together was pulling him to her. And yet the + Puritan resisted. + </p> + <p> + Then the door swung open, and Clarence Colfax, out of breath, ran into the + room. He stopped short when he saw them, his hand fell to his sides, and + his words died on his lips. Virginia did not stir. + </p> + <p> + It was Stephen who rose to meet him, and with her eyes the girl followed + his motions. The broad and loosely built frame of the Northerner, his + shoulders slightly stooping, contrasted with Clarence's slighter figure, + erect, compact, springy. The Southerner's eye, for that moment, was flint + struck with the spark from the steel. Stephen's face, thinned by illness, + was grave. The eyes kindly, yet penetrating. For an instant they stood + thus regarding each other, neither offering a hand. It was Stephen who + spoke first, and if there was a trace of emotion in his voice, one who was + listening intently failed to mark it. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to see that you have recovered, Colonel Colfax,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I should indeed be without gratitude if I did not thank Captain Brice for + my life,” answered Clarence. Virginia flushed. She had detected the undue + accent on her cousin's last words, and she glanced apprehensively at + Stephen. His forceful reply surprised them both. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Carvel has already thanked me sufficiently, sir,” he said. “I am + happy to have been able to have done you a good turn, and at the same time + to have served her so well. It was she who saved your life. It is to her + your thanks are chiefly due. I believe that I am not going too far, + Colonel Colfax,” he added, “when I congratulate you both.” + </p> + <p> + Before her cousin could recover, Virginia slid down from the desk and had + come between them. How her eyes shone and her lip trembled as she gazed at + him, Stephen has never forgotten. What a woman she was as she took her + cousin's arm and made him a curtsey. + </p> + <p> + “What you have done may seem a light thing to you, Captain Brice,” she + said. “That is apt to be the way with those who have big hearts. You have + put upon Colonel Colfax, and upon me, a life's obligation.” + </p> + <p> + When she began to speak, Clarence raised his head. As he glanced, + incredulous, from her to Stephen, his look gradually softened, and when + she had finished, his manner had become again frank, boyish, impetuous—nay, + penitent. He seized Stephen's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Brice,” he cried. “Forgive me. I should have known better. I—I + did you an injustice, and you, Virginia. I was a fool—a scoundrel.” + Stephen shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No, you were neither,” he said. Then upon his face came the smile of one + who has the strength to renounce, all that is dearest to him—that + smile of the unselfish, sweetest of all. It brought tears to Virginia. She + was to see it once again, upon the features of one who bore a cross,—Abraham + Lincoln. Clarence looked, and then he turned away toward the door to the + stairway, as one who walks blindly, in a sorrow. + </p> + <p> + His hand was on the knob when Virginia seemed to awake. She flew after + him: + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + Then she raised her eyes, slowly, to Stephen, who was standing motionless + beside his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Brice!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “My father is in the Judge's room,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Your father!” he exclaimed. “I thought—” + </p> + <p> + “That he was an officer in the Confederate Army. So he is.” Her head went + up as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + Stephen stared at her, troubled. Suddenly her manner, changed. She took a + step toward him, appealingly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is not a spy,” she cried. “He has given Mr Brinsmade his word that + he came here for no other purpose than to see me. Then he heard that the + Judge was dying—” + </p> + <p> + “He has given his word to Mr. Brinsmade? + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Stephen, “what Mr. Brinsmade sanctions is not for me to + question.” + </p> + <p> + She gave him yet another look, a fleeting one which he did not see. Then + she softly opened the door and passed into the room of the dying man. + Stephen followed her. As for Clarence, he stood for a space staring after + them. Then he went noiselessly down the stairs into the street. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT + </h2> + <p> + When the Judge opened his eyes for the last time in this world, they fell + first upon the face of his old friend, Colonel Carvel. Twice he tried to + speak his name, and twice he failed. The third time he said it faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Comyn!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Silas.” + </p> + <p> + “Comyn, what are you doing here? + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I came to see you, Silas,” answered the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “To see me die,” said the Judge, grimly. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Carvel's face twitched, and the silence in that little room seemed + to throb. + </p> + <p> + “Comyn,” said the Judge again, “I heard that you had gone South to fight + against your country. I see you here. Can it be that you have at last + returned in your allegiances to the flag for which your forefathers died?” + </p> + <p> + Poor Colonel Carvel + </p> + <p> + “I am still of the same mind, Silas,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The Judge turned his face away, his thin lips moving as in prayer. But + they knew that he was not praying, “Silas,” said Mr. Carvel, “we were + friends for twenty years. Let us be friends again, before—” + </p> + <p> + “Before I die,” the Judge interrupted, “I am ready to die. Yes, I am + ready. I have had a hard life, Comyn, and few friends. It was my fault. I—I + did not know how to make them. Yet no man ever valued those few more than! + But,” he cried, the stern fire unquenched to the last, “I would that God + had spared me to see this Rebellion stamped out. For it will be stamped + out.” To those watching, his eyes seemed fixed on a distant point, and the + light of prophecy was in them. “I would that God had spared me to see this + Union supreme once more. Yes, it will be supreme. A high destiny is + reserved for this nation—! I think the highest of all on this + earth.” Amid profound silence he leaned back on the pillows from which he + had risen, his breath coming fast. None dared look at the neighbor beside + them. + </p> + <p> + It was Stephen's mother who spoke. “Would you not like to see a clergyman, + Judge?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + The look on his face softened as he turned to her. + </p> + <p> + “No, madam,” he answered; “you are clergyman enough for me. You are near + enough to God—there is no one in this room who is not worthy to + stand in the presence of death. Yet I wish that a clergyman were here, + that he might listen to one thing I have to say. When I was a boy I worked + my way down the river to New York, to see the city. I met a bishop there. + He said to me, 'Sit down, my son, I want to talk to you. I know your + father in Albany. You are Senator Whipple's son.' I said to him, 'No, sir, + I am not Senator Whipple's son. I am no relation of his.' If the bishop + had wished to talk to me after that, Mrs. Brice, he might have made my + life a little easier—a little sweeter. I know that they are not all + like that. But it was by just such things that I was embittered when I was + a boy.” He stopped, and when he spoke again, it was more slowly, more + gently, than any of them had heard him speak in all his life before. “I + wish that some of the blessings which I am leaving now had come to me then—when + I was a boy. I might have done my little share in making the world a + brighter place to live in, as all of you have done. Yes, as all of you are + now doing for me. I am leaving the world with a better opinion of it than + I ever held in life. God hid the sun from me when I was a little child. + Margaret Brice,” he said, “if I had had such a mother as you, I would have + been softened then. I thank God that He sent you when He did.” + </p> + <p> + The widow bowed her head, and a tear fell upon his pillow. + </p> + <p> + “I have done nothing,” she murmured, “nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “So shall they answer at the last whom He has chosen,” said the Judge. “I + was sick, and ye visited me. He has promised to remember those who do + that. Hold up your head, my daughter. God has been good to you. He has + given you a son whom all men may look in the face, of whom you need never + be ashamed. Stephen,” said the Judge, “come here.” + </p> + <p> + Stephen made his way to the bedside, but because of the moisture in his + eyes he saw but dimly the gaunt face. And yet he shrank back in awe at the + change in it. So must all of the martyrs have looked when the fire of the + faggots licked their feet. So must John Bunyan have stared through his + prison bars at the sky. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen,” he said, “you have been faithful in a few things. So shall you + be made ruler over many things. The little I have I leave to you, and the + chief of this is an untarnished name. I know that you will be true to it + because I have tried your strength. Listen carefully to what I have to + say, for I have thought over it long. In the days gone by our fathers + worked for the good of the people, and they had no thought of gain. A time + is coming when we shall need that blood and that bone in this Republic. + Wealth not yet dreamed of will flow out of this land, and the waters of it + will rot all save the pure, and corrupt all save the incorruptible. + Half-tried men wilt go down before that flood. You and those like you will + remember how your fathers governed,—strongly, sternly, justly. It + was so that they governed themselves. + </p> + <p> + “Be vigilant. Serve your city, serve your state, but above all serve your + country.” + </p> + <p> + He paused to catch his breath, which was coming painfully now, and reached + out his bony hand to seek Stephen's. “I was harsh with you at first, my + son,” he went on. “I wished to try you. And when I had tried you I wished + your mind to open, to keep pace with the growth of this nation. I sent you + to see Abraham Lincoln that you might be born again—in the West. You + were born again. I saw it when you came back—I saw it in your face. + O God,” he cried, with sudden eloquence. “I would that his hands—Abraham + Lincoln's hands—might be laid upon all who complain and cavil and + criticise, and think of the little things in life: I would that his spirit + might possess their spirit!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped again. They marvelled and were awed, for never in all his days + had such speech broken from this man. “Good-by, Stephen,” he said, when + they thought he was not to speak again. “Hold the image of Abraham Lincoln + in front of you. Never forget him. You—you are a man after his own + heart—and—and mine.” + </p> + <p> + The last word was scarcely audible. They started for ward, for his eyes + were closed. But presently he stirred again, and opened them. + </p> + <p> + “Brinsmade,” he said, “Brinsmade, take care of my orphan girls. Send + Shadrach here.” + </p> + <p> + The negro came forth, shuffling and sobbing, from the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “You ain't gwine away, Marse Judge?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Shadrach, good-by. You have served me well, I have left you provided + for.” + </p> + <p> + Shadrach kissed the hand of whose secret charity he knew so much. Then the + Judge withdrew it, and motioned to him to rise. He called his oldest + friend by name. And Colonel Carvel came from the corner where he had been + listening, with his face drawn. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Comyn. You were my friend when there was none other. You were + true to me when the hand of every man was against me. You—you have + risked your life to come to me here, May God spare it for Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of her name, the girl started. She came and bent over him. + And when she kissed him on the forehead, he trembled. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Silas!” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + Weakly he reached up and put his hands on her shoulders. He whispered in + her ear. The tears came and lay wet upon her lashes as she undid the + button at his throat. + </p> + <p> + There, on a piece of cotton twine, hung a little key, She took it off, but + still his hands held her. + </p> + <p> + “I have saved it for you, my dear,” he said. “God bless you—” why + did his eyes seek Stephen's?—“and make your life happy. Virginia—will + you play my hymn—once more—once more?” + </p> + <p> + They lifted the night lamp from the piano, and the medicine. It was + Stephen who stripped it of the black cloth it had worn, who stood by + Virginia ready to lift the lid when she had turned the lock. The girl's + exaltation gave a trembling touch divine to the well-remembered chords, + and those who heard were lifted, lifted far above and beyond the power of + earthly spell. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom + Lead Thou me on + The night is dark, and I am far from home; + Lead Thou me on. + Keep Thou my feet! I do not ask to see + The distant scene; one step enough for me.” + </pre> + <p> + A sigh shook Silas Whipple's wasted frame, and he died. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Volume 8. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE LAST CARD + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Brinsmade and the Doctor were the first to leave the little room where + Silas Whipple had lived and worked and died, Mr. Brinsmade bent upon one + of those errands which claimed him at all times. He took Shadrach with + him. Virginia sat on, a vague fear haunting her,—a fear for her + father's safety. Where was Clarence? What had he seen? Was the place + watched? These questions, at first intruding upon her sorrow, remained to + torture her. + </p> + <p> + Softly she stirred from the chair where she had sat before the piano, and + opened the door of the outer office. A clock in a steeple near by was + striking twelve. The Colonel did not raise his head. Only Stephen saw her + go; she felt his eyes following her, and as she slipped out lifted hers to + meet them for a brief instant through the opening of the door. Then it + closed behind her. + </p> + <p> + First of all she knew that the light in the outer office was burning + dimly, and the discovery gave her a shock. Who had turned it down? Had + Clarence? Was he here? Fearfully searching the room for him, her gaze was + held by a figure in the recess of the window at the back of the room. A + solid, bulky figure it was, and, though uncertainly outlined in the + semi-darkness, she knew it. She took a step nearer, and a cry escaped her. + </p> + <p> + The man was Eliphalet Hopper. He got down from the sill with a motion at + once sheepish and stealthy. Her breath caught, and instinctively she gave + back toward the door, as if to open it again. + </p> + <p> + “Hold on!” he said. “I've got something I want to say to you, Miss + Virginia.” + </p> + <p> + His tones seemed strangely natural. They were not brutal. But she shivered + and paused, horrified at the thought of what she was about to do. Her + father was in that room—and Stephen. She must keep them there, and + get this man away. She must not show fright before him, and yet she could + not trust her voice to speak just then. She must not let him know that she + was afraid of him—this she kept repeating to herself. But how to + act? Suddenly an idea flashed upon her. + </p> + <p> + Virginia never knew how she gathered the courage to pass him, even + swiftly, and turn up the gas. He started back, blinking as the jet flared. + For a moment she stood beside it, with her head high; confronting him and + striving to steady herself for speech. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you come here?” she said. “Judge Whipple—died—to-night.” + </p> + <p> + The dominating note in his answer was a whine, as if, in spite of himself, + he were awed. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't here to see the Judge.” + </p> + <p> + She was pale, and quite motionless. And she faltered now. She felt her + lips moving, but knew not whether the words had come. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + He gained confidence. The look in his little eyes was the filmy look of + those of an animal feasting. + </p> + <p> + “I came here to see you,” he said, “—you.” She was staring at him + now, in horror. “And if you don't give me what I want, I cal'late to see + some one else—in there,” said Mr. Hopper. + </p> + <p> + He smiled, for she was swaying, her lids half closed. By a supreme effort + she conquered her terror and looked at him. The look was in his eyes + still, intensified now. + </p> + <p> + “How dare you speak to me after what has happened! she said. If Colonel + Carvel were here, he would—kill you.” + </p> + <p> + He flinched at the name and the word, involuntarily. He wiped his + forehead, hot at the very thought. + </p> + <p> + “I want to know!” he exclaimed, in faint-hearted irony. Then, remembering + his advantage, he stepped close to her. + </p> + <p> + “He is here,” he said, intense now. “He is here, in that there room.” He + seized her wrists. Virginia struggled, and yet she refrained from crying + out. “He never leaves this city without I choose. I can have him hung if I + choose,” he whispered, next to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she cried; “oh, if you choose!” + </p> + <p> + Still his body crept closer, and his face closer. And her strength was + going. + </p> + <p> + “There's but one price to pay,” he said hoarsely, “there's but one price + to pay, and that's you—you. I cal'late you'll marry me now.” + </p> + <p> + Delirious at the touch of her, he did not hear the door open. Her senses + were strained for that very sound. She heard it close again, and a + footstep across the room. She knew the step—she knew the voice, and + her heart leaped at the sound of it in anger. An arm in a blue sleeve came + between them, and Eliphalet Hopper staggered and fell across the books on + the table, his hand to his face. Above him towered Stephen Brice. Towered + was the impression that came to Virginia then, and so she thought of the + scene ever afterward. Small bits, like points of tempered steel, glittered + in Stephen's eyes, and his hands following up the mastery he had given + them clutched Mr. Hopper's shoulders. Twice Stephen shook him so that his + head beat upon the table. + </p> + <p> + “You—you beast!” he cried, but he kept his voice low. And then, as + if he expected Hopper to reply: “Shall I kill you?” + </p> + <p> + Again he shook him violently. He felt Virginia's touch on his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen!” she cried, “your wounds! Be careful! Oh, do be careful!” + </p> + <p> + She had called him Stephen. He turned slowly, and his hands fell from Mr. + Hopper's cowering form as his eyes met hers. Even he could not fathom the + appeal, the yearning, in their dark blue depths. And yet what he saw there + made him tremble. She turned away, trembling too. + </p> + <p> + “Please sit down,” she entreated. “He—he won't touch me again while + you are here.” + </p> + <p> + Eliphalet Hopper raised himself from the desk, and one of the big books + fell with a crash to the floor. Then they saw him shrink, his eyes fixed + upon some one behind them. Before the Judge's door stood Colonel Carvel, + in calm, familiar posture, his feet apart, and his head bent forward as he + pulled at his goatee. + </p> + <p> + “What is this man doing here, Virginia?” he asked. She did not answer him, + nor did speech seem to come easily to Mr. Hopper in that instant. Perhaps + the sight of Colonel Carvel had brought before him too, vividly the memory + of that afternoon at Glencoe. + </p> + <p> + All at once Virginia grasped the fulness of the power in this man's hands. + At a word from him her father would be shot as a spy—and Stephen + Brice, perhaps, as a traitor. But if Colonel Carvel should learn that he + had seized her,—here was the terrible danger of the situation. Well + she knew what the Colonel would do. Would. Stephen tell him? She trusted + in his coolness that he would not. + </p> + <p> + Before a word of reply came from any of the three, a noise was heard on + the stairway. Some one was coming up. There followed four seconds of + suspense, and then Clarence came in. She saw that his face wore a worried, + dejected look. It changed instantly when he glanced about him, and an oath + broke from his lips as he singled out Eliphalet Hopper standing in sullen + aggressiveness, beside the table. + </p> + <p> + “So you're the spy, are you?” he said in disgust. Then he turned his back + and faced his uncle. “I saw, him in Williams's entry as we drove up. He + got away from me.” + </p> + <p> + A thought seemed to strike him. He strode to the open window at the back + of the office, and looked out, There was a roof under it. + </p> + <p> + “The sneak got in here,” he said. “He knew I was waiting for him in the + street. So you're the spy, are you?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper passed a heavy hand across the cheek where Stephen had struck + him. + </p> + <p> + “No, I ain't the spy,” he said, with a meaning glance at the Colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Then what are you doing here?” demanded Clarence, fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “I cal'late that he knows,” Eliphalet replied, jerking his head toward + Colonel Carvel. “Where's his Confederate uniform? What's to prevent my + calling up the provost's guard below?” he continued, with a smile that was + hideous on his swelling face. + </p> + <p> + It was the Colonel who answered him, very quickly and very clearly. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever, Mr. Hopper,” he said. “This is the way out.” He pointed + at the door. Stephen, who was watching him, could not tell whether it were + a grim smile that creased the corners of the Colonel's mouth as he added. + “You might prefer the window.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hopper did not move, but his eyes shifted to Virginia's form. Stephen + deliberately thrust himself between them that he might not see her. + </p> + <p> + “What are you waiting for?” said the Colonel, in the mild voice that + should have been an ominous warning. Still Mr. Hopper did not move. It was + clear that he had not reckoned upon all of this; that he had waited in the + window to deal with Virginia alone. But now the very force of a desire + which had gathered strength in many years made him reckless. His voice + took on the oily quality in which he was wont to bargain. + </p> + <p> + “Let's be calm about this business, Colonel,” he said. “We won't say + anything about the past. But I ain't set on having you shot. There's a + consideration that would stop me, and I cal'late you know what it is.” + </p> + <p> + Then the Colonel made a motion. But before he had taken a step Virginia + had crossed the room swiftly, and flung herself upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don't, Pa!” she cried. “Don't! Tell him that I will agree to it. Yes, + I will. I can't have you—shot.” The last word came falteringly, + faintly. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go,—honey,” whispered the Colonel, gently. His eyes did not + leave Eliphalet. He tried to disengage himself, but her fingers were + clasped about his neck in a passion of fear and love. And then, while she + clung to him, her head was raised to listen. The sound of Stephen Brice's + voice held her as in a spell. His words were coming coldly, deliberately, + and yet so sharply that each seemed to fall like a lash. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hopper, if ever I hear of your repeating what you have seen or heard + in this room, I will make this city and this state too hot for you to live + in. I know you. I know how you hide in areas, how you talk sedition in + private, how you have made money out of other men's misery. And, what is + more, I can prove that you have had traitorous dealings with the + Confederacy. General Sherman has been good enough to call himself a friend + of mine, and if he prosecutes you for your dealings in Memphis, you will + get a term in a Government prison, You ought to be hung. Colonel Carvel + has shown you the door. Now go.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Hopper went. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. FROM THE LETTERS OF MAJOR STEPHEN BRICE + </h2> + <p> + Of the Staff of General Sherman on the March to the Sea, and on the March + from Savannah Northward. + </p> + <p> + HEADQUARTERS MILITARY DIVISION OF THE MISSISSIPPI GOLDSBORO, N.C. MARCH + 24, 1865 + </p> + <p> + DEAR MOTHER: The South Carolina Campaign is a thing of the past. I pause + as I write these words—they seem so incredible to me. We have + marched the four hundred and twenty-five miles in fifty days, and the + General himself has said that it is the longest and most important march + ever made by an organized army in a civilized country. I know that you + will not be misled by the words “civilized country.” Not until the history + of this campaign is written will the public realize the wide rivers and + all but impassable swamps we have crossed with our baggage trains and + artillery. The roads (by courtesy so called) were a sea of molasses and + every mile of them has had to be corduroyed. For fear of worrying you I + did not write you from Savannah how they laughed at us for starting at + that season of the year. They said we would not go ten miles, and I most + solemnly believe that no one but “Uncle Billy” and an army organized and + equipped by him could have gone ten miles. Nothing seems to stop him. You + have probably remarked in the tone of my letters ever since we left + Kingston for the sea, a growing admiration for “my General.” + </p> + <p> + It seems very strange that this wonderful tactician can be the same man I + met that day going to the Arsenal in the streetcar, and again at Camp + Jackson. I am sure that history will give him a high place among the + commanders of the world. Certainly none was ever more tireless than he. He + never fights a battle when it can be avoided, and his march into Columbia + while threatening Charleston and Augusta was certainly a master stroke of + strategy. + </p> + <p> + I think his simplicity his most remarkable trait. You should see him as he + rides through the army, an erect figure, with his clothes all angular and + awry, and an expanse of white sock showing above his low shoes. You can + hear his name running from file to file; and some times the new regiments + can't resist cheering. He generally says to the Colonel:—“Stop that + noise, sir. Don't like it.” + </p> + <p> + On our march to the sea, if the orders were ever given to turn northward, + “the boys” would get very much depressed. One moonlight night I was + walking my horse close to the General's over the pine needles, when we + overheard this conversation between two soldiers:— “Say, John,” said + one, “I guess Uncle Billy don't know our corps is goin' north.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder if he does,'” said John. “If I could only get a sight of them + white socks, I'd know it was all right.” + </p> + <p> + The General rode past without a word, but I heard him telling the story to + Mower the next day. + </p> + <p> + I can find little if any change in his manner since I knew him first. He + is brusque, but kindly, and he has the same comradeship with officers and + men—and even the negroes who flock to our army. But few dare to take + advantage of it, and they never do so twice. I have been very near to him, + and have tried not to worry him or ask many foolish questions. Sometimes + on the march he will beckon me to close up to him, and we have a + conversation something on this order:— “There's Kenesaw, Brice.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Pointing with his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Went beyond lines there with small party. Rebel battery on summit. Had to + git. Fired on. Next day I thought Rebels would leave in the night. Got up + before daylight, fixed telescope on stand, and waited. Watched top of + Kenesaw. No Rebel. Saw one blue man creep up, very cautious, looked + around, waved his hat. Rebels gone. Thought so.” + </p> + <p> + This gives you but a faint idea of the vividness of his talk. When we make + a halt for any time, the general officers and their staffs flock to + headquarters to listen to his stories. When anything goes wrong, his + perception of it is like a lightning flash,—and he acts as quickly. + </p> + <p> + By the way, I have just found the letter he wrote me, offering this staff + position. Please keep it carefully, as it is something I shall value all + my life. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + GAYLESVILLE, ALABAMA, October 25, 1864. + + MAJOR STEPHEN A. BRICE: + + Dear Sir,—The world goes on, and wicked men sound asleep. Davis + has sworn to destroy my army, and Beauregard has come to do the + work,—so if you expect to share in our calamity, come down. I + offer you this last chance for staff duty, and hope you have had + enough in the field. I do not wish to hurry you, but you can't get + aboard a ship at sea. So if you want to make the trip, come to + Chattanooga and take your chances of meeting me. + + Yours truly, + + W. T. SHERMAN, Major General. +</pre> + <p> + One night—at Cheraw, I think it was—he sent for me to talk to + him. I found him lying on a bed of Spanish moss they had made for him. He + asked me a great many questions about St. Louis, and praised Mr. + Brinsmade, especially his management of the Sanitary Commission. + </p> + <p> + “Brice,” he said, after a while, “you remember when Grant sent me to beat + off Joe Johnston's army from Vicksburg. You were wounded then, by the way, + in that dash Lauman made. Grant thought he ought to warn me against + Johnston. + </p> + <p> + “'He's wily, Sherman,' said he. 'He's a dangerous man.' + </p> + <p> + “'Grant,' said I, 'you give me men enough and time enough to look over the + ground, and I'm not afraid of the devil.'” + </p> + <p> + Nothing could sum up the man better than that. And now what a trick of + fate it is that he has Johnston before him again, in what we hope will + prove the last gasp of the war! He likes Johnston, by the way, and has the + greatest respect for him. + </p> + <p> + I wish you could have peeped into our camp once in a while. In the rare + bursts of sunshine on this march our premises have been decorated with gay + red blankets, and sombre gray ones brought from the quartermasters, and + white Hudson's Bay blankets (not so white now), all being between forked + sticks. It is wonderful how the pitching of a few tents, and the busy + crackle of a few fires, and the sound of voices—sometimes merry, + sometimes sad, depending on the weather, will change the look of a lonely + pine knoll. You ask me how we fare. I should be heartily ashamed if a word + of complaint ever fell from my lips. But the men! Whenever I wake up at + night with my feet in a puddle between the blankets, I think of the men. + The corduroy roads which our horses stumble over through the mud, they + make as well as march on. Our flies are carried in wagons, and our + utensils and provisions. They must often bear on their backs the little + dog-tents, under which, put up by their own labor, they crawl to sleep, + wrapped in a blanket they have carried all day, perhaps waist deep in + water. The food they eat has been in their haversacks for many a weary + mile, and is cooked in the little skillet and pot which have also been a + part of their burden. Then they have their musket and accoutrements, and + the “forty rounds” at their backs. Patiently, cheerily tramping along, + going they know not where, nor care much either, so it be not in retreat. + Ready to make roads, throw up works, tear up railroads, or hew out and + build wooden bridges; or, best of all, to go for the Johnnies under hot + sun or heavy rain, through swamp and mire and quicksand. They marched ten + miles to storm Fort McAllister. And how the cheers broke from them when + the pop pop pop of the skirmish line began after we came in sight of + Savannah! No man who has seen but not shared their life may talk of + personal hardship. + </p> + <p> + We arrived at this pretty little town yesterday, so effecting a junction + with Schofield, who got in with the 3d Corps the day before. I am writing + at General Schofield's headquarters. There was a bit of a battle on + Tuesday at Bentonville, and we have come hither in smoke, as usual. But + this time we thank Heaven that it is not the smoke of burning homes,—only + some resin the “Johnnies” set on fire before they left. + </p> + <p> + I must close. General Sherman has just sent for me. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ON BOARD DESPATCH BOAT “MARTIN.” + AT SEA, March 25, 1865. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MOTHER: A most curious thing has happened. But I may as well begin at + the beginning. When I stopped writing last evening at the summons of the + General, I was about to tell you something of the battle of Bentonville on + Tuesday last. Mower charged through as bad a piece of wood and swamp as I + ever saw, and got within one hundred yards of Johnston himself, who was at + the bridge across Mill Creek. Of course we did not know this at the time, + and learned it from prisoners. + </p> + <p> + As I have written you, I have been under fire very little since coming to + the staff. When the battle opened, however, I saw that if I stayed with + the General (who was then behind the reserves) I would see little or + nothing; I went ahead “to get information” beyond the line of battle into + the woods. I did not find these favorable to landscape views, and just as + I was turning my horse back again I caught sight of a commotion some + distance to my right. The Rebel skirmish line had fallen back just that + instant, two of our skirmishers were grappling with a third man, who was + fighting desperately. It struck me as singular that the fellow was not in + gray, but had on some sort of dark clothes. + </p> + <p> + I could not reach them in the swamp on horseback, and was in the act of + dismounting when the man fell, and then they set out to carry him to the + rear, still farther to my right, beyond the swamp. I shouted, and one of + the skirmishers came up. I asked him what the matter was. + </p> + <p> + “We've got a spy, sir,” he said excitedly. + </p> + <p> + “A spy! Here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Major. He was hid in the thicket yonder, lying flat on his face. He + reckoned that our boys would run right over him and that he'd get into our + lines that way. Tim Foley stumbled on him, and he put up as good a fight + with his fists as any man I ever saw.” + </p> + <p> + Just then a regiment swept past us. That night I told the General, who + sent over to the headquarters of the 17th Corps to inquire. The word came + back that the man's name was Addison, and he claimed to be a Union + sympathizer who owned a plantation near by. He declared that he had been + conscripted by the Rebels, wounded, sent back home, and was now about to + be pressed in again. He had taken this method of escaping to our lines. It + was a common story enough, but General Mower added in his message that he + thought the story fishy. This was because the man's appearance was very + striking, and he seemed the type of Confederate fighter who would do and + dare anything. He had a wound, which had been a bad one, evidently got + from a piece of shell. But they had been able to find nothing on him. + Sherman sent back word to keep the man until he could see him in person. + It was about nine o'clock last night when I reached the house the General + has taken. A prisoner's guard was resting outside, and the hall was full + of officers. They said that the General was awaiting me, and pointed to + the closed door of a room that had been the dining room. I opened it. + </p> + <p> + Two candles were burning in pewter sticks on the bare mahogany table. + There was the General sitting beside them, with his legs crossed, holding + some crumpled tissue paper very near his eyes, and reading. He did not + look up when I entered. I was aware of a man standing, tall and straight, + just out of range of the candles' rays. He wore the easy dress of a + Southern planter, with the broad felt hat. The head was flung back so that + there was just a patch of light on the chin, and the lids of the eyes in + the shadow were half closed. + </p> + <p> + My sensations are worth noting. For the moment I felt precisely as I had + when I was hit by that bullet in Lauman's charge. I was aware of something + very like pain, yet I could not place the cause of it. But this is what + since has made me feel queer: you doubtless remember staying at + Hollingdean, when I was a boy, and hearing the story of Lord Northwell's + daredevil Royalist ancestor,—the one with the lace collar over the + dull-gold velvet, and the pointed chin, and the lazy scorn in the eyes. + Those eyes are painted with drooping lids. The first time I saw Clarence + Colfax I thought of that picture—and now I thought of the picture + first. + </p> + <p> + The General's voice startled me. + </p> + <p> + “Major Brice, do you know this gentleman?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, General.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” + </p> + <p> + “His name is Colfax, sir—Colonel Colfax, I think” + </p> + <p> + “Thought so,” said the General. + </p> + <p> + I have thought much of that scene since, as I am steaming northward over + green seas and under cloudless skies, and it has seemed very unreal. I + should almost say supernatural when I reflect how I have run across this + man again and again, and always opposing him. I can recall just how he + looked at the slave auction, which seem, so long ago: very handsome, very + boyish, and yet with the air of one to be deferred to. It was sufficiently + remarkable that I should have found him in Vicksburg. But now—to be + brought face to face with him in this old dining room in Goldsboro! And he + a prisoner. He had not moved. I did not know how he would act, but I went + up to him and held out my hand, and said.—“How do you do, Colonel + Colfax?” + </p> + <p> + I am sure that my voice was not very steady, for I cannot help liking him + And then his face lighted up and he gave me his hand. And he smiled at me + and again at the General, as much as to say that it was all over. He has a + wonderful smile. + </p> + <p> + “We seem to run into each other, Major Brice,” said he. + </p> + <p> + The pluck of the man was superb. I could see that the General, too, was + moved, from the way he looked at him. And he speaks a little more abruptly + at such times. + </p> + <p> + “Guess that settles it, Colonel,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon it does, General,” said Clarence, still smiling. The General + turned from him to the table with a kind of jerk and clapped his hand on + the tissue paper. + </p> + <p> + “These speak for themselves, sir,” he said. “It is very plain that they + would have reached the prominent citizens for whom they were intended if + you had succeeded in your enterprise. You were captured out of uniform You + know enough of war to appreciate the risk you ran. Any statement to make?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Call Captain Vaughan, Brice, and ask him to conduct the prisoner back.” + </p> + <p> + “May I speak to him, General?” I asked. The General nodded. + </p> + <p> + I asked him if I could write home for him or do anything else. That seemed + to touch him. Some day I shall tell you what he said. + </p> + <p> + Then Vaughan took him out, and I heard the guard shoulder arms and tramp + away in the night. The General and I were left alone with the mahogany + table between us, and a family portrait of somebody looking down on us + from the shadow on the wall. A moist spring air came in at the open + windows, and the candles flickered. After a silence, I ventured to say: + </p> + <p> + “I hope he won't be shot, General.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know, Brice,” he answered. “Can't tell now. Hate to shoot him, but + war is war. Magnificent class he belongs to—pity we should have to + fight those fellows.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and drummed on the table. “Brice,” said he, “I'm going to send + you to General Grant at City Point with despatches. I'm sorry Dunn went + back yesterday, but it can't be helped. Can you start in half an hour?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to ride to Kinston. The railroad won't be through until + to-morrow: I'll telegraph there, and to General Easton at Morehead City. + He'll have a boat for you. Tell Grant I expect to run up there in a day or + two myself, when things are arranged here. You may wait until I come.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + I turned to go, but Clarence Colfax was on my mind “General?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh! what?” + </p> + <p> + “General, could you hold Colonel Colfax until I see you again?” + </p> + <p> + It was a bold thing to say, and I quaked. And he looked at me in his keen + way, through and through “You saved his life once before, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “You allowed me to have him sent home from Vicksburg, sir.” + </p> + <p> + He answered with one of his jokes—apropos of something he said on + the Court House steps at Vicksburg. Perhaps I shall tell it to you + sometime. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he said, “I'll see, I'll see. Thank God this war is pretty + near over. I'll let you know, Brice, before I shoot him.” + </p> + <p> + I rode the thirty odd miles to Kinston in—little more than three + hours. A locomotive was waiting for me, and I jumped into a cab with a + friendly engineer. Soon we were roaring seaward through the vast pine + forests. It was a lonely journey, and you were much in my mind. My + greatest apprehension was that we might be derailed and the despatches + captured; for as fast as our army had advanced, the track of it had closed + again, like the wake of a ship at sea. Guerillas were roving about, + tearing up ties and destroying bridges. + </p> + <p> + There was one five-minute interval of excitement when, far down the tunnel + through the forest, we saw a light gleaming. The engineer said there was + no house there, that it must be a fire. But we did not slacken our speed, + and gradually the leaping flames grew larger and redder until we were upon + them. + </p> + <p> + Not one gaunt figure stood between them and us. Not one shot broke the + stillness of the night. As dawn broke I beheld the flat, gray waters of + the Sound stretching away to the eastward, and there was the boat at the + desolate wharf beside the warehouse, her steam rising white in the chill + morning air. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. THE SAME, CONTINUED + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + HEADQUARTERS ARMIES OF THE UNITED STATES, + CITY POINT, VIRGINIA, March 28, 1865. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MOTHER: I arrived here safely the day before yesterday, and I hope + that you will soon receive some of the letters I forwarded on that day. It + is an extraordinary place, this City Point; a military city sprung up like + a mushroom in a winter. And my breath was quite taken away when I first + caught sight of it on the high table-land. The great bay in front of it, + which the Appomattox helps to make, is a maze of rigging and smoke-pipes, + like the harbor of a prosperous seaport. There are gunboats and supply + boats, schooners and square-riggers and steamers, all huddled together, + and our captain pointed out to me the 'Malvern' flying Admiral Porter's + flag. Barges were tied up at the long wharves, and these were piled high + with wares and flanked by squat warehouses. Although it was Sunday, a + locomotive was puffing and panting along the foot of the ragged bank. + </p> + <p> + High above, on the flat promontory between the two rivers, is the city of + tents and wooden huts, the great trees in their fresh faint green towering + above the low roofs. At the point of the bluff a large flag drooped + against its staff, and I did not have to be told that this was General + Grant's headquarters. + </p> + <p> + There was a fine steamboat lying at the wharf, and I had hardly stepped + ashore before they told me she was President Lincoln's. I read the name on + her—the 'River Queen'. Yes, the President is here, too, with his + wife and family. + </p> + <p> + There are many fellows here with whom I was brought up in Boston. I am + living with Jack Hancock, whom you will remember well. He is a captain + now, and has a beard. + </p> + <p> + But I must go on with my story. I went straight to General Grant's + headquarters,—just a plain, rough slat house such as a contractor + might build for a temporary residence. Only the high flagstaff and the + Stars and Stripes distinguish it from many others of the same kind. A + group of officers stood chatting outside of it, and they told me that the + General had walked over to get his mail. He is just as unassuming and + democratic as “my general.” General Rankin took me into the office, a rude + room, and we sat down at the long table there. Presently the door opened, + and a man came in with a slouch hat on and his coat unbuttoned. He was + smoking a cigar. We rose to our feet, and I saluted. + </p> + <p> + It was the general-in-chief. He stared at me, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “General, this is Major Brice of General Sherman's staff. He has brought + despatches from Goldsboro,” said Rankin. + </p> + <p> + He nodded, took off his hat and laid it on the table, and reached out for + the despatches. While reading them he did not move, except to light + another cigar. I am getting hardened to unrealities,—perhaps I + should say marvels, now. Our country abounds in them. It did not seem so + strange that this silent General with the baggy trousers was the man who + had risen by leaps and bounds in four years to be general-in-chief of our + armies. His face looks older and more sunken than it did on that day in + the street near the Arsenal, in St. Louis, when he was just a military + carpet-bagger out of a job. He is not changed otherwise. But how different + the impressions made by the man in authority and the same man out of + authority! + </p> + <p> + He made a sufficient impression upon me then, as I told you at the time. + That was because I overheard his well-merited rebuke to Hopper. But I + little dreamed that I was looking on the man who was to come out of the + West and save this country from disunion. And how quietly and simply he + has done it, without parade or pomp or vainglory. Of all those who, with + every means at their disposal, have tried to conquer Lee, he is the only + one who has in any manner succeeded. He has been able to hold him fettered + while Sherman has swept the Confederacy. And these are the two men who + were unknown when the war began. + </p> + <p> + When the General had finished reading the despatches, he folded them + quickly and put them in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down and tell me about this last campaign of yours, Major,” he said. + </p> + <p> + I talked with him for about half an hour. I should rather say talked to + him. He is a marked contrast to Sherman in this respect. I believe that he + only opened his lips to ask two questions. You may well believe that they + were worth the asking, and they revealed an intimate knowledge of our + march from Savannah. I was interrupted many times by the arrival of + different generals, aides, etc. He sat there smoking, imperturbable. + Sometimes he said “yes” or “no,” but oftener he merely nodded his head. + Once he astounded by a brief question an excitable young lieutenant, who + floundered. The General seemed to know more than he about the matter he + had in hand. + </p> + <p> + When I left him, he asked me where I was quartered, and said he hoped I + would be comfortable. + </p> + <p> + Jack Hancock was waiting for me, and we walked around the city, which even + has barber shops. Everywhere were signs of preparation, for the roads are + getting dry, and the General preparing for a final campaign against Lee. + Poor Lee! What a marvellous fight he has made with his material. I think + that he will be reckoned among the greatest generals of our race. + </p> + <p> + Of course, I was very anxious to get a glimpse of the President, and so we + went down to the wharf, where we heard that he had gone off for a + horseback ride. They say that he rides nearly every day, over the corduroy + roads and through the swamps, and wherever the boys see that tall hat they + cheer. They know it as well as the lookout tower on the flats of Bermuda + Hundred. He lingers at the campfires and swaps stories with the officers, + and entertains the sick and wounded in the hospitals. Isn't it like him? + </p> + <p> + He hasn't changed, either. I believe that the great men don't change. Away + with your Napoleons and your Marlboroughs and your Stuarts. These are the + days of simple men who command by force of character, as well as + knowledge. Thank God for the American! I believe that he will change the + world, and strip it of its vainglory and hypocrisy. + </p> + <p> + In the evening, as we were sitting around Hancock's fire, an officer came + in. + </p> + <p> + “Is Major Brice here?” he asked. I jumped up. + </p> + <p> + “The President sends his compliments, Major, and wants to know if you + would care to pay him a little visit.” + </p> + <p> + If I would care to pay him a little visit! That officer had to hurry to + keep up with the as I walked to the wharf. He led me aboard the River + Queen, and stopped at the door of the after-cabin. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln was sitting under the lamp, slouched down in his chair, in the + position I remembered so well. It was as if I had left him but yesterday. + He was whittling, and he had made some little toy for his son Tad, who ran + out as I entered. + </p> + <p> + When he saw me, the President rose to his great height, a sombre, towering + figure in black. He wears a scraggly beard now. But the sad smile, the + kindly eyes in their dark caverns, the voice—all were just the same. + I stopped when I looked upon the face. It was sad and lined when I had + known it, but now all the agony endured by the millions, North and South, + seemed written on it. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you remember me, Major?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The wonder was that he had remembered me! I took his big, bony hand, which + reminded me of Judge Whipple's. Yes, it was just as if I had been with him + always, and he were still the gaunt country lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” I said, “indeed I do.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me with that queer expression of mirth he sometimes has. + </p> + <p> + “Are these Boston ways, Steve?” he asked. “They're tenacious. I didn't + think that any man could travel so close to Sherman and keep 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “They're unfortunate ways, sir,” I said, “if they lead you to misjudge + me.” + </p> + <p> + He laid his hand on my shoulder, just as he had done at Freeport. + </p> + <p> + “I know you, Steve,” he said. “I shuck an ear of corn before I buy it. + I've kept tab on you a little the last five years, and when I heard + Sherman had sent a Major Brice up here, I sent for you.” + </p> + <p> + What I said was boyish. “I tried very hard to get a glimpse of you to-day, + Mr. Lincoln. I wanted to see you again.” + </p> + <p> + He was plainly pleased. + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to hear it, Steve,” he said. “Then you haven't joined the ranks + of the grumblers? You haven't been one of those who would have liked to + try running this country for a day or two, just to show me how to do it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” I said, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” he cried, slapping his knee. “I didn't think you were that kind, + Steve. Now sit down and tell me about this General of mine who wears + seven-leagued boots. What was it—four hundred and twenty miles in + fifty days? How many navigable rivers did he step across?” He began to + count on those long fingers of his. “The Edisto, the Broad, the Catawba, + the Pedee, and—?” + </p> + <p> + “The Cape Fear,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Is—is the General a nice man?” asked Mr. Lincoln, his eyes + twinkling. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, he is that,” I answered heartily. “And not a man in the army + wants anything when he is around. You should see that Army of the + Mississippi, sir. They arrived in Goldsboro' in splendid condition.” + </p> + <p> + He got up and gathered his coat-tails under his arms, and began to walk up + and down the cabin. + </p> + <p> + “What do the boys call the General?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + I told him “Uncle Billy.” And, thinking the story of the white socks might + amuse him, I told him that. It did amuse him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now,” he said, “any man that has a nickname like that is all right. + That's the best recommendation you can give the General—just say + 'Uncle Billy.'” He put one lip over the other. “You've given 'Uncle Billy' + a good recommendation, Steve,” he said. “Did you ever hear the story of + Mr. Wallace's Irish gardener?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when Wallace was hiring his gardener he asked him whom he had been + living with. + </p> + <p> + “'Misther Dalton, sorr.' + </p> + <p> + “'Have you a recommendation, Terence?' + </p> + <p> + “'A ricommindation is it, sorr? Sure I have nothing agin Misther Dalton, + though he moightn't be knowing just the respict the likes of a first-class + garthener is entitled to.'” + </p> + <p> + He did not laugh. He seldom does, it seems, at his own stories. But I + could not help laughing over the “ricommindation” I had given the General. + He knew that I was embarrassed, and said kindly:— “Now tell me + something about 'Uncle Billy's Bummers.' I hear that they have a most + effectual way of tearing up railroads.” + </p> + <p> + I told him of Poe's contrivance of the hook and chain, and how the + heaviest rails were easily overturned with it, and how the ties were piled + and fired and the rails twisted out of shape. The President listened to + every word with intense interest. + </p> + <p> + “By Jing!” he exclaimed, “we have got a general. Caesar burnt his bridges + behind him, but Sherman burns his rails. Now tell me some more.” + </p> + <p> + He helped me along by asking questions. Then I began to tell him how the + negroes had flocked into our camps, and how simply and plainly the General + had talked to them, advising them against violence of any kind, and + explaining to them that “Freedom” meant only the liberty to earn their own + living in their own way, and not freedom from work. + </p> + <p> + “We have got a general, sure enough,” he cried. “He talks to them plainly, + does he, so that they understand? I say to you, Brice,” he went on + earnestly, “the importance of plain talk can't be overestimated. Any + thought, however abstruse, can be put in speech that a boy or a negro can + grasp. Any book, however deep, can be written in terms that everybody can + comprehend, if a man only tries hard enough. When I was a boy I used to + hear the neighbors talking, and it bothered me so because I could not + understand them that I used to sit up half the night thinking things out + for myself. I remember that I did not know what the word demonstrate + meant. So I stopped my studies then and there and got a volume of Euclid. + Before I got through I could demonstrate everything in it, and I have + never been bothered with demonstrate since.” + </p> + <p> + I thought of those wonderfully limpid speeches of his: of the Freeport + debates, and of the contrast between his style and Douglas's. And I + understood the reason for it at last. I understood the supreme mind that + had conceived the Freeport Question. And as I stood before him then, at + the close of this fearful war, the words of the Gospel were in my mind. + 'So the last shall be first, and the first, last; for many be called, but + few chosen.' + </p> + <p> + How I wished that all those who have maligned and tortured him could talk + with him as I had talked with him. To know his great heart would disarm + them of all antagonism. They would feel, as I feel, that his life is so + much nobler than theirs, and his burdens so much heavier, that they would + go away ashamed of their criticism. + </p> + <p> + He said to me once, “Brice, I hope we are in sight of the end, now. I hope + that we may get through without any more fighting. I don't want to see any + more of our countrymen killed. And then,” he said, as if talking to + himself, “and then we must show them mercy—mercy.” + </p> + <p> + I thought it a good time to mention Colfax's case. He has been on my mind + ever since. Mr. Lincoln listened attentively. Once he sighed, and he was + winding his long fingers around each other while I talked. + </p> + <p> + “I saw the man captured, Mr. Lincoln,” I concluded, “And if a technicality + will help him out, he was actually within his own skirmish line at the + time. The Rebel skirmishers had not fallen back on each side of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Brice,” he said, with that sorrowful smile, “a technicality might save + Colfax, but it won't save me. Is this man a friend of yours?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + That was a poser. + </p> + <p> + “I think he is, Mr. Lincoln. I should like to call him so. I admire him.” + And I went on to tell of what he had done at Vicksburg, leaving out, + however, my instrumentality in having him sent north. The President used + almost Sherman's words. + </p> + <p> + “By Jing!” he exclaimed. (That seems to be a favorite expression of his.) + “Those fellows were born to fight. If it wasn't for them, the South would + have quit long ago.” Then he looked at me in his funny way, and said, “See + here, Steve, if this Colfax isn't exactly a friend of yours, there must be + some reason why you are pleading for him in this way.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” I said, at length, “I should like to get him off on account + of his cousin, Miss Virginia Carvel. And I told him something about Miss + Carvel, and how she had helped you with the Union sergeant that day in the + hot hospital. And how she had nursed Judge Whipple.” + </p> + <p> + “She's a fine woman,” he said. “Those women have helped those men to + prolong this war about three years.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet we must save them for the nation's sake. They are to be the + mothers of our patriots in days to come. Is she a friend of yours, too, + Steve?” + </p> + <p> + What was I to say? + </p> + <p> + “Not especially, sir,” I answered finally. “I have had to offend her + rather often. But I know that she likes my mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Why!” he cried, jumping up, “she's a daughter of Colonel Carvel. I always + had an admiration for that man. An ideal Southern gentleman of the old + school,—courteous, as honorable and open as the day, and as brave as + a lion. You've heard the story of how he threw a man named Babcock out of + his store, who tried to bribe him?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard you tell it in that tavern, sir. And I have heard it since.” It + did me good to hear the Colonel praised. + </p> + <p> + “I always liked that story,” he said. “By the way, what's become of the + Colonel?” + </p> + <p> + “He got away—South, sir,” I answered. “He couldn't stand it. He + hasn't been heard of since the summer of '63. They think he was killed in + Texas. But they are not positive. They probably never will be,” I added. + He was silent awhile. + </p> + <p> + “Too bad!” he said. “Too bad. What stuff those men are made of! And so you + want me to pardon this Colfax?” + </p> + <p> + “It would be presumptuous in me to go that far, sir,” I replied. “But I + hoped you might speak of it to the General when he comes. And I would be + glad of the opportunity to testify.” + </p> + <p> + He took a few strides up and down the room. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he said, “that's my vice—pardoning, saying yes. It's + always one more drink with me. It—” he smiled—“it makes me + sleep better. I've pardoned enough Rebels to populate New Orleans. Why,” + he continued, with his whimsical look, “just before I left Washington, in + comes one of your Missouri senators with a list of Rebels who are shut up + in McDowell's and Alton. I said:— “'Senator, you're not going to ask + me to turn loose all those at once?' + </p> + <p> + “He said just what you said when you were speaking of Missouri a while + ago, that he was afraid of guerilla warfare, and that the war was nearly + over. I signed 'em. And then what does he do but pull out another batch + longer than the first! And those were worse than the first. + </p> + <p> + “'What! you don't want me to turn these loose, too?' + </p> + <p> + “'Yes, I do, Mr. President. I think it will pay to be merciful.' + </p> + <p> + “'Then durned if I don't,' I said, and I signed 'em.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + STEAMER “RIVER QUEEN.” + ON THE POTOMAC, April 9, 1865. +</pre> + <p> + DEAR MOTHER: I am glad that the telegrams I have been able to send reached + you safely. I have not had time to write, and this will be but a short + letter. + </p> + <p> + You will be surprised to see this heading. I am on the President's boat, + in the President's party, bound with him for Washington. And this is how + it happened: The very afternoon of the day I wrote you, General Sherman + himself arrived at City Point on the steamer 'Russia'. I heard the + salutes, and was on the wharf to meet him. That same afternoon he and + General Grant and Admiral Porter went aboard the River Queen to see the + President. How I should have liked to be present at that interview! After + it was over they all came out of the cabin together General Grant silent, + and smoking, as usual; General Sherman talking vivaciously; and Lincoln + and the Admiral smiling and listening. That was historic! I shall never + expect to see such a sight again in all my days. You can imagine my + surprise when the President called me from where I was standing at some + distance with the other officers. He put his hand on my shoulder then and + there, and turned to General Sherman. + </p> + <p> + “Major Brice is a friend of mine, General,” he said. “I knew him in + Illinois.” + </p> + <p> + “He never told me that,” said the General. + </p> + <p> + “I guess he's got a great many important things shut up inside of him,” + said Mr. Lincoln, banteringly. “But he gave you a good recommendation, + Sherman. He said that you wore white socks, and that the boys liked you + and called you 'Uncle Billy.' And I told him that was the best + recommendation he could give anybody.” + </p> + <p> + I was frightened. But the General only looked at me with those eyes that + go through everything, and then he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Brice,” he said, “You'll have my reputation ruined.” + </p> + <p> + “Sherman,” said Mr. Lincoln, “you don't want the Major right away, do you? + Let him stay around here for a while with me. I think he'll find it + interesting.” He looked at the general-in-chief, who was smiling just a + little bit. “I've got a sneaking notion that Grant's going to do + something.” + </p> + <p> + Then they all laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Mr. Lincoln,” said my General, “you may have Brice. Be careful + he doesn't talk you to death—he's said too much already.” + </p> + <p> + That is how I came to stay. + </p> + <p> + I have no time now to tell you all that I have seen and heard. I have + ridden with the President, and have gone with him on errands of mercy and + errands of cheer. I have been almost within sight of what we hope is the + last struggle of this frightful war. I have listened to the guns of Five + Forks, where Sheridan and Warren bore their own colors in the front of the + charge, I was with Mr. Lincoln while the battle of Petersburg was raging, + and there were tears in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Then came the retreat of Lee and the instant pursuit of Grant, and—Richmond. + The quiet General did not so much as turn aside to enter the smoking city + he had besieged for so long. But I went there, with the President. And if + I had one incident in my life to live over again, I should choose this. As + we were going up the river, a disabled steamer lay across the passage in + the obstruction of piles the Confederates had built. Mr. Lincoln would not + wait. There were but a few of us in his party, and we stepped into Admiral + Porter's twelve-oared barge and were rowed to Richmond, the smoke of the + fires still darkening the sky. We landed within a block of Libby Prison. + </p> + <p> + With the little guard of ten sailors he marched the mile and a half to + General Weitzel's headquarters,—the presidential mansion of the + Confederacy. You can imagine our anxiety. I shall remember him always as I + saw him that day, a tall, black figure of sorrow, with the high silk hat + we have learned to love. Unafraid, his heart rent with pity, he walked + unharmed amid such tumult as I have rarely seen. The windows filled, the + streets ahead of us became choked, as the word that the President was + coming ran on like quick-fire. The mob shouted and pushed. Drunken men + reeled against him. The negroes wept aloud and cried hosannas. They + pressed upon him that they might touch the hem of his coat, and one threw + himself on his knees and kissed the President's feet. + </p> + <p> + Still he walked on unharmed, past the ashes and the ruins. Not as a + conqueror was he come, to march in triumph. Not to destroy, but to heal. + Though there were many times when we had to fight for a path through the + crowds, he did not seem to feel the danger. + </p> + <p> + Was it because he knew that his hour was not yet come? + </p> + <p> + To-day, on the boat, as we were steaming between the green shores of the + Potomac, I overheard him reading to Mr. Sumner:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Duncan is in his grave; + After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; + Treason has done his worst; nor steel, nor poison, + Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, + Can touch him further.” + + WILLARD'S HOTEL, WASHINGTON, April 10, 1865. +</pre> + <p> + I have looked up the passage, and have written it in above. It haunts me. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. MAN OF SORROW + </h2> + <p> + The train was late—very late. It was Virginia who first caught sight + of the new dome of the Capitol through the slanting rain, but she merely + pressed her lips together and said nothing. In the dingy brick station of + the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad more than one person paused to look after + them, and a kind-hearted lady who had been in the car kissed the girl + good-by. + </p> + <p> + “You think that you can find your uncle's house, my dear?” she asked, + glancing at Virginia with concern. Through all of that long journey she + had worn a look apart. “Do you think you can find your uncle's house?” + </p> + <p> + Virginia started. And then she smiled as she looked at the honest, alert, + and squarely built gentleman beside her. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Brent can, Mrs. Ware,” she said. “He can find anything.” + </p> + <p> + Whereupon the kind lady gave the Captain her hand. “You look as if you + could, Captain,” said she. “Remember, if General Carvel is out of town, + you promised to bring her to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am,” said Captain Lige, “and so I shall.” + </p> + <p> + “Kerridge, kerridge! Right dis-a-way! No sah, dat ain't de kerridge you + wants. Dat's it, lady, you'se lookin at it. Kerridge, kerridge, kerridge!” + </p> + <p> + Virginia tried bravely to smile, but she was very near to tears as she + stood on the uneven pavement and looked at the scrawny horses standing + patiently in the steady downpour. All sorts of people were coming and + going, army officers and navy officers and citizens of states and + territories, driving up and driving away. + </p> + <p> + And this was Washington! + </p> + <p> + She was thinking then of the multitude who came here with aching hearts,—with + heavier hearts than was hers that day. How many of the throng hurrying by + would not flee, if they could, back to the peaceful homes they had left? + But perhaps those homes were gone now. Destroyed, like her own, by the + war. Women with children at their breasts, and mothers bowed with sorrow, + had sought this city in their agony. Young men and old had come hither, + striving to keep back the thoughts of dear ones left behind, whom they + might never see again. And by the thousands and tens of thousands they had + passed from here to the places of blood beyond. + </p> + <p> + “Kerridge, sah! Kerridge!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where General Daniel Carvel lives?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah, reckon I does. I Street, sah. Jump right in, sah.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia sank back on the stuffy cushions of the rattle-trap, and then sat + upright again and stared out of the window at the dismal scene. They were + splashing through a sea of mud. Ever since they had left St. Louis, + Captain Lige had done his best to cheer her, and he did not intend to + desist now. + </p> + <p> + “This beats all,” he cried. “So this is Washington, Why, it don't compare + to St. Louis, except we haven't got the White House and the Capitol. + Jinny, it would take a scow to get across the street, and we don't have + ramshackly stores and nigger cabins bang up against fine Houses like that. + This is ragged. That's what it is, ragged. We don't have any dirty + pickaninnies dodging among the horses in our residence streets. I declare, + Jinny, if those aren't pigs!” + </p> + <p> + Virginia laughed. She could not help it. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Lige!” she said. “I hope Uncle Daniel has some breakfast for you. + You've had a good deal to put up with on this trip.” + </p> + <p> + “Lordy, Jinny,” said the Captain, “I'd put up with a good deal more than + this for the sake of going anywhere with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Even to such a doleful place as this?” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “This is all right, if the sun'll only come out and dry things up and let + us see the green on those trees,” he said, “Lordy, how I do love to see + the spring green in the sunlight!” + </p> + <p> + She put out her hand over his. + </p> + <p> + “Lige,” she said, “you know you're just trying to keep up my spirits. + You've been doing that ever since we left home.” + </p> + <p> + “No such thing,” he replied with vehemence. “There's nothing for you to be + cast down about.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but there is!” she cried. “Suppose I can't make your Black Republican + President pardon Clarence!” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh!” said the Captain, squeezing her hand and trying to appear + unconcerned. “Your Uncle Daniel knows Mr. Lincoln. He'll have that + arranged.” + </p> + <p> + Just then the rattletrap pulled up at the sidewalk, the wheels of the near + side in four inches of mud, and the Captain leaped out and spread the + umbrella. They were in front of a rather imposing house of brick, flanked + on one side by a house just like it, and on the other by a series of + dreary vacant lots where the rain had collected in pools. They climbed the + steps and rang the bell. In due time the door was opened by a smiling + yellow butler in black. + </p> + <p> + “Does General Carvel live here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yas, miss, But he ain't to home now. Done gone to New York.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” faltered Virginia. “Didn't he get my telegram day before yesterday? + I sent it to the War Department.” + </p> + <p> + “He's done gone since Saturday, miss.” And then, evidently impressed by + the young lady's looks, he added hospitably, “Kin I do anything fo' you, + miss?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm his niece, Miss Virginia Carvel, and this is Captain Brent.” + </p> + <p> + The yellow butler's face lighted up. + </p> + <p> + “Come right in, Miss Jinny, Done heerd de General speak of you often—yas'm. + De General'll be to home dis a'ternoon, suah. 'Twill do him good ter see + you, Miss Jinny. He's been mighty lonesome. Walk right in, Cap'n, and make + yo'selves at home. Lizbeth—Lizbeth!” + </p> + <p> + A yellow maid came running down the stairs. “Heah's Miss Jinny.” + </p> + <p> + “Lan' of goodness!” cried Lizbeth. “I knows Miss Jinny. Done seed her at + Calve't House. How is you, Miss Jinny?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Lizbeth,” said Virginia, listlessly sitting down on the hall + sofa. “Can you give us some breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “Yas'm,” said Lizbeth, “jes' reckon we kin.” She ushered them into a + walnut dining room, big and high and sombre, with plush-bottomed chairs + placed about—walnut also; for that was the fashion in those days. + But the Captain had no sooner seated himself than he shot up again and + started out. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going, Lige?” + </p> + <p> + “To pay off the carriage driver,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Let him wait,” said Virginia. “I'm going to the White House in a little + while.” + </p> + <p> + “What—what for?” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + “To see your Black Republican President,” she replied, with alarming + calmness. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Jinny,” he cried, in excited appeal, “don't go doin' any such fool + trick as that. Your Uncle Dan'l will be here this afternoon. He knows the + President. And then the thing'll be fixed all right, and no mistake.” + </p> + <p> + Her reply was in the same tone—almost a monotone—which she had + used for three days. It made the Captain very uneasy, for he knew when she + spoke in that way that her will was in it. + </p> + <p> + “And to lose that time,” she answered, “may be to have him shot.” + </p> + <p> + “But you can't get to the President without credentials,” he objected. + </p> + <p> + “What,” she flashed, “hasn't any one a right to see the President? You + mean to say that he will not see a woman in trouble? Then all these pretty + stories I hear of him are false. They are made up by the Yankees.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Captain Lige! He had some notion of the multitude of calls upon Mr. + Lincoln, especially at that time. But he could not, he dared not, remind + her of the principal reason for this,—Lee's surrender and the + approaching end of the war. And then the Captain had never seen Mr. + Lincoln. In the distant valley of the Mississippi he had only heard of the + President very conflicting things. He had heard him criticised and reviled + and praised, just as is every man who goes to the White House, be he saint + or sinner. And, during an administration, no man at a distance may come at + a President's true character and worth. The Captain had seen Lincoln + caricatured vilely. And again he had read and heard the pleasant anecdotes + of which Virginia had spoken, until he did not know what to believe. + </p> + <p> + As for Virginia, he knew her partisanship to, and undying love for, the + South; he knew the class prejudice which was bound to assert itself, and + he had seen enough in the girl's demeanor to fear that she was going to + demand rather than implore. She did not come of a race that was wont to + bend the knee. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he said despairingly, “you must eat some breakfast first, + Jinny.” + </p> + <p> + She waited with an ominous calmness until it was brought in, and then she + took a part of a roll and some coffee. + </p> + <p> + “This won't do,” exclaimed the Captain. “Why, why, that won't get you + halfway to Mr. Lincoln.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head, half smiling. + </p> + <p> + “You must eat enough, Lige,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He was finished in an incredibly short time, and amid the protestations of + Lizbeth and the yellow butler they got into the carriage again, and + splashed and rattled toward the White House. Once Virginia glanced out, + and catching sight of the bedraggled flags on the houses in honor of Lee's + surrender, a look of pain crossed her face. The Captain could not repress + a note of warning. + </p> + <p> + “Jinny,” said he, “I have an idea that you'll find the President a good + deal of a man. Now if you're allowed to see him, don't get him mad, Jinny, + whatever you do.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia stared straight ahead. + </p> + <p> + “If he is something of a man, Lige, he will not lose his temper with a + woman.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Lige subsided. And just then they came in sight of the house of + the Presidents, with its beautiful portico and its broad wings. And they + turned in under the dripping trees of the grounds. A carriage with a black + coachman and footman was ahead of them, and they saw two stately gentlemen + descend from it and pass the guard at the door. Then their turn came. The + Captain helped her out in his best manner, and gave some money to the + driver. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon he needn't wait for us this time, Jinny,” said be. She shook her + head and went in, he following, and they were directed to the anteroom of + the President's office on the second floor. There were many people in the + corridors, and one or two young officers in blue who stared at her. She + passed them with her head high. + </p> + <p> + But her spirits sank when they came to the anteroom. It was full of all + sorts of people. Politicians, both prosperous and seedy, full faced and + keen faced, seeking office; women, officers, and a one-armed soldier + sitting in the corner. He was among the men who offered Virginia their + seats, and the only one whom she thanked. But she walked directly to the + doorkeeper at the end of the room. Captain Lige was beside her. + </p> + <p> + “Can we see the President?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got an appointment?” said the old man. + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll have to wait your turn, sir,” he said, shaking his head and + looking at Virginia. And he added. “It's slow work waiting your turn, + there's so many governors and generals and senators, although the + session's over. It's a busy time, miss.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia went very close to him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, can't you do something?” she said. And added, with an inspiration, “I + must see him. It's a matter of life and death.” + </p> + <p> + She saw instantly, with a woman's instinct, that these words had had their + effect. The old man glanced at her again, as if demurring. + </p> + <p> + “You're sure, miss, it's life and death?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, why should I say so if it were not?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “The orders are very strict,” he said. “But the President told me to give + precedence to cases when a life is in question. Just you wait a minute, + miss, until Governor Doddridge comes out, and I'll see what I can do for + you. Give me your name, please, miss.” + </p> + <p> + She remained standing where she was. In a little while the heavy door + opened, and a portly, rubicund man came out with a smile on his face. He + broke into a laugh, when halfway across the room, as if the memory of what + he had heard were too much for his gravity. The doorkeeper slipped into + the room, and there was a silent, anxious interval. Then he came out + again. + </p> + <p> + “The President will see you, miss.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Lige started forward with her, but she restrained him. + </p> + <p> + “Wait for me here, Lige,” she said. + </p> + <p> + She swept in alone, and the door closed softly after her. The room was a + big one, and there were maps on the table, with pins sticking in them. She + saw that much, and then—! + </p> + <p> + Could this fantastically tall, stooping figure before her be that of the + President of the United States? She stopped, as from the shock he gave + her. The lean, yellow face with the mask-like lines all up and down, the + unkempt, tousled hair, the beard—why, he was a hundred times more + ridiculous than his caricatures. He might have stood for many of the poor + white trash farmers she had seen in Kentucky—save for the long black + coat. + </p> + <p> + “Is—is this Mr. Lincoln?” she asked, her breath taken away. + </p> + <p> + He bowed and smiled down at her. Somehow that smile changed his face a + little. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'll have to own up,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Virginia Carvel,” she said. “I have come all the way from St. + Louis to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Carvel,” said the President, looking at her intently, “I have rarely + been so flattered in my life. I—I hope I have not disappointed you.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia was justly angry. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you haven't,” she cried, her eyes flashing, “because I am what you + would call a Rebel.” + </p> + <p> + The mirth in the dark corners of his eyes disturbed her more and more. And + then she saw that the President was laughing. + </p> + <p> + “And have you a better name for it, Miss Carvel?” he asked. “Because I am + searching for a better name—just now.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent—sternly silent. And she tapped her foot on the + carpet. What manner of man was this? “Won't you sit down?” said the + President, kindly. “You must be tired after your journey.” And he put + forth a chair. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you,” said Virginia; “I think that I can say what I have come + to say better standing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mr. Lincoln, “that's not strange. I'm that way, too. The + words seem to come out better. That reminds me of a story they tell about + General Buck Tanner. Ever heard of Buck, Miss Carvel? No? Well, Buck was a + character. He got his title in the Mormon war. One day the boys asked him + over to the square to make a speech. The General was a little uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “'I'm all right when I get standing up, Liza,' he said to his wife. Then + the words come right along. Only trouble is they come too cussed fast. + How'm I going to stop 'em when I want to?' + </p> + <p> + “'Well, I du declare, Buck,' said she, 'I gave you credit for some sense. + All you've got to do is to set down. That'll end it, I reckon.' + </p> + <p> + “So the General went over to the square and talked for about an hour and a + half, and then a Chicago man shouted to him to dry up. The General looked + pained. + </p> + <p> + “'Boys,' said he, 'it's jest every bit as bad for me as it is for you. + You'll have to hand up a chair, boys, because I'm never going to get shet + of this goldarned speech any anther way.'” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln had told this so comically that Virginia was forced to laugh, + and she immediately hated herself. A man who could joke at such a time + certainly could not feel the cares and responsibilities of his office. He + should have been a comedian. And yet this was the President who had + conducted the war, whose generals had conquered the Confederacy. And she + was come to ask him a favor. Virginia swallowed her pride. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lincoln,” she began, “I have come to talk to you about my cousin, + Colonel Clarence Colfax.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be happy to talk to you about your cousin, Colonel Colfax, Miss + Carvel. Is he your third or fourth cousin?” + </p> + <p> + “He is my first cousin,” she retorted. + </p> + <p> + “Is he in the city?” asked Mr. Lincoln, innocently. “Why didn't he come + with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, haven't you heard?” she cried. “He is Clarence Colfax, of St. Louis, + now a Colonel in the army of the Confederate States.” + </p> + <p> + “Which army?” asked Mr. Lincoln. Virginia tossed her head in exasperation. + </p> + <p> + “In General Joseph Johnston's army,” she replied, trying to be patient. + “But now,” she gulped, “now he has been arrested as a spy by General + Sherman's army.” + </p> + <p> + “That's too bad,” answered Mr. Lincoln. + </p> + <p> + “And—and they are going to shoot him.” + </p> + <p> + “That's worse,” said Mr. Lincoln, gravely. “But I expect he deserves it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, he doesn't,” she cried. “You don't know how brave he is! He + floated down the Mississippi on a log, out of Vicksburg, and brought back + thousands and thousands of percussion caps. He rowed across the river when + the Yankee fleet was going down, and set fire to De Soto so that they + could see to shoot.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mr. Lincoln, “that's a good starter.” Then he looked + thoughtful. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Carvel,” said he, “that argument reminds me of a story about a man I + used to know in the old days in Illinois. His name was McNeil, and he was + a lawyer. + </p> + <p> + “One day he was defending a prisoner for assault and battery before Judge + Drake. + </p> + <p> + “'Judge, says McNeil, 'you oughtn't to lock this man up. It was a fair + fight, and he's the best man in the state in a fair fight. And, what's + more, he's never been licked in a fair fight in his life.' + </p> + <p> + “'And if your honor does lock me up,' the prisoner put in, 'I'll give your + honor a thunderin' big lickin' when I get out.' + </p> + <p> + “The Judge took off his coat. + </p> + <p> + “'Gentlemen,' said he, 'it's a powerful queer argument, but the Court will + admit it on its merits. The prisoner will please to step out on the + grass.'” + </p> + <p> + This time Virginia contrived merely to smile. She was striving against + something, she knew not what. Her breath was coming deeply, and she was + dangerously near to tears. Why? She could not tell. She had come into this + man's presence despising herself for having to ask him a favor. The sight + of his face she had ridiculed. Now she could not look into it without an + odd sensation. What was in it? Sorrow? Yes, that was nearest it. + </p> + <p> + What had the man done? Told her a few funny stories—given quizzical + answers to some of her questions. Quizzical, yes; but she could not be + sure then there was not wisdom in them, and that humiliated her. She had + never conceived of such a man. And, be it added gratuitously, Virginia + deemed herself something of an adept in dealing with men. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Mr. Lincoln, “to continue for the defence, I believe that + Colonel Colfax first distinguished himself at the time of Camp Jackson, + when of all the prisoners he refused to accept a parole.” + </p> + <p> + Startled, she looked up at him swiftly, and then down again. “Yes,” she + answered, “yes. But oh, Mr. Lincoln, please don't hold that against him.” + </p> + <p> + If she could only have seen his face then. But her lashes were dropped. + </p> + <p> + “My dear young lady,” replied the President, “I honor him for it. I was + merely elaborating the argument which you have begun. On the other hand, + it is a pity that he should have taken off that uniform which he adorned + and attempted to enter General Sherman's lines as a civilian,—as a + spy.” + </p> + <p> + He had spoken these last words very gently, but she was too excited to + heed his gentleness. She drew herself up, a gleam in her eyes like the + crest of a blue wave in a storm. + </p> + <p> + “A spy!” she cried; “it takes more courage to be a spy than anything else + in war. Then he will be shot. You are not content in, the North with what + you have gained. You are not content with depriving us of our rights, and + our fortunes, with forcing us back to an allegiance we despise. You are + not content with humiliating our generals and putting innocent men in + prisons. But now I suppose you will shoot us all. And all this mercy that + I have heard about means nothing—nothing—” + </p> + <p> + Why did she falter and stop? + </p> + <p> + “Miss Carvel,” said the President, “I am afraid from what I have heard + just now, that it means nothing.” Oh, the sadness of that voice,—the + ineffable sadness,—the sadness and the woe of a great nation! And + the sorrow in those eyes, the sorrow of a heavy cross borne meekly,—how + heavy none will ever know. The pain of a crown of thorns worn for a world + that did not understand. No wonder Virginia faltered and was silent. She + looked at Abraham Lincoln standing there, bent and sorrowful, and it was + as if a light had fallen upon him. But strangest of all in that strange + moment was that she felt his strength. It was the same strength she had + felt in Stephen Brice. This was the thought that came to her. + </p> + <p> + Slowly she walked to the window and looked out across the green grounds + where the wind was shaking the wet trees, past the unfinished monument to + the Father of her country, and across the broad Potomac to Alexandria in + the hazy distance. The rain beat upon the panes, and then she knew that + she was crying softly to herself. She had met a force that she could not + conquer, she had looked upon a sorrow that she could not fathom, albeit + she had known sorrow. + </p> + <p> + Presently she felt him near. She turned and looked through her tears at + his face that was all compassion. And now she was unashamed. He had placed + a chair behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Virginia,” he said. Even the name fell from him naturally. + </p> + <p> + She obeyed him then like a child. He remained standing. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about your cousin,” he said; “are you going to marry him?” + </p> + <p> + She hung an instant on her answer. Would that save Clarence? But in that + moment she could not have spoken anything but the truth to save her soul. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Lincoln,” she said; “I was—but I did not love him. I—I + think that was one reason why he was so reckless.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln smiled. + </p> + <p> + “The officer who happened to see Colonel Colfax captured is now in + Washington. When your name was given to me, I sent for him. Perhaps he is + in the anteroom now. I should like to tell you, first of all, that this + officer defended your cousin and asked me to pardon him.” + </p> + <p> + “He defended him! He asked you to pardon him! Who is he?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + Again Mr. Lincoln smiled. He strode to the bell-cord, and spoke a few + words to the usher who answered his ring. + </p> + <p> + The usher went out. Then the door opened, and a young officer, spare, + erect, came quickly into the room, and bowed respectfully to the + President. But Mr. Lincoln's eyes were not on him. They were on the girl. + He saw her head lifted, timidly. He saw her lips part and the color come + flooding into her face. But she did not rise. + </p> + <p> + The President sighed But the light in her eyes was reflected in his own. + It has been truly said that Abraham Lincoln knew the human heart. + </p> + <p> + The officer still stood facing the President, the girl staring at his + profile. The door closed behind him. “Major Brice,” said Mr. Lincoln, + “when you asked me to pardon Colonel Colfax, I believe that you told me he + was inside his own skirmish lines when he was captured.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, he was.” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Stephen turned, as if impelled by the President's gaze, and so + his eyes met Virginia's. He forgot time and place,—for the while + even this man whom he revered above all men. He saw her hand tighten on + the arm of her chair. He took a step toward her, and stopped. Mr. Lincoln + was speaking again. + </p> + <p> + “He put in a plea, a lawyer's plea, wholly unworthy of him, Miss Virginia. + He asked me to let your cousin off on a technicality. What do you think of + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Virginia. Just the exclamation escaped her—nothing more. + The crimson that had betrayed her deepened on her cheeks. Slowly the eyes + she had yielded to Stephen came back again and rested on the President. + And now her wonder was that an ugly man could be so beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “I wish it understood, Mr. Lawyer,” the President continued, “that I am + not letting off Colonel Colfax on a technicality. I am sparing his life,” + he said slowly, “because the time for which we have been waiting and + longing for four years is now at hand—the time to be merciful. Let + us all thank God for it.” + </p> + <p> + Virginia had risen now. She crossed the room, her head lifted, her heart + lifted, to where this man of sorrows stood smiling down at her. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lincoln,” she faltered, “I did not know you when I came here. I + should have known you, for I had heard him—I had heard Major Brice + praise you. Oh,” she cried, “how I wish that every man and woman and child + in the South might come here and see you as I have seen you to-day. I + think—I think that some of their bitterness might be taken away.” + </p> + <p> + Abraham Lincoln laid his hands upon the girl. And Stephen, watching, knew + that he was looking upon a benediction. + </p> + <p> + “Virginia,” said Mr. Lincoln, “I have not suffered by the South, I have + suffered with the South. Your sorrow has been my sorrow, and your pain has + been my pain. What you have lost, I have lost. And what you have gained,” + he added sublimely, “I have gained.” + </p> + <p> + He led her gently to the window. The clouds were flying before the wind, + and a patch of blue sky shone above the Potomac. With his long arm he + pointed across the river to the southeast, and as if by a miracle a shaft + of sunlight fell on the white houses of Alexandria. + </p> + <p> + “In the first days of the war,” he said, “a flag flew there in sight of + the place where George Washington lived and died. I used to watch that + flag, and thank God that Washington had not lived to see it. And + sometimes, sometimes I wondered if God had allowed it to be put in irony + just there.” His voice seemed to catch. “That was wrong,” he continued. “I + should have known that this was our punishment—that the sight of it + was my punishment. Before we could become the great nation He has destined + us to be, our sins must be wiped out in blood. You loved that flag, + Virginia. You love it still. + </p> + <p> + “I say in all sincerity, may you always love it. May the day come when + this Nation, North and South, may look back upon it with reverence. + Thousands upon thousands of brave Americans have died under it for what + they believed was right. But may the day come again when you will love + that flag you see there now—Washington's flag—better still.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, and the tears were wet upon Virginia's lashes. She could not + have spoken then. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Lincoln went over to his desk and sat down before it. Then he began to + write, slouched forward, one knee resting on the floor, his lips moving at + the same time. When he got up again he seemed taller than ever. + </p> + <p> + “There!” he said, “I guess that will fix it. I'll have that sent to + Sherman. I have already spoken to him about the matter.” + </p> + <p> + They did not thank him. It was beyond them both. He turned to Stephen with + that quizzical look on his face he had so often seen him wear. + </p> + <p> + “Steve,” he said, “I'll tell you a story. The other night Harlan was here + making a speech to a crowd out of the window, and my boy Tad was sitting + behind him. + </p> + <p> + “'What shall we do with the Rebels?' said Harlan to the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “'Hang 'em!' cried the people. “'No,' says Tad, 'hang on to 'em.' + </p> + <p> + “And the boy was right. That is what we intend to do,—hang on to + 'em. And, Steve,” said Mr. Lincoln, putting his hand again on Virginia's + shoulder, “if you have the sense I think you have, you'll hang on, too.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant he stood smiling at their blushes,—he to whom the + power was given to set apart his cares and his troubles and partake of the + happiness of others. For of such was his happiness. + </p> + <p> + Then the President drew out his watch. “Bless me!” he said, “I am ten + minutes behind my appointment at the Department. Miss Virginia, you may + care to thank the Major for the little service he has done you. You can do + so undisturbed here. Make yourselves at home.” + </p> + <p> + As he opened the door he paused and looked back at them. The smile passed + from his face, and an ineffable expression of longing—longing and + tenderness—came upon it. + </p> + <p> + Then he was gone. + </p> + <p> + For a space, while his spell was upon them, they did not stir. Then + Stephen sought her eyes that had been so long denied him. They were not + denied him now. It was Virginia who first found her voice, and she called + him by his name. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Stephen,” she said, “how sad he looked!” + </p> + <p> + He was close to her, at her side. And he answered her in the earnest tone + which she knew so well. + </p> + <p> + “Virginia, if I could have had what I most wished for in the world, I + should have asked that you should know Abraham Lincoln.” + </p> + <p> + Then she dropped her eyes, and her breath came quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I—I might have known,” she answered, “I might have known what he + was. I had heard you talk of him. I had seen him in you, and I did not + know. Do you remember that day when we were in the summer-house together + at Glencoe, long ago? When you had come back from seeing him?” + </p> + <p> + “As yesterday,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You were changed then,” she said bravely. “I saw it. Now I understand. It + was because you had seen Mr. Lincoln.” + </p> + <p> + “When I saw him,” said Stephen, reverently, “I knew how little and narrow + I was.” + </p> + <p> + Then, overcome by the incense of her presence, he drew her to him until + her heart beat against his own. She did not resist, but lifted her face to + him, and he kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “You love me, Virginia!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Stephen,” she answered, low, more wonderful in her surrender than + ever before. “Yes—dear.” Then she hid her face against his blue + coat. “I—I cannot help it. Oh, Stephen, how I have struggled against + it! How I have tried to hate you, and couldn't. No, I couldn't. I tried to + insult you, I did insult you. And when I saw how splendidly you bore it, I + used to cry.” He kissed her brown hair. + </p> + <p> + “I loved you through it all,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Virginia!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dearest.” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia, did you dream of me?” + </p> + <p> + She raised her head quickly, and awe was in her eyes. “How did you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I dreamed of you,” he answered. “And those dreams used to linger + with me half the day as I went about my work. I used to think of them as I + sat in the saddle on the march.” + </p> + <p> + “I, too, treasured them,” she said. “And I hated myself for doing it.” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia, will you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, to-morrow.” Faintly, “I have no one but you—now.” + </p> + <p> + Once more he drew her to him, and she gloried in his strength. + </p> + <p> + “God help me to cherish you, dear,” he said, “and guard you well.” + </p> + <p> + She drew away from him, gently, and turned toward the window. + </p> + <p> + “See, Stephen,” she cried, “the sun has come out at last.” + </p> + <p> + For a while they were silent, looking out; the drops glistened on blade + and leaf, and the joyous new green of the earth entered into their hearts. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. ANNAPOLIS + </h2> + <p> + IT was Virginia's wish, and was therefore sacred. As for Stephen, he + little cared whither they went. And so they found themselves on that + bright afternoon in mid-April under the great trees that arch the unpaved + streets of old Annapolis. + </p> + <p> + They stopped by direction at a gate, and behind it was a green cluster of + lilac bushes, which lined the walk to the big plum-colored house which + Lionel Carvel had built. Virginia remembered that down this walk on a + certain day in June, a hundred years agone, Richard Carvel had led Dorothy + Manners. + </p> + <p> + They climbed the steps, tottering now with age and disuse, and Virginia + playfully raised the big brass knocker, brown now, that Scipio had been + wont to polish until it shone. Stephen took from his pocket the clumsy key + that General Carvel had given him, and turned it in the rusty lock. The + door swung open, and Virginia stood in the hall of her ancestors. + </p> + <p> + It was musty and damp this day as the day when Richard had come back from + England and found it vacant and his grandfather dead. But there, at the + parting of the stairs, was the triple-arched window which he had + described. Through it the yellow afternoon light was flooding now, even as + then, checkered by the branches in their first fringe of green. But the + tall clock which Lionel Carvel used to wind was at Calvert House, with + many another treasure. + </p> + <p> + They went up the stairs, and reverently they walked over the bare floors, + their footfalls echoing through the silent house. A score of scenes in her + great-grandfather's life came to Virginia. Here was the room—the + cornet one at the back of the main building, which looked out over the + deserted garden—that had been Richard's mother's. She recalled how + he had stolen into it on that summer's day after his return, and had flung + open the shutters. They were open now, for their locks were off. The + prie-dieu was gone, and the dresser. But the high bed was there, stripped + of its poppy counterpane and white curtains; and the steps by which she + had entered it. + </p> + <p> + And next they went into the great square room that had been Lionel + Carvel's, and there, too, was the roomy bed on which the old gentleman had + lain with the gout, while Richard read to him from the Spectator. One side + of it looked out on the trees in Freshwater Lane; and the other across the + roof of the low house opposite to where the sun danced on the blue and + white waters of the Chesapeake. + </p> + <p> + “Honey,” said Virginia, as they stood in the deep recess of the window, + “wouldn't it be nice if we could live here always, away from the world? + Just we two! But you would never be content to do that,” she said, smiling + reproachfully. “You are the kind of man who must be in the midst of + things. In a little while you will have far more besides me to think + about.” + </p> + <p> + He was quick to catch the note of sadness in her voice. And he drew her to + him. + </p> + <p> + “We all have our duty to perform in the world, dear,” he answered. “It + cannot be all pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you Puritan!” she cried. “To think that I should have married a + Puritan! What would my great-great-great-great-grandfather say, who was + such a stanch Royalist? Why, I think I can see him frowning at me now, + from the door, in his blue velvet goat and silverlaced waistcoat.” + </p> + <p> + “He was well punished,” retorted Stephen, “his own grandson was a Whig, + and seems to have married a woman of spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “She had spirit,” said Virginia. “I am sure that she did not allow my + great-grandfather to kiss her—unless she wanted to.” + </p> + <p> + And she looked up at him, half smiling, half pouting; altogether + bewitching. + </p> + <p> + “From what I hear of him, he was something of a man,” said Stephen. + “Perhaps he did it anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad that Marlborough Street isn't a crowded thoroughfare,” said + Virginia. + </p> + <p> + When they had seen the dining room, with its carved mantel and silver + door-knobs, and the ballroom in the wing, they came out, and Stephen + locked the door again. They walked around the house, and stood looking + down the terraces,—once stately, but crumbled now,—where + Dorothy had danced on the green on Richard's birthday. Beyond and below + was the spring-house, and there was the place where the brook dived under + the ruined wall,—where Dorothy had wound into her hair the lilies of + the valley before she sailed for London. + </p> + <p> + The remains of a wall that had once held a balustrade marked the outlines + of the formal garden. The trim hedges, for seventy years neglected, had + grown incontinent. The garden itself was full of wild green things coming + up through the brown of last season's growth. But in the grass the blue + violets nestled, and Virginia picked some of these and put them in + Stephen's coat. + </p> + <p> + “You must keep them always,” she said, “because we got them here.” + </p> + <p> + They spied a seat beside a hoary trunk. There on many a spring day Lionel + Carvel had sat reading his Gazette. And there they rested now. The sun + hung low over the old-world gables in the street beyond the wall, and in + the level rays was an apple tree dazzling white, like a bride. The sweet + fragrance which the day draws from the earth lingered in the air. + </p> + <p> + It was Virginia who broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Stephen, do you remember that fearful afternoon of the panic, when you + came over from Anne Brinsmade's to reassure me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear,” he said. “But what made you think of it now?” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer him directly. + </p> + <p> + “I believed what you said, Stephen. But you were so strong, so calm, so + sure of yourself. I think that made me angry when I thought how ridiculous + I must have been.” + </p> + <p> + He pressed her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You were not ridiculous, Jinny.” She laughed. + </p> + <p> + “I was not as ridiculous as Mr. Cluyme with his bronze clock. But do you + know what I had under my arm—what I was saving of all the things I + owned?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered; “but I have often wondered.” She blushed. + </p> + <p> + “This house—this place made me think of it. It was Dorothy Manners's + gown, and her necklace. I could not leave them. They were all the + remembrance I had of that night at Mr. Brinsmade's gate, when we came so + near to each other.” + </p> + <p> + “Virginia,” he said, “some force that we cannot understand has brought us + together, some force that we could not hinder. It is foolish for me to say + so, but on that day of the slave auction, when I first saw you, I had a + premonition about you that I have never admitted until now, even to + myself.” + </p> + <p> + She started. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Stephen,” she cried, “I felt the same way!” + </p> + <p> + “And then,” he continued quickly, “it was strange that I should have gone + to Judge Whipple, who was an intimate of your father's—such a + singular intimate. And then came your party, and Glencoe, and that curious + incident at the Fair.” + </p> + <p> + “When I was talking to the Prince, and looked up and saw you among all + those people.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed. + </p> + <p> + “That was the most uncomfortable of all, for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Stephen,” she said, stirring the leaves at her feet, “you might have + taken me in your arms the night Judge Whipple died—if you had wanted + to. But you were strong enough to resist. I love you all the more for + that.” + </p> + <p> + Again she said:— “It was through your mother, dearest, that we were + most strongly drawn together. I worshipped her from the day I saw her in + the hospital. I believe that was the beginning of my charity toward the + North.” + </p> + <p> + “My mother would have chosen you above all women, Virginia,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + In the morning came to them the news of Abraham Lincoln's death. And the + same thought was in both their hearts, who had known him as it was given + to few to know him. How he had lived in sorrow; how he had died a martyr + on the very day of Christ's death upon the cross. And they believed that + Abraham Lincoln gave his life for his country even as Christ gave his for + the world. + </p> + <p> + And so must we believe that God has reserved for this Nation a destiny + high upon the earth. + </p> + <p> + Many years afterward Stephen Brice read again to his wife those sublime + closing words of the second inaugural:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the + right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish + the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him + who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his children + —to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace + among ourselves and with all nations.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AFTERWORD + </h2> + <p> + The author has chosen St. Louis for the principal scene of this story for + many reasons. Grant and Sherman were living there before the Civil War, + and Abraham Lincoln was an unknown lawyer in the neighboring state of + Illinois. It has been one of the aims of this book to show the remarkable + contrasts in the lives of these great men who came out of the West. This + old city of St. Louis, which was founded by Laclede in 1765, likewise + became the principal meeting-place of two great streams of emigration + which had been separated, more or less, since Cromwell's day. To be sure, + they were not all Cavaliers who settled in the tidewater Colonies. There + were Puritan settlements in both Maryland and Virginia. But the life in + the Southern states took on the more liberal tinge which had characterized + that of the Royalists, even to the extent of affecting the Scotch + Calvinists, while the asceticism of the Roundheads was the keynote of the + Puritan character in New England. When this great country of ours began to + develop, the streams moved westward; one over what became the plain states + of Ohio and Indiana and Illinois, and the other across the Blue Ridge + Mountains into Kentucky and Tennessee. They mixed along the line of the + Ohio River. They met at St. Louis, and, farther west, in Kansas. + </p> + <p> + Nor can the German element in St. Louis be ignored. The part played by + this people in the Civil War is a matter of history. The scope of this + book has not permitted the author to introduce the peasantry and trading + classes which formed the mass in this movement. But Richter, the type of + the university-bred revolutionist which emigrated after '48, is drawn more + or less from life. And the duel described actually took place in Berlin. + </p> + <p> + St. Louis is the author's birthplace, and his home, the home of those + friends whom he has known from childhood and who have always treated him + with unfaltering kindness. He begs that they will believe him when he says + that only such characters as he loves are reminiscent of those he has + known there. The city has a large population,—large enough to + include all the types that are to be found in the middle West. + </p> + <p> + One word more. This book is written of a time when feeling ran high. It + has been necessary to put strong speech into the mouths of the characters. + The breach that threatened our country's existence is healed now. There is + no side but Abraham Lincoln's side. And this side, with all reverence and + patriotism, the author has tried to take. + </p> + <p> + Abraham Lincoln loved the South as well as the North. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + + Behind that door was the future: so he opened it fearfully + Being caught was the unpardonable crime + Believe in others having a hard time + Freedom meant only the liberty to earn their own living + Humiliation and not conscience which makes the sting + Most dangerous of gifts, the seeing of two sides of a quarrel + Naturally she took preoccupation for indifference + Principle in law not to volunteer information + Read a patent medicine circular and shudder with seven diseases + She could pass over, but never forgive what her aunt had said + Silence—goad to indiscretion + Simple men who command by force of character + So much for Democracy when it becomes a catchword + They have to print something + To be great is to be misunderstood +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Crisis, Complete, by Winston Churchill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRISIS, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 5396-h.htm or 5396-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/5396/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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