diff options
Diffstat (limited to '6872.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 6872.txt | 14493 |
1 files changed, 14493 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/6872.txt b/6872.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8784c20 --- /dev/null +++ b/6872.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14493 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Battle Ground, by Ellen Glasgow + +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 Battle Ground + +Author: Ellen Glasgow + + +Release Date: November, 2004 [EBook #6872] +This file was first posted on February 5, 2003 +Last Updated: June 19, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BATTLE GROUND *** + + + + +Produced by Wendy Crockett, Tiffany Vergon, Juliet +Sutherland, Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + +THE BATTLE GROUND + +By Ellen Glasgow + + +To + +The Beloved Memory of My Mother + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK FIRST + +GOLDEN YEARS + + I. "De Hine Foot er a He Frawg" + II. At the Full of the Moon + III. The Coming of the Boy + IV. A House with an Open Door + V. The School for Gentlemen + VI. College Days + + +BOOK SECOND + +YOUNG BLOOD + + I. The Major's Christmas + II. Betty dreams by the Fire + III. Dan and Betty + IV. Love in a Maze + V. The Major loses his Temper + VI. The Meeting in the Turnpike + VII. If this be Love + VIII. Betty's Unbelief + IX. The Montjoy Blood + X. The Road at Midnight + XI. At Merry Oaks Tavern + XII. The Night of Fear + XIII. Crabbed Age and Callow Youth + XIV. The Hush before the Storm + + +BOOK THIRD + +THE SCHOOL OF WAR + + I. How Merry Gentlemen went to War + II. The Day's March + III. The Reign of the Brute + IV. After the Battle + V. The Woman's Part + VI. On the Road to Romney + VII. "I wait my Time" + VIII. The Altar of the War God + IX. The Montjoy Blood again + + +BOOK FOURTH + +THE RETURN OF THE VANQUISHED + + I. The Ragged Army + II. A Straggler from the Ranks + III. The Cabin in the Woods + IV. In the Silence of the Guns + V. "The Place Thereof" + VI. The Peaceful Side of War. + VII. The Silent Battle + VIII. The Last Stand + IX. In the Hour of Defeat + X. On the March again + XI. The Return + + + + +BOOK FIRST + +GOLDEN YEARS + + + + +I + +"DE HINE FOOT ER A HE FRAWG" + + +Toward the close of an early summer afternoon, a little girl came running +along the turnpike to where a boy stood wriggling his feet in the dust. + +"Old Aunt Ailsey's done come back," she panted, "an' she's conjured the +tails off Sambo's sheep. I saw 'em hanging on her door!" + +The boy received the news with an indifference from which it blankly +rebounded. He buried one bare foot in the soft white sand and withdrew it +with a jerk that powdered the blackberry vines beside the way. + +"Where's Virginia?" he asked shortly. + +The little girl sat down in the tall grass by the roadside and shook her +red curls from her eyes. She gave a breathless gasp and began fanning +herself with the flap of her white sunbonnet. A fine moisture shone on her +bare neck and arms above her frock of sprigged chintz calico. + +"She can't run a bit," she declared warmly, peering into the distance of +the long white turnpike. "I'm a long ways ahead of her, and I gave her the +start. Zeke's with her." + +With a grunt the boy promptly descended from his heavy dignity. + +"You can't run," he retorted. "I'd like to see a girl run, anyway." He +straightened his legs and thrust his hands into his breeches pockets. "You +can't run," he repeated. + +The little girl flashed a clear defiance; from a pair of beaming hazel eyes +she threw him a scornful challenge. "I bet I can beat you," she stoutly +rejoined. Then as the boy's glance fell upon her hair, her defiance waned. +She put on her sunbonnet and drew it down over her brow. "I reckon I can +run some," she finished uneasily. + +The boy followed her movements with a candid stare. "You can't hide it," he +taunted; "it shines right through everything. O Lord, ain't I glad my +head's not red!" + +At this pharisaical thanksgiving the little girl flushed to the ruffled +brim of her bonnet. Her sensitive lips twitched, and she sat meekly gazing +past the boy at the wall of rough gray stones which skirted a field of +ripening wheat. Over the wheat a light wind blew, fanning the even heads of +the bearded grain and dropping suddenly against the sunny mountains in the +distance. In the nearer pasture, where the long grass was strewn with wild +flowers, red and white cattle were grazing beside a little stream, and the +tinkle of the cow bells drifted faintly across the slanting sunrays. It was +open country, with a peculiar quiet cleanliness about its long white roads +and the genial blues and greens of its meadows. + +"Ain't I glad, O Lord!" chanted the boy again. + +The little girl stirred impatiently, her gaze fluttering from the +landscape. + +"Old Aunt Ailsey's conjured all the tails off Sambo's sheep," she remarked, +with feminine wile. "I saw 'em hanging on her door." + +"Oh, shucks! she can't conjure!" scoffed the boy. "She's nothing but a free +nigger, anyway--and besides, she's plum crazy--" + +"I saw 'em hanging on her door," steadfastly repeated the little girl. "The +wind blew 'em right out, an' there they were." + +"Well, they wan't Sambo's sheep tails," retorted the boy, conclusively, +"'cause Sambo's sheep ain't got any tails." + +Brought to bay, the little girl looked doubtfully up and down the turnpike. +"Maybe she conjured 'em _on_ first," she suggested at last. + +"Oh, you're a regular baby, Betty," exclaimed the boy, in disgust. "You'll +be saying next that she can make rattlesnake's teeth sprout out of the +ground." + +"She's got a mighty funny garden patch," admitted Betty, still credulous. +Then she jumped up and ran along the road. "Here's Virginia!" she called +sharply, "an' I beat her! I beat her fair!" + +A second little girl came panting through the dust, followed by a small +negro boy with a shining black face. "There's a wagon comin' roun' the +curve," she cried excitedly, "an' it's filled with old Mr. Willis's +servants. He's dead, and they're sold--Dolly's sold, too." + +She was a fragile little creature, coloured like a flower, and her smooth +brown hair hung in silken braids to her sash. The strings of her white +pique bonnet lined with pink were daintily tied under her oval chin; there +was no dust on her bare legs or short white socks. + +As she spoke there came the sound of voices singing, and a moment later the +wagon jogged heavily round a tuft of stunted cedars which jutted into the +long curve of the highway. The wheels crunched a loose stone in the road, +and the driver drawled a patient "gee-up" to the horses, as he flicked at +a horse-fly with the end of his long rawhide whip. There was about him an +almost cosmic good nature; he regarded the landscape, the horses and the +rocks in the road with imperturbable ease. + +Behind him, in the body of the wagon, the negro women stood chanting the +slave's farewell; and as they neared the children, he looked back and spoke +persuasively. "I'd set down if I was you all," he said. "You'd feel better. +Thar, now, set down and jolt softly." + +But without turning the women kept up their tremulous chant, bending their +turbaned heads to the imaginary faces upon the roadside. They had left +their audience behind them on the great plantation, but they still sang to +the empty road and courtesied to the cedars upon the way. Excitement +gripped them like a frenzy--and a childish joy in a coming change blended +with a mother's yearning over broken ties. + +A bright mulatto led, standing at full height, and her rich notes rolled +like an organ beneath the shrill plaint of her companions. She was large, +deep-bosomed, and comely after her kind, and in her careless gestures there +was something of the fine fervour of the artist. She sang boldly, her full +body rocking from side to side, her bared arms outstretched, her long +throat swelling like a bird's above the gaudy handkerchief upon her breast. + +The others followed her, half artlessly, half in imitation, mingling with +their words grunts of self-approval. A grin ran from face to face as if +thrown by the grotesque flash of a lantern. Only a little black woman +crouching in one corner bowed herself and wept. + +The children had fallen back against the stone wall, where they hung +staring. + +"Good-by, Dolly!" they called cheerfully, and the woman answered with a +long-drawn, hopeless whine:-- + + "Gawd A'moughty bless you twel we + Meet agin." + +Zeke broke from the group and ran a few steps beside the wagon, shaking the +outstretched hands. + +The driver nodded peaceably to him, and cut with a single stroke of his +whip an intricate figure in the sand of the road. "Git up an' come along +with us, sonny," he said cordially; but Zeke only grinned in reply, and the +children laughed and waved their handkerchiefs from the wall. "Good-by, +Dolly, and Mirandy, and Sukey Sue!" they shouted, while the women, bowing +over the rolling wheels, tossed back a fragment of the song:-- + + "We hope ter meet you in heaven, whar we'll + Part no mo', + Whar we'll part no mo'; + Gawd A'moughty bless you twel we + Me--et a--gin." + +"Twel we meet agin," chirped the little girls, tripping into the chorus. + +Then, with a last rumble, the wagon went by, and Zeke came trotting back +and straddled the stone wall, where he sat looking down upon the loose +poppies that fringed the yellowed edge of the wheat. + +"Dey's gwine way-way f'om hyer, Marse Champe," he said dreamily. "Dey's +gwine right spang over dar whar de sun done come f'om." + +"Colonel Minor bought 'em," Champe explained, sliding from the wall, "and +he bought Dolly dirt cheap--I heard Uncle say so--" With a grin he looked +up at the small black figure perched upon the crumbling stones. "You'd +better look out how you steal any more of my fishing lines, or I'll sell +you," he threatened. + +"Gawd er live! I ain' stole one on 'em sence las' mont'," protested Zeke, +as he turned a somersault into the road, "en dat warn' stealin' 'case hit +warn' wu'th it," he added, rising to his feet and staring wistfully after +the wagon as it vanished in a sunny cloud of dust. + +Over the broad meadows, filled with scattered wild flowers, the sound of +the chant still floated, with a shrill and troubled sweetness, upon the +wind. As he listened the little negro broke into a jubilant refrain, +beating his naked feet in the dust:-- + + "Gawd A'moughty bless you twel we + Me--et a--gin." + +Then he looked slyly up at his young master. + +"I 'low dar's one thing you cyarn do, Marse Champe." + +"I bet there isn't," retorted Champe. + +"You kin sell me ter Marse Minor--but Lawd, Lawd, you cyarn mek mammy leave +off whuppin' me. You cyarn do dat widout you 'uz a real ole marster +hese'f." + +"I reckon I can," said Champe, indignantly. "I'd just like to see her lay +hands on you again. I can make mammy leave off whipping him, can't I, +Betty?" + +But Betty, with a toss of her head, took her revenge. + +"'Tain't so long since yo' mammy whipped you," she rejoined. "An' I reckon +'tain't so long since you needed it." + +As she stood there, a spirited little figure, in a patch of faint sunshine, +her hair threw a halo of red gold about her head. When she smiled--and she +smiled now, saucily enough--her eyes had a trick of narrowing until they +became mere beams of light between her lashes. Her eyes would smile, though +her lips were as prim as a preacher's. + +Virginia gave a timid pull at Betty's frock. "Champe's goin' home with us," +she said, "his uncle told him to--You're goin' home with us, ain't you, +Champe?" + +"I ain't goin' home," responded Betty, jerking from Virginia's grasp. She +stood warm yet resolute in the middle of the road, her bonnet swinging in +her hands. "I ain't goin' home," she repeated. + +Turning his back squarely upon her, Champe broke into a whistle of +unconcern. "You'd just better come along," he called over his shoulder as +he started off. "You'd just better come along, or you'll catch it." + +"I ain't comin'," answered Betty, defiantly, and as they passed away +kicking the dust before them, she swung her bonnet hard, and spoke aloud to +herself. "I ain't comin'," she said stubbornly. + +The distance lengthened; the three small figures passed the wheat field, +stopped for an instant to gather green apples that had fallen from a stray +apple tree, and at last slowly dwindled into the white streak of the road. +She was alone on the deserted turnpike. + +For a moment she hesitated, caught her breath, and even took three steps on +the homeward way; then turning suddenly she ran rapidly in the opposite +direction. Over the deepening shadows she sped as lightly as a hare. + +At the end of a half mile, when her breath came in little pants, she +stopped with a nervous start and looked about her. The loneliness seemed +drawing closer like a mist, and the cry of a whip-poor-will from the little +stream in the meadow sent frightened thrills, like needles, through her +limbs. + +Straight ahead the sun was setting in a pale red west, against which the +mountains stood out as if sculptured in stone. On one side swept the +pasture where a few sheep browsed; on the other, at the place where two +roads met, there was a blasted tree that threw its naked shadow across the +turnpike. Beyond the tree and its shadow a well-worn foot-path led to a +small log cabin from which a streak of smoke was rising. Through the open +door the single room within showed ruddy with the blaze of resinous pine. + +The little girl daintily picked her way along the foot-path and through a +short garden patch planted in onions and black-eyed peas. Beside a bed of +sweet sage she faltered an instant and hung back. "Aunt Ailsey," she called +tremulously, "I want to speak to you, Aunt Ailsey." She stepped upon the +smooth round stone which served for a doorstep and looked into the room. +"It's me, Aunt Ailsey! It's Betty Ambler," she said. + +A slow shuffling began inside the cabin, and an old negro woman hobbled +presently to the daylight and stood peering from under her hollowed palm. +She was palsied with age and blear-eyed with trouble, and time had ironed +all the kink out of the thin gray locks that straggled across her brow. She +peered dimly at the child as one who looks from a great distance. + +"I lay dat's one er dese yer ole hoot owls," she muttered querulously, "en +ef'n 'tis, he des es well be a-hootin' along home, caze I ain' gwine be +pestered wid his pranks. Dar ain' but one kind er somebody es will sass you +at yo' ve'y do,' en dat's a hoot owl es is done loss count er de time er +day--" + +"I ain't an owl, Aunt Ailsey," meekly broke in Betty, "an' I ain't hootin' +at you--" + +Aunt Ailsey reached out and touched her hair. "You ain' none er Marse +Peyton's chile," she said. "I'se done knowed de Amblers sence de fu'st one +er dem wuz riz, en dar ain' never been a'er Ambler wid a carrot haid--" + +The red ran from Betty's curls into her face, but she smiled politely as +she followed Aunt Ailsey into the cabin and sat down in a split-bottomed +chair upon the hearth. The walls were formed of rough, unpolished logs, and +upon them, as against an unfinished background, the firelight threw reddish +shadows of the old woman and the child. Overhead, from the uncovered +rafters, hung several tattered sheepskins, and around the great fireplace +there was a fringe of dead snakes and lizards, long since as dry as dust. +Under the blazing logs, which filled the hut with an almost unbearable +heat, an ashcake was buried beneath a little gravelike mound of ashes. + +Aunt Ailsey took up a corncob pipe from the stones and fell to smoking. She +sank at once into a senile reverie, muttering beneath her breath with +short, meaningless grunts. Warm as the summer evening was, she shivered +before the glowing logs. + +For a time the child sat patiently watching the embers; then she leaned +forward and touched the old woman's knee. "Aunt Ailsey, O Aunt Ailsey!" + +Aunt Ailsey stirred wearily and crossed her swollen feet upon the hearth. + +"Dar ain' nuttin' but a hoot owl dat'll sass you ter yo' face," she +muttered, and, as she drew her pipe from her mouth, the gray smoke circled +about her head. + +The child edged nearer. "I want to speak to you, Aunt Ailsey," she said. +She seized the withered hand and held it close in her own rosy ones. "I +want you--O Aunt Ailsey, listen! I want you to conjure my hair coal black." + +She finished with a gasp, and with parted lips sat waiting. "Coal black, +Aunt Ailsey!" she cried again. + +A sudden excitement awoke in the old woman's face; her hands shook and she +leaned nearer. "Hi! who dat done tole you I could conjure, honey?" she +demanded. + +"Oh, you can, I know you can. You conjured back Sukey's lover from Eliza +Lou, and you conjured all the pains out of Uncle Shadrach's leg." She fell +on her knees and laid her head in the old woman's lap. "Conjure quick and I +won't holler," she said. + +"Gawd in heaven!" exclaimed Aunt Ailsey. Her dim old eyes brightened as she +gently stroked the child's brow with her palsied fingers. "Dis yer ain' no +way ter conjure, honey," she whispered. "You des wait twel de full er de +moon, w'en de devil walks de big road." She was wandering again after the +fancies of dotage, but Betty threw herself upon her. "Oh, change it! change +it!" cried the child. "Beg the devil to come and change it quick." + +Brought back to herself, Aunt Ailsey grunted and knocked the ashes from her +pipe. "I ain' gwine ter ax no favors er de devil," she replied sternly. +"You des let de devil alont en he'll let you alont. I'se done been young, +en I'se now ole, en I ain' never seed de devil stick his mouf in anybody's +bizness 'fo' he's axed." + +She bent over and raked the ashes from her cake with a lightwood splinter. +"Dis yer's gwine tase moughty flat-footed," she grumbled as she did so. + +"O Aunt Ailsey," wailed Betty in despair. The tears shone in her eyes and +rolled slowly down her cheeks. + +"Dar now," said Aunt Ailsey, soothingly, "you des set right still en wait +twel ter-night at de full er de moon." She got up and took down one of the +crumbling skins from the chimney-piece. "Ef'n de hine foot er a he frawg +cyarn tu'n yo' hyar decent," she said, "dar ain' nuttin' de Lawd's done +made es'll do hit. You des wrop er hank er yo' hyar roun' de hine foot, +honey, en' w'en de night time done come, you teck'n hide it unner a rock in +de big road. W'en de devil goes a-cotin' at de full er de moon--en he been +cotin' right stiddy roun' dese yer parts--he gwine tase dat ar frawg foot a +mile off." + +"A mile off?" repeated the child, stretching out her hands. + +"Yes, Lawd, he gwine tase dat ar frawg foot a mile off, en w'en he tase +hit, he gwine begin ter sniff en ter snuff. He gwine sniff en he gwine +snuff, en he gwine sniff en he gwine snuff twel he run right spang agin de +rock in de middle er de road. Den he gwine paw en paw twel he root de rock +clean up." + +The little girl looked up eagerly. + +"An' my hair, Aunt Ailsey?" + +"De devil he gwine teck cyar er yo' hyar, honey. W'en he come a-sniffin' en +a-snuffin' roun' de rock in de big road, he gwine spit out flame en smoke +en yo' hyar hit's gwine ter ketch en hit's gwine ter bu'n right black. Fo' +de sun up yo' haid's gwine ter be es black es a crow's foot." + +The child dried her tears and sprang up. She tied the frog's skin tightly +in her handkerchief and started toward the door; then she hesitated and +looked back. "Were you alive at the flood, Aunt Ailsey?" she politely +inquired. + +"Des es live es I is now, honey." + +"Then you must have seen Noah and the ark and all the animals?" + +"Des es plain es I see you. Marse Noah? Why, I'se done wash en i'on Marse +Noah's shuts twel I 'uz right stiff in de j'ints. He ain' never let nobody +flute his frills fur 'im 'cep'n' me. Lawd, Lawd, Marse Peyton's shuts warn' +nuttin ter Marse Noah's!" + +Betty's eyes grew big. "I reckon you're mighty old, Aunt Ailsey--'most as +old as God, ain't you?" + +Aunt Ailsey pondered the question. "I ain' sayin' dat, honey," she modestly +replied. + +"Then you're certainly as old as the devil--you must be," hopefully +suggested the little girl. + +The old woman wavered. "Well, de devil, he ain' never let on his age," she +said at last; "but w'en I fust lay eyes on 'im, he warn' no mo'n a brat." + +Standing upon the threshold for an instant, the child reverently regarded +her. Then, turning her back upon the fireplace and the bent old figure, she +ran out into the twilight. + + + + +II + +AT THE FULL OF THE MOON + + +By the light of the big moon hanging like a lantern in the topmost pine +upon a distant mountain, the child sped swiftly along the turnpike. + +It was a still, clear evening, and on the summits of the eastern hills a +fringe of ragged firs stood out illuminated against the sky. In the warm +June weather the whole land was fragrant from the flower of the wild grape. + +When she had gone but a little way, the noise of wheels reached her +suddenly, and she shrank into the shadow beside the wall. A cloud of dust +chased toward her as the wheels came steadily on. They were evidently +ancient, for they turned with a protesting creak which was heard long +before the high, old-fashioned coach they carried swung into view--long +indeed before the driver's whip cracked in the air. + +As the coach neared the child, she stepped boldly out into the road--it was +only Major Lightfoot, the owner of the next plantation, returning, belated, +from the town. + +"W'at you doin' dar, chile?" demanded a stern voice from the box, and, at +the words, the Major's head was thrust through the open window, and his +long white hair waved in the breeze. + +"Is that you, Betty?" he asked, in surprise. "Why, I thought it was the +duty of that nephew of mine to see you home." + +"I wouldn't let him," replied the child. "I don't like boys, sir." + +"You don't, eh?" chuckled the Major. "Well, there's time enough for that, I +suppose. You can make up to them ten years hence,--and you'll be glad +enough to do it then, I warrant you,--but are you all alone, young lady?" +As Betty nodded, he opened the door and stepped gingerly down. "I can't +turn the horses' heads, poor things," he explained; "but if you will allow +me, I shall have the pleasure of escorting you on foot." + +With his hat in his hand, he smiled down upon the little girl, his face +shining warm and red above his pointed collar and broad black stock. He was +very tall and spare, and his eyebrows, which hung thick and dark above his +Roman nose, gave him an odd resemblance to a bird of prey. The smile +flashed like an artificial light across his austere features. + +"Since my arm is too high for you," he said, "will you have my hand?--Yes, +you may drive on, Big Abel," to the driver, "and remember to take out those +bulbs of Spanish lilies for your mistress. You will find them under the +seat." + +The whip cracked again above the fat old roans, and with a great creak the +coach rolled on its way. + +"I--I--if you please, I'd rather you wouldn't," stammered the child. + +The Major chuckled again, still holding out his hand. Had she been eighty +instead of eight, the gesture could not have expressed more deference. "So +you don't like old men any better than boys!" he exclaimed. + +"Oh, yes, sir, I do--heaps," said Betty. She transferred the frog's foot to +her left hand, and gave him her right one. "When I marry, I'm going to +marry a very old gentleman--as old as you," she added flatteringly. + +"You honour me," returned the Major, with a bow; "but there's nothing like +youth, my dear, nothing like youth." He ended sadly, for he had been a gay +young blood in his time, and the enchantment of his wild oats had increased +as he passed further from the sowing of them. He had lived to regret both +the loss of his gayety and the languor of his blood, and, as he drifted +further from the middle years, he had at last yielded to tranquillity with +a sigh. In his day he had matched any man in Virginia at cards or wine or +women--to say nothing of horseflesh; now his white hairs had brought him +but a fond, pale memory of his misdeeds and the boast that he knew his +world--that he knew all his world, indeed, except his wife. + +"Ah, there's nothing like youth!" he sighed over to himself, and the child +looked up and laughed. + +"Why do you say that?" she asked. + +"You will know some day," replied the Major. He drew himself erect in his +tight black broadcloth, and thrust out his chin between the high points of +his collar. His long white hair, falling beneath his hat, framed his ruddy +face in silver. "There are the lights of Uplands," he said suddenly, with a +wave of his hand. + +Betty quickened her pace to his, and they went on in silence. Through the +thick grove that ended at the roadside she saw the windows of her home +flaming amid the darkness. Farther away there were the small lights of the +negro cabins in the "quarters," and a great one from the barn door where +the field hands were strumming upon their banjos. + +"I reckon supper's ready," she remarked, walking faster. "Yonder comes +Peter, from the kitchen with the waffles." + +They entered an iron gate that opened from the road, and went up a lane of +lilac bushes to the long stuccoed house, set with detached wings in a grove +of maples. "Why, there's papa looking for me," cried the child, as a man's +figure darkened the square of light from the hall and came between the +Doric columns of the portico down into the drive. + +"You won't have to search far, Governor," called the Major, in his ringing +voice, and, as the other came up to him, he stopped to shake hands. "Miss +Betty has given me the pleasure of a stroll with her." + +"Ah, it was like you, Major," returned the other, heartily. "I'm afraid it +isn't good for your gout, though." + +He was a small, soldierly-looking man, with a clean-shaven, classic face, +and thick, brown hair, slightly streaked with gray. Beside the Major's +gaunt figure he appeared singularly boyish, though he held himself severely +to the number of his inches, and even added, by means of a simplicity +almost august, a full cubit to his stature. Ten years before he had been +governor of his state, and to his friends and neighbours the empty honour, +at least, was still his own. + +"Pooh! pooh!" the older man protested airily, "the gout's like a woman, my +dear sir--if you begin to humour it, you'll get no rest. If you deny +yourself a half bottle of port, the other half will soon follow. No, no, I +say--put a bold foot on the matter. Don't give up a good thing for the sake +of a bad one, sir. I remember my grandfather in England telling me that at +his first twinge of gout he took a glass of sherry, and at the second he +took two. 'What! would you have my toe become my master?' he roared to the +doctor. 'I wouldn't give in if it were my whole confounded foot, sir!' Oh, +those were ripe days, Governor!" + +"A little overripe for the toe, I fear, Major." + +"Well, well, we're sober enough now, sir, sober enough and to spare. Even +the races are dull things. I've just been in to have a look at that new +mare Tom Bickels is putting on the track, and bless my soul, she can't hold +a candle to the Brown Bess I ran twenty years ago--you don't remember Brown +Bess, eh, Governor?" + +"Why, to be sure," said the Governor. "I can see her as if it were +yesterday,--and a beauty she was, too,--but come in to supper with us, my +dear Major; we were just sitting down. No, I shan't take an excuse--come +in, sir, come in." + +"No, no, thank you," returned the Major. "Molly's waiting, and Molly +doesn't like to wait, you know. I got dinner at Merry Oaks tavern by the +way, and a mighty bad one, too, but the worst thing about it was that they +actually had the impudence to put me at the table with an abolitionist. +Why, I'd as soon eat with a darkey, sir, and so I told him, so I told him!" + +The Governor laughed, his fine, brown eyes twinkling in the gloom. "You +were always a man of your word," he said; "so I must tell Julia to mend her +views before she asks you to dine. She has just had me draw up my will and +free the servants. There's no withstanding Julia, you know, Major." + +"You have an angel," declared the other, "and she gets lovelier every day; +my regards to her,--and to her aunts, sir. Ah, good night, good night," and +with a last cordial gesture he started rapidly upon his homeward way. + +Betty caught the Governor's hand and went with him into the house. As they +entered the hall, Uncle Shadrach, the head butler, looked out to reprimand +her. "Ef'n anybody 'cep'n Marse Peyton had cotch you, you'd er des been +lammed," he grumbled. "An' papa was real mad!" called Virginia from the +table. + +"That's jest a story!" cried Betty. Still clinging to her father's hand, +she entered the dining room; "that's jest a story, papa," she repeated. + +"No, I'm not angry," laughed the Governor. "There, my dear, for heaven's +sake don't strangle me. Your mother's the one for you to hang on. Can't you +see what a rage she's in?" + +"My dear Mr. Ambler," remonstrated his wife, looking over the high old +silver service. She was very frail and gentle, and her voice was hardly +more than a clear whisper. "No, no, Betty, you must go up and wash your +face first," she added decisively. + +The Governor sat down and unfolded his napkin, beaming hospitality upon his +food and his family. He surveyed his wife, her two maiden aunts and his own +elder brother with the ineffable good humour he bestowed upon the majestic +home-cured ham fresh from a bath of Madeira. + +"I am glad to see you looking so well, my dear," he remarked to his wife, +with a courtliness in which there was less polish than personality. "Ah, +Miss Lydia, I know whom to thank for this," he added, taking up a pale tea +rosebud from his plate, and bowing to one of the two old ladies seated +beside his wife. "Have you noticed, Julia, that even the roses have become +more plentiful since your aunts did us the honour to come to us?" + +"I am sure the garden ought to be grateful to Aunt Lydia," said his wife, +with a pleased smile, "and the quinces to Aunt Pussy," she added quickly, +"for they were never preserved so well before." + +The two old ladies blushed and cast down their eyes, as they did every +evening at the same kindly by-play. "You know I am very glad to be of use, +my dear Julia," returned Miss Pussy, with conscious virtue. Miss Lydia, who +was tall and delicate and bent with the weight of potential sanctity, shook +her silvery head and folded her exquisite old hands beneath the ruffles of +her muslin under-sleeves. She wore her hair in shining folds beneath her +thread-lace cap, and her soft brown eyes still threw a youthful lustre over +the faded pallor of her face. + +"Pussy has always had a wonderful talent for preserving," she murmured +plaintively. "It makes me regret my own uselessness." + +"Uselessness!" warmly protested the Governor. "My dear Miss Lydia, your +mere existence is a blessing to mankind. A lovely woman is never useless, +eh, Brother Bill?" + +Mr. Bill, a stout and bashful gentleman, who never wasted words, merely +bowed over his plate, and went on with his supper. There was a theory in +the family--a theory romantic old Miss Lydia still hung hard by--that Mr. +Bill's peculiar apathy was of a sentimental origin. Nearly thirty years +before he had made a series of mild advances to his second cousin, Virginia +Ambler--and her early death before their polite vows were plighted had, in +the eyes of his friends, doomed the morose Mr. Bill to the position of a +perpetual mourner. + +Now, as he shook his head and helped himself to chicken, Miss Lydia sighed +in sympathy. + +"I am afraid Mr. Bill must find us very flippant," she offered as a gentle +reproof to the Governor. + +Mr. Bill started and cast a frightened glance across the table. Thirty +years are not as a day, and, after all, his emotion had been hardly more +than he would have felt for a prize perch that had wriggled from his line +into the stream. The perch, indeed, would have represented more +appropriately the passion of his life--though a lukewarm lover, he was an +ardent angler. + +"Ah, Brother Bill understands us," cheerfully interposed the Governor. His +keen eyes had noted Mr. Bill's alarm as they noted the emptiness of Miss +Pussy's cup. "By the way, Julia," he went on with a change of the subject, +"Major Lightfoot found Betty in the road and brought her home. The little +rogue had run away." + +Mrs. Ambler filled Miss Pussy's cup and pressed Mr. Bill to take a slice of +Sally Lunn. "The Major is so broken that it saddens me," she said, when +these offices of hostess were accomplished. "He has never been himself +since his daughter ran away, and that was--dear me, why that was twelve +years ago next Christmas. It was on Christmas Eve, you remember, he came to +tell us. The house was dressed in evergreens, and Uncle Patrick was making +punch." + +"Poor Patrick was a hard drinker," sighed Miss Lydia; "but he was a citizen +of the world, my dear." + +"Yes, yes, I perfectly recall the evening," said the Governor, +thoughtfully. "The young people were just forming for a reel and you and I +were of them, my dear,--it was the year, I remember, that the mistletoe was +brought home in a cart,--when the door opened and in came the Major. 'Jane +has run away with that dirty scamp Montjoy,' he said, and was out again and +on his horse before we caught the words. He rode like a madman that night. +I can see him now, splashing through the mud with Big Abel after him." + +Betty came running in with smiling eyes, and fluttered into her seat. "I +got here before the waffles," she cried. "Mammy said I wouldn't. Uncle +Shadrach, I got here before you!" + +"Dat's so, honey," responded Uncle Shadrach from behind the Governor's +chair. He was so like his master--commanding port, elaborate shirt-front, +and high white stock--that the Major, in a moment of merry-making, had once +dubbed him "the Governor's silhouette." + +"Say your grace, dear," remonstrated Miss Lydia, as the child shook out her +napkin. "It's always proper to offer thanks standing, you know. I remember +your great-grandmother telling me that once when she dined at the White +House, when her father was in Congress, the President forgot to say grace, +and made them all get up again after they were seated. Now, for what are we +about--" + +"Oh, papa thanked for me," cried Betty. "Didn't you, papa?" + +The Governor smiled; but catching his wife's eyes, he quickly forced his +benign features into a frowning mask. + +"Do as your aunt tells you, Betty," said Mrs. Ambler, and Betty got up and +said grace, while Virginia took the brownest waffle. When the thanksgiving +was ended, she turned indignantly upon her sister. "That was just a sly, +mean trick!" she cried in a flash of temper. "You saw my eye on that +waffle!" + +"My dear, my dear," murmured Miss Lydia. + +"She's des an out'n out fire bran', dat's w'at she is," said Uncle +Shadrach. + +"Well, the Lord oughtn't to have let her take it just as I was thanking Him +for it!" sobbed Betty, and she burst into tears and left the table, +upsetting Mr. Bill's coffee cup as she went by. + +The Governor looked gravely after her. "I'm afraid the child is really +getting spoiled, Julia," he mildly suggested. + +"She's getting a--a vixenish," declared Mr. Bill, mopping his expansive +white waistcoat. + +"You des better lemme go atter a twig er willow, Marse Peyton," muttered +Uncle Shadrach in the Governor's ear. + +"Hold your tongue, Shadrach," retorted the Governor, which was the harshest +command he was ever known to give his servants. + +Virginia ate her waffle and said nothing. When she went upstairs a little +later, she carried a pitcher of buttermilk for Betty's face. + +"It isn't usual for a young lady to have freckles, Aunt Lydia says," she +remarked, "and you must rub this right on and not wash it off till +morning--and, after you've rubbed it well in, you must get down on your +knees and ask God to mend your temper." + +Betty was lying in her little trundle bed, while Petunia, her small black +maid, pulled off her stockings, but she got up obediently and laved her +face in buttermilk. "I don't reckon there's any use about the other," she +said. "I believe the Lord's jest leavin' me in sin as a warnin' to you and +Petunia," and she got into her trundle bed and waited for the lights to go +out, and for the watchful Virginia to fall asleep. + +She was still waiting when the door softly opened and her mother came in, a +lighted candle in her hand, the pale flame shining through her profile as +through delicate porcelain, and illumining her worn and fragile figure. She +moved with a slow step, as if her white limbs were a burden, and her head, +with its smoothly parted bright brown hair, bent like a lily that has begun +to fade. + +She sat down upon the bedside and laid her hand on the child's forehead. +"Poor little firebrand," she said gently. "How the world will hurt you!" +Then she knelt down and prayed beside her, and went out again with the +white light streaming upon her bosom. An hour later Betty heard her soft, +slow step on the gravelled drive and knew that she was starting on a +ministering errand to the quarters. Of all the souls on the great +plantation, the mistress alone had never rested from her labours. + +The child tossed restlessly, beat her pillow, and fell back to wait more +patiently. At last the yellow strip under the door grew dark, and from the +other trundle bed there came a muffled breathing. With a sigh, Betty sat up +and listened; then she drew the frog's skin from beneath her pillow and +crept on bare feet to the door. It was black there, and black all down the +wide, old staircase. The great hall below was like a cavern underground. +Trembling when a board creaked under her, she cautiously felt her way with +her hands on the balustrade. The front door was fastened with an iron chain +that rattled as she touched it, so she stole into the dining room, unbarred +one of the long windows, and slipped noiselessly out. It was almost like +sliding into sunshine, the moon was so large and bright. + +From the wide stone portico, the great white columns, looking grim and +ghostly, went upward to the roof, and beyond the steps the gravelled drive +shone hard as silver. As the child went between the lilac bushes, the +moving shadows crawled under her bare feet like living things. + +At the foot of the drive ran the big road, and when she came out upon it +her trailing gown caught in a fallen branch, and she fell on her face. +Picking herself up again, she sat on a loosened rock and looked about her. + +The strong night wind blew on her flesh, and she shivered in the moonlight, +which felt cold and brazen. Before her stretched the turnpike, darkened by +shadows that bore no likeness to the objects from which they borrowed +shape. Far as eye could see, they stirred ceaselessly back and forth like +an encamped army of grotesques. + +She got up from the rock and slipped the frog's skin into the earth beneath +it. As she settled it in place, her pulses gave a startled leap, and she +stood terror-stricken beside the stone. A thud of footsteps was coming +along the road. + +For an instant she trembled in silence; then her sturdy little heart took +courage, and she held up her hand. + +"If you'll wait a minute, Mr. Devil, I'm goin' in," she cried. + +From the shadows a voice laughed at her, and a boy came forward into the +light--a half-starved boy, with a white, pinched face and a dusty bundle +swinging from the stick upon his shoulder. + +"What are you doing here?" he snapped out. + +Betty gave back a defiant stare. She might have been a tiny ghost in the +moonlight, with her trailing gown and her flaming curls. + +"I live here," she answered simply. "Where do you live?" + +"Nowhere." He looked her over with a laugh. + +"Nowhere?" + +"I did live somewhere, but I ran away a week ago." + +"Did they beat you? Old Rainy-day Jones beat one of his servants and he ran +away." + +"There wasn't anybody," said the boy. "My mother died, and my father went +off--I hope he'll stay off. I hate him!" + +He sent the words out so sharply that Betty's lids flinched. + +"Why did you come by here?" she questioned. "Are you looking for the devil, +too?" + +The boy laughed again. "I am looking for my grandfather. He lives somewhere +on this road, at a place named Chericoke. It has a lot of elms in the yard; +I'll know it by that." + +Betty caught his arm and drew him nearer. "Why, that's where Champe lives!" +she cried. "I don't like Champe much, do you?" + +"I never saw him," replied the boy; "but I don't like him--" + +"He's mighty good," said Betty, honestly; then, as she looked at the boy +again, she caught her breath quickly. "You do look terribly hungry," she +added. + +"I haven't had anything since--since yesterday." + +The little girl thoughtfully tapped her toes on the road. "There's a +currant pie in the safe," she said. "I saw Uncle Shadrach put it there. Are +you fond of currant pie?--then you just wait!" + +She ran up the carriage way to the dining-room window, and the boy sat down +on the rock and buried his face in his hands. His feet were set stubbornly +in the road, and the bundle lay beside them. He was dumb, yet disdainful, +like a high-bred dog that has been beaten and turned adrift. + +As the returning patter of Betty's feet sounded in the drive, he looked up +and held out his hands. When she gave him the pie, he ate almost wolfishly, +licking the crumbs from his fingers, and even picking up a bit of crust +that had fallen to the ground. + +"I'm sorry there isn't any more," said the little girl. It had seemed a +very large pie when she took it from the safe. + +The boy rose, shook himself, and swung his bundle across his arm. + +"Will you tell me the way?" he asked, and she gave him a few childish +directions. "You go past the wheat field an' past the maple spring, an' at +the dead tree by Aunt Ailsey's cabin you turn into the road with the +chestnuts. Then you just keep on till you get there--an' if you don't ever +get there, come back to breakfast." + +The boy had started off, but as she ended, he turned and lifted his hat. + +"I am very much obliged to you," he said, with a quaint little bow; and +Betty bobbed a courtesy in her nightgown before she fled back into the +house. + + + + +III + +THE COMING OF THE BOY + + +The boy trudged on bravely, his stick sounding the road. Sharp pains ran +through his feet where his shoes had worn away, and his head was swimming +like a top. The only pleasant fact of which he had consciousness was that +the taste of the currants still lingered in his mouth. + +When he reached the maple spring, he swung himself over the stone wall and +knelt down for a drink, dipping the water in his hand. The spring was low +and damp and fragrant with the breath of mint which grew in patches in the +little stream. Overhead a wild grapevine was festooned, and he plucked a +leaf and bent it into a cup from which he drank. Then he climbed the wall +again and went on his way. + +He was wondering if his mother had ever walked along this road on so +brilliant a night. There was not a tree beside it of which she had not told +him--not a shrub of sassafras or sumach that she had not carried in her +thoughts. The clump of cedars, the wild cherry, flowering in the spring +like snow, the blasted oak that stood where the branch roads met, the +perfume of the grape blossoms on the wall--these were as familiar to him as +the streets of the little crowded town in which he had lived. It was as if +nature had stood still here for twelve long summers, or as if he were +walking, ghostlike, amid the ever present memories of his mother's heart. + +His mother! He drew his sleeve across his eyes and went on more slowly. She +was beside him on the road, and he saw her clearly, as he had seen her +every day until last year--a bright, dark woman, with slender, blue-veined +hands and merry eyes that all her tears had not saddened. He saw her in a +long, black dress, with upraised arm, putting back a crepe veil from her +merry eyes, and smiling as his father struck her. She had always smiled +when she was hurt--even when the blow was heavier than usual, and the blood +gushed from her temple, she had fallen with a smile. And when, at last, he +had seen her lying in her coffin with her baby under her clasped hands, +that same smile had been fixed upon her face, which had the brightness and +the chill repose of marble. + +Of all that she had thrown away in her foolish marriage, she had retained +one thing only--her pride. To the end she had faced her fate with all the +insolence with which she faced her husband. And yet--"the Lightfoots were +never proud, my son," she used to say; "they have no false pride, but they +know their place, and in England, between you and me, they were more +important than the Washingtons. Not that the General wasn't a great man, +dear, he was a very great soldier, of course--and in his youth, you know, +he was an admirer of your Great-great-aunt Emmeline. But she--why, she was +the beauty and belle of two continents--there's an ottoman at home covered +with a piece of her wedding dress." + +And the house? Was the house still as she had left it on that Christmas +Eve? "A simple gentleman's home, my child--not so imposing as Uplands, with +its pillars reaching to the roof, but older, oh, much older, and built of +brick that was brought all the way from England, and over the fireplace in +the panelled parlour you will find the Lightfoot arms. + +"It was in that parlour, dear, that grandmamma danced a minuet with General +Lafayette; it looks out, you know, upon a white thorn planted by the +General himself, and one of the windows has not been opened for fifty +years, because the spray of English ivy your Great-aunt Emmeline set out +with her own hands has grown across the sash. Now the window is quite dark +with leaves, though you can still read the words Aunt Emmeline cut with her +diamond ring in one of the tiny panes, when young Harry Fitzhugh came in +upon her just as she had written a refusal to an English earl. She was +sitting in the window seat with the letter in her hand, and, when your +Great-uncle Harry--she afterwards married him, you know--fell on his knees +and cried out that others might offer her fame and wealth, but that he had +nothing except love, she turned, with a smile, and wrote upon the pane +'Love is best.' You can still see the words, very faint against the ivy +that she planted on her wedding day--" + +Oh, yes, he knew it all--Great-aunt Emmeline was but the abiding presence +of the place. He knew the lawn with its grove of elms that overtopped the +peaked roof, the hall, with its shining floor and detached staircase that +crooked itself in the centre where the tall clock stood, and, best of all, +the white panels of the parlour where hung the portrait of that same +fascinating great-aunt, painted, in amber brocade, as Venus with the apple +in her hand. + +And his grandmother, herself, in her stiff black silk, with a square of +lace turned back from her thin throat and a fluted cap above her corkscrew +curls--her daguerreotype, taken in all her pride and her precision, was +tied up in the bundle swinging on his arm. + +He passed Aunt Ailsey's cabin, and turned into the road with the chestnuts. +A mile farther he came suddenly upon the house, standing amid the grove of +elms, dwarfed by the giant trees that arched above it. A dog's bark sounded +snappily from a kennel, but he paid no heed. He went up the broad white +walk, climbed the steps to the square front porch, and lifted the great +brass knocker. When he let it fall, the sound echoed through the shuttered +house. + +The Major, who was sitting in his library with a volume of Mr. Addison open +before him and a decanter of Burgundy at his right hand, heard the knock, +and started to his feet. "Something's gone wrong at Uplands," he said +aloud; "there's an illness--or the brandy is out." He closed the book, +pushed aside the bedroom candle which he had been about to light, and went +out into the hall. As he unbarred the door and flung it open, he began at +once:-- + +"I hope there's no ill news," he exclaimed. + +The boy came into the hall, where he stood blinking from the glare of the +lamplight. His head whirled, and he reached out to steady himself against +the door. Then he carefully laid down his bundle and looked up with his +mother's smile. + +"You're my grandfather, and I'm very hungry," he said. + +The Major caught the child's shoulders and drew him, almost roughly, under +the light. As he towered there above him, he gulped down something in his +throat, and his wide nostrils twitched. + +"So you're poor Jane's boy?" he said at last. + +The boy nodded. He felt suddenly afraid of the spare old man with his long +Roman nose and his fierce black eyebrows. A mist gathered before his eyes +and the lamp shone like a great moon in a cloudy circle. + +The Major looked at the bundle on the floor, and again he swallowed. Then +he stooped and picked up the thing and turned away. + +"Come in, sir, come in," he said in a knotty voice. "You are at home." + +The boy followed him, and they passed the panelled parlour, from which he +caught a glimpse of the painting of Great-aunt Emmeline, and went into the +dining room, where his grandfather pulled out a chair and bade him to be +seated. As the old man opened the huge mahogany sideboard and brought out a +shoulder of cold lamb and a plate of bread and butter, he questioned him +with a quaint courtesy about his life in town and the details of his +journey. "Why, bless my soul, you've walked two hundred miles," he cried, +stopping on his way from the pantry, with the ham held out. "And no money! +Why, bless my soul!" + +"I had fifty cents," said the boy, "that was left from my steamboat fare, +you know." + +The Major put the ham on the table and attacked it grimly with the +carving-knife. + +"Fifty cents," he whistled, and then, "you begged, I reckon?" + +The boy flushed. "I asked for bread," he replied, stung to the defensive. +"They always gave me bread and sometimes meat, and they let me sleep in the +barns where the straw was, and once a woman took me into her house and +offered me money, but I would not take it. I--I think I'd like to send her +a present, if you please, sir." + +"She shall have a dozen bottles of my best Madeira," cried the Major. The +word recalled him to himself, and he got up and raised the lid of the +cellaret, lovingly running his hand over the rows of bottles. + +"A pig would be better, I think," said the boy, doubtfully, "or a cow, if +you could afford it. She is a poor woman, you know." + +"Afford it!" chuckled the Major. "Why, I'll sell your grandmother's silver, +but I'll afford it, sir." + +He took out a bottle, held it against the light, and filled a wine glass. +"This is the finest port in Virginia," he declared; "there is life in every +drop of it. Drink it down," and, when the boy had taken it, he filled his +own glass and tossed it off, not lingering, as usual, for the priceless +flavour. "Two hundred miles!" he gasped, as he looked at the child with +moist eyes over which his red lids half closed. "Ah, you're a Lightfoot," +he said slowly. "I should know you were a Lightfoot if I passed you in the +road." He carved a slice of ham and held it out on the end of the knife. +"It's long since you've tasted a ham like this--browned in bread crumbs," +he added temptingly, but the boy gravely shook his head. + +"I've had quite enough, thank you, sir," he answered with a quaint dignity, +not unlike his grandfather's and as the Major rose, he stood up also, +lifting his black head to look in the old man's face with his keen gray +eyes. + +The Major took up the bundle and moved toward the door. "You must see your +grandmother," he said as they went out, and he led the way up the crooked +stair past the old clock in the bend. On the first landing he opened a door +and stopped upon the threshold. "Molly, here is poor Jane's boy," he said. + +In the centre of a big four-post bed, curtained in white dimity, a little +old lady was lying between lavender-scented sheets. On her breast stood a +tall silver candlestick which supported a well-worn volume of "The +Mysteries of Udolpho," held open by a pair of silver snuffers. The old +lady's face was sharp and wizened, and beneath her starched white nightcap +rose the knots of her red flannel curlers. Her eyes, which were very small +and black, held a flickering brightness like that in live embers. + +"Whose boy, Mr. Lightfoot?" she asked sharply. + +Holding the child by the hand, the Major went into the room. + +"It's poor Jane's boy, Molly," he repeated huskily. + +The old lady raised her head upon her high pillows, and looked at him by +the light of the candle on her breast. "Are you Jane's boy?" she questioned +in suspicion, and at the child's "Yes, ma'am," she said, "Come nearer. +There, stand between the curtains. Yes, you are Jane's boy, I see." She +gave the decision flatly, as if his parentage were a matter of her +pleasure. "And what is your name?" she added, as she snuffed the candle. + +The boy looked from her stiff white nightcap to the "log-cabin" quilt on +the bed, and then at her steel hoops which were hanging from a chair back. +He had always thought of her as in her rich black silk, with the tight gray +curls about her ears, and at this revelation of her inner mysteries, his +fancy received a checkmate. + +But he met her eyes again and answered simply, "Dandridge--they call me +Dan--Dan Montjoy." + +"And he has walked two hundred miles, Molly," gasped the Major. + +"Then he must be tired," was the old lady's rejoinder, and she added with +spirit: "Mr. Lightfoot, will you show Dan to Jane's old room, and see that +he has a blanket on his bed. He should have been asleep hours ago--good +night, child, be sure and say your prayers," and as they crossed the +threshold, she laid aside her book and blew out her light. + +The Major led the way to "Jane's old room" at the end of the hall, and +fetched a candle from somewhere outside. "I think you'll find everything +you need," he said, stooping to feel the covering on the bed. "Your +grandmother always keeps the rooms ready. God bless you, my son," and he +went out, softly closing the door after him. + +The boy sat down on the steps of the tester bed, and looked anxiously round +the three-cornered room, with its sloping windows filled with small, square +panes of glass. By the candlelight, flickering on the plain, white walls +and simple furniture, he tried to conjure back the figure of his +mother,--handsome Jane Lightfoot. Over the mantel hung two crude drawings +from her hand, and on the table at the bedside there were several books +with her name written in pale ink on the fly leaves. The mirror to the high +old bureau seemed still to hold the outlines of her figure, very shadowy +against the greenish glass. He saw her in her full white skirts--she had +worn nine petticoats, he knew, on grand occasions--fastening her coral +necklace about her stately throat, the bands of her black hair drawn like a +veil above her merry eyes. Had she lingered on that last Christmas Eve, he +wondered, when her candlestick held its sprig of mistletoe and her room was +dressed in holly? Did she look back at the cheerful walls and the stately +furniture before she blew out her light and went downstairs to ride madly +off, wrapped in his father's coat? And the old people drank their eggnog +and watched the Virginia reel, and, when they found her gone, shut her out +forever. + +Now, as he sat on the bed-steps, it seemed to him that he had come home for +the first time in his life. All this was his own by right,--the queer old +house, his mother's room, and beyond the sloping windows, the meadows with +their annual yield of grain. He felt the pride of it swelling within him; +he waited breathlessly for the daybreak when he might go out and lord it +over the fields and the cattle and the servants that were his also. And at +last--his head big with his first day's vanity--he climbed between the +dimity curtains and fell asleep. + +When he awaked next morning, the sun was shining through the small square +panes, and outside were the waving elm boughs and a clear sky. He was +aroused by a knock on his door, and, as he jumped out of bed, Big Abel, the +Major's driver and confidential servant, came in with the warm water. He +was a strong, finely-formed negro, black as the ace of spades (so the Major +put it), and of a singularly open countenance. + +"Hi! ain't you up yit, young Marster?" he exclaimed. "Sis Rhody, she sez +she done save you de bes' puffovers you ever tase, en ef'n you don' come +'long down, dey'll fall right flat." + +"Who is Sis Rhody?" inquired the boy, as he splashed the water on his face. + +"Who she? Why, she de cook." + +"All right, tell her I'm coming," and he dressed hurriedly and ran down +into the hall where he found Champe Lightfoot, the Major's great-nephew, +who lived at Chericoke. + +"Hello!" called Champe at once, plunging his hands into his pockets and +presenting an expression of eager interest. "When did you get here?" + +"Last night," Dan replied, and they stood staring at each other with two +pairs of the Lightfoot gray eyes. + +"How'd you come?" + +"I walked some and I came part the way on a steamboat. Did you ever see a +steamboat?" + +"Oh, shucks! A steamboat ain't anything. I've seen George Washington's +sword. Do you like to fish?" + +"I never fished. I lived in a city." + +Zeke came in with a can of worms, and Champe gave them the greater share of +his attention. "I tell you what, you'd better learn," he said at last, +returning the can to Zeke and taking up his fishing-rod. "There're a lot of +perch down yonder in the river," and he strode out, followed by the small +negro. + +Dan looked after him a moment, and then went into the dining room, where +his grandmother was sitting at the head of her table, washing her pink +teaset in a basin of soapsuds. She wore her stiff, black silk this morning +with its dainty undersleeves of muslin, and her gray curls fell beneath her +cap of delicate yellowed lace. "Come and kiss me, child," she said as he +entered. "Did you sleep well?" + +"I didn't wake once," answered the boy, kissing her wrinkled cheek. + +"Then you must eat a good breakfast and go to your grandfather in the +library. Your grandfather is a very learned man, Dan, he reads Latin every +morning in the library.--Cupid, has Rhody a freshly broiled chicken for +your young master?" + +She got up and rustled about the room, arranging the pink teaset behind the +glass doors of the corner press. Then she slipped her key basket over her +arm and fluttered in and out of the storeroom, stopping at intervals to +scold the stream of servants that poured in at the dining-room door. "Ef'n +you don' min', Ole Miss, Paisley, she done got de colick f'om a hull pa'cel +er green apples," and "Abram he's des a-shakin' wid a chill en he say he +cyarn go ter de co'n field." + +"Wait a minute and be quiet," the old lady responded briskly, for, as the +boy soon learned, she prided herself upon her healing powers, and suffered +no outsider to doctor her husband or her slaves. "Hush, Silas, don't say a +word until I tell you. Cupid--you are the only one with any sense--measure +Paisley a dose of Jamaica ginger from the bottle on the desk in the office, +and send Abram a drink of the bitters in the brown jug--why, Car'line, what +do you mean by coming into the house with a slit in your apron?" + +"Fo' de Lawd, Ole Miss, hit's des done cotch on de fence. All de ducks Aun' +Meeley been fattenin' up fur you done got loose en gone ter water." + +"Well, you go, too, every one of you!" and she dismissed them with waves of +her withered, little hands. "Send them out, Cupid. No, Car'line, not a +word. Don't 'Ole Miss' me, I tell you!" and the servants streamed out again +as they had come. + +When he had finished his breakfast the boy went back into the hall where +Big Abel was taking down the Major's guns from the rack, and, as he caught +sight of the strapping figure and kindly black face, he smiled for the +first time since his home-coming. With a lordly manner, he went over and +held out his hand. + +"I like _you_, Big Abel," he said gravely, and he followed him out into the +yard. + +For the next few weeks he did not let Big Abel out of his sight. He rode +with him to the pasture, he sat with him on his doorstep of a fine evening, +and he drove beside him on the box when the old coach went out. "Big Abel +says a gentleman doesn't go barefooted," he said to Champe when he found +him without his shoes in the meadow, "and I'm a gentleman." + +"I'd like to know what Big Abel knows about it," promptly retorted Champe, +and Dan grew white with rage and proceeded to roll up his sleeves. "I'll +whip any man who says Big Abel doesn't know a gentleman!" he cried, making +a lunge at his cousin. In point of truth, it was Champe who did the +whipping in such free fights; but bruises and a bleeding nose had never +scared the savage out of Dan. He would spring up from his last tumble as +from his first, and let fly at his opponent until Big Abel rushed, in +tears, between them. + +From the garrulous negro, the boy soon learned the history of his +family--learned, indeed, much about his grandfather of which the Major +himself was quite unconscious. He heard of that kindly, rollicking early +life, half wild and wholly good-humoured, in which the eldest male +Lightfoot had squandered his time and his fortune. Why, was not the old +coach itself but an existing proof of Big Abel's stories? "'Twan' mo'n +twenty years back dat Ole Miss had de fines' car'ige in de county," he +began one evening on the doorstep, and the boy drove away a brood of +half-fledged chickens and settled himself to listen. "Hadn't you better +light your pipe, Big Abel?" he inquired courteously. + +Big Abel shuffled into the cabin and came back with his corncob pipe and a +lighted taper. "We all ain' rid in de ole coach den," he said with a sigh, +as he sucked at the long stem, and threw the taper at the chickens. "De ole +coach hit uz th'owed away in de out'ouse, en I 'uz des stiddyin' 'bout +splittin' it up fer kindlin' wood--en de new car'ige hit cos' mos' a mint +er money. Ole Miss she uz dat sot up dat she ain' let de hosses git no +sleep--nor me nurr. Ef'n she spy out a speck er dus' on dem ar wheels, +somebody gwine year f'om it, sho's you bo'n--en dat somebody wuz me. Yes, +Lawd, Ole Miss she 'low dat dey ain' never been nuttin' like dat ar car'ige +in Varginny sence befo' de flood." + +"But where is it, Big Abel?" + +"You des wait, young Marster, you des wait twel I git dar. I'se gwine git +dar w'en I come ter de day me an Ole Marster rid in ter git his gol' f'om +Mars Tom Braxton. De car'ige hit sutney did look spick en span dat day, en +I done shine up my hosses twel you could 'mos' see yo' face in dey sides. +Well, we rid inter town en we got de gol' f'om Marse Braxton,--all tied up +in a bag wid a string roun' de neck er it,--en we start out agin (en Ole +Miss she settin' up at home en plannin' w'at she gwine buy), w'en we come +ter de tave'n whar we all use ter git our supper, en meet Marse Plaintain +Dudley right face to face. Lawd! Lawd! I'se done knowed Marse Plaintain +Dudley afo' den, so I des tech up my hosses en wuz a-sailin' 'long by, w'en +he shake his han' en holler out, 'Is yer wife done tied you ter 'er ap'on, +Maje?' (He knowed Ole Miss don' w'ar no ap'on des es well es I knowed +hit--dat's Marse Plaintain all over agin); but w'en he holler out dat, Ole +Marster sez, 'Stop, Abel,' en I 'bleeged ter stop, you know, I wuz w'en Ole +Marster tell me ter. + +"'I ain' tied, Plaintain, I'm tired,' sez Ole Marster, 'I'm tired losin' +money.' Den Marse Plaintain he laugh like a devil. 'Oh, come in, suh, come +in en win, den,' he sez, en Ole Marster step out en walk right in wid Marse +Plaintain behint 'im--en I set dar all night,--yes, suh, I set dar all +night a-hol'n' de hosses' haids. + +"Den w'en de sun up out come Ole Marster, white es a sheet, with his han's +a-trem'lin', en de bag er gol' gone. I look at 'im fur a minute, en den I +let right out, 'Ole Marster, whar de gol'?' en he stan' still en ketch his +breff befo' he say, 'Hit's all gone, Abel, en de car'ige en de hosses dey's +gone, too." En w'en I bust out cryin' en ax 'im, 'My hosses gone, Ole +Marster?' he kinder sob en beckon me fer ter git down f'om my box, en den +we put out ter walk all de way home. + +"W'en we git yer 'bout'n dinner time, dar wuz Ole Miss at de do' wid de sun +in her eyes, en soon es she ketch sight er Ole Marster, she put up her han' +en holler out, 'Marse Lightfoot, whar de car'ige?' But Ole Marster, he des +hang down his haid, same es a dawg dat's done been whupped fur rabbit +runnin', en he sob, 'Hit's gone, Molly en de bag er gol' en de hosses, +dey's gone, too, I done loss 'em all cep'n Abel--en I'm a bad man, Molly.' +Dat's w'at Ole Marster say, 'I'm a bad man, Molly,' en I stiddy 'bout my +hosses en Ole Miss' car'ige en shet my mouf right tight." + +"And Grandma? Did she cry?" asked the boy, breathlessly. + +"Who cry? Ole Miss? Huh! She des th'ow up her haid en low, 'Well, Marse +Lightfoot, I'm glad you kep' Abel--en we'll use de ole coach agin',' sez +she--en den she tu'n en strut right in ter dinner." + +"Was that all she ever said about it, Big Abel?" + +"Dat's all I ever hyern, honey, en I b'lieve hit's all Ole Marster ever +hyern eeder, case w'en I tuck his gun out er de rack de nex' day, he was +settin' up des es prim in de parlour a-sippin' a julep wid Marse Peyton +Ambler, en I hyern 'im kinder whisper, 'Molly, she's en angel, Peyton--' en +he ain' never call Ole Miss en angel twel he loss 'er car'ige." + + + + +IV. + +A HOUSE WITH AN OPEN DOOR + + +The master of Uplands was standing upon his portico behind the Doric +columns, looking complacently over the fat lands upon which his fathers had +sown and harvested for generations. Beyond the lane of lilacs and the two +silver poplars at the gate, his eyes wandered leisurely across the blue +green strip of grass-land to the tawny wheat field, where the slaves were +singing as they swung their cradles. The day was fine, and the outlying +meadows seemed to reflect his gaze with a smile as beneficent as his own. +He had cast his bread upon the soil, and it had returned to him threefold. + +As he stood there, a small, yet imposing figure, in his white duck suit, +holding his broad slouch hat in his hand, he presented something of the +genial aspect of the country--as if the light that touched the pleasant +hills and valleys was aglow in his clear brown eyes and comely features. +Even the smooth white hand in which he held his hat and riding-whip had +about it a certain plump kindliness which would best become a careless +gesture of concession. And, after all, he looked but what he was--a bland +and generous gentleman, whose heart was as open as his wine cellar. + +A catbird was singing in one of the silver poplars, and he waited, with +upraised head, for the song to end. Then he stooped beside a column and +carefully examined a newly planted coral honeysuckle before he went into +the wide hall, where his wife was seated at her work-table. + +From the rear door, which stood open until frost, a glow of sunshine +entered, brightening the white walls with their rows of antlers and +gunracks, and rippling over the well-waxed floor upon which no drop of +water had ever fallen. A faint sweetness was in the air from the +honeysuckle arbour outside, which led into the box-bordered walks of the +garden. + +As the Governor hung up his hat, he begun at once with his daily news of +the farm. "I hope they'll get that wheat field done to-day," he said: "but +it doesn't look much like it--they've been dawdling over it for the last +three days. I am afraid Wilson isn't much of a manager, after all; if I +take my eyes off him, he seems to lose his head." + +"I think everything is that way," returned his wife, looking up from one of +the elaborately tucked and hemstitched shirt fronts which served to gratify +the Governor's single vanity. "I'm sure Aunt Pussy says she can't trust +Judy for three days in the dairy without finding that the cream has stood +too long for butter--and Judy has been churning for twenty years." She cut +off her thread and held the linen out for the Governor's inspection. "I +really believe that is the prettiest one I've made. How do you like this +new stitch?" + +"Exquisite!" exclaimed her husband, as he took the shirt front in his hand. +"Simply exquisite, my love. There isn't a woman in Virginia who can do such +needlework; but it should go upon a younger and handsomer man, Julia." + +His wife blushed and looked up at him, the colour rising to her beautiful +brow and giving a youthful radiance to her nunlike face. "It could +certainly go upon a younger man, Mr. Ambler," she rejoined, with a touch of +the coquetry for which she had once been noted; "but I should like to know +where I'd find a handsomer one." + +A pleased smile broadened the Governor's face, and he settled his waistcoat +with an approving pat. "Ah, you're a partial witness, my dear," he said; +"but I've an error to confess, so I mustn't forego your favour--I--I bought +several of Mr. Willis's servants, my love." + +"Why, Mr. Ambler!" remonstrated his wife, reproach softening her voice +until it fell like a caress. "Why, Mr. Ambler, you bought six of Colonel +Blake's last year, you know and one of the house servants has been nursing +them ever since. The quarters are filled with infirm darkies." + +"But I couldn't help it, Julia, I really couldn't," pleaded the Governor. +"You'd have done it yourself, my dear. They were sold to a dealer going +south, and one of them wants to marry that Mandy of yours." + +"Oh, if it's Mandy's lover," broke in Mrs. Ambler, with rising interest, +"of course you had to buy him, and you did right about the others--you +always do right." She put out her delicate blue-veined hand and touched his +arm. "I shall see them to-day," she added, "and Mandy may as well be making +her wedding dress." + +"What an eye to things you have," said the Governor, proudly. "You might +have been President, had you been a man, my dear." + +His wife rose and took up her work-box with a laugh of protest. "I am quite +content with the mission of my sex, sir," she returned, half in jest, half +in wifely humility. "I'm sure I'd much rather make shirt fronts for you +than wear them myself." Then she nodded to him and went, with her stately +step, up the broad staircase, her white hand flitting over the mahogany +balustrade. + +As he looked after her, the Governor's face clouded, and he sighed beneath +his breath. The cares she met with such serenity had been too heavy for her +strength; they had driven the bloom from her cheeks and the lustre from her +eyes; and, though she had not faltered at her task, she had drooped daily +and grown older than her years. The master might live with a lavish +disregard of the morrow, not the master's wife. For him were the open +house, the shining table, the well-stocked wine cellar and the morning +rides over the dewy fields; for her the cares of her home and children, and +of the souls and bodies of the black people that had been given into her +hands. In her gentle heart it seemed to her that she had a charge to keep +before her God; and she went her way humbly, her thoughts filled with +things so vital as the uses of her medicine chest and the unexpounded +mysteries of salvation. + +Now, as she reached the upper landing, she met Betty running to look for +her. + +"O, mamma, may I go to fish with Champe and the new boy and Big Abel? And +Virginia wants to go, too, she says." + +"Wait a moment, child," said Mrs. Ambler. "You have torn the trimming on +your frock. Stand still and I'll mend it for you," and she got out her +needle and sewed up the rent, while Betty hopped impatiently from foot to +foot. + +"I think the new boy's a heap nicer than Champe, mamma," she remarked as +she waited. + +"Do you, dear?" + +"An' he says I'm nicer than Champe, too. He fought Champe 'cause he said I +didn't have as much sense as he had--an' I have, haven't I, mamma?" + +"Women do not need as much sense as men, my dear," replied Mrs. Ambler, +taking a dainty stitch. + +"Well, anyway, Dan fought Champe about it," said Betty, with pride. "He'll +fight about 'most anything, he says, if he jest gets roused--an' that +cert'n'y did rouse him. His nose bled a long time, too, and Champe whipped +him, you know. But, when it was over, I asked him if I had as much sense as +he had, and he said, 'Psha! you're just a girl.' Wasn't that funny, mamma?" + +"There, there, Betty," was Mrs. Ambler's rejoinder. "I'm afraid he's a +wicked boy, and you mustn't get such foolish thoughts into your head. If +the Lord had wanted you to be clever, He would have made you a man. Now, +run away, and don't get your feet wet; and if you see Aunt Lydia in the +garden, you may tell her that the bonnet has come for her to look at." + +Betty bounded away and gave the message to Aunt Lydia over the whitewashed +fence of the garden. "They've sent a bonnet from New York for you to look +at, Aunt Lydia," she cried. "It came all wrapped up in tissue paper, with +mamma's gray silk, and it's got flowers on it--a lot of them!" with which +parting shot, she turned her back upon the startled old lady and dashed off +to join the boys and Big Abel, who, with their fishing-poles, had gathered +in the cattle pasture. + +Miss Lydia, who was lovingly bending over a bed of thyme, raised her eyes +and looked after the child, all in a gentle wonder. Then she went slowly up +and down the box-bordered walks, the full skirt of her "old lady's gown" +trailing stiffly over the white gravel, her delicate face rising against +the blossomless shrubs of snowball and bridal-wreath, like a faintly tinted +flower that had been blighted before it fully bloomed. Around her the +garden was fragrant as a rose-jar with the lid left off, and the very paths +beneath were red and white with fallen petals. Hardy cabbage roses, single +pink and white dailies, yellow-centred damask, and the last splendours of +the giant of battle, all dipped their colours to her as she passed, while +the little rustic summer-house where the walks branched off was but a +flowering bank of maiden's blush and microphylla. + +Amid them all, Miss Lydia wandered in her full black gown, putting aside +her filmy ruffles as she tied back a hanging spray or pruned a broken +stalk, sometimes even lowering her thread lace cap as she weeded the tangle +of sweet Williams and touch-me-not. Since her gentle girlhood she had +tended bountiful gardens, and dreamed her virgin dreams in the purity of +their box-trimmed walks. In a kind of worldly piety she had bound her +prayer book in satin and offered to her Maker the incense of flowers. She +regarded heaven with something of the respectful fervour with which she +regarded the world--that great world she had never seen; for "the proper +place for a spinster is her father's house," she would say with her +conventional primness, and send, despite herself, a mild imagination in +pursuit of the follies from which she so earnestly prayed to be +delivered--she, to whom New York was as the terror of a modern Babylon, and +a Jezebel but a woman with paint upon her cheeks. "They tell me that other +women have painted since," she had once said, with a wistful curiosity. +"Your grandmamma, my dear Julia, had even seen one with an artificial +colour. She would not have mentioned it to me, of course,--an unmarried +lady,--but I was in the next room when she spoke of it to old Mrs. +Fitzhugh. She was a woman of the world, was your grandmamma, my dear, and +the most finished dancer of her day." The last was said with a timid pride, +though to Miss Lydia herself the dance was the devil's own device, and the +teaching of the catechism to small black slaves the chief end of existence. +But the blood of the "most finished dancer of her day" still circulated +beneath the old lady's gown and the religious life, and in her attenuated +romances she forever held the sinner above the saint, unless, indeed, the +sinner chanced to be of her own sex, when, probably, the book would never +have reached her hands. For the purely masculine improprieties, her charity +was as boundless as her innocence. She had even dipped into Shakespeare and +brought away the memory of Mercutio; she had read Scott, and enshrined in +her pious heart the bold Rob Roy. "Men are very wicked, I fear," she would +gently offer, "but they are very a--a--engaging, too." + +To-day, when Betty came with the message, she lingered a moment to convince +herself that the bonnet was not in her thoughts, and then swept her +trailing bombazine into the house. "I have come to tell you that you may as +well send the bonnet back, Julia," she began at once. "Flowers are much too +fine for me, my dear. I need only a plain black poke." + +"Come up and try it on," was Mrs. Ambler's cheerful response. "You have no +idea how lovely it will look on you." + +Miss Lydia went up and took the bonnet out of its wrapping of tissue paper. +"No, you must send it back, my love," she said in a resigned voice. "It +does not become me to dress as a married woman. It may as well go back, +Julia." + +"But do look in the glass, Aunt Lydia--there, let me put it straight for +you. Why, it suits you perfectly. It makes you look at least ten years +younger." + +"A plain black poke, my dear," insisted Aunt Lydia, as she carefully +swathed the flowers in the tissue paper. "And, besides, I have my old one, +which is quite good enough for me, my love. It was very sweet of you to +think of it, but it may as well go back." She pensively gazed at the mirror +for a moment, and then went to her chamber and took out her Bible to read +Saint Paul on Woman. + +When she came down a few hours later, her face wore an angelic meekness. "I +have been thinking of that poor Mrs. Brown who was here last week," she +said softly, "and I remember her telling me that she had no bonnet to wear +to church. What a loss it must be to her not to attend divine service." + +Mrs. Ambler quickly looked up from her needlework. "Why, Aunt Lydia, it +would be really a charity to give her your old one!" she exclaimed. "It +does seem a shame that she should be kept away from church because of a +bonnet. And, then, you might as well keep the new one, you know, since it +is in the house; I hate the trouble of sending it back." + +"It would be a charity," murmured Miss Lydia, and the bonnet was brought +down and tried on again. They were still looking at it when Betty rushed in +and threw herself upon her mother. "O, mamma, I can't help it!" she cried +in tears, "an' I wish I hadn't done it! Oh, I wish I hadn't; but I set fire +to the Major's woodpile, and he's whippin' Dan!" + +"Betty!" exclaimed Mrs. Ambler. She took the child by her shoulders and +drew her toward her. "Betty, did you set fire to the Major's woodpile?" she +questioned sternly. + +Betty was sobbing aloud, but she stopped long enough to gasp out an answer. + +"We were playin' Injuns, mamma, an' we couldn't make believe 'twas real," +she said, "an' it isn't any fun unless you can make believe, so I lit the +woodpile and pretended it was a fort, an' Big Abel, he was an Injun with +the axe for a tomahawk; but the woodpile blazed right up, an' the Major +came runnin' out. He asked Dan who did it, an' Dan wouldn't say 'twas +me,--an' I wouldn't say, either,--so he took Dan in to whip him. Oh, I wish +I'd told! I wish I'd told!" + +"Hush, Betty," said Mrs. Ambler, and she called to the Governor in the +hall, "Mr. Ambler, Betty has set fire to the Major's woodpile!" Her voice +was hopeless, and she looked up blankly at her husband as he entered. + +"Set fire to the woodpile!" whistled the Governor. "Why, bless my soul, we +aren't safe in our beds!" + +"He whipped Dan," wailed Betty. + +"We aren't safe in our beds," repeated the Governor, indignantly. "Julia, +this is really too much." + +"Well, you will have to ride right over there," said his wife, decisively. +"Petunia, run down and tell Hosea to saddle his master's horse. Betty, I +hope this will be a lesson to you. You shan't have any preserves for supper +for a week." + +"I don't want any preserves," sobbed Betty, her apron to her eyes. + +"Then you mustn't go fishing for two weeks. Mr. Ambler, you'd better be +starting at once, and don't forget to tell the Major that Betty is in great +distress--you are, aren't you, Betty?" + +"Yes, ma'am," wept Betty. + +The Governor went out into the hall and took down his hat and riding-whip. + +"The sins of the children are visited upon the fathers," he remarked +gloomily as he mounted his horse and rode away from his supper. + + + + +V + +THE SCHOOL FOR GENTLEMEN + + +The Governor rode up too late to avert the punishment. Dan had taken his +whipping and was sitting on a footstool in the library, facing the Major +and a couple of the Major's cronies. His face wore an expression in which +there was more resentment than resignation; for, though he took blows +doggedly, he bore the memory of them long after the smart had ceased--long, +indeed, after light-handed justice, in the Major's person, had forgotten +alike the sin and the expiation. For the Major's hand was not steady at the +rod, and he had often regretted a weakness of heart which interfered with +a physical interpretation of the wisdom of Solomon. "If you get your +deserts, you'd get fifty lashes," was his habitual reproof to his servants, +though, as a matter of fact, he had never been known to order one. His +anger was sometimes of the kind that appalls, but it usually vented itself +in a heightened redness of face or a single thundering oath; and a woman's +sob would melt his stoniest mood. It was only because his daughter had kept +out of his sight that he had never forgiven her, people said; but there +was, perhaps, something characteristic in the proof that he was most +relentless where he had most loved. + +As for Dan's chastisement, he had struck him twice across the shoulders, +and when the boy had turned to him with the bitter smile which was Jane +Lightfoot's own, the Major had choked in his wrath, and, a moment later, +flung the whip aside. "I'll be damned,--I beg your pardon, sir,--I'll be +ashamed of myself if I give you another lick," he said. "You are a +gentleman, and I shall trust you." + +He held out his hand, but he had not counted on the Montjoy blood. The boy +looked at him and stubbornly shook his head. "I can't shake hands yet +because I am hating you just now," he answered. "Will you wait awhile, +sir?" and the Major choked again, half in awe, half in amusement. + +"You don't bear malice, I reckon?" he ventured cautiously. + +"I am not sure," replied the boy, "I rather think I do." + +Then he put on his coat, and they went out to meet Mr. Blake and Dr. Crump, +two hale and jolly gentlemen who rode over every Thursday to spend the +night. + +As the visitors came panting up the steps, the Major stood in the doorway +with outstretched hands. + +"You are late, gentlemen, you are late," was his weekly greeting, to which +they as regularly responded, "We could never come too early for our +pleasure, my dear Major; but there are professional duties, you know, +professional duties." + +After this interchange of courtesies, they would enter the house and settle +themselves, winter or summer, in their favourite chairs upon the +hearth-rug, when it was the custom of Mrs. Lightfoot to send in a +fluttering maid to ask if Mrs. Blake had done her the honour to accompany +her husband. As Mrs. Blake was never known to leave her children and her +pet poultry, this was merely a conventionalism by which the elder lady +meant to imply a standing welcome for the younger. + +On this evening, Mr. Blake--the rector of the largest church in +Leicesterburg--straightened his fat legs and folded his hands as he did at +the ending of his sermons, and the others sat before him with the strained +and reverential faces which they put on like a veil in church and took off +when the service was over. That it was not a prayer, but a pleasantry of +which he was about to deliver himself, they quite understood; but he had a +habit of speaking on week days in his Sunday tones, which gave, as it were, +an official weight to his remarks. He was a fleshy wide-girthed gentleman, +with a bald head, and a face as radiant as the full moon. + +"I was just asking the doctor when I was to have the honour of making the +little widow Mrs. Crump?" he threw out at last, with a laugh that shook him +from head to foot. "It is not good for man to live alone, eh, Major?" + +"That sentence is sufficient to prove the divine inspiration of the +Scriptures," returned the Major, warmly, while the doctor blushed and +stammered, as he always did, at the rector's mild matrimonial jokes. It +was twenty years since Mr. Blake began teasing Dr. Crump about his +bachelorship, and to them both the subject was as fresh as in its +beginning. + +"I--I declare I haven't seen the lady for a week," protested the doctor, +"and then she sent for me." + +"Sent for you?" roared Mr. Blake. "Ah, doctor, doctor!" + +"She sent for me because she had heart trouble," returned the doctor, +indignantly. The lady's name was never mentioned between them. + +The rector laughed until the tears started. + +"Ah, you're a success with the ladies," he exclaimed, as he drew out a +neatly ironed handkerchief and shook it free from its folds, "and no +wonder--no wonder! We'll be having an epidemic of heart trouble next." +Then, as he saw the doctor wince beneath his jest, his kindly heart +reproached him, and he gravely turned to politics and the dignity of +nations. + +The two friends were faithful Democrats, though the rector always began his +very forcible remarks with: "A minister knows nothing of politics, and I am +but a minister of the Gospel. If you care, however, for the opinion of an +outsider--" + +As for the Major, he had other leanings which were a source of unending +interest to them all. "I am a Whig, not from principle, but from prejudice, +sir," he declared. "The Whig is the gentleman's party. I never saw a Whig +that didn't wear broadcloth." + +"And some Democrats," politely protested the doctor, with a glance at his +coat. + +The Major bowed. + +"And many Democrats, sir; but the Whig party, if I may say so, is the +broadcloth party--the cloth stamps it; and besides this, sir, I think its +'parts are solid and will wear well.'" + +Now when the Major began to quote Mr. Addison, even the rector was silent, +save for an occasional prompting, as, "I was reading the _Spectator_ until +eleven last night, sir," or "I have been trying to recall the lines in _The +Campaign_ before. 'Twas then great Marlborough's mighty soul was proved." + +This was the best of the day to Dan, and, as he turned on his footstool, he +did not even glare at Champe, who, from the window seat, was regarding him +with the triumphant eye with which the young behold the downfall of a +brother. For a moment he had forgotten the whipping, but Champe had not; he +was thinking of it in the window seat. + +But the Major was standing on the hearth-rug, and the boy's gaze went to +him. Tossing back his long white hair, and fixing his eagle glance on his +friends, the old gentleman, with a free sweep of his arm, thundered his +favourite lines:-- + + "So, when an angel by divine command + With rising tempests shakes a guilty land + (Such as of late o'er pale Britannia passed), + Calm and serene he drives the furious blast; + And, pleased the Almighty's orders to perform, + Rides in the whirlwind and directs the storm." + +He had got so far when the door opened and the Governor entered--a little +hurriedly, for he was thinking of his supper. + +"I am the bearer of an apology, my dear Major," he said, when he had +heartily shaken hands all round. "It seems that Betty--I assure you she is +in great distress--set fire to your woodpile this afternoon, and that your +grandson was punished for her mischief. My dear boy," he laid his hand on +Dan's shoulder and looked into his face with the winning smile which had +made him the most popular man in his State, "my dear boy, you are young to +be such a gentleman." + +A hot flush overspread Dan's face; he forgot the smart and the wounded +pride--he forgot even Champe staring from the window seat. The Governor's +voice was like salve to his hurt; the upright little man with the warm +brown eyes seemed to lift him at once to the plane of his own chivalry. + +"Oh, I couldn't tell on a girl, sir," he answered, and then his smothered +injury burst forth; "but she ought to be ashamed of herself," he added +bluntly. + +"She is," said the Governor with a smile; then he turned to the others. +"Major, the boy is a Lightfoot!" he exclaimed. + +"Ah, so I said, so I said!" cried the Major, clapping his hand on Dan's +head in a racial benediction. "'I'd know you were a Lightfoot if I met you +in the road' was what I said the first evening." + +"And a Virginian," added Mr. Blake, folding his hands on his stomach and +smiling upon the group. "My daughter in New York wrote to me last week for +advice about the education of her son. 'Shall I send him to the school of +learning at Cambridge, papa?' she asked; and I answered, 'Send him there, +if you will, but, when he has finished with his books, by all means let him +come to Virginia--the school for gentlemen.'" + +"The school for gentlemen!" cried the doctor, delightedly. "It is a prouder +title than the 'Mother of Presidents.'" + +"And as honourably earned," added the rector. "If you want polish, come to +Virginia; if you want chivalry, come to Virginia. When I see these two +things combined, I say to myself, 'The blood of the Mother of Presidents is +here.'" + +"You are right, sir, you are right!" cried the Major, shaking back his +hair, as he did when he was about to begin the lines from _The Campaign_. +"Nothing gives so fine a finish to a man as a few years spent with the +influences that moulded Washington. Why, some foreigners are perfected by +them, sir. When I met General Lafayette in Richmond upon his second visit, +I remember being agreeably impressed with his dignity and ease, which, I +have no doubt, sir, he acquired by his association, in early years, with +the Virginia gentlemen." + +The Governor looked at them with a twinkle in his eye. He was aware of the +humorous traits of his friends, but, in the peculiar sweetness of his +temper, he loved them not the less because he laughed at them--perhaps the +more. In the rector's fat body and the Major's lean one, he knew that there +beat hearts as chivalrous as their words. He had seen the Major doff his +hat to a beggar in the road, and the rector ride forty miles in a snowstorm +to read a prayer at the burial of a slave. So he said with a pleasant +laugh, "We are surely the best judges, my dear sirs," and then, as Mrs. +Lightfoot rustled in, they rose and fell back until she had taken her seat, +and found her knitting. + +"I am so sorry not to see Mrs. Blake," she said to the rector. "I have a +new recipe for yellow pickle which I must write out and send to her." And, +as the Governor rose to go, she stood up and begged him to stay to supper. +"Mr. Lightfoot, can't you persuade him to sit down with us?" she asked. + +"Where you have failed, Molly, it is useless for me to try," gallantly +responded the Major, picking up her ball of yarn. + +"But I must bear your pardon to my little girl, I really must," insisted +the Governor. "By the way, Major," he added, turning at the door, "what do +you think of the scheme to let the Government buy the slaves and ship them +back to Africa? I was talking to a Congressman about it last week." + +"Sell the servants to the Government!" cried the Major, hotly. "Nonsense! +nonsense! Why, you are striking at the very foundation of our society! +Without slavery, where is our aristocracy, sir?" + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," said the Governor lightly. "Well, we shall keep +them a while longer, I expect. Good night, madam, good night, gentlemen," +and he went out to where his horse was standing. + +The Major looked after him with a sigh. "When I hear a man talking about +the abolition of slavery," he remarked gloomily, "I always expect him to +want to do away with marriage next--" he checked himself and coloured, as +if an improper speech had slipped out in the presence of Mrs. Lightfoot. +The old lady rose primly and, taking the rector's arm, led the way to +supper. + +Dan was not noticed at the table,--it was a part of his grandmother's +social training to ignore children before visitors,--but when he went +upstairs that night, the Major came to the boy's room and took him in his +arms. + +"I am proud of you, my child," he said. "You are my grandson, every inch of +you, and you shall have the finest riding horse in the stables on your +birthday." + +"I'd rather have Big Abel, if you please, sir," returned Dan. "I think Big +Abel would like to belong to me, grandpa." + +"Bless my soul!" cried the Major. "Why, you shall have Big Abel and his +whole family, if you like. I'll give you every darky on the place, if you +want them--and the horses to boot," for the old gentleman was as unwise in +his generosity as in his wrath. + +"Big Abel will do, thank you," responded the boy; "and I'd like to shake +hands now, grandpa," he added gravely; but before the Major left that night +he had won not only the child's hand, but his heart. It was the beginning +of the great love between them. + +For from that day Dan was as the light of his grandfather's eyes. As the +boy strode manfully across the farm, his head thrown back, his hands +clasped behind him, the old man followed, in wondering pride, on his +footsteps. To see him stand amid the swinging cradles in the wheat field, +ordering the slaves and arguing with the overseer, was sufficient delight +unto the Major's day. "Nonsense, Molly," he would reply half angrily to his +wife's remonstrances. "The child can't be spoiled. I tell you he's too fine +a boy. I couldn't spoil him if I tried," and once out of his grandmother's +sight, Dan's arrogance was laughed at, and his recklessness was worshipped. +"Ah, you will make a man, you will make a man!" the Major had exclaimed +when he found him swearing at the overseer, "but you mustn't curse, you +really mustn't, you know. Why, your grandmother won't let me do it." + +"But I told him to leave that haystack for me to slide on," complained the +boy, "and he said he wouldn't, and began to pull it down. I wish you'd send +him away, grandpa." + +"Send Harris away!" whistled the Major. "Why, where could I get another, +Dan? He has been with me for twenty years." + +"Hi, young Marster, who gwine min' de han's?" cried Big Abel, from behind. + +"Do you like him, Big Abel?" asked the child, for the opinion of Big Abel +was the only one for which he ever showed respect. "It's because he's not +free, grandpa," he had once explained at the Major's jealous questioning. +"I wouldn't hurt his feelings because he's not free, you know, and he +couldn't answer back," and the Major had said nothing more. + +Now "Do you like him, Big Abel?" he inquired; and to the negro's "He's done +use me moughty well, suh," he said gravely, "Then he shall stay, +grandpa--and I'm sorry I cursed you, Harris," he added before he left the +field. He would always own that he was wrong, if he could once be made to +see it, which rarely happened. + +"The boy's kind heart will save him, or he is lost," said the Governor, +sadly, as Dan tore by on his little pony, his black hair blown from his +face, his gray eyes shining. + +"He has a kind heart, I know," returned Mrs. Ambler, gently; "the servants +and the animals adore him--but--but do you think it well for Betty to be +thrown so much with him? He is very wild, and they deny him nothing. I wish +she went with Champe instead--but what do you think?" + +"I don't know, I don't know," answered the Governor, uneasily. "He told the +doctor to mind his own business, yesterday--and that is not unlike Betty, +herself, I am sorry to say--but this morning I saw him give his month's +pocket money to that poor free negro, Levi. I can't say, I really do not +know," his eyes followed Betty as she flew out to climb behind Dan on the +pony's back. "I wish it were Champe, myself," he added doubtfully. + +For Betty--independent Betty--had become Dan's slave. Ever since the +afternoon of the burning woodpile, she had bent her stubborn little knees +to him in hero-worship. She followed closer than a shadow on his footsteps; +no tortures could wring his secrets from her lips. Once, when he hid +himself in the mountains for a day and night and played Indian, she kept +silence, though she knew his hiding-place, and a search party was out with +lanterns until dawn. + +"I didn't tell," she said triumphantly, when he came down again. + +"No, you didn't tell," he frankly acknowledged. + +"So I can keep a secret," she declared at last. + +"Oh, yes, you can keep a secret--for a girl," he returned, and added, "I +tell you what, I like you better than anybody about here, except grandpa +and Big Abel." + +She shone upon him, her eyes narrowing; then her face darkened. "Not better +than Big Abel?" she questioned plaintively. + +"Why, I have to like Big Abel best," he replied, "because he belongs to me, +you know--you ought to love the thing that belongs to you." + +"But I might belong to you," suggested Betty. She smiled again, and, +smiling or grave, she always looked as if she were standing in a patch of +sunshine, her hair made such a brightness about her. + +"Oh, you couldn't, you're white," said Dan; "and, besides, I reckon Big +Abel and the pony are as much as I can manage. It's a dreadful weight, +having people belong to you." + +Then he loaded his gun, and Betty ran away with her fingers in her ears, +because she couldn't bear to have things killed. + +A month later Dan and Champe settled down to study. The new tutor came--a +serious young man from the North, who wore spectacles, and read the Bible +to the slaves on the half-holidays. He was kindly and conscientious, and, +though the boys found him unduly weighed down by responsibility for the +souls of his fellows, they soon loved him in a light-hearted fashion. In a +society where even the rector harvested alike the true grain and the tares, +and left the Almighty to do His own winnowing, Mr. Bennett's free-handed +fight with the flesh and the devil was looked upon with smiling tolerance, +as if he were charging a windmill with a wooden sword. + +On Saturdays he would ride over to Uplands, and discuss his schemes for the +uplifting of the negroes with the Governor and Mrs. Ambler; and once he +even went so far as to knock at Rainy-day Jones's door and hand him a +pamphlet entitled "The Duties of the Slaveholder." Old Rainy-day, who was +the biggest bully in the county, set the dogs on him, and lit his pipe with +the pamphlet; but the Major, when he heard the story, laughed, and called +the young man "a second David." + +Mr. Bennett looked at him seriously through his glasses, and then his eyes +wandered to the small slave, Mitty, whose chief end in life was the finding +of Mrs. Lightfoot's spectacles. He was an earnest young man, but he could +not keep his eyes away from Mitty when she was in the room; and at the old +lady's, "Mitty, my girl, find me my glasses," he felt like jumping from his +seat and calling upon her to halt. It seemed a survival of the dark ages +that one immortal soul should spend her life hunting for the spectacles of +another. To Mr. Bennett, a soul was a soul in any colour; to the Major the +sons of Ham were under a curse which the Lord would lighten in His own good +time. + +But before many months, the young man had won the affection of the boys and +the respect of their grandfather, whose candid lack of logic was +overpowered by the reasons which Mr. Bennett carried at every finger tip. +He not only believed things, he knew why he believed them; and to the +Major, with whom feelings were convictions, this was more remarkable than +the courage with which he had handed his tract to old Rainy-day Jones. + +As for Mr. Bennett, he found the Major a riddle that he could not read; but +the Governor's first smile had melted his reserve, and he declared Mrs. +Ambler to be "a Madonna by Perugino." + +Mrs. Ambler had never heard of Perugino, and the word "Madonna" suggested +to her vague Romanist snares, but her heart went out to the stranger when +she found that he was in mourning for his mother. She was not a clever +woman in a worldly sense, yet her sympathy, from the hourly appeals to it, +had grown as fine as intellect. She was hopelessly ignorant of ancient +history and the Italian Renaissance; but she had a genius for the +affections, and where a greater mind would have blundered over a wound, her +soft hand went by intuition to the spot. It was very pleasant to sit in a +rosewood chair in her parlour, to hear her gray silk rustle as she crossed +her feet, and to watch her long white fingers interlace. + +So she talked to the young man of his mother, and he showed her the +daguerrotype of the girl he loved; and at last she confided to him her +anxieties for Betty's manners and the Governor's health, and her timid +wonder that the Bible "countenanced" slavery. She was rare and elegant like +a piece of fine point lace; her hands had known no harder work than the +delicate hemstitching, and her mind had never wandered over the nearer +hills. + +As time went on, Betty was given over to the care of her governess, and she +was allowed to run wild no more in the meadows. Virginia, a pretty prim +little girl, already carried her prayer book in her hands when she drove to +church, and wore Swiss muslin frocks in the evenings; but Betty when she +was made to hem tablecloths on sunny mornings, would weep until her needle +rusted. + +On cloudy days she would sometimes have her ambitions to be ladylike, and +once, when she had gone to a party in town and seen Virginia dancing while +she sat against the wall, she had come home to throw herself upon the +floor. + +"It's not that I care for boys, mamma," she wailed, "for I despise them; +but they oughtn't to have let me sit against the wall. And none of them +asked me to dance--not even Dan." + +"Why, you are nothing but a child, Betty," said Mrs. Ambler, in dismay. +"What on earth does it matter to you whether the boys notice you or not?" + +"It doesn't," sobbed Betty; "but you wouldn't like to sit against the wall, +mamma." + +"You can make them suffer for it six years hence, daughter," suggested the +Governor, revengefully. + +"But suppose they don't have anything to do with me then," cried Betty, and +wept afresh. + +In the end, it was Uncle Bill who brought her to her feet, and, in doing +so, he proved himself to be the philosopher that he was. + +"I tell you what, Betty," he exclaimed, "if you get up and stop crying, +I'll give you fifty cents. I reckon fifty cents will make up for any boy, +eh?" + +Betty lay still and looked up from the floor. + +"I--I reckon a dol-lar m-i-g-h-t," she gasped, and caught a sob before it +burst out. + +"Well, you get up and I'll give you a dollar. There ain't many boys worth +a dollar, I can tell you." + +Betty got up and held out one hand as she wiped her eyes with the other. + +"I shall never speak to a boy again," she declared, as she took the money. + +That was when she was thirteen, and a year later Dan went away to college. + + + + +VI + +COLLEGE DAYS + + +"My dear grandpa," wrote Dan during his first weeks at college, "I think I +am going to like it pretty well here after I get used to the professors. +The professors are a great nuisance. They seem to forget that a fellow of +seventeen isn't a baby any longer. + +"The Arcades are very nice, and the maples on the lawn remind me of those +at Uplands, only they aren't nearly so fine. My room is rather small, but +Big Abel keeps everything put away, so I manage to get along. Champe sleeps +next to me, and we are always shouting through the wall for Big Abel. I +tell you, he has to step lively now. + +"The night after we came, we went to supper at Professor Ball's. There was +a Miss Ball there who had a pair of big eyes, but girls are so silly. +Champe talked to her all the evening and walked out to the graveyard with +her the next afternoon. I don't see why he wants to spend so much of his +time with young ladies. It's because they think him good-looking, I reckon. + +"We are the only men who have horses here, so I am glad you made me bring +Prince Rupert, after all. When I ride him into town, everybody turns to +look at him, and Batt Horsford, the stableman, says his trot is as clean as +a razor. At first I wished I'd brought my hunter instead, they made such a +fuss over Champe's, and I tell you he's a regular timber-topper. + +"A week ago I rode to the grave of Mr. Jefferson, as I promised you, but I +couldn't carry the wreath for grandma because it would have looked +silly--Champe said so. However, I made Big Abel get down and pull a few +flowers on the way. + +"You know, I had always thought that only gentlemen came to the University, +but whom do you think I met the first evening?--why, the son of old +Rainy-day Jones. What do you think of that? He actually had the impudence +to pass himself off as one of the real Joneses, and he was going with all +the men. Of course, I refused to shake hands with him--so did Champe--and, +when he wanted to fight me, I said I fought only gentlemen. I wish you +could have seen his face. He looked as old Rainy-day did when he hit the +free negro Levi, and I knocked him down. + +"By the way, I wish you would please send me my half-year's pocket money in +a lump, if you can conveniently do so. There is a man here who is working +his way through Law, and his mother has just lost all her money, so, unless +some one helps him, he'll have to go out and work before he takes his +degree. I've promised to lend him my half-year's allowance--I said 'lend' +because it might hurt his feelings; but, of course, I don't want him to pay +it back. He's a great fellow, but I can't tell you his name--I shouldn't +like it in his place, you know. + +"The worst thing about college life is having to go to classes. If it +wasn't for that I should be all right, and, anyway, I am solid on my Greek +and Latin--but I can't get on with the higher mathematics. Mr. Bennett +couldn't drive them into my head as he did into Champe's. + +"I hope grandma has entirely recovered from her lumbago. Tell her Mrs. Ball +says she was cured by using red pepper plasters. + +"Do you know, by the way, that I left my half-dozen best waistcoats--the +embroidered ones--in the bottom drawer of my bureau, at least Big Abel +swears that's where he put them. I should be very much obliged if grandma +would have them fixed up and sent to me--I can't do without them. A great +many gentlemen here are wearing coloured cravats, and Charlie Morson's +brother, who came up from Richmond for a week, has a pair of side whiskers. +He says they are fashionable down there, but I don't like them. + +"With affectionate greeting to grandma and yourself, + +"Your dutiful grandson, + +"DANDRIDGE MONTJOY." + +"P.S. I am using my full name now--it will look better if I am ever +President. I wonder if Mr. Jefferson was ever called plain Tom. + +"DAN." + +"N.B. Give my love to the little girls at Uplands. + +"D." + +The Major read the letter aloud to his wife while she sat knitting by the +fireside, with Mitty holding the ball of yarn on a footstool at her feet. + +"What do you think of that, Molly?" he asked when he had finished, his +voice quivering with excitement. + +"Red pepper plasters!" returned the old lady, contemptuously. "As if I +hadn't been making them for Cupid for the last twenty years. Red pepper +plasters, indeed! Why, they're no better than mustard ones. I reckon I've +made enough of them to know." + +"I don't mean that, Molly," explained the Major, a little crestfallen. "I +was speaking of the letter. That's a fine letter, now, isn't it?" + +"It might be worse," admitted Mrs. Lightfoot, coolly; "but for my part, I +don't care to have my grandson upon terms of equality with any of that +rascal Jones's blood. Why, the man whips his servants." + +"But he isn't upon any terms, my dear. He refused to shake hands with him, +didn't you hear that? Perhaps I'd better read the letter again." + +"That is all very well, Mr. Lightfoot," said his wife, clicking her +needles, "but it can't prevent his being in classes with him, all the same. +And I am sure, if I had known the University was so little select, I should +have insisted upon sending him to Oxford, where his great-grandfather went +before him." + +"Good gracious, Molly! You don't wish the lad was across the ocean, do +you?" + +"It matters very little where he is so long as he is a gentleman," returned +the old lady, so sharply that Mitty began to unwind the worsted rapidly. + +"Nonsense, Molly," protested the Major, irritably, for he could not stand +opposition upon his own hearth-rug. "The boy couldn't be hurt by sitting in +the same class with the devil himself--nor could Champe, for that matter. +They are too good Lightfoots." + +"I am not uneasy about Champe," rejoined his wife. "Champe has never been +humoured as Dan has been, I'm glad to say." + +The Major started up as red as a beet. + +"Do you mean that I humour him, madam?" he demanded in a terrible voice. + +"Do pray, Mr. Lightfoot, you will frighten Mitty to death," said his wife, +reprovingly, "and it is really very dangerous for you to excite yourself +so--you remember the doctor cautioned you against it." And, by the time the +Major was thoroughly depressed, she skilfully brought out her point. "Of +course you spoil the child to death. You know it as well as I do." + +The Major, with the fear of apoplexy in his mind, had no answer on his +tongue, though a few minutes later he showed his displeasure by ordering +his horse and riding to Uplands to talk things over with the Governor. + +"I am afraid Molly is breaking," he thought gloomily, as he rode along. +"She isn't what she was when I married her fifty years ago." + +But at Uplands his ill humour was dispelled. The Governor read the letter +and declared that Dan was a fine lad, "and I'm glad you haven't spoiled +him, Major," he said heartily. "Yes, they're both fine lads and do you +honour." + +"So they do! so they do!" exclaimed the Major, delightedly. "That's just +what I said to Molly, sir. And Dan sends his love to the little girls," he +added, smiling upon Betty and Virginia, who stood by. + +"Thank you, sir," responded Virginia, prettily, looking at the old man with +her dovelike eyes; but Betty tossed her head--she had an imperative little +toss which she used when she was angry. "I am only three years younger than +he is," she said, "and I'm not a little girl any longer--Mammy has had to +let down all my dresses. I am fourteen years old, sir." + +"And quite a young lady," replied the Major, with a bow. "There are not two +handsomer girls in the state, Governor, which means, of course, that there +are not two handsomer girls in the world, sir. Why, Virginia's eyes are +almost a match for my Aunt Emmeline's, and poets have immortalized hers. Do +you recall the verses by the English officer she visited in prison?-- + + "'The stars in Rebel skies that shine + Are the bright orbs of Emmeline.'" + +"Yes, I remember," said the Governor. "Emmeline Lightfoot is as famous as +Diana," then his quick eyes caught Betty's drooping head, "and what of this +little lady?" he asked, patting her shoulder. "There's not a brighter smile +in Virginia than hers, eh, Major?" + +But the Major was not to be outdone when there were compliments to be +exchanged. + +"Her hair is like the sunshine," he began, and checked himself, for at the +first mention of her hair Betty had fled. + +It was on this afternoon that she brewed a dye of walnut juice and carried +it in secret to her room. She had loosened her braids and was about to +plunge her head into the basin when Mrs. Ambler came in upon her. "Why, +Betty! Betty!" she cried in horror. + +Betty turned with a start, wrapped in her shining hair. "It is the only +thing left to do, mamma," she said desperately. "I am going to dye it. It +isn't ladylike, I know, but red hair isn't ladylike either. I have tried +conjuring, and it won't conjure, so I'm going to dye it." + +"Betty! Betty!" was all Mrs. Ambler could say, though she seized the basin +and threw it from the window as if it held poison. "If you ever let that +stuff touch your hair, I--I'll shave your head for you," she declared as +she left the room; but a moment afterward she looked in again to add, "Your +grandmamma had red hair, and she was the beauty of her day--there, now, you +ought to be ashamed of yourself!" + +So Betty smiled again, and when Virginia came in to dress for supper, she +found her parading about in Aunt Lydia's best bombazine gown. + +"This is how I'll look when I'm grown up," she said, the corner of her eye +on her sister. + +"You'll look just lovely," returned Virginia, promptly, for she always said +the sweetest thing at the sweetest time. + +"And I'm going to look like this when Dan comes home next summer," resumed +Betty, sedately. + +"Not in Aunt Lydia's dress?" + +"You goose! Of course not. I'm going to get Mammy to make me a Swiss muslin +down to the ground, and I'm going to wear six starched petticoats because I +haven't any hoops. I'm just wild to wear hoops, aren't you, Virginia?" + +"I reckon so," responded Virginia, doubtfully; "but it will be hard to sit +down, don't you think?" + +"Oh, but I know how," said Betty. "Aunt Lydia showed me how to do it +gracefully. You give a little kick--ever so little and nobody sees it--and +then you just sink into your seat. I can do it well." + +"You were always clever," exclaimed Virginia, as sweetly as before. She was +parting her satiny hair over her forehead, and the glass gave back a +youthful likeness of Mrs. Ambler. She was the beauty of the family, and she +knew it, which made her all the lovelier to Betty. + +"I declare, your freckles are all gone," she said, as her sister's head +looked over her shoulder. "I wonder if it is the buttermilk that has made +you so white?" + +"It must be that," admitted Betty, who had used it faithfully for the sixty +nights. "Aunt Lydia says it works wonders." Then, as she looked at herself, +her eyes narrowed and she laughed aloud. "Why, Dan won't know me," she +cried merrily. + +But whatever hopes she had of Dan withered in the summer. When he came home +for the holidays, he brought with him an unmistakable swagger and a supply +of coloured neckerchiefs. On his first visit to Uplands he called Virginia +"my pretty child," and said "Good day, little lady," to Betty. He carried +himself like an Indian, as the Governor put it, and he was very lithe and +muscular, though he did not measure up to Champe by half a head. It was the +Montjoy blood in him, people thought, for the Lightfoots were all of great +height, and he had, too, a shock of his father's coarse black hair, which +flared stiffly above the brilliant Lightfoot eyes. As he galloped along the +turnpike on Prince Rupert, the travelling countrymen turned to look after +him, and muttered that "dare-devil Jack Montjoy had risen from his +grave--if he had a grave." + +Once he met Betty at the gate, and catching her up before him, dashed with +her as far as Aunt Ailsey's cabin and back again. "You are as light as a +fly," he said with a laugh, "and not much bigger. There, take your hair out +of my eyes, or I'll ride amuck." + +Betty caught her hair in one hand and drew it across her breast. "This is +like--" she began gayly, and checked herself. She was thinking of "that +devil Jack Montjoy and Jane Lightfoot." + +"I must take my chance now," said Dan, in his easy, masterful way. "You +will be too old for this by next year. Why, you will be in long dresses +then, and Virginia--have you noticed, by the way, what a beauty Virginia is +going to be?" + +"She is just lovely," heartily agreed Betty. "She's prettier than your +Great-aunt Emmeline, isn't she?" + +"By George, she is. And I've been in love with Great-aunt Emmeline for ten +years because I couldn't find her match. I say, don't let anybody go off +with Virginia while I'm at college, will you?" + +"All right," said Betty, and though she smiled at him through her hair, her +smile was not so bright as it had been. It was all very well to hear +Virginia praised, she told herself, but she should have liked it better had +Dan been a little less emphatic. "I don't think any one is going to run off +with her," she added gravely, and let the subject of her sister's beauty +pass. + +But at the end of the week, when Dan went back to college, her loyal heart +reproached her, and she confided to Virginia that "he thought her a great +deal lovelier than Great-aunt Emmeline." + +"Really?" asked Virginia, and determined to be very nice to him when he +came home for the holidays. + +"But what does he say about you?" she inquired after a moment. + +"About me?" returned Betty. "Oh, he doesn't say anything about me, except +that I am kind." + +Virginia stooped and kissed her. "You are kind, dear," she said in her +sweetest voice. + +And "kind," after all, was the word for Betty, unless Big Abel had found +one when he said, "She is des all heart." It was Betty who had tramped +three miles through the snow last Christmas to carry her gifts to the free +negro Levi, who was "laid up" and could not come to claim his share; and it +was Betty who had asked as a present for herself the lame boy Micah, that +belonged to old Rainy-day Jones. She had met Micah in the road, and from +that day the Governor's life was a burden until he sent the negro up to her +door on Christmas morning. There was never a sick slave or a homeless dog +that she would not fly out to welcome, bareheaded and a little breathless, +with the kindness brimming over from her eyes. "She has her father's head +and her mother's heart," said the Major to his wife, when he saw the girl +going by with the dogs leaping round her and a young fox in her arms. "What +a wife she would make for Dan when she grows up! I wish he'd fancy her. +They'd be well suited, eh, Molly?" + +"If he fancies the thing that is suited to him, he is less of a man than I +take him to be," retorted Mrs. Lightfoot, with a cynicism which confounded +the Major. "He will lose his head over her doll baby of a sister, I +suppose--not that she isn't a good girl," she added briskly. "Julia Ambler +couldn't have had a bad child if she had tried, though I confess I am +surprised that she could have helped having a silly one; but Betty, why, +there hasn't been a girl since I grew up with so much sense in her head as +Betty Ambler has in her little finger." + +"When I think of you fifty years ago, I must admit that you put a high +standard, Molly," interposed the Major, who was always polite when he was +not angry. + +"She spent a week with me while you were away," Mrs. Lightfoot went on in +an unchanged voice, though with a softened face, "and, I declare, she kept +house as well as I could have done it myself, and Cupid says she washed the +pink teaset every morning with her own hands, and she actually cured +Rhody's lameness with a liniment she made out of Jimson weed. I tell you +now, Mr. Lightfoot, that, if I get sick, Betty Ambler is the only girl I'm +going to have inside the house." + +"Very well, my dear," said the Major, meekly, "I'll try to remember; and, +in that case, I reckon we'd as well drop a hint to Dan, eh, Molly?" + +Mrs. Lightfoot looked at him a moment in silence. Then she said "Humph!" +beneath her breath, and took up her knitting from the little table at her +side. + +But Dan was living fast at college, and the Major's hints were thrown away. +He read of "the Ambler girls who are growing into real beauties," and he +skipped the part that said, "Your grandmother has taken a great fancy to +Betty and enjoys having her about." + +"Here's something for you, Champe," he remarked with a laugh, as he tossed +the letter upon the table. "Gather your beauties while you may, for I +prefer bull pups. Did Batt Horsford tell you I'd offered him twenty-five +dollars for that one of his?" + +Champe picked up the letter and unfolded it slowly. He was a tall, slender +young fellow, with curling pale brown hair and fine straight features. His +face, in the strong light of the window by which he stood, showed a tracery +of blue veins across the high forehead. + +"Oh, shut up about bull pups," he said irritably. "You are as bad as a +breeder, and yet you couldn't tell that thoroughbred of John Morson's from +a cross with a terrier." + +"You bet I couldn't," cried Dan, firing up; but Champe was reading the +letter, and a faint flush had risen to his face. "The girl is like a spray +of golden-rod in the sunshine," wrote the Major, with his old-fashioned +rhetoric. + +"What is it he says, eh?" asked Dan, noting the flush and drawing his +conclusions. + +"He says that Aunt Molly and himself will meet us at the White Sulphur next +summer." + +"Oh, I don't mean that. What is it he says about the girls; they are real +beauties aren't they? By the way, Champe, why don't you marry one of them +and settle down?" + +"Why don't you?" retorted Champe, as Dan got up and called to Big Abel to +bring his riding clothes. "Oh, I'm not a lady's man," he said lightly. +"I've too moody a face for them," and he began to dress himself with the +elaborate care which had won for him the title of "Beau" Montjoy. + +By the next summer, Betty and Virginia had shot up as if in a night, but +neither Champe nor Dan came home. After weeks of excited preparation, the +Major and Mrs. Lightfoot started, with Congo and Mitty, for the White +Sulphur, where the boys were awaiting them. As the months went on, vague +rumours reached the Governor's ears--rumours which the Major did not quite +disprove when he came back in the autumn. "Yes, the boy is sowing his wild +oats," he said; "but what can you expect, Governor? Why, he is not yet +twenty, and young blood is hot blood, sir." + +"I am sorry to hear that he has been losing at cards," returned the +Governor; "but take my advice, and let him pick himself up when he falls to +hurt. Don't back him up, Major." + +"Pooh! pooh!" exclaimed the Major, testily. "You're like Molly, Governor, +and, bless my soul, one old woman is as much as I can manage. Why, she +wants me to let the boy starve." + +The Governor sighed, but he did not protest. He liked Dan, with all his +youthful errors, and he wanted to put out a hand to hold him back from +destruction; but he feared to bring the terrible flush to the Major's face. +It was better to leave things alone, he thought, and so sighed and said +nothing. + +That was an autumn of burning political conditions, and the excited slavery +debates in the North were reechoing through the Virginia mountains. The +Major, like the old war horse that he was, had already pricked up his ears, +and determined to lend his tongue or his sword, as his state might require. +That a fight could go on in the Union so long as Virginia or himself kept +out of it, seemed to him a possibility little less than preposterous. + +"Didn't we fight the Revolution, sir? and didn't we fight the War of 1812? +and didn't we fight the Mexican War to boot?" he would demand. "And, bless +my soul, aren't we ready to fight all the Yankees in the universe, and to +whip them clean out of the Union, too? Why, it wouldn't take us ten days to +have them on their knees, sir." + +The Governor did not laugh now; the times were too grave for that. His +clear eyes had seen whither they were drifting, and he had thrown his +influence against the tide, which, he knew, would but sweep over him in the +end. "You are out of place in Virginia, Major," he said seriously. +"Virginia wants peace, and she wants the Union. Go south, my dear sir, go +south." + +During the spring before he had gone south himself to a convention at +Montgomery, and he had spoken there against one of the greatest of the +Southern orators. His state had upheld him, but the Major had not. He came +home to find his old neighbour red with resentment, and refusing for the +first few days to shake the hand of "a man who would tamper with the honour +of Virginia." At the end of the week the Major's hand was held out, but his +heart still bore his grievance, and he began quoting William L. Yancey, as +he had once quoted Mr. Addison. In the little meetings at Uplands or at +Chericoke, he would now declaim the words of the impassioned agitator as +vigorously as in the old days he had recited those of the polished +gentleman of letters. The rector and the doctor would sit silent and +abashed, and only the Governor would break in now and then with: "You go +too far, Major. There is a step from which there is no drawing back, and +that step means ruin to your state, sir." + +"Ruin, sir? Nonsense! nonsense! We made the Union, and we'll unmake it when +we please. We didn't make slavery; but, if Virginia wants slaves, by God, +sir, she shall have slaves!" + +It was after such a discussion in the Governor's library that the old +gentleman rose one evening to depart in his wrath. "The man who sits up in +my presence and questions my right to own my slaves is a damned black +abolitionist, sir," he thundered as he went, and by the time he reached his +coach he was so blinded by his rage that Congo, the driver, was obliged to +lift him bodily into his seat. "Dis yer ain' no way ter do, Ole Marster," +said the negro, reproachfully. "How I gwine teck cyar you like Ole Miss +done tole me, w'en you let yo' bile git ter yo' haid like dis? 'Tain' no +way ter do, suh." + +The Major was too full for silence; and, ignoring the Governor, who had +hurried out to beseech him to return, he let his rage burst forth. + +"I can't help it, Congo, I can't help it!" he said. "They want to take you +from me, do you hear? and that black Republican party up north wants to +take you, too. They say I've no right to you, Congo,--bless my soul, and +you were born on my own land!" + +"Go 'way, Ole Marster, who gwine min' w'at dey say?" returned Congo, +soothingly. "You des better wrop dat ar neck'chif roun' yo' thoat er Ole +Miss'll git atter you sho' es you live!" + +The Major wiped his eyes on the end of the neckerchief as he tied it about +his throat. "But, if they elect their President, he may send down an army +to free you," he went on, with something like a sob of anger, "and I'd like +to know what we'd do then, Congo." + +"Lawd, Lawd, suh," said Congo, as he wrapped the robe about his master's +knees. "Did you ever heah tell er sech doin's!" then, as he mounted the +box, he leaned down and called out reassuringly, "Don' you min', Ole +Marster, we'll des loose de dawgs on 'em, dat's w'at we'll do," and they +rolled off indignantly, leaving the Governor half angry and half apologetic +upon his portico. + +It was on the way home that evening that Congo spied in the sassafras +bushes beside the road a runaway slave of old Rainy-day Jones's, and +descended, with a shout, to deliver his brother into bondage. + +"Hi, Ole Marster, w'at I gwine tie him wid?" he demanded gleefully. + +The Major looked out of the window, and his face went white. + +"What's that on his cheek, Congo?" he asked in a whisper. + +"Dat's des whar dey done hit 'im, Ole Marster. How I gwine tie 'im?" + +But the Major had looked again, and the awful redness rose to his brow. + +"Shut up, you fool!" he said with a roar, as he dived under his seat and +brought out his brandy flask. "Give him a swallow of that--be quick, do you +hear? Pour it into your cup, sir, and give him that corn pone in your +pocket. I see it sticking out. There, now hoist him up beside you, and, if +I meet that rascal Jones, I'll blow his damn brains out!" + +The Major doubtless would have fulfilled his oath as surely as his twelve +peers would have shaken his hand afterwards; but, by the time they came up +with Rainy-day a mile ahead, his wrath had settled and he had decided that +"he didn't want such dirty blood upon his hands." + +So he took a different course, and merely swore a little as he threw a roll +of banknotes into the road. "Don't open your mouth to me, you hell hound," +he cried, "or I'll have you whipped clean out of this county, sir, and +there's not a gentleman in Virginia that wouldn't lend a hand. Don't open +your mouth to me, I tell you; here's the price of your property, and you +can stoop in the dirt to pick it up. There's no man alive that shall +question the divine right of slavery in my presence; but--but it is an +institution for gentlemen, and you, sir, are a damned scoundrel!" + +With which the Major and old Rainy-day rode on in opposite ways. + + + + +BOOK SECOND + +YOUNG BLOOD + + + + +I + +THE MAJOR'S CHRISTMAS + + +On Christmas Eve the great logs blazed at Chericoke. From the open door the +red light of the fire streamed through the falling snow upon the broad +drive where the wheel ruts had frozen into ribbons of ice. The naked boughs +of the old elms on the lawn tapped the peaked roof with twigs as cold and +bright as steel, and the two high urns beside the steps had an iridescent +fringe around their marble basins. + +In the hall, beneath swinging sprays of mistletoe and holly, the Major and +his hearty cronies were dipping apple toddy from the silver punch bowl half +hidden in its wreath of evergreens. Behind them the panelled parlour was +aglow with warmth, and on its shining wainscoting Great-aunt Emmeline, +under her Christmas garland, held her red apple stiffly away from the skirt +of her amber brocade. + +The Major, who had just filled the rector's glass, let the ladle fall with +a splash, and hurried to the open door. + +"They're coming, Molly!" he called excitedly, "I hear their horses in the +drive. No, bless my soul, it's wheels! The Governor's here, Molly! Fill +their glasses at once--they'll be frozen through!" + +Mrs. Lightfoot, who had been watching from the ivied panes of the parlour, +rustled, with sharp exclamation, into the hall, and began hastily dipping +from the silver punch bowl. "I really think, Mr. Lightfoot, that the house +would be more comfortable if you'd be content to keep the front door +closed," she found time to remark. "Do take your glass by the fire, Mr. +Blake; I declare, I positively feel the sleet in my face. Don't you think +it would be just as hospitable, Mr. Lightfoot, to open to them when they +knock?" + +"What, keep the door shut on Christmas Eve, Molly!" exclaimed the Major +from the front steps, where the snow was falling on his bare head. "Why, +you're no better than a heathen. It's time you were learning your catechism +over again. Ah, here they are, here they are! Come in, ladies, come in. The +night is cold, but the welcome's warm.--Cupid, you fool, bring an umbrella, +and don't stand grinning there.--Here, my dear Miss Lydia, take my arm, and +never mind the weather; we've the best apple toddy in Virginia to warm you +with, and the biggest log in the woods for you to look at. Ah, come in, +come in," and he led Miss Lydia, in her white wool "fascinator," into the +house where Mrs. Lightfoot stood waiting with open arms and the apple +toddy. The Governor had insisted upon carrying his wife, lest she chill her +feet, and Betty and Virginia, in their long cloaks, fluttered across the +snow and up the steps. As they reached the hall, the Major caught them in +his arms and soundly kissed them. "It isn't Christmas every day, you know," +he lamented ruefully, "and even our friend Mr. Addison wasn't steeled +against rosy cheeks, though he was but a poor creature who hadn't been to +Virginia. But come to the fire, come to the fire. There's eggnog to your +liking, Mr. Bill, and just a sip of this, Miss Lydia, to warm you up. You +may defy the wind, ma'am, with a single sip of my apple toddy." He seized +the poker and, while Congo brought the glasses, prodded the giant log until +the flames leaped, roaring, up the chimney and the wainscoting glowed deep +red. + +"What, not a drop, Miss Lydia?" he cried, in aggrieved tones, when he +turned his back upon the fire. + +Miss Lydia shook her head, blushing as she untied her "fascinator." She was +fond of apple toddy, but she regarded the taste as an indelicate one, and +would as soon have admitted, before gentlemen, a liking for cabbage. + +"Don't drink it, dear," she whispered to Betty, as the girl took her glass; +"it will give you a vulgar colour." + +Betty turned upon her the smile of beaming affection with which she always +regarded her family. She was standing under the mistletoe in her light blue +cloak and hood bordered with swan's-down, and her eyes shone like lamps in +the bright pallor of her face. + +"Why, it is delicious!" she said, with the pretty effusion the old man +loved. "It is better than my eggnog, isn't it, papa?" + +"If anything can be better than your eggnog, my dear," replied the +Governor, courteously, "it is the Major's apple toddy." The Major bowed, +and Betty gave a merry little nod. "If you hadn't put it so nicely, I +should never have forgiven you," she laughed; "but he always puts it +nicely, Major, doesn't he? I made him the other day a plum pudding of my +very own,--I wouldn't even let Aunt Floretta seed the raisins,--and when it +came on burnt, what do you think he said? Why, I asked him how he liked it, +and he thought for a minute and replied, 'My dear, it's the very best burnt +plum pudding I ever ate.' Now wasn't that dear of him?" + +"Ah, but you should have heard how he put things when he was in politics," +said the Major, refilling his glass. "On my word, he could make the truth +sound sweeter than most men could make a lie." + +"Come, come, Major," protested the Governor. "Julia, can't you induce our +good friend to forbear?" + +"He knows I like to hear it," said Mrs. Ambler, turning from a discussion +of her Christmas dinner with Mrs. Lightfoot. + +"Then you shall hear it, madam," declared the Major, "and I may as well say +at once that if the Governor hasn't told you about the reply he made to +Plaintain Dudley when he asked him for his political influence, you haven't +the kind of husband, ma'am, that Molly Lightfoot has got. Keep a secret +from Molly! Why, I'd as soon try to keep a keg full of brandy from +following an auger." + +"Auger, indeed!" exclaimed the little old lady, to whom the Major's +facetiousness was the only serious thing about him. "Your secrets are like +apples, sir, that hang to every passer-by, until I store them away. Auger, +indeed!" + +"No offence, my dear," was the Major's meek apology. "An auger is a very +useful implement, eh, Governor; and it's Plaintain Dudley, after all, that +we're concerned with. Do you remember Plaintain, Mrs. Ambler, a big ruddy +fellow, with ruffled shirts? Oh, he prided himself on his shirts, did +Plaintain!" + +"A very becoming weakness," said Mrs. Ambler, smiling at the Governor, who +was blushing above his tucks. + +"Becoming? Well, well, I dare say," admitted the Major. "Plaintain thought +so, at any rate. Why, I can see him now, on the day he came to the +Governor, puffing out his front, and twirling his white silk handkerchief. +'May I ask your opinion of me, sir?' he had the audacity to begin, and the +Governor! Bless my soul, ma'am, the Governor bowed his politest bow, and +replied with his pleasantest smile, 'My opinion of you, sir, is that were +you as great a gentleman as you are a scoundrel, you would be a greater +gentleman than my Lord Chesterfield.' Those were his words, ma'am, on my +oath, those were his words!" + +"But he was a scoundrel!" exclaimed the Governor. "Why, he swindled women, +Major. It was always a mystery to me how you tolerated him." + +"And a mystery to Mrs. Lightfoot," responded the Major, in a half whisper; +"but as I tell her, sir, you mustn't judge a man by his company, or a +'possum by his grin." Then he raised a well-filled glass and gave a toast +that brought even Mr. Bill upon his feet, "To Virginia, the home of brave +men and," he straightened himself, tossed back his hair, and bowed to the +ladies, "and of angels." + +The Governor raised his glass with a smile, "To the angels who take pity +upon the men," he said. + +"That more angels may take pity upon men," added the rector, rising from +his seat by the fireside, with a wink at the doctor. + +And the toast was drunk, standing, while the girls ran up the crooked stair +to lay aside their wraps in a three-cornered bedroom. + +As Virginia threw off her pink cloak and twirled round in her flaring +skirts, Betty gave a little gasp of admiration and stood holding the +lighted candle, with its sprig of holly, above her head. The tall girlish +figure, in its flounces of organdy muslin, with the smooth parting of +bright brown hair and the dovelike eyes, had flowered suddenly into a +beauty that took her breath away. + +"Why, you are a vision--a vision!" she cried delightedly. + +Virginia stopped short in her twirling and settled the illusion ruche over +her slim white shoulders. "It's the first time I've dressed like this, you +know," she said, glancing at herself in the dim old mirror. + +"Ah, I'm not half so pretty," sighed Betty, hopelessly, "Is the rose in +place, do you think?" She had fastened a white rose in the thick coil on +her neck, where it lay half hidden by her hair. + +"It looks just lovely," replied Virginia, heartily. "Do you hear some one +in the drive?" She went to the window, and looked out into the falling +snow, her bare shoulders shrinking from the frosted pane. "What a long ride +the boys have had, and how cold they'll be. Why, the ground is quite +covered with snow." Betty, with the candle still in her hand, turned from +the mirror, and gave a quick glance through the sloping window, to the +naked elms outside. "Ah, poor things, poor things!" she cried. + +"But they have their riding cloaks," said Virginia, in her placid voice. + +"Oh, I don't mean Dan and Champe and Big Abel," answered Betty, "I mean the +elms, the poor naked elms that wear their clothes all summer, and are +stripped bare for the cold. How I should like to warm you, you dear +things," she added, going to the window. Against the tossing branches her +hair made a glow of colour, and her vivid face was warm with tenderness. +"And Jane Lightfoot rode away on a night like this!" she whispered after a +pause. + +"She wore a muslin dress and a coral necklace, you know," said Virginia, in +the same low tone, "and she had only a knitted shawl over her head when she +met Jack Montjoy at the end of the drive. He wrapped her in his cape, and +they rode like mad to the town--and she was laughing! Uncle Shadrach met +them in the road, and he says he heard her laughing in the wind. She must +have been very wicked, mustn't she, Betty?" + +But Betty was looking into the storm, and did not answer. "I wonder if he +were in the least like Dan," she murmured a moment later. + +"Well, he had black hair, and Dan has that," responded Virginia, lightly; +"and he had a square chin, and Dan has that, too. Oh, every one says that +Dan's the image of his father, except for the Lightfoot eyes. I'm glad he +has the Lightfoot eyes, anyway. Are you ready to go down?" + +Betty was ready, though her face had grown a little grave, and with a last +look at the glass, they caught hands and went sedately down the winding +stair. + +In the hall below they met Mrs. Lightfoot, who sent Virginia into the +panelled parlour, and bore Betty off to the kitchen to taste the sauce for +the plum pudding. "I can't do a thing on earth with Rhody," she remarked +uneasily, throwing a knitted scarf over her head as they went from the back +porch along the covered way that led to the brick kitchen. "She insists +that yours is the only palate in all the country she will permit to pass +judgment upon her sauce. I made the Major try it, and he thinks it needs a +dash more of rum, but Rhody says she shan't be induced to change it until +she has had your advice. Here, Rhody, open the door; I've brought your +young lady." + +The door swung back with a jerk upon the big kitchen, where before the +Christmas turkeys toasting on the spit, Aunt Rhody was striding to and fro +like an Amazon in charcoal. From the beginning of the covered way they had +been guided by the tones of penetrant contempt, with which she lashed the +circle of house servants who had gathered to her assistance. "You des lemme +alont now," was the advice she royally offered. "Ef you gwine ax me w'at +you'd better do, I des tell you right now, you'd better lemme alont. +Ca'line, you teck yo' eyes off dat ar roas' pig, er I'll fling dis yer +b'ilin' lard right spang on you. I ain' gwine hev none er my cookin' +conjured fo' my ve'y face. Congo, you shet dat mouf er yourn, er I'll shet +hit wid er flat-iron, en den hit'll be shet ter stay." + +Then, as Mrs. Lightfoot and Betty came in, she broke off, and wiped her +large black hands on her apron, before she waved with pride to the shelves +and tables bending beneath her various creations. "I'se done stuff dat ar +pig so full er chestnuts dat he's fitten ter bus'," she exclaimed proudly. +"Lawd, Lawd, hit's a pity he ain' 'live agin des ter tase hese'f!" + +"Poor little pig," said Betty, "he looks so small and pink, Aunt Rhody, I +don't see how you have the heart to roast him." + +"I'se done stuff 'im full," returned Aunt Rhody, in justification. + +"I hope he's well done, Rhody," briskly broke in Mrs. Lightfoot; "and be +sure to bake the hams until the juice runs through the bread crumbs. Is +everything ready for to-morrow?" + +"Des es ready es ef 'twuz fer Kingdom Come, Ole Miss, en dar ain' gwine be +no better dinner on Jedgment Day nurr, I don' cyar who gwine cook hit. You +des tase dis yer sass--dat's all I ax, you des tase dis yer sass." + +"You taste it, Betty," begged Mrs. Lightfoot, shrinking from the +approaching spoon; and Betty tasted and pronounced it excellent, "and there +never was an Ambler who wasn't a judge of 'sass," she added. + +Moved by the compliment, Aunt Rhody fell back and regarded the girl, with +her arms akimbo. "I d'clar, her eyes do des shoot fire," she exclaimed +admiringly. "I dunno whar de beaux done hid deyse'ves dese days; hit's a +wonner dey ain' des a-busin' dey sides ter git yer. Marse Dan, now, whynt +he come a-prancin' roun' dese yer parts?" + +Mrs. Lightfoot looked at Betty and saw her colour rise. "That will do, +Rhody," she cautioned; "you will let the turkeys burn," but as they moved +toward the door, Betty herself paused and looked back. + +"I gave your Christmas gift to Uncle Cupid, Aunt Rhody," she said; "he put +it under the joists in your cabin, so you mustn't look at it till morning." + +"Lawd, chile, I'se done got Christmas gifts afo' now," replied Aunt Rhody, +ungratefully, "en I'se done got a pa'cel er no count ones, too. Folks dey +give Christmas gifts same es de Lawd he give chillun--dey des han's out +w'at dey's got on dey han's, wid no stiddyin' 'bout de tase. Sakes er live! +Ef'n de Lawd hadn't hed a plum sight ter git rid er, he 'ouldn't er sont +Ca'line all dose driblets, fo' he'd done sont 'er a husban'." + +"Husban', huh!" exclaimed Ca'line, with a snort from the fireplace. +"Husban' yo'se'f! No mo' niggerisms fer me, ma'am!" + +"Hold your tongue, Ca'line," said Mrs. Lightfoot, sternly; "and, Rhody, you +ought to be ashamed of yourself to talk so before your Miss Betty." + +"Husban', huh!" repeated the indignant Ca'line, under her breath. + +"Hold your tongues, both of you," cried the old lady, as she lifted her +silk skirt in both hands and swept from the kitchen. + +When they reached the house again, they heard the Major's voice, on its +highest key, demanding: "Molly! Why, bless my soul, what's become of +Molly?" He was calling from the front steps, and the sound of tramping feet +rang in the drive below. Against the whiteness of the storm Big Abel's face +shone in the light from the open door, and about him, as he held the +horses, Dan and Champe and a guest or two were dismounting upon the steps. + +As the old lady went forward, Champe rushed into the hall, and caught her +in his arms. + +"On my word, you're so young I didn't know you," he cried gayly. "If you +keep this up, Aunt Molly, there'll be a second Lightfoot beauty yet. You +grow prettier every day--I declare you do!" + +"Hold your tongue, you scamp," said the old lady, flushing with pleasure, +"or there'll be a second Ananias as well. Here, Betty, come and wish this +bad boy a Merry Christmas." + +Betty looked round with a smile, but as she did so, her eyes went beyond +Champe, and saw Dan standing in the doorway, his soft slouch hat in his +hand, and a powdering of snow on his dark hair. He had grown bigger and +older in the last few months, and the Lightfoot eyes, with the Lightfoot +twinkle in their pupils, gave an expression of careless humour to his pale, +strongly moulded face. The same humour was in his voice even as he held his +grandfather's hand. + +"By George, we're glad to get here," was his greeting. "Morson's been +cursing our hospitality for the last three miles. Grandpa, this is my +friend Morson--Jack Morson, you've heard me speak of him; and this is Bland +Diggs, you know of him, too." + +"Why, to be sure, to be sure," cried the Major, heartily, as he held out +both hands. "You're welcome, gentlemen, as welcome as Christmas--what more +can I say? But come in, come in to the fire. Cupid, the glasses!" + +"Ah, the ladies first," suggested Dan, lightly; "grace before meat, you +know. So here you are, grandma, cap and all. And Virginia;--ye gods!--is +this little Virginia?" + +His laughing eyes were on her as she stood, tall and lovely, beneath a +Christmas garland, and with the laughter still in them, they blazed with +approval of her beauty. "Oh, but do you know, how did you do it?" he +demanded with his blithe confidence, as if it mattered very little how his +words were met. + +"It wasn't any trouble, believe me," responded Virginia, blushing, "not +half so much trouble as you took to tie your neckerchief." + +Dan's hand went to his throat. "Then I may presume that it is mere natural +genius," he exclaimed. + +"Genius, to grow tall?" + +"Well, yes, just that--to grow tall," then he caught sight of Betty, and +held out his hand again. "And you, little comrade, you haven't grown up to +the world, I see." + +Betty laughed and looked him over with the smile the Major loved. "I +content myself with merely growing up to you," she returned. + +"Up to me? Why, you barely reach my shoulder." + +"Well, up to the greater part of you, at least." + +"Ah, up to my heart," said Dan, and Betty coloured beneath the twinkle in +his eyes. + +The colour was still in her face when the Major came out, with Mrs. Ambler +on his arm, and led the way to supper. + +"All of us are hungry, and some of us have a day's ride behind us," he +remarked, as, after the rector's grace, he stood waving the carving-knife +above the roasted turkey. "I'd like to know how often during the last hour +you've thought of this turkey, Mr. Morson?" + +"It has had a fair share of my thoughts, I'm forced to admit, Major," +responded Jack Morson, readily. He was a hearty, light-haired young fellow, +with a girlish complexion and pale blue eyes, as round as marbles. "As fair +a share as the apple toddy has had of Diggs's, I'll be bound." + +"Apple toddy!" protested Diggs, turning his serious face, flushed from the +long ride, upon the Major. "I was too busy thinking we should never get +here; and we were lost once, weren't we, Beau?" he asked of Dan. + +"Well, I for one am safely housed for the night, doctor," declared the +rector, with an uneasy glance through the window, "and I trust that Mrs. +Blake's reproach will melt before the snow does. But what's that about +being lost, Dan?" + +"Oh, we got off the road," replied Dan; "but I gave Prince Rupert the rein +and he brought us in. The sense that horse has got makes me fairly ashamed +of going to college in his place; and I may as well warn you, Mr. Blake, +that when I get ready to go to Heaven, I shan't seek your guidance at +all--I'll merely nose Prince Rupert at the Bible and give him his head." + +"It's a comfort to know, at least, that you won't be trusting to your own +deserts, my boy," responded the rector, who dearly loved his joke, as he +helped himself to yellow pickle. + +"Let us hope that the straight and narrow way is a little clearer than the +tavern road to-night," said Champe. "I'm afraid you'll have trouble getting +back, Governor." + +"Afraid!" took up the Major, before the Governor could reply. "Why, where +are your manners, my lad? It will be no ill wind that keeps them beneath +our roof. We'll make room for you, ladies, never fear; the house will +stretch itself to fit the welcome, eh, Molly?" + +Mrs. Lightfoot, looking a little anxious, put forward a hearty assent; but +the Governor laughed and threw back the Major's hospitality as easily as it +was proffered. + +"I know that your welcome's big enough to hold us, my dear Major," he said; +"but Hosea's driving us, you see, and he could take us along the turnpike +blindfold. Why, he actually discovered in passing just before the storm +that somebody had dug up a sugar berry bush from the corner of your old +rail fence." + +"And we really must get back," insisted Mrs. Ambler, "we haven't even fixed +the servants' Christmas, and Betty has to fill the stockings for the +children in the quarters." + +"Then if you will go, go you shall," cried the Major, as heartily as he had +pressed his invitation. "You shall get back, ma'am, if I have to go before +you with a shovel and clear the snow away. So just a bit more of this roast +pig, just a bit, Governor. My dear Miss Lydia, I beg you to try that spiced +beef--and you, Mr. Bill?--Cupid, Mr. Bill will have a piece of roast pig." + +By the time the Tokay was opened, the Major had grown very jolly, and he +began to exchange jokes with the Governor and the rector. Mr. Bill and the +doctor, neither of whom could have told a story for his life, listened with +a kind of heavy gravity; and the young men, as they rattled off a college +tale or two, kept their eyes on Betty and Virginia. + +Betty, leaning back in her high mahogany chair, and now and then putting in +a word with the bright effusion which belonged to her, gave ear half to the +Major's anecdotes, and half to a jest of Jack Morson's. Before her branched +a silver candelabrum, and beyond it, with the light in his face, Dan was +sitting. She watched him with a frank curiosity from eyes, where the smile, +with which she had answered the Major, still lingered in a gleam of +merriment. There was a puzzled wonder in her mind that Dan--the Dan of her +childhood--should have become for her, of a sudden, but a strong, +black-haired stranger from whom she shrank with a swift timidity. She +looked at Champe's high blue-veined forehead and curling brown hair; he was +still the big boy she had played with; but when she went back to Dan, the +wonder returned with a kind of irritation, and she felt that she should +like to shake him and have it out between them as she used to do before he +went away. What was the meaning of it? Where the difference? As he sat +across from her, with his head thrown back and his eyes dark with laughter, +her look questioned him half humorously, half in alarm. From his broad brow +to his strong hand, playing idly with a little heap of bread crumbs, she +knew that she was conscious of his presence--with a consciousness that had +quickened into a living thing. + +To Dan, himself, her gaze brought but the knowledge that her smile was upon +him, and he met her question with lifted eyebrows and perplexed amusement. +What he had once called "the Betty look" was in her face,--so kind a look, +so earnest yet so humorous, with a sweet sane humour at her own +bewilderment, that it held his eyes an instant before they plunged back to +Virginia--an instant only, but long enough for him to feel the thrill of an +impulse which he did not understand. Dear little Betty, he thought, +tenderly, and went back to her sister. + +The next moment he was telling himself that "the girl was a tearing +beauty." He liked that modest droop of her head and those bashful soft +eyes, as if, by George, as if she were really afraid of him. Or was it +Champe or Jack Morson that she bent her bewitching glance upon? Well, +Champe, or Morson, or himself, in a week they would all be over head and +ears in love with her, and let him win who might. It was mere folly, of +course, to break one's heart over a girl, and there was no chance of that +so long as he had his horses and the bull pups to fall back upon; but she +was deucedly pretty, and if he ever came to the old house to live it would +be rather jolly to have her about. He would be twenty-one by this time next +year, and a man of twenty-one was old enough to settle down a bit. In the +meantime he laughed and met Virginia's eye, and they both blushed and +looked away quickly. + +But when they left the dining room an hour later, it was not Virginia that +Dan sought. He had learned the duties of hospitality in the Major's school, +and so he sat down beside Miss Lydia and asked her about her window garden, +while Jack Morson made desperate love to his beautiful neighbour. Once, +indeed, he drew Betty aside for an instant, but it was only to whisper: +"Look here, you'll be real nice to Diggs, won't you? He's bashful, you +know, and besides he's awfully poor, and works like the devil. You make him +enjoy his holidays, and I--well, yes, I'll let that fox get away next week, +I declare I will." + +"All right," agreed Betty, "it's a bargain. Mr. Diggs shall have a merry +Christmas, and the fox shall have his life. You'll keep faith with me?" + +"Sworn," said Dan, and he went back to Miss Lydia, while Betty danced a +reel with young Diggs, who fell in love with her before he was an hour +older. The terms cost him his heart, perhaps, but there was a life at +stake, and Betty, who had not a touch of the coquette in her nature, would +have flirted open-eyed with the rector could she have saved a robin from +the shot. As for Diggs, he might have been a family portrait or a Christmas +garland for all the sentiment she gave him. + +When she went upstairs some hours later to put on her wraps, she had +forgotten, indeed, that Diggs or his emotion was in existence. She tied on +her blue hood with the swan's-down, and noticed, as she did so, that the +white rose was gone from her hair. "I hope I lost it after supper," she +thought rather wistfully, for it was becoming; and then she slipped into +her long cloak and started down again. It was not until she reached the +bend in the staircase, where the tall clock stood, that she looked over the +balustrade and saw Dan in the hall below with the white rose in his hand. + +She had come so softly that he had not heard her step. The light from the +candelabra was full upon him, and she saw the half-tender, half-quizzical +look in his face. For an instant he held the white rose beneath his eyes, +then he carefully folded it in his handkerchief and hid it in the pocket of +his coat. As he did so, he gave a queer little laugh and went quickly back +into the panelled parlour, while Betty glowed like a flower in the darkened +bend of the staircase. + +When they called her and she came down the bright colour was still in her +face, and her eyes were shining happily under the swan's-down border of her +hood. "This little lady isn't afraid of the cold," said the Major, as he +pinched her cheeks. "Why, she's as warm as a toast, and, bless my soul, if +I were thirty years younger, I'd ride twenty miles tonight to catch a +glimpse of her in that bonny blue hood. Ah, in my day, men were men, sir." + +Dan, who had come back from escorting Miss Lydia to the carriage, laughed +and held out his arms. + +"Let me carry you, Betty; I'll show grandpa that there's still a man +alive." + +"No, sir, no," said Betty, as she stood on tiptoe and held her cheek to the +Major. "You haven't a chance when your grandfather's by. There, I'll let +you carry the sleeping draught for Aunt Pussy; but my flounces, no, never!" +and she ran past him and slipped into the carriage beside Mrs. Ambler and +Miss Lydia. + +In a moment Virginia came out under an umbrella that was held by Jack +Morson, and the carriage rolled slowly along the drive, while the young men +stood, bareheaded, in the falling snow. + +"Keep a brave heart, Morson," said Champe, with a laugh, as he ran back +into the house, where the Major waited to bar the door, "remember, you've +known her but three hours, and stand it like a man. Well I'm off to bed," +and he lighted his candle and, with a gay "good night," went whistling up +the stair. + +In Dan's bedroom, where he had crowded for the holidays, he found his +cousin, upon the hearth-rug, looking abstractedly into the flames. + +As Champe entered he turned, with the poker in his hand, and spoke out of +the fulness of his heart:-- + +"She's a beauty, I declare she is." + +Champe broke short his whistling, and threw off his coat. + +"Well, I dare say she was fifty years ago," he rejoined gravely. + +"Oh, don't be an utter ass; you know I mean Virginia." + +"My dear boy, I had supposed Miss Lydia to be the object of your +attentions. You mustn't be a Don Juan, you know, you really mustn't. Spare +the sex, I entreat." + +Dan aimed a blow at him with a boot that was lying on the rug. "Shut up, +won't you," he growled. + +"Well, Virginia is a beauty," was Champe's amiable response. "Jack Morson +swears Aunt Emmeline's picture can't touch her. He's writing to his father +now, I don't doubt, to say he can't live without her. Go down, and he'll +read you the letter." + +Dan's face grew black. "I'll thank him to mind his own business," he +grumbled. + +"Oh, he thinks he's doing it." + +"Well, his business isn't either of the Ambler girls, and I'll have him to +know it. What right has he got, I'd like to know, to come up here and fall +in love with our neighbours." + +"Oh, Beau, Beau! Why, it was only last week you ran him away from Batt +Horsford's daughter. Are you going in for a general championship?" + +"The devil! Sally Horsford's a handsome girl, and a good girl, too; and +I'll fight any man who says she isn't. By George, a woman's a woman, if she +is a stableman's daughter!" + +"Bravo!" cried Champe, with a whistle, "there spoke the Lightfoot." + +"She's a good girl," repeated Dan, furiously, as he flung the other boot at +his cousin. Champe caught the boot, and carefully set it beside the door. +"Well, she's welcome to be, as far as I'm concerned," he replied calmly. +"Turn not your speaking eye upon me. I harbour no dark intent, Sir +Galahad." + +"Damn Sir Galahad!" said Dan, and blew out the light. + + + + +II + +BETTY DREAMS BY THE FIRE + + +Betty, lying back in the deep old carriage as it rolled through the storm, +felt a glow at her heart as if a lamp were burning there, shut in from the +night. Above the wind and the groaning of the wheels, she heard Hosea +calling to the horses, but the sound reached her through muffled ears. + +"Git along dar!" cried Hosea, with sudden spirit, "dar ain' no oats dis +side er home, en dar ain' no co'n, nurr. Git along dar! 'Tain' no use +a-mincin'. Git along dar!" + +The snow beat softly on the windows, and the Governor's profile was +relieved, fine and straight, against the frosted glass. "Are you asleep, +daughter?" he asked, turning to where the girl lay in her dark corner. + +"Asleep!" She came back with a start, and caught his hand above the robe in +her demonstrative way. "Why, who can sleep on Christmas Eve? there's too +much to do, isn't there, mamma? Twenty stockings to fill and I don't know +how many bundles to tie up. Oh, no, I shan't sleep tonight." + +"We might get up early to-morrow and do them," suggested Virginia, nodding +in her pink hood. + +"You, at least, must go to bed, dear," insisted Mrs. Ambler. "Betty and I +will fix the things." + +"Indeed, you shall go to bed, mamma," said Betty, sternly. "Papa and I +shall make Christmas this year. You'll help me, won't you, papa?" + +"Well, my dear, I don't see how I can help myself," returned the Governor; +"I wasn't born to be the father of a Betty for nothing." + +"Get along dar!" sang out Hosea again. "'Tain' no use a-mincin', gemmun. +Dar ain' no fiddlin' roun'. Git along dar!" + +Miss Lydia had fallen asleep, with her head on her breast, but the sound +aroused her, and she opened her eyes and sat up very straight. + +"Why, I declare I'd almost dropped off," she said. "Are we nearly there, +Peyton?" + +"I think so," replied the Governor, "but the snow's so thick I can't see;" +he opened the window and put out his head. "Are we nearly there, Hosea?" + +"We des done pas' de clump er cedars, suh," yelled Hosea through the storm. +"I'ud a knowd 'em ef dey'd come a-struttin' down de road--dey cyarn fool +me. Den we got ter pas' de wil' cher'y and de gap in de fence, en dar we +are." + +"Yes, we're nearly there," said the Governor, as he drew in his head, and +Miss Lydia slept again until the carriage turned into the drive and stopped +before the portico. + +Uncle Shadrach, in the open doorway, was grinning with delight. "Ef'n de +snow had er kep' you, dar 'ouldn't a been no Christmas for de res' er us," +he declared. + +"Oh, the snow couldn't keep us, Shadrach," returned the Governor, as he +gave him his overcoat, and set himself to unfastening his wife's wraps. "We +were too anxious to get home. There, Julia, you go to bed, and leave Betty +and myself to manage things. Don't say I can't do it. I tell you I've been +Governor of Virginia, and I'll not be daunted by an empty stocking. Now go +away, and you, too, Virginia--you're as sleepy as a kitten. Miss Lydia, +shall I take Mrs. Lightfoot's mixture to Miss Pussy, or will you?" + +Miss Lydia took the pitcher, and Betty put her arm about her mother and led +her upstairs, holding her hand and kissing it as she went. She was always +lavish with little ways of love, but to-night she felt tenderer than +ever--she felt that she should like to take the world in her arms and hold +it to her bosom. "Dearest, sweetest," she said, and her voice was full and +tremulous, though still with its crisp brightness of tone. It was as if she +caressed with her whole being, with those hidden possibilities of passion +which troubled her yet, only as the vibration of strong music, making her +joy pensive and her sadness sweet. She felt that she was walking in a +pleasant and vivid dream; she was happy, she could not tell why; nor could +she tell why she was sorrowful. + +In Mrs. Ambler's room they found Mammy Riah, awaiting her mistress's +return. + +"Put her to bed, Mammy," she said; "she is all chilled by the drive," and +she gave her mother over to the old negress, and ran down again to the +dining room, where the Governor was standing surrounded by the Christmas +litter. + +"Do you expect to straighten out all these things, daughter?" he asked +hopelessly. + +"Why, there's hardly anything left to do," was Betty's cheerful assurance. +"You just sit down at the table and put the nuts into the toes of those +stockings, and I'll count out these print frocks." + +The Governor obediently sat down and went to work. "I am moved to offer +thanks that we are not as the beasts that have four legs," he remarked +thoughtfully. "I shouldn't care to fill stockings for quadrupeds, Betty." + +"Why, you goose, there's only one stocking for each child." + +"Ah, but with four feet our expectations might be doubled," suggested the +Governor. "You can't convince me that it isn't a merciful providence, my +dear." + +When the stockings were filled and the packages neatly tied up and +separated, Uncle Shadrach came with a hamper, and Betty went out to the +kitchen to prepare for the morning gathering of the field hands and their +families. Returning after the work was over, she lingered a moment in the +path to the house, looking far across the white country. The snow had +ceased, and a single star was shining, through a rift in the scudding +clouds, straight overhead. From the northwest the wind blew hard, and the +fleecy covering on the ground was fast freezing a foot deep in ice. With a +shiver she drew her cloak about her and ran indoors and upstairs to where +Virginia lay asleep in the high, white bed. + +In the great brick fireplace the logs had fallen apart, and she softly +pushed them together again as she threw on a knot of resinous pine. The +blaze shot up quickly, and blowing out the candle upon the bureau, she +undressed by the firelight, crooning gently as she did so in a voice that +was lower than the singing flames. With the glow on her bared arms and her +hair unbound upon her shoulders, she sat close against the chimney; and +while Virginia slept in the tester bed, went dreaming out into the night. + +At first her dreams went back into her childhood, and somehow, she knew not +why, she could not bring back her childhood but Dan came with it. She +fancied herself in all kinds of impossible places, but she had no sooner +got safely into them than she looked up and Dan was there before her, +standing very still and laughing at her with his eyes. It was the same +thing even when she was a baby. Her earliest memory was of a May morning +when they took her out into a field of buttercups, and told her that she +might pluck her arms full if she could, and then, as she stretched out her +little hands and began to gather very fast, she looked across to where the +waving yellow buttercups stood up against the blue spring sky. That memory +had always been her own before; but now, when she went back to it, she knew +that all the time she had been gathering buttercups for Dan. And she had +plucked faster and faster only that she might have a bigger bunch for him +when the gathering was done. She saw herself working bonnetless in the +sunshine, her baby face red, her lips breathless, working so hard, she did +not know for whom. Oh, how funny that he should have been somewhere all the +time! + +And again on the day when they gave her her first doll, and she let it fall +and cried her heart out over its broken pink face. She knew, at last, that +somewhere in that ugly town Dan had dropped his toy; and it was for that +she was crying, not for her own poor doll. Yes, all her life she had had +two griefs to weep for, and two joys to be glad over. She had been really a +double self from her babyhood up--from her babyhood up! It had been always +up, up, up--like a lark that rises to the sun. She had all her life been +rising to the sun, and she was warmed at last. + +Then she asked herself if it were happiness, after all, this new +restlessness of hers. The melancholy of the early spring was there--the +roving impulse that comes on April afternoons when the first buds are on +the trees and the air is keen with the smell of the newly turned earth. She +felt that it was time for the spring to come again; she wanted to walk +alone in the woods and to watch the swallows flying from the north. And +again she wanted only to lie close upon the hearth and to hear the flames +leap up the chimney. One of her selves cried to be up and roaming; the +other to turn over on the rug and sleep again. + +But gradually her thoughts returned to him, and she went over, bit by bit, +what he had said last evening, asking herself if he had meant much at this +time, or little at another. It seemed to her that she found new meanings +now in things that she had once overlooked. She read words in his eyes +which he had never spoken; and, one by one, she brought back each sentence, +each look, each gesture, holding it up to her remembrance, and laying it +aside to give place to the next. Oh, there were so many, so many! + +And then from the past her dreams went groping out into the future, +becoming dimmer, and shaping themselves into unreal forms. Scattered +visions came drifting through her mind,--of herself in romantic adventures, +and of Dan--always of Dan--appearing like the prince in the fairy tale, at +the perilous moment. She saw herself on the breast of a great river, borne, +while she stretched her hands at a white rose-bush blooming in the clouds, +to a cataract which she could not see, though she heard its thunder far +ahead. She tried to call, but no sound came, for the water filled her +mouth. The river went on and on, and the falling of the cataract was in her +ears, when she felt Dan's arm about her, and saw his eyes laughing at her +above the waters. + +"Betty!" called Virginia, suddenly, rising on her elbow and rubbing her +eyes. "Betty, is it morning?" + +Betty awoke with a cry, and stood up in the firelight. + +"Oh, no, not yet," she answered. + +"What are you doing? Aren't you coming to bed?" + +"I--I was just thinking," stammered Betty, twisting her hair into a rope; +"yes, I'm coming now," and she crossed the room and climbed into the bed +beside her sister. + +"I believe I fell asleep by the fire," she said, as she turned over. + + + + +III + +DAN AND BETTY + + +On the last day of the year the young men from Chericoke, as they rode down +the turnpike, came upon Betty bringing holly berries from the wood. She was +followed by two small negroes laden with branches, and beside her ran her +young setters, Peyton and Bill. + +As Dan came up with her, he checked his horse and swung himself to the +ground. "Thank God I've passed the boundary!" he exclaimed over his +shoulder to the others. "Ride on, my lads, ride on! Don't prate of the +claims of hospitality to me. My foot is on my neighbours' heath; I'm host +to no man." + +"Come, now, Beau," remonstrated Jack Morson, looking down from his saddle; +"I see in Miss Betty's eyes that she wants me to carry that holly--I swear +I do." + +"Then you see more than is written," declared Champe, from the other side, +"for it's as plain as day that one eye says Diggs and one Lightfoot--isn't +it, Betty?" + +Betty looked up, laughing. "If you are so skilled in foreign tongues, what +can I answer?" she asked. "Only that I've been a mile after this holly for +the party to-night, and I wouldn't trust it to all of you together--for +worlds." + +"Oh, go on, go on," said Dan, impatiently, "doesn't that mean that she'll +trust it to me alone? Good morning, my boys, God be with you," and he led +Prince Rupert aside while the rest rode by. + +When they were out of sight he turned to one of the small negroes, his hand +on the bridle. "Shall we exchange burdens, O eater of 'possums?" he asked +blandly. "Will you permit me to tote your load, while you lead my horse to +the house? You aren't afraid of him, are you?" + +The little negro grinned. "He do look moughty glum, suh," he replied, half +fearfully. + +"Glum! Why, the amiability in that horse's face is enough to draw tears. +Come up, Prince Rupert, your highness is to go ahead of me; it's to oblige +a lady, you know." + +Then, as Prince Rupert was led away, Dan looked at Betty. + +"Shall it be the turnpike or the meadow path?" he inquired, with the gay +deference he used toward women, as if a word might turn it to a jest or a +look might make it earnest. + +"The meadow, but not the path," replied the girl; "the path is asleep under +the snow." She cast a happy glance over the white landscape, down the long +turnpike, and across the broad meadow where a cedar tree waved like a snowy +plume. "Jake, we must climb the wall," she added to the negro boy, "be +careful about the berries." + +Dan threw his holly into the meadow and lifted Betty upon the stone wall. +"Now wait a moment," he cautioned, as he went over. "Don't move till I tell +you. I'm managing this job--there, now jump!" + +He caught her hands and set her on her feet beside him. "Take your fence, +my beauties," he called gayly to the dogs, as they came bounding across the +turnpike. + +Betty straightened her cap and took up her berries. + +"Your tender mercies are rather cruel," she complained, as she did so. +"Even my hair is undone." + +"Oh, it's all the better," returned Dan, without looking at her. "I don't +see why girls make themselves so smooth, anyway. That's what I like about +you, you know--you've always got a screw loose somewhere." + +"But I haven't," cried Betty, stopping in the snow. + +"What! if I find a curl where it oughtn't to be, may I have it?" + +"Of course not," she answered indignantly. + +"Well, there's one hanging over your ear now. Shall I put it straight with +this piece of holly? My hands are full, but I think I might manage it." + +"Don't touch me with your holly!" exclaimed Betty, walking faster; then in +a moment she turned and stood calling to the dogs. "Have you noticed what +beauties Bill and Peyton have grown to be?" she questioned pleasantly. +"There weren't any boys to be named after papa and Uncle Bill, so I called +the dogs after them, you know. Papa says he would rather have had a son +named Peyton; but I tell him the son might have been wicked and brought his +hairs in sorrow to the grave." + +"Well, I dare say, you're right," he stopped with a sweep of his hand, and +stood looking to where a flock of crows were flying over the dried spectres +of carrot flowers that stood up above the snow; "That's fine, now, isn't +it?" he asked seriously. + +Betty followed his gesture, then she gave a little cry and threw her arms +round the dogs. "The poor crows are so hungry," she said. "No, no, you +mustn't chase them, Bill and Peyton, it isn't right, you see. Here, Jake, +come and hold the dogs, while I feed the crows." She drew a handful of corn +from the pocket of her cloak, and flung it out into the meadow. + +"I always bring corn for them," she explained; "they get so hungry, and +sometimes they starve to death right out here. Papa says they are +pernicious birds; but I don't care--do you mind their being pernicious?" + +"I? Not in the least. I assure you I trouble myself very little about the +morals of my associates. I'm not fond of crows; but it is their voices +rather than their habits I object to. I can't stand their eternal +'cawing!'--it drives me mad." + +"I suppose foxes are pernicious beasts, also," said Betty, as she walked +on; "but there's an old red fox in the woods that I've been feeding for +years. I don't know anything that foxes like to eat except chickens, but I +carry him a basket of potatoes and turnips and bread, and pile them up +under a pine tree; it's just as well for him to acquire the taste for them, +isn't it?" + +She smiled at Dan above her fur tippet, and he forgot her words in watching +the animation come and go in her face. He fell to musing over her decisive +little chin, the sensitive curves of her nostrils and sweet wide mouth, and +above all over her kind yet ardent look, which gave the peculiar beauty to +her eyes. + +"Ah, is there anything in heaven or earth that you don't like?" he asked, +as he gazed at her. + +"That I don't like? Shall I really tell you?" + +He bent toward her over his armful of holly. + +"I have a capacious breast for secrets," he assured her. + +"Then you will never breathe it?" + +"Will you have me swear?" he glanced about him. + +"Not by the inconstant moon," she entreated merrily. + +"Well, by my 'gracious self'; what's the rest of it?" + +She coloured and drew away from him. His eyes made her self-conscious, ill +at ease; the very carelessness of his look disconcerted her. + +"No, do not swear," she begged. "I shall trust you with even so weighty a +confidence. I do not like--" + +"Oh, come, why torture me?" he demanded. + +She made a little gesture of alarm. "From fear of the wrath to come," she +admitted. + +"Of my wrath?" he regarded her with amazement. "Oh, don't you like +_me_?" he exclaimed. + +"You! Yes, yes--but--have mercy upon your petitioner. I do not like your +cravats." + +She shut her eyes and stood before him with lowered head. + +"My cravats!" cried Dan, in dismay, as his hand went to his throat, "but my +cravats are from Paris--Charlie Morson brought them over. What is the +matter with them?" + +"They--they're too fancy," confessed Betty. "Papa wears only white, or +black ones you know." + +"Too fancy! Nonsense! do you want to send me back to grandfather's stocks, +I wonder? It's just pure envy--that's what it is. Never mind, I'll give you +the very best one I've got." + +Betty shook her head. "And what should I do with it, pray?" she asked. +"Uncle Shadrach wouldn't wear it for worlds--he wears only papa's clothes, +you see. Oh, I might give it to Hosea; but I don't think he'd like it." + +"Hosea! Well, I declare," exclaimed Dan, and was silent. + +When he spoke a little later it was somewhat awkwardly. + +"I say, did Virginia ever tell you she didn't like my cravats?" he +inquired. + +"Virginia!" her voice was a little startled. "Oh, Virginia thinks they're +lovely." + +"And you don't?" + +"No, I don't." + +"Well, you are a case," he said, and walked on slowly. + +They were already in sight of the house, and he did not speak again until +they had passed the portico and entered the hall. There they found Virginia +and the young men, who had ridden over ahead of them, hanging evergreens +for the approaching party. Jack Morson, from the top of the step-ladder, +was suspending a holly wreath above the door, while Champe was entwining +the mahogany balustrade in running cedar. + +"Oh, Betty, would it be disrespectful to put mistletoe above General +Washington's portrait?" called Virginia, as they went into the hall. + +"I don't think he'd mind--the old dear," answered Betty, throwing her +armful of holly upon the floor. "There, Dan, the burden of the day is +over." + +"And none too soon," said Dan, as he tossed the holly from him. "Diggs, you +sluggard, what are you sitting there in idleness for? Miss Pussy, can't you +set him to work?" + +Miss Pussy, who was bustling in and out with a troop of servants at her +heels, found time to reply seriously that she really didn't think there was +anything she could trust him with. "Of course, I don't mind your amusing +yourselves with the decorations," she added briskly, "but the cooking is +quite a different thing, you know." + +"Amusing myself!" protested Dan, in astonishment. "My dear lady, do you +call carrying a wagon load of brushwood amusement? Now, I'll grant, if you +please, that Morson is amusing himself on the step-ladder." + +"Keep off," implored Morson, in terror; "if you shake the thing, I'm gone, +I declare I am." + +He nailed the garland in place and came down cautiously. "Now, that's what +I call an artistic job," he complacently remarked. + +"Why, it's lovely," said Virginia, smiling, as he turned to her. "It's +lovely, isn't it, Betty?" + +"As lovely as a crooked thing can be," laughed Betty. She was looking +earnestly at Virginia, and wondering if she really liked Jack Morson so +very much. The girl was so bewitching in her red dress, with the flush of +a sudden emotion in her face, and the shyness in her downcast eyes. + +"Oh, that isn't fair, Virginia," called Champe from the steps. "Save your +favour for the man that deserves it--and look at me." Virginia did look at +him, sending him the same radiant glance. + +"But I've many 'lovelies' left," she said quickly; "it's my favourite +word." + +"A most appropriate taste," faltered Diggs, from his chair beneath the hall +clock. + +Champe descended the staircase with a bound. + +"What do I hear?" he exclaimed. "Has the oyster opened his mouth and +brought forth a compliment?" + +"Oh, be quiet," commanded Dan, "I shan't hear Diggs made fun of, and it's +time to get back, anyway. Well, loveliest of lovely ladies, you must put on +your prettiest frock to-night." + +Virginia's blush deepened. Did she like Dan so very much? thought Betty. + +"But you mustn't notice me, please," she begged, "all the neighbours are +coming, and there are so many girls,--the Powells and the Harrisons and the +Dulaneys. I am going to wear pink, but you mustn't notice it, you know." + +"That's right," said Jack Morson, "make him do his duty by the County, and +keep your dances for Diggs and me." + +"I've done my duty by you, sir," was Dan's prompt retort, "so I'll begin to +do my pleasure by myself. Now I give you fair warning, Virginia, if you +don't save the first reel for me, I'll dance all the rest with Betty." + +"Then it will be a Betty of your own making," declared Betty over her +shoulder, "for this Betty doesn't dance a single step with you to-night, so +there, sir." + +"Your punishment be on your own head, rash woman," said Dan, sternly, as he +took up his riding-whip. "I'll dance with Peggy Harrison," and he went out +to Prince Rupert, lifting his hat, as he mounted, to Miss Lydia, who stood +at her window above. A moment later they heard his horse's hoofs ringing in +the drive, and his voice gayly whistling:-- + + "They tell me thou'rt the favor'd guest." + +When the others joined him in the turnpike, the four voices took up the +air, and sent the pathetic melody fairly dancing across the snow. + + "Do I thus haste to hall and bower + Among the proud and gay to shine? + Or deck my hair with gem and flower + To flatter other eyes than thine? + Ah, no, with me love's smiles are past; + Thou hadst the first, thou hadst the last." + +The song ended in a burst of laughter, and up the white turnpike, beneath +the melting snow that rained down from the trees, they rode merrily back to +Chericoke. + +In the carriage way they found the Major, wrapped in his broadcloth cape, +taking what he called a "breath of air." + +"Well, gentlemen, I hope you had a pleasant ride," he remarked, following +them into the house. "You didn't see your way to stop by Uplands, I +reckon?" + +"That we did, sir," said Diggs, who was never bashful with the Major. "In +fact, we made ourselves rather useful, I believe." + +"They're charming young ladies over there, eh?" inquired the Major, +genially; and a little later when Dan and he were alone, he put the same +question to his grandson. "They're delightful girls, are they not, my boy?" +he ventured incautiously. "You have noticed, I dare say, how your +grandmother takes to Betty--and she's not a woman of many fancies, is your +grandmother." + +"Oh, but Virginia!" exclaimed Dan, with enthusiasm. "I wish you could have +seen her in her red dress to-day. You don't half realize what a thundering +beauty that girl is. Why, she positively took my breath away." + +The Major chuckled and rubbed his hands together. + +"I don't, eh?" he said, scenting a romance as an old war horse scents a +battle. "Well, well, maybe not; but I see where the wind blows anyway, and +you have my congratulations on either hand. I shan't deny that we old folks +had a leaning to Betty; but youth is youth, and we shan't oppose your +fancy. So I congratulate you, my boy, I congratulate you." + +"Ah, she wouldn't look at me, sir," declared Dan, feeling that the pace was +becoming a little too impetuous. "I only wish she would; but I'd as soon +expect the moon to drop from the skies." + +"Not look at you! Pooh, pooh!" protested the old gentleman, indignantly. +"Proper pride is not vanity, sir; and there's never been a Lightfoot yet +that couldn't catch a woman's eye, if I do say it who should not. Pooh, +pooh! it isn't a faint heart that wins the ladies." + +"I know you to be an authority, my dear grandpa," admitted the young man, +lightly glancing into the gilt-framed mirror above the mantel. "If there's +any of your blood in me, it makes for conquest." From the glass he caught +the laughter in his eyes and turned it on his grandfather. + +"It ill becomes me to rob the Lightfoots of one of their chief +distinctions," said the Major, smiling in his turn. "We are not a proud +people, my boy; but we've always fought like men and made love like +gentlemen, and I hope that you will live up to your inheritance." + +Then, as his grandson ran upstairs to dress, he followed him as far as Mrs. +Lightfoot's chamber, and informed her with a touch of pomposity: "That it +was Virginia, not Betty, after all. But we'll make the best of it, my +dear," he added cheerfully. "Either of the Ambler girls is a jewel of +priceless value." + +The little old lady received this flower of speech with more than ordinary +unconcern. + +"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Lightfoot, that the boy has begun already?" +she demanded, in amazement. + +"He doesn't say so," replied the Major, with a chuckle; "but I see what he +means--I see what he means. Why, he told me he wished I could have seen her +to-day in her red dress--and, bless my soul, I wish I could, ma'am." + +"I don't see what good it would do you," returned his wife, coolly. "But +did he have the face to tell you he was in love with the girl, Mr. +Lightfoot?" + +"Have the face?" repeated the Major, testily. "Pray, why shouldn't he have +the face, ma'am? Whom should he tell, I'd like to know, before he tells his +grandfather?" and with a final "pooh, pooh!" he returned angrily to his +library and to the _Richmond Whig_, a paper he breathlessly read and +mightily abused. + +Dan, meanwhile, upstairs in his room with Champe, was busily sorting his +collection of neckwear. + +"Look here, Champe, I'll give you all these red ties, if you want them," he +generously concluded. "I believe, after all, I'll take to wearing white or +black ones again." + +"What?" asked Champe, in astonishment, turning on his heel. "Have the skies +fallen, or does Beau Montjoy forsake the fashions?" + +"Confound the fashions!" retorted Dan, impatiently. "I don't care a jot for +the fashions. You may have all these, if you choose," and he tossed the +neckties upon the bed. + +Champe picked up one and examined it with interest. + +"O woman," he murmured as he did so, "your hand is small but mighty." + + + + +IV. + +LOVE IN A MAZE + + +Despite Virginia's endeavour to efface herself for her guests, she shone +unrivalled at the party, and Dan, who had held her hand for an ecstatic +moment under the mistletoe, felt, as he rode home in the moonlight +afterwards, that his head was fairly on fire with her beauty. She had been +sweetly candid and flatteringly impartial. He could not honestly assert +that she had danced with him oftener than with Morson, or a dozen others, +but he had a pleasant feeling that even when she shook her head and said, +"I cannot," her soft eyes added for her, "though I really wish to." There +was something almost pitiable, he told himself in the complacency with +which that self-satisfied ass Morson would come and take her from him. As +if he hadn't sense enough to discover that it was merely because she was +his hostess that she went with him at all. But some men would never +understand women, though they lived to be a thousand, and got rejected once +a day. + +Out in the moonlight, with the Governor's wine singing in his blood, he +found that his emotions had a way of tripping lightly off his tongue. There +were hot words with Diggs, who hinted that Virginia was not the beauty of +the century, and threats of blows with Morson, who too boldly affirmed that +she was. In the end Champe rode between them, and sent Prince Rupert on his +way with a touch of the whip. + +"For heaven's sake, keep your twaddle to yourselves!" he exclaimed +impatiently, "or take my advice, and make for the nearest duck pond. You've +both gone over your depth in the Governor's Madeira, and I advise you to +keep quiet until you've had your heads in a basin of ice water. There, get +out of my road, Morson. I can't sit here freezing all night." + +"Do you dare to imply that I am drunk, sir?" demanded Morson, in a fury. +"Bear witness, gentlemen, that the insult was unprovoked." + +"Oh, insult be damned!" retorted Champe. "If you shake your fist at me +again, I'll pitch you head over heels into that snowdrift." + +"Pitch whom, sir?" roared Morson, riding at the wall, when Diggs caught his +bridle and roughly dragged him back. + +"Come, now, don't make a beast of yourself," he implored. + +"Who's a beast?" was promptly put by Morson; but leaving it unanswered, +Diggs wheeled his horse about and started up the turnpike. "You've let Beau +get out of sight," he said. "We'd better catch up with him," and he set off +at a gallop. + +Dan, who had ridden on at Champe's first words, did not even turn his head +when the three came abreast with him. The moonlight was in his eyes, and +the vision of Virginia floated before him at his saddle bow. He let the +reins fall loosely on Prince Rupert's neck, and as the hoofs rang on the +frozen road, thrust his hands for warmth into his coat. In another dress, +with his dark hair blown backward in the wind, he might have been a +cavalier fresh from the service of his lady or his king, or riding +carelessly to his death for the sake of the drunken young Pretender. + +But he was only following his dreams, and they hovered round Virginia, +catching their rosy glamour from her dress. In the cold night air he saw +her walking demurely through the lancers, her skirt held up above her satin +shoes, her coral necklace glowing deeper pink against her slim white +throat. Mistletoe and holly hung over her, and the light of the candles +shone brighter where her radiant figure passed. He caught the soft flash of +her shy brown eyes, he heard her gentle voice speaking trivial things with +profound tenderness. His hand still burned from the light pressure of her +finger tips. Oh, his day had come, he told himself, and he was furiously in +love at last. + +As for going back to college, the very idea was absurd. At twenty years it +was quite time for him to settle down and keep open house like other men. +Virginia, in rose pink, flitted up the crooked stair and across the white +panels of the parlor, and with a leap, his heart went after her. He saw +Great-aunt Emmeline lean down from her faded canvas as if to toss her apple +at the young girl's feet. Ah, poor old beauty, hanging in a gilded frame, +what was her century of dust to a bit of living flesh that had bright eyes +and was coloured like a flower? + +When he was safely married he would have his wife's portrait hung upon the +opposite wall, only he rather thought he should have the dogs in and let +her be Diana, with a spear instead of an apple in her hand. Two beauties in +one family--that was something to be proud of even in Virginia. + +It was at this romantic point that Champe shattered his visions by shooting +a jest at him about the "love sick swain." + +"Oh, be off, and let a fellow think, won't you?" he retorted angrily. + +"Do you hear him call it thinking?" jeered Diggs, from the other side. + +"He doesn't call it mooning, oh, no," scoffed Champe. + +"Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life," sang Morson, striking an +attitude that almost threw him off his horse. + +"Shut up, Morson," commanded Diggs, "you ought to be thankful if you had +enough sense left to moon with." + +"Sense, who wants sense?" inquired Morson, on the point of tears. "I have +heart, sir." + +"Then keep it bottled up," rejoined Champe, coolly, as they turned into the +drive at Chericoke. + +In Dan's room they found Big Abel stretched before the fire asleep; and as +the young men came in, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. + +"Hi! young Marsters, hit's ter-morrow!" he exclaimed. + +"To-morrow! I wish it were to-morrow," responded Dan, cheerfully. "The fire +makes my head spin like a top. Here, come and pull off my coat, Big Abel, +or I'll have to go to bed with my clothes on." + +Big Abel pulled off the coat and brushed it carefully; then he held out his +hand for Champe's. + +"I hope dis yer coat ain' gwine lose hit's set 'fo' hit gits ter me," he +muttered as he hung them up. "Seems like you don' teck no cyar yo' clothes, +nohow, Marse Dan. I'se de wuss dress somebody dis yer side er de po' w'ite +trash. Wat's de use er bein' de quality ef'n you ain' got de close?" + +"Stop grumbling, you fool you," returned Dan, with his lordly air. "If it's +my second best evening suit you're after, you may take it; but I tell you +now, it's the last thing you're going to get out of me till summer." + +Big Abel took down the second best suit of clothes and examined them with +an interest they had never inspired before. "I d'clar you sutney does set +hard," he remarked after a moment, and added, tentatively, "I dunno whar de +shuts gwine come f'om." + +"Not from me," replied Dan, airily; "and now get out of here, for I'm going +to sleep." + +But when he threw himself upon his bed it was to toss with feverish +rose-coloured dreams until the daybreak. + +His blood was still warm when he came down to breakfast; but he met his +grandfather's genial jests with a boyish attempt at counter-buff. + +"Oh, you needn't twit me, sir," he said with an embarrassed laugh; "to wear +the heart upon the sleeve is hereditary with us, you know." + +"Keep clear of the daws, my son, and it does no harm," responded the Major. +"There's nothing so becoming to a gentleman as a fine heart well worn, eh, +Molly?" + +He carefully spread the butter upon his cakes, for his day of love-making +was over, and his eye could hold its twinkle while he watched Dan fidget in +his seat. + +Mrs. Lightfoot promptly took up the challenge. "For my part I prefer one +under a buttoned coat," she replied briskly; "but be careful, Mr. +Lightfoot, or you will put notions into the boys' heads. They are at the +age when a man has a fancy a day and gets over it before he knows it." + +"They are at the age when I had my fancy for you, Molly," gallantly +retorted the Major, "and I seem to be carrying it with me to my grave." + +"It would be a dull wit that would go roving from Aunt Molly," said Champe, +affectionately; "but there aren't many of her kind in the world." + +"I never found but one like her," admitted the Major, "and I've seen a good +deal in my day, sir." + +The old lady listened with a smile, though she spoke in a severe voice. +"You mustn't let them teach you how to flatter, Mr. Morson," she said +warningly, as she filled the Major's second cup of coffee--"Cupid, Mr. +Morson will have a partridge." + +"The man who sits at your table will never question your supremacy, dear +madam," returned Jack Morson, as he helped himself to a bird. "There is +little merit in devotion to such bounty." + +"Shall I kick him, grandma?" demanded Dan. "He means that we love you +because you feed us, the sly scamp." + +Mrs. Lightfoot shook her head reprovingly. "Oh, I understand you, Mr. +Morson," she said amiably, "and a compliment to my housekeeping never goes +amiss. If a woman has any talent, it will come out upon her table." + +"You're right, Molly, you're right," agreed the Major, heartily. "I've +always held that there was nothing in a man who couldn't make a speech or +in a woman who couldn't set a table." + +Dan stirred restlessly in his chair, and at the first movement of Mrs. +Lightfoot he rose and went out into the hall. An hour later he ordered +Prince Rupert and started joyously to Uplands. + +As he rode through the frosted air he pictured to himself a dozen different +ways in which it was possible that he might meet Virginia. Would she be +upon the portico or in the parlour? Was she still in pink or would she wear +the red gown of yesterday? When she gave him her hand would she smile as +she had smiled last night? or would she stand demurely grave with down +dropped lashes? + +The truth was that she did none of the things he had half expected of her. +She was sitting before a log fire, surrounded by a group of Harrisons and +Powells, who had been prevailed upon to spend the night, and when he +entered she gave him a sleepy little nod from the corner of a rosewood +sofa. As she lay back in the firelight she was like a drowsy kitten that +had just awakened from a nap. Though less radiant, her beauty was more +appealing, and as she stared at him with her large eyes blinking, he wanted +to stoop down and rock her off to sleep. He regarded her calmly this +morning, for, with all his tenderness, she did not fire his brain, and the +glory of the vision had passed away. Half angrily he asked himself if he +were in love with a pink dress and nothing more? + +An hour afterward he came noisily into the library at Chericoke and aroused +the Major from his Horace by stamping distractedly about the room. + +"Oh, it's all up with me, sir," he began despondently. "I might as well go +out and hang myself. I don't know what I want and yet I'm going mad because +I can't get it." + +"Come, come," said the Major, soothingly. "I've been through it myself, +sir, and since your grandmother's out of earshot, I'd as well confess that +I've been through it more than once. Cheer up, cheer up, you aren't the +first to dare the venture--_Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona_, you know." + +His assurance was hardly as comforting as he had intended it to be. "Oh, I +dare say, there've been fools enough before me," returned Dan, impatiently, +as he flung himself out of the room. + +He grew still more impatient when the day came for him to return to +college; and as they started out on horseback, with Zeke and Big Abel +riding behind their masters, he declared irritably that the whole system of +education was a nuisance, and that he "wished the ark had gone down with +all the ancient languages on board." + +"There would still be law," suggested Morson, pleasantly. "So cheer up, +Beau, there's something left for you to learn." + +Then, as they passed Uplands, they turned, with a single impulse, and +cantered up the broad drive to the portico. Betty and Virginia were in the +library; and as they heard the horses, they came running to the window and +threw it open. + +"So you will come back in the summer--all of you," said Virginia, +hopefully, and as she leaned out a white camellia fell from her bosom to +the snow beneath. In an instant Jack Morson was off his horse and the +flower was in his hand. "We'll bring back all that we take away," he +answered gallantly, his fair boyish face as red as Virginia's. + +Dan could have kicked him for the words, but he merely said savagely, "Have +you left your pocket handkerchief?" and turned Prince Rupert toward the +road. When he looked back from beneath the silver poplars, the girls were +still standing at the open window, the cold wind flushing their cheeks and +blowing the brown hair and the red together. + +Virginia was the first to turn away. "Come in, you'll take cold," she said, +going to the fire. "Peggy Harrison never goes out when the wind blows, you +know, she says it's dreadful for the complexion. Once when she had to come +back from town on a March day, she told me she wore six green veils. I +wonder if that's the way she keeps her lovely colour?" + +"Well, I wouldn't be Peggy Harrison," returned Betty, gayly, and she added +in the same tone, "so Mr. Morson got your camellia, after all, didn't he?" + +"Oh, he begged so hard with his eyes," answered Virginia. "He had seen me +give Dan a white rose on Christmas Eve, you know, and he said it wasn't +fair to be so unfair." + +"You gave Dan a white rose?" repeated Betty, slowly. Her face was pale, but +she was smiling brightly. + +Virginia's soft little laugh pealed out. "And it was your rose, too, +darling," she said, nestling to Betty like a child. "You dropped it on the +stair and I picked it up. I was just going to take it to you because it +looked so lovely in your hair, when Dan came along and he would have it, +whether or no. But you don't mind, do you, just a little bit of white +rosebud?" She put up her hand and stroked her sister's cheek. "Men are so +silly, aren't they?" she added with a sigh. + +For a moment Betty looked down upon the brown head on her bosom; then she +stooped and kissed Virginia's brow. "Oh, no, I don't mind, dear," she +answered, "and women are very silly, too, sometimes." + +She loosened Virginia's arms and went slowly upstairs to her bedroom, where +Petunia was replenishing the fire. "You may go down, Petunia," she said as +she entered. "I am going to put my things to rights, and I don't want you +to bother me--go straight downstairs." + +"Is you gwine in yo' chist er draws?" inquired Petunia, pausing upon the +threshold. + +"Yes, I'm going into my chest of drawers, but you're not," retorted Betty, +sharply; and when Petunia had gone out and closed the door after her, she +pulled out her things and began to straighten rapidly, rolling up her +ribbons with shaking fingers, and carefully folding her clothes into +compact squares. Ever since her childhood she had always begun to work at +her chest of drawers when any sudden shock unnerved her. After a great +happiness she took up her trowel and dug among the flowers of the garden; +but when her heart was heavy within her, she shut her door and put her +clothes to rights. + +Now, as she worked rapidly, the tears welled slowly to her lashes, but she +brushed them angrily away, and rolled up a sky-blue sash. She had worn the +sash at Chericoke on Christmas Eve, and as she looked at it, she felt, with +the keenness of pain, a thrill of her old girlish happiness. The figure of +Dan, as he stood upon the threshold with the powdering of snow upon his +hair, rose suddenly to her eyes, and she flinched before the careless +humour of his smile. It was her own fault, she told herself a little +bitterly, and because it was her own fault she could bear it as she should +have borne the joy. There was nothing to cry over, nothing even to regret; +she knew now that she loved him, and she was glad--glad even of this. If +the bitterness in her heart was but the taste of knowledge, she would not +let it go; she would keep both the knowledge and the bitterness. + +In the next room Mammy Riah was rocking back and forth upon the hearth, +crooning to herself while she carded a lapful of wool. Her cracked old +voice, still with its plaintive sweetness, came faintly to the girl who +leaned her cheek upon the sky-blue sash and listened, half against her +will:-- + + "Oh, we'll all be done wid trouble, by en bye, little chillun, + We'll all be done wid trouble, by en bye. + Oh, we'll set en chatter wid de angels, by en bye, little chillun, + We'll set en chatter wid de angels, by en bye." + +The door opened and Virginia came softly into the room, and stopped short +at the sight of Betty. + +"Why, your things were perfectly straight, Betty," she exclaimed in +surprise. "I declare, you'll be a real old maid." + +"Perhaps I shall," replied Betty, indifferently; "but if I am, I'm going to +be a tidy one." + +"I never heard of one who wasn't," remarked Virginia, and added, "you've +put all your ribbons into the wrong drawer." + +"I like a change," said Betty, folding up a muslin skirt. + + "Oh, we'll slip en slide on de golden streets, by en bye, + little chillun, + We'll slip en slide on de golden streets, by en bye," + +sang Mammy Riah, in the adjoining room. + +"Aunt Lydia found six red pinks in bloom in her window garden," observed +Virginia, cheerfully. "Why, where are you going, Betty?" + +"Just for a walk," answered Betty, as she put on her bonnet and cloak. "I'm +not afraid of the cold, you know, and I'm so tired sitting still," and she +added, as she fastened her fur tippet, "I shan't be long, dear." + +She opened the door, and Mammy Riah's voice followed her across the hall +and down the broad staircase:-- + + "Oh, we'll ride on de milk w'ite ponies, by en bye, little chillun, + We'll ride on de milk w'ite ponies, by en bye." + +At the foot of the stair she called the dogs, and they came bounding +through the hall and leaped upon her as she crossed the portico. Then, as +she went down the drive and up the desolate turnpike, they ran ahead of her +with short, joyous barks. + +The snow had melted and frozen again, and the long road was like a gray +river winding between leafless trees. The gaunt crows were still flying +back and forth over the meadows, but she did not have corn for them to-day. +Had she been happy, she would not have forgotten them; but the pain in her +breast made her selfish even about the crows. + +With the dogs leaping round her, she pressed bravely against the wind, +flying breathlessly from the struggle at her heart. There was nothing to +cry over, she told herself again, nothing even to regret. It was her own +fault, and because it was her own fault she could bear it quietly as she +should have borne the joy. + +She had reached the spot where he had lifted her upon the wall, and leaning +against the rough stones she looked southward to where the swelling meadows +dipped into the projecting line of hills. He was before her then, as he +always would be, and shrinking back, she put up her hand to shut out the +memory of his eyes. She could have hated that shallow gayety, she told +herself, but for the tenderness that lay beneath it--since jest as he might +at his own scars, when had he ever made mirth of another's? Had she not +seen him fight the battles of free Levi? and when Aunt Rhody's cabin was in +flames did he not bring out one of the negro babies in his coat? That +dare-devil courage which had first caught her girlish fancy, thrilled her +even to-day as the proof of an ennobling purpose. She remembered that he +had gone whistling into the burning cabin, and coming out again had coolly +taken up the broken air; and to her this inherent recklessness was clothed +with the sublimity of her own ideals. + +The cold wind had stiffened her limbs, and she ran back into the road and +walked on rapidly. Beyond the whitened foldings of the mountains a deep red +glow was burning in the west, and she wanted to hold out her hands to it +for warmth. Her next thought was that a winter sunset soon died out, and as +she turned quickly to go homeward, she saw that she was before Aunt +Ailsey's cabin, and that the little window was yellow from the light +within. + +Aunt Ailsey had been dead for years, but the free negro Levi had moved into +her hut, and as Betty looked up she saw him standing beneath the blasted +oak, with a bundle of brushwood upon his shoulder. He was an honest-eyed, +grizzled-haired old negro, who wrung his meagre living from a blacksmith's +trade, bearing alike the scornful pity of his white neighbours and the +withering contempt of his black ones. For twenty years he had moved from +spot to spot along the turnpike, and he had lived in the dignity of +loneliness since the day upon which his master had won for himself the +freedom of Eternity, leaving to his servant Levi the labour of his own +hands. + +As the girl spoke to him he answered timidly, fingering the edge of his +ragged coat. + +Yes, he had managed to keep warm through the winter, and he had worn the +red flannel that she had given him. + +"And your rheumatism?" asked Betty, kindly. + +He replied that it had been growing worse of late, and with a sympathetic +word the girl was passing by when some newer pathos in his solitary figure +stayed her feet, and she called back quickly, "Uncle Levi, were you ever +married?" + +"Dar, now," cried Uncle Levi, halting in the path while a gleam of the +wistful humour of his race leaped to his eyes. "Dar, now, is you ever hyern +de likes er dat? Mah'ed! Cose I'se mah'ed. I'se mah'ed quick'en Marse +Bolling. Ain't you never hyern tell er Sarindy?" + +"Sarindy?" repeated the girl, questioningly. + +"Lawd, Lawd, Sarindy wuz a moughty likely nigger," said Uncle Levi, +proudly; "she warn' nuttin' but a fiel' han', but she 'uz a moughty +likely nigger." + +"And did she die?" asked Betty, in a whisper. + +Uncle Levi rubbed his hands together, and shifted the brushwood upon his +shoulder. + +"Who say Sarindy dead?" he demanded sternly, and added with a chuckle, "she +warn' nuttin' but a fiel' han', young miss, en I 'uz Marse Bolling's body +sarvent, so w'en dey sot me loose, dey des sol' Sarindy up de river. Lawd, +Lawd, she warn' nuttin' but a fiel' han', but she 'uz pow'ful likely." + +He went chuckling up the path, and Betty, with a glance at the fading +sunset, started briskly homeward. As she walked she was asking herself, in +a wonder greater than her own love or grief, if Uncle Levi really thought +it funny that they sold Sarindy up the river. + + + + +V + +THE MAJOR LOSES HIS TEMPER + + +When Betty reached home the dark had fallen, and as she entered the house +she heard the crackling of fresh logs from the library, and saw her mother +sitting alone in the firelight, which flickered softly on her pearl-gray +silk and ruffles of delicate lace. + +She was humming in a low voice one of the old Scotch ballads the Governor +loved, and as she rocked gently in her rosewood chair, her shadow flitted +to and fro upon the floor. One loose bell sleeve hung over the carved arm +of the rocker, and the fingers of her long white hand, so fragile that it +was like a flower, played silently upon the polished wood. + +As the girl entered she looked up quickly. "You haven't been wandering off +by yourself again?" she asked reproachfully. + +"Oh, it is quite safe, mamma," replied Betty, impatiently. "I didn't meet a +soul except free Levi." + +"Your father wouldn't like it, my dear," returned Mrs. Ambler, in the tone +in which she might have said, "it is forbidden in the Scriptures," and she +added after a moment, "but where is Petunia? You might, at least, take +Petunia with you." + +"Petunia is such a chatterbox," said Betty, tossing her wraps upon a chair, +"and if she sees a cricket in the road she shrieks, 'Gawd er live, Miss +Betty,' and jumps on the other side of me. No, I can't stand Petunia." + +She sat down upon an ottoman at her mother's feet, and rested her chin in +her clasped hands. + +"But did you never go walking in your life, mamma?" she questioned. + +Mrs. Ambler looked a little startled. "Never alone, my dear," she replied +with dignity. "Why, I shouldn't have thought of such a thing. There was a +path to a little arbour in the glen at my old home, I remember,--I think it +was at least a quarter of a mile away,--and I sometimes strolled there with +your father; but there were a good many briers about, so I usually +preferred to stay on the lawn." + +Her voice was clear and sweet, but it had none of the humour which gave +piquancy to Betty's. It might soothe, caress, even reprimand, but it could +never jest; for life to Mrs. Ambler was soft, yet serious, like a continued +prayer to a pleasant and tender Deity. + +"I'm sure I don't see how you stood it," said Betty, sympathetically. + +"Oh, I rode, my dear," returned her mother. "I used to ride very often with +your father or--or one of the others. I had a brown mare named Zephyr." + +"And you never wanted to be alone, never for a single instant?" + +"Alone?" repeated Mrs. Ambler, wonderingly, "why, of course I read my Bible +and meditated an hour every morning. In my youth it would have been +considered very unladylike not to do it, and I'm sure there's no better way +of beginning the day than with a chapter in the Bible and a little +meditation. I wish you would try it, Betty." Her eyes were upon her +daughter, and she added in an unchanged voice, "Don't you think you might +manage to make your hair lie smoother, dear? It's very pretty, I know; but +the way it curls about your face is just a bit untidy, isn't it?" + +Then, as the Governor came in from his day in town, she turned eagerly to +hear the news of his latest speech. + +"Oh, I've had a great day, Julia," began the Governor; but as he stooped to +kiss her, she gave a little cry of alarm. "Why, you're frozen through!" she +exclaimed. "Betty, stir the fire, and make your father sit down by the +fender. Shall I mix you a toddy, Mr. Ambler?" + +"Tut, tut!" protested the Governor, laughing, "a touch of the wind is good +for the blood, my dear." + +There was a light track of snow where he had crossed the room, and as he +rested his foot upon the brass knob of the fender, the ice clinging to his +riding-boot melted and ran down upon the hearth. + +"Oh, I've had a great day," he repeated heartily, holding his plump white +hands to the flames. "It was worth the trip to test the spirit of Virginia; +and it's sound, Julia, as sound as steel. Why, when I said in my +speech--you'll remember the place, my dear--that if it came to a choice +between slavery and the Union, we'd ship the negroes back to Africa, and +hold on to the flag, I was applauded to the echo, and it would have done +you good to hear the cheers." + +"I knew it would be so, Mr. Ambler," returned his wife, with conviction. +"Even if they thought otherwise I was sure your speech would convince them. +Dr. Crump was talking to me only yesterday, and he said that he had heard +both Mr. Yancey and Mr. Douglas, and that neither of them--" + +"I know, my love, I know," interposed the Governor, waving his hand. "I +have myself heard the good doctor commit the same error of judgment. But, +remember, it is easy to convince a man who already thinks as you do; and +since the Major has gone over to the Democrats, the doctor has grown +Whiggish, you know." + +Mrs. Ambler flushed. "I'm sure I don't see why you should deny that you +have a talent for oratory," she said gravely. "I have sometimes thought it +was why I fell in love with you, you made such a beautiful speech the first +day I met you at the tournament in Leicesterburg. Fred Dulany crowned me, +you remember; and in your speech you brought in so many lovely things about +flowers and women." + +"Ah, Julia, Julia," sighed the Governor, "so the sins of my youth are +rising to confound me," and he added quickly to Betty, "Isn't that some one +coming up the drive, daughter?" + +Betty ran to the window and drew back the damask curtains. "It's the Major, +papa," she said, nodding to the old gentleman through the glass, "and he +does look so cold. Go out and bring him in, and don't--please don't talk +horrid politics to-night." + +"I'll not, daughter, on my word, I'll not," declared the Governor, and he +wore the warning as a breastplate when he went out to meet his guest. + +The Major, in his tight black broadcloth, entered, with his blandest smile, +and bowed over Mrs. Ambler's hand. + +"I saw your firelight as I was passing, dear madam," he began, "and I +couldn't go on without a glimpse of you, though I knew that Molly was +waiting for me at the end of three cold miles." + +He put his arm about Betty and drew her to him. + +"You must borrow some of your sister's blushes, my child," he said; "it +isn't right to grow pale at your age. I don't like to see it," and then, as +Virginia came shyly in, he held out his other hand, and accused her of +stealing his boy's heart away from him. "But we old folks must give place +to the young," he continued cheerfully; "it's nature, and it's human +nature, too." + +"It will be a dull day when you give place to any one else, Major," +returned the Governor, politely. + +"And a far off one I trust," added Mrs. Ambler, with her plaintive smile. + +"Well, maybe so," responded the Major, settling himself in an easy chair +beside the fire. "Any way, you can't blame an old man for fighting for his +own, as my friend Harry Smith put it when he lost his leg in the War of +1812. 'By God, it belongs to me,' he roared to the surgeon, 'and if it +comes off, I'll take it off myself, sir.' It took six men to hold him, and +when it was over all he said was, 'Well, gentlemen, you mustn't blame a man +for fighting for his own.' Ah, he was a sad scamp, was Harry, a sad scamp. +He used to say that he didn't know whether he preferred a battle or a +dinner, but he reckoned a battle was better for the blood. And to think +that he died in his bed at last like any Christian." + +"That reminds me of Dick Wythe, who never needed any tonic but a fight," +returned the Governor, thoughtfully. "You remember Dick, don't you, +Major?--a hard drinker, poor fellow, but handsome enough to have stepped +out of Homer. I've been sitting by him at the post-office on a spring day, +and seen him get up and slap a passer-by on the face as coolly as he'd take +his toddy. Of course the man would slap back again, and when it was over +Dick would make his politest bow, and say pleasantly, 'Thank you, sir, I +felt a touch of the gout.' He told me once that if it was only a twinge, he +chose a man of his own size; but if it was a positive wrench, he struck out +at the biggest he could find." + +The Major leaned back, laughing. "That was Dick, sir, that was Dick!" he +exclaimed, "and it was his father before him. Why, I've had my own blows +with Taylor Wythe in his day, and never a hard word afterward, never a +word." Then his face clouded. "I saw Dick's brother Tom in town this +morning," he added. "A sneaking fellow, who hasn't the spirit in his whole +body that was in his father's little finger. Why, what do you suppose he +had the impudence to tell me, sir? Some one had asked him, he said, what he +should do if Virginia went to war, and he had answered that he'd stay at +home and build an asylum for the fools that brought it on." He turned his +indignant face upon Mrs. Ambler, and she put in a modest word of sympathy. + +"You mustn't judge Tom by his jests, sir," rejoined the Governor, +persuasively. "His wit takes with the town folks, you know, and I hear that +he's becoming famous as a post-office orator." + +"There it is, sir, there it is," retorted the Major. "I've always said that +the post-offices were the ruin of this country--and that proves my words. +Why, if there were no post-offices, there'd be fewer newspapers; and if +there were fewer newspapers, there wouldn't be the _Richmond Whig_." + +The Governor's glance wandered to his writing table. + +"Then I should never see my views in print, Major," he added, smiling; and +a moment afterward, disregarding Mrs. Ambler's warning gestures, he plunged +headlong into a discussion of political conditions. + +As he talked the Major sat trembling in his chair, his stern face flushing +from red to purple, and the heavy veins upon his forehead standing out like +cords. "Vote for Douglas, sir!" he cried at last. "Vote for the biggest +traitor that has gone scot free since Arnold! Why, I'd sooner go over to +the arch-fiend himself and vote for Seward." + +"I'm not sure that you won't go farther and fare worse," replied the +Governor, gravely. "You know me for a loyal Whig, sir, but I tell you +frankly, that I believe Douglas to be the man to save the South. Cast him +off, and you cast off your remaining hope." + +"Tush, tush!" retorted the Major, hotly. "I tell you I wouldn't vote to +have Douglas President of Perdition, sir. Don't talk to me about your +loyalty, Peyton Ambler, you're mad--you're all mad! I honestly believe that +I am the only sane man in the state." + +The Governor had risen from his chair and was walking nervously about the +room. His eyes were dim, and his face was pallid with emotion. + +"My God, sir, don't you see where you are drifting?" he cried, stretching +out an appealing hand to the angry old gentleman in the easy chair. + +"Drifting! Pooh, pooh!" protested the Major, "at least I am not drifting +into a nest of traitors, sir." + +And with his wrath hot within he rose to take his leave, very red and +stormy, but retaining the presence of mind to assure Mrs. Ambler that the +glimpse of her fireside would send him rejoicing upon his way. + +Such burning topics went like strong wine to his head, and like strong wine +left a craving which always carried him back to them in the end. He would +quarrel with the Governor, and make his peace, and at the next meeting +quarrel, without peace-making, again. + +"Don't, oh, please don't talk horrid politics, papa," Betty would implore, +when she saw the nose of his dapple mare turn into the drive between the +silver poplars. + +"I'll not, daughter, I give you my word I'll not," the Governor would +answer, and for a time the conversation would jog easily along the well +worn roads of county changes and by the green graves of many a long dead +jovial neighbour. While the red logs spluttered on the hearth, they would +sip their glasses of Madeira and amicably weigh the dust of "my friend Dick +Wythe--a fine fellow, in spite of his little weakness." + +But in the end the live question would rear its head and come hissing from +among the quiet graves; and Dick Wythe, who loved his fight, or Plaintain +Dudley, in his ruffled shirt, would fall back suddenly to make way for the +wrangling figures of the slaveholder and the abolitionist. + +"I can't help it, Betty, I can't help it," the Governor would declare, when +he came back from following the old gentleman to the drive; "did you see +Mr. Yancey step out of Dick Wythe's dry bones to-day? Poor Dick, an honest +fellow who loved no man's quarrel but his own; it's too bad, I declare it's +too bad." And the next day he would send Betty over to Chericoke to stroke +down the Major's temper. "Slippery are the paths of the peacemaker," the +girl laughed one morning, when she had ridden home after an hour of +persuasion. "I go on tip-toe because of your indiscretions, papa. You +really must learn to control yourself, the Major says." + +"Control myself!" repeated the Governor, laughing, though he looked a +little vexed. "If I hadn't the control of a stoic, daughter, to say nothing +of the patience of Job, do you think I'd be able to listen calmly to his +tirades? Why, he wants to pull the Government to pieces for his pleasure," +then he pinched her cheek and added, smiling, "Oh, you sly puss, why don't +you play your pranks upon one of your own age?" + +Through the long winter many visits were exchanged between Uplands and +Chericoke, and once, on a mild February morning, Mrs. Lightfoot drove over +in her old coach, with her knitting and her handmaid Mitty, to spend the +day. She took Betty back with her, and the girl stayed a week in the queer +old house, where the elm boughs tapped upon her window as she slept, and +the shadows on the crooked staircase frightened her when she went up and +down at night. It seemed to her that the presence of Jane Lightfoot still +haunted the home that she had left. When the snow fell on the roof and the +wind beat against the panes, she would open her door and look out into the +long dim halls, as if she half expected to see a girlish figure in a muslin +gown steal softly to the stair. + +Dan was less with her in that stormy week than was the memory of his +mother; even Great-aunt Emmeline, whose motto was written on the ivied +glass, grew faint beside the outcast daughter of whom but one pale +miniature remained. Before Betty went back to Uplands she had grown to know +Jane Lightfoot as she knew herself. + +When the spring came she took up her trowel and followed Aunt Lydia into +the garden. On bright mornings the two would work side by side among the +flowers, kneeling in a row with the small darkies who came to their +assistance. Peter, the gardener, would watch them lazily, as he leaned upon +his hoe, and mutter beneath his breath, "Dat dut wuz dut, en de dut er de +flow'r baids warn' no better'n de dut er de co'n fiel'." + +Betty would laugh and shake her head as she planted her square of pansies. +She was working feverishly to overcome her longing for the sight of Dan, +and her growing dread of his return. + +But at last on a sunny morning, when the lilacs made a lane of purple to +the road, the Major drove over with the news that "the boys would not be +back again till autumn. They'll go abroad for the summer," he added +proudly. "It's time they were seeing something of the world, you know. I've +always said that a man should see the world before thirty, if he wants to +stay at home after forty," then he smiled down on Virginia, and pinched her +cheek. "It won't hurt Dan, my dear," he said cheerfully. "Let him get a +glimpse of artificial flowers, that he may learn the value of our own +beauties." + +"Of Great-aunt Emmeline, you mean, sir," replied Virginia, laughing. + +"Oh, yes, my child," chuckled the Major. "Let him learn the value of +Great-aunt Emmeline, by all means." + +When the old gentleman had gone, Betty went into the garden, where the +grass was powdered with small spring flowers, and gathered a bunch of white +violets for her mother. Aunt Lydia was walking slowly up and down in the +mild sunshine, and her long black shadow passed over the girl as she knelt +in the narrow grass-grown path. A slender spray of syringa drooped down +upon her head, and the warm wind was sweet with the heavy perfume of the +lilacs. On the whitewashed fence a catbird was calling over the meadow, and +another answered from the little bricked-up graveyard, where the gate was +opened only when a fresh grave was to be hollowed out amid the periwinkle. + +As Betty knelt there, something in the warm wind, the heavy perfume, or the +old lady's flitting shadow touched her with a sudden melancholy, and while +the tears lay upon her lashes, she started quickly to her feet and looked +about her. But a great peace was in the air, and around her she saw only +the garden wrapped in sunshine, the small spring flowers in bloom, and Aunt +Lydia moving up and down in the box-bordered walk. + + + + +VI + +THE MEETING IN THE TURNPIKE + + +On a late September afternoon Dan rode leisurely homeward along the +turnpike. He had reached New York some days before, but instead of hurrying +on with Champe, he had sent a careless apology to his expectant +grandparents while he waited over to look up a missing trunk. + +"Oh, what difference does a day make?" he had urged in reply to Champe's +remonstrances, "and after going all the way to Paris, I can't afford to +lose my clothes, you know. I'm not a Leander, my boy, and there's no Hero +awaiting me. You can't expect a fellow to sacrifice the proprieties for +his grandmother." + +"Well, I'm going, that's all," rejoined Champe, and Dan heartily responded, +"God be with you," as he shook his hand. + +Now, as he rode slowly up the turnpike on a hired horse, he was beginning +to regret, with an impatient self-reproach, the three tiresome days he had +stolen from his grandfather's delight. It was characteristic of him at the +age of twenty-one that he began to regret what appeared to be a pleasure +only after it had proved to be a disappointment. Had the New York days been +gay instead of dull, it is probable that he would have ridden home with an +easy conscience and a lordly belief that there was something generous in +the spirit of his coming back at all. + +A damp wind was blowing straight along the turnpike, and the autumn fields, +brilliant with golden-rod and sumach, stretched under a sky which had +clouded over so suddenly that the last rays of sun were still shining upon +the mountains. + +He had left Uplands a mile behind, throwing, as he passed, a wistful glance +between the silver poplars. A pink dress had fluttered for an instant +beyond the Doric columns, and he had wondered idly if it meant Virginia, +and if she were still the pretty little simpleton of six months ago. At the +thought of her he threw back his head and whistled gayly into the +threatening sky, so gayly that a bluebird flying across the road hovered +round him in the air. The joy of living possessed him at the moment, a mere +physical delight in the circulation of his blood, in the healthy beating of +his pulses. Old things which he had half forgotten appealed to him suddenly +with all the force of fresh impressions. The beauty of the September +fields, the long curve in the white road where the tuft of cedars grew, the +falling valley which went down between the hills, stood out for him as if +bathed in a new and tender light. The youth in him was looking through his +eyes. + +And the thought of Virginia went merrily with his mood. What a pretty +little simpleton she was, by George, and what a dull world this would be +were it not for the pretty simpletons in pink dresses! Why, in that case +one might as well sit in a library and read Horace and wear red flannel. +One might as well--a drop of rain fell in his face and he lowered his head. +When he did so he saw that Betty was coming along the turnpike, and that +she wore a dress of blue dimity. + +In a flash of light his first wonder was that he should ever have preferred +pink to blue; his second that a girl in a dimity gown and a white chip +bonnet should be fleeing from a storm along the turnpike. As he jumped from +his horse he faced her a little anxiously. + +"There's a hard shower coming, and you'll be wet," he said. + +"And my bonnet!" cried Betty, breathlessly. She untied the blue strings and +swung them over her arm. There was a flush in her cheeks, and as he drew +nearer she fell back quickly. + +"You--you came so suddenly," she stammered. + +He laughed aloud. "Doesn't the Prince always come suddenly?" he asked. "You +are like the wandering princess in the fairy tale--all in blue upon a +lonely road; but this isn't just the place for loitering, you know. Come up +behind me and I'll carry you to shelter in Aunt Ailsey's cabin; it isn't +the first time I've run away, with you, remember." He lifted her upon the +horse, and started at a gallop up the turnpike. "I'm afraid the steed +doesn't take the romantic view," he went on lightly. "There, get up, +Barebones, the lady doesn't want to wet her bonnet. Lean against me, Betty, +and I'll try to shelter you." + +But the rain was in their faces, and Betty shut her eyes to keep out the +hard bright drops. As she clung with both hands to his arm, her wet cheek +was hidden against his coat, and the blue ribbons on her breast were blown +round them in the wind. It was as if one of her dreams had awakened from +sleep and come boldly out into the daylight; and because it was like a +dream she trembled and was half ashamed of its reality. + +"Here we are!" he exclaimed, in a moment, as he turned the horse round the +blasted tree into the little path amid the vegetables. "If you are soaked +through, we might as well go on; but if you're half dry, build a fire and +get warm." He put her down upon the square stone before the doorway, and +slipping the reins over the branch of a young willow tree, followed her +into the cabin. "Why, you're hardly damp," he said, with his hand on her +arm. "I got the worst of it." + +He crossed over to the great open fireplace, and kneeling upon the hearth +raked a hollow in the old ashes; then he kindled a blaze from a pile of +lightwood knots, and stood up brushing his hands together. "Sit down and +get warm," he said hospitably. "If I may take upon myself to do the duties +of free Levi's castle, I should even invite you to make yourself at home." +With a laugh he glanced about the bare little room,--at the uncovered +rafters, the rough log walls, and the empty cupboard with its swinging +doors. In one corner there was a pallet hidden by a ragged patchwork quilt, +and facing it a small pine table upon which stood an ash-cake ready for the +embers. + +The laughter was still in his eyes when he looked at Betty. "Now where's +the sense of going walking in the rain?" he demanded. + +"I didn't," replied Betty, quickly. "It was clear when I started, and the +clouds came up before I knew it. I had been across the fields to the woods, +and I was coming home along the turnpike." She loosened her hair, and +kneeling upon the smooth stones, dried it before the flames. As she shook +the curling ends a sparkling shower of rain drops was scattered over Dan. + +"Well, I don't see much sense in that," he returned slowly, with his gaze +upon her. + +She laughed and held out her moist hands to the fire. "Well, there was more +than you see," she responded pleasantly, and added, while she smiled at him +with narrowed eyes, "dear me, you've grown so much older." + +"And you've grown so much prettier," he retorted boldly. + +A flush crossed her face, and her look grew a little wistful. "The rain has +bewitched you," she said. + +"You may call me a fool if you like," he pursued, as if she had not spoken, +"but I did not know until to-day that you had the most beautiful hair in +the world. Why, it is always sunshine about you." He put out his hand to +touch a loose curl that hung upon her shoulder, then drew it quickly back. +"I don't suppose I might," he asked humbly. + +Betty gathered up her hair with shaking hands, which gleamed white in the +firelight, and carelessly twisted it about her head. + +"It is not nearly so pretty as Virginia's," she said in a low voice. + +"Virginia's? Oh, nonsense!" he exclaimed, and walked rapidly up and down +the room. + +Beyond the open door the rain fell heavily; he heard it beating softly on +the roof and dripping down upon the smooth square stone before the +threshold. A red maple leaf was washed in from the path and lay a wet bit +of colour upon the floor. "I wonder where old man Levi is?" he said +suddenly. + +"In the rain, I'm afraid," Betty answered, "and he has rheumatism, too; he +was laid up for three months last winter." + +She spoke quietly, but she was conscious of a quiver from head to foot, as +if a strong wind had swept over her. Through the doorway she saw the young +willow tree trembling in the storm and felt curiously akin to it. + +Dan came slowly back to the hearth, and leaning against the crumbling +mortar of the chimney, looked thoughtfully down upon her. "Do you know what +I thought of when I saw you with your hair down, Betty?" + +She shook her head, smiling. + +"I don't suppose I'd thought of it for years," he went on quickly; "but +when you took your hair down, and looked up at me so small and white, it +all came back to me as if it were yesterday. I remembered the night I first +came along this road--God-forsaken little chap that I was--and saw you +standing out there in your nightgown--with your little cold bare feet. The +moonlight was full upon you, and I thought you were a ghost. At first I +wanted to run away; but you spoke, and I stood still and listened. I +remember what it was, Betty.--'Mr. Devil, I'm going in,' you said. Did you +take me for the devil, I wonder?" + +She smiled up at him, and he saw her kind eyes fill with tears. The +wavering smile only deepened the peculiar tenderness of her look. + +"I had been sitting in the briers for an hour," he resumed, after a moment; +"it was a day and night since I had eaten a bit of bread, and I had been +digging up sassafras roots with my bare fingers. I remember that I rooted +at one for nearly an hour, and found that it was sumach, after all. Then I +got up and went on again, and there you were standing in the moonlight--" +He broke off, hesitated an instant, and added with the gallant indiscretion +of youth, "By George, that ought to have made a man of me!" + +"And you are a man," said Betty. + +"A man!" he appeared to snap his fingers at the thought. "I am a +weather-vane, a leaf in the wind, a--an ass. I haven't known my own mind +ten minutes during the last two years, and the only thing I've ever gone +honestly about is my own pleasure. Oh, yes, I have the courage of my +inclinations, I admit." + +"But I don't understand--what does it mean?--I don't understand," faltered +Betty, vaguely troubled by his mood. + +"Mean? Why, it means that I've been ruined, and it's too late to mend me. +I'm no better than a pampered poodle dog. It means that I've gotten +everything I wanted, until I begin to fancy there's nothing under heaven I +can't get." Then, in one of his quick changes of temper, his face cleared +with a burst of honest laughter. + +She grew merry instantly, and as she smiled up at him, he saw her eyes like +rays of hazel light between her lashes. "Has the black crow gone?" she +asked. "Do you know when I have a gray day Mammy calls it the black crow +flying by. As long as his shadow is over you, there's always a gloom at the +brain, she says. Has he quite gone by?" + +"Oh, he flew by quickly," he answered, laughing, "he didn't even stay to +flap his wings." Then he became suddenly grave. "I wonder what kind of a +man you'll fall in love with, Betty?" he said abruptly. + +She drew back startled, and her eyes reminded him of those of a frightened +wild thing he had come upon in the spring woods one day. As she shrank from +him in her dim blue dress, her hair fell from its coil and lay like a gold +bar across her bosom, which fluttered softly with her quickened breath. + +"I? Why, how can I tell?" she asked. + +"He'll not be black and ugly, I dare say?" + +She shook her head, regaining her composure. + +"Oh, no, fair and beautiful," she answered. + +"Ah, as unlike me as day from night?" + +"As day from night," she echoed, and went on after a moment, her girlish +visions shining in her eyes:-- + +"He will be a man, at least," she said slowly, "a man with a faith to fight +for--to live for--to make him noble. He may be a beggar by the roadside, +but he will be a beggar with dreams. He will be forever travelling to some +great end--some clear purpose." The last words came so faintly that he bent +nearer to hear. A deep flush swept to her forehead, and she turned from him +to the fire. These were things that she had hidden even from Virginia. + +But as he looked steadily down upon her, something of her own pure fervour +was in his face. Her vivid beauty rose like a flame to his eyes, and for a +single instant it seemed to him that he had never looked upon a woman until +to-day. + +"So you would sit with him in the dust of the roadside?" he asked, smiling. + +"But the dust is beautiful when the sun shines on it," answered the girl; +"and on wet days we should go into the pine woods, and on fair ones rest in +the open meadows; and we should sing with the robins, and make friends with +the little foxes." + +He laughed softly. "Ah, Betty, Betty, I know you now for a dreamer of +dreams. With all your pudding-mixing and your potato-planting you are +moon-mad like the rest of us." + +She made a disdainful little gesture. "Why, I never planted a potato in my +life." + +"Don't scoff, dear lady," he returned warningly; "too great literalness is +the sin of womankind, you know." + +"But I don't care in the least for vegetable-growing," she persisted +seriously. + +The humour twinkled in his eyes. "Thriftless woman, would you prefer to +beg?" + +"When the Major rode by," laughed Betty; "but when I heard you coming, I'd +lie hidden among the briers, and I'd scatter signs for other gypsies that +read, 'Beware the Montjoy.'" + +His face darkened and he frowned. "So it's the Montjoy you're afraid of," +he rejoined gloomily. "I'm not all Lightfoot, though I'm apt to forget it; +the Montjoy blood is there, all the same, and it isn't good blood." + +"Your blood is good," said Betty, warmly. + +He laughed again and met her eyes with a look of whimsical tenderness. +"Make me your beggar, Betty," he prayed, smiling. + +"You a beggar!" She shook a scornful head. "I can shut my eyes and see your +fortune, sir, and it doesn't lie upon the roadside. I see a well-fed +country gentleman who rises late to breakfast and storms when the birds are +overdone, who drinks his two cups of coffee and eats syrup upon his +cakes--" + +"O pleasant prophetess!" he threw in. + +"I look and see him riding over the rich fields in the early morning, +watching from horseback the planting and the growing and the ripening of +the corn. He has a dozen servants to fetch the whip he drops, and a dozen +others to hold his bridle when he pleases to dismount; the dogs leap round +him in the drive, and he brushes away the one that licks his face. I see +him grow stout and red-faced as he reads a dull Latin volume beside his +bottle of old port--there's your fortune, sir, the silver, if you please." +She finished in a whining voice, and rose to drop a courtesy. + +"On my word, you're a witch, Betty," he exclaimed, laughing, "a regular +witch on a broomstick." + +"Does the likeness flatter you? Shall I touch it up a bit? Just a dash more +of red in the face?" + +"Well, I reckon it's true as prophecy ever was," he said easily. "It isn't +likely that I'll ever be a beggar, despite your kindly wishes for my soul's +welfare; and, on the whole, I think I'd rather not. When all's said and +done, I'd rather own my servants and my cultivated acres, and come down +late to hot cakes than sit in the dust by the roadside and eat sour grapes. +It may not be so good for the soul, but it's vastly more comfortable; and +I'm not sure that a fat soul in a lean body is the best of life, Betty." + +"At least it doesn't give one gout," retorted Betty, mercilessly, adding as +she went to the door: "but the rain is holding up, and I must be going. +I'll borrow your horse, if you please, Dan." She tied on her flattened +bonnet, and with her foot on the threshold, stood looking across the wet +fields, where each spear of grass pieced a string of shining rain drops. +Over the mountains the clouds tossed in broken masses, and loose streamers +of vapour drifted down into the lower foldings of the hills. The cool smell +of the moist road came to her on the wind. + +Dan unfastened the reins from the young willow, and led the horse to the +stone at the entrance. Then he threw his coat over the dampened saddle and +lifted Betty upon it. "Pooh! I'm as tough as a pine knot." He scoffed at +her protests. "There, sit steady; I'd better hold you on, I suppose." + +Slipping the reins loosely over his arm, he laid his hand upon the blue +folds of her skirt. "If you feel yourself going, just catch my shoulder," +he added; "and now we're off." + +They left the little path and went slowly down the turnpike, under the +dripping trees. Across the fields a bird was singing after the storm, and +the notes were as fresh as the smell of the rain-washed earth. A fuller +splendour seemed to have deepened suddenly upon the meadows, and the +golden-rod ran in streams of fire across the landscape. + +"Everything looks so changed," said Betty, wistfully; "are you sure that we +are still in the same world, Dan?" + +"Sure?" he looked up at her gayly. "I'm sure of but one thing in this life, +Betty, and that is that you should thank your stars you met me." + +"I don't doubt that I should have gotten home somehow," responded Betty, +ungratefully, "so don't flatter yourself that you have saved even my +bonnet." From its blue-lined shadow she smiled brightly down upon him. + +"Well, all the same, I dare to be grateful," he rejoined. "Even if you +haven't saved my hat,--and I can't honestly convince myself that you +have,--I thank my stars I met you, Betty." He threw back his head and sang +softly to himself as they went on under the scudding clouds. + + + + +VII + +IF THIS BE LOVE + + +An hour later, Cephas, son of Cupid, gathering his basketful of chips at +the woodpile, beheld his young master approaching by the branch road, and +started shrieking for the house. "Hi! hit's Marse Dan! hit's Marse Dan!" he +yelled to his father Cupid in the pantry; "I seed 'im fu'st! Fo' de Lawd, I +seed 'im fu'st!" and the Major, hearing the words, appeared instantly at +the door of his library. + +"It's the boy," he called excitedly. "Bless my soul, Molly, the boy has +come!" + +The old lady came hurriedly downstairs, pinning on her muslin cap, and by +the time Dan had dismounted at the steps the whole household was assembled +to receive him. + +"Well, well, my boy," exclaimed the Major, moving nervously about, "this is +a surprise, indeed. We didn't look for you until next week. Well, well." + +He turned away to wipe his eyes, while Dan caught his grandmother in his +arms and kissed her a dozen times. The joy of these simple souls touched +him with a new tenderness; he felt unworthy of his grandmother's kisses and +the Major's tears. Why had he stayed away when his coming meant so much? +What was there in all the world worth the closer knitting of these strong +blood ties? + +"By George, but I'm glad to get here," he said heartily. "There's nothing +I've seen across the water that comes up to being home again; and the sight +of your faces is better than the wonders of the world, I declare. Ah, +Cupid, old man, I'm glad to see you. And Aunt Rhody and Congo, how are you +all? Why, where's Big Abel? Don't tell me he isn't here to welcome me." + +"Hyer I is, young Marster, hyer I is," cried Big Abel, stretching out his +hand over Congo's head, and "Hyer I is, too," shouted Cephas from behind +him. "I seed you fu'st, fo' de Lawd, I seed you fu'st!" + +They gathered eagerly round him, and with a laugh, and a word for one and +all, he caught the outstretched hands, scattering his favours like a young +Jove. "Yes, I've remembered you--there, don't smother me. Did you think I'd +dare to show my face, Aunt Rhody, without the gayest neckerchief in Europe? +Why, I waited over in New York just to see that it was safe. Oh, don't +smother me, I say." The dogs came bounding in, and he greeted them with +much the same affectionate condescension, caressing them as they sprang +upon him, and pushing away the one that licked his face. When the overseer +ran in hastily to shake his hand, there was no visible change in his +manner. He greeted black and white with a courtesy which marked the social +line, with an affability which had a touch of the august. Had the gulf +between them been less impassable, he would not have dared the hearty +handshake, the genial word, the pat upon the head--these were a tribute +which he paid to the very humble. + +When the servants had streamed chattering out through the back door, he put +his arms about the old people and led them into the library. "Why, what's +become of Champe?" he inquired, glancing complacently round the book-lined +walls. + +"Ah, you mustn't expect to see anything of Champe these days," replied the +Major, waiting for Mrs. Lightfoot to be seated before he drew up his chair. +"His heart's gone roving, I tell him, and he follows mighty closely after +it. If you don't find him at Uplands, you've only to inquire at Powell +Hall." + +"Uplands!" exclaimed Dan, hearing the one word. "What is he doing at +Uplands?" + +The Major chuckled as he settled himself in his easy chair and stretched +out his slippered feet. "Well, I should say that he was doing a very +commendable thing, eh, Molly?" he rejoined jokingly. + +"He's losing his head, if that's what you mean," retorted the old lady. + +"Not his head, but his heart, my dear," blandly corrected the Major, "and I +repeat that it is a very commendable thing to do--why, where would you be +to-day, madam, if I hadn't fallen in love with you?" + +Mrs. Lightfoot sniffed as she unwound her knitting. "I don't doubt that I +should be quite as well off, Mr. Lightfoot," she replied convincingly. + +"Ah, maybe so, maybe so," admitted the Major, with a sigh; "but I'm very +sure that I shouldn't be, my dear." + +The old lady softened visibly, but she only remarked:-- + +"I'm glad that you have found it out, sir," and clicked her needles. + +Dan, who had been wandering aimlessly about the room, threw himself into a +chair beside his grandmother and caught at her ball of yarn. + +"It's Virginia, I suppose," he suggested. + +The Major laughed until his spectacles clouded. + +"Virginia!" he gasped, wiping the glasses upon his white silk handkerchief. +"Listen to the boy, Molly, he believes every last one of us--myself to +boot, I reckon--to be in love with Miss Virginia." + +"If he does, he believes as many men have done before him," interposed Mrs. +Lightfoot, with a homely philosophy. + +"Well, isn't it Virginia?" asked Dan. + +"I tell you frankly," pursued the Major, in a confidential voice, "that if +you want a rival with Virginia, you'll be apt to find a stout one in Jack +Morson. He was back a week ago, and he's a fine fellow--a first-rate +fellow. I declare, he came over here one evening and I couldn't begin a +single quotation from Horace that he didn't know the end of it. On my word, +he's not only a fine fellow, but a cultured gentleman. You may remember, +sir, that I have always maintained that the two most refining influences +upon the manners were to be found in the society of ladies and a knowledge +of the Latin language." + +Dan gave the yarn an impatient jerk. "Tell me, grandma," he besought her. + +As was her custom, the old lady came quickly to the point and appeared to +transfix the question with the end of her knitting-needle. "I really think +that it is Betty, my child," she answered calmly. + +"What does he mean by falling in love with Betty?" demanded Dan, while he +rose to his feet, and the ball of yarn fell upon the floor. + +"Don't ask me what he means, sir," protested the Major. "If a man in love +has any meaning in him, it takes a man in love to find it out. Maybe you'll +be better at it than I am; but I give it up--I give it up." + +With a gloomy face Dan sat down again, and resting his arms on his knees, +stared at the vase of golden-rod between the tall brass andirons. Cupid +came in to light the lamps, and stopped to inquire if Mrs. Lightfoot would +like a blaze to be started in the fireplace. "It's a little chilly, my +dear," remarked the Major, slapping his arm. "There's been a sharp change +in the weather;" and Cupid removed the vase of golden-rod and laid an +armful of sticks crosswise on the andirons. + +"Draw up to the hearth, my boy," said the Major, when the fire burned. +"Even if you aren't cold, it looks cheerful, you know--draw up, draw up," +and he at once began to question his grandson about the London streets, +evoking as he talked dim memories of his own early days in England. He +asked after St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey half as if they were personal +friends of whose death he feared to hear; and upon being answered that they +still stood unchanged, he pressed eagerly for the gossip of the Strand and +Fleet Street. Was Dr. Johnson's coffee-house still standing? and did Dan +remember to look up the haunts of Mr. Addison in his youth? "I've gotten a +good deal out of Champe," he confessed, "but I like to hear it again--I +like to hear it. Why, it takes me back forty years, and makes me younger." + +And when Champe came in from his ride, he found the old gentleman upon the +hearth-rug, his white hair tossing over his brow, as he recited from Mr. +Addison with the zest of a schoolboy of a hundred years ago. + +"Hello, Beau! I hope you got your clothes," was Champe's greeting, as he +shook his cousin's hand. + +"Oh, they turned up all right," said Dan, carelessly, "and, by-the-way, +there was an India shawl for grandma in that very trunk." + +Champe crossed to the fireplace and stood fingering one of the tall vases. +"It's a pity you didn't stop by Uplands," he observed. "You'd have found +Virginia more blooming than ever." + +"Ah, is that so?" returned Dan, flushing, and a moment afterward he added +with an effort, "I met Betty in the turnpike, you know." + +Six months ago, he remembered, he had raved out his passion for Virginia, +and to-day he could barely stammer Betty's name. A great silence; seemed to +surround the thought of her. + +"So she told me," replied Champe, looking steadily at Dan. For a moment he +seemed about to speak again; then changing his mind, he left the room with +a casual remark about dressing for supper. + +"I'll go, too," said Dan, rising from his seat. "If you'll believe me, I +haven't spoken to my old love, Aunt Emmeline. So proud a beauty is not to +be treated with neglect." + +He lighted one of the tall candles upon the mantel-piece, and taking it in +his hand, crossed the hall and went into the panelled parlour, where +Great-aunt Emmeline, in the lustre of her amber brocade, smiled her +changeless smile from out the darkened canvas. There was wit in her curved +lip and spirit in her humorous gray eyes, and the marble whiteness of her +brow, which had brought her many lovers in her lifetime, shone undimmed +beneath the masses of her chestnut hair. With her fair body gone to dust, +she still held her immortal apple by the divine right of her remembered +beauty. + +As Dan looked at her it seemed to him for the first time that he found a +likeness to Betty--to Betty as she smiled up at him from the hearth in Aunt +Ailsey's cabin. It was not in the mouth alone, nor in the eyes alone, but +in something indefinable which belonged to every feature--in the kindly +fervour that shone straight out from the smiling face. Ah, he knew now why +Aunt Emmeline had charmed a generation. + +He blew out the candle, and went back into the hall where the front door +stood half open. Then taking down his hat, he descended the steps and +strolled thoughtfully up and down the gravelled drive. + +The air was still moist, and beyond the gray meadows the white clouds +huddled like a flock of sheep upon the mountain side. From the branches of +the old elms fell a few yellowed leaves, and among them birds were flying +back and forth with short cries. A faint perfume came from the high urns +beside the steps, where a flowering creeper was bruised against the marble +basins. + +With a cigar in his mouth, Dan passed slowly to and fro against the lighted +windows, and looked up tenderly at the gray sky and the small flying birds. +There was a glow in his face, for, with a total cessation of time, he was +back in Aunt Ailsey's cabin, and the rain was on the roof. + +In one of those rare moods in which the least subjective mind becomes that +of a mystic, he told himself that this hour had waited for him from the +beginning of time--had bided patiently at the crossroads until he came up +with it at last. All his life he had been travelling to meet it, not in +ignorance, but with half-unconscious knowledge, and all the while the fire +had burned brightly on the hearth, and Betty had knelt upon the flat stones +drying her hair. Again it seemed to him that he had never looked into a +woman's face before, and the shame of his wandering fancies was heavy upon +him. He called himself a fool because he had followed for a day the flutter +of Virginia's gown, and a dotard for the many loves he had sworn to long +before. In the twilight he saw Betty's eyes, grave, accusing, darkened with +reproach; and he asked himself half hopefully if she cared--if it were +possible for a moment that she cared. There had been humour in her smile, +but, for all his effort, he could bring back no deeper emotion than pity or +disdain--and it seemed to him that both the pity and the disdain were for +himself. + +The library window was lifted suddenly, as the Major called out to him that +"supper was on its way"; and, with an impatient movement of the shoulders, +he tossed his cigar into the grass and went indoors. + +The next afternoon he rode over to Uplands, and found Virginia alone in the +dim, rose-scented parlour, where the quaint old furniture stood in the +gloom of a perpetual solemnity. The girl, herself, made a bright spot of +colour against the damask curtains, and as he looked at her he felt the +same delight in her loveliness that he felt in Great-aunt Emmeline's. +Virginia had become a picture to him, and nothing more. + +When he entered she greeted him with her old friendliness, gave him both +her cool white hands, and asked him a hundred shy questions about the +countries over sea. She was delicately cordial, demurely glad. + +"It seems an age since you went away," she said flatteringly, "and so many +things have happened--one of the big trees blew down on the lawn, and Jack +Powell broke his arm--and--and Mr. Morson has been back twice, you know." + +"Yes, I know," he answered, "but I rather think the tree's the biggest +thing, isn't it?" + +"Well, it is the biggest," admitted Virginia, sweetly. "I couldn't get my +arms halfway round it--and Betty was so distressed when it fell that she +cried half the day, just as if it were a human being. Aunt Lydia has been +trying to build a rockery over the root, and she's going to cover it with +portulaca." She went to the long window and pointed out the spot where it +had stood. "There are so many one hardly misses it," she added cheerfully. + +At the end of an hour Dan asked timidly for Betty, to hear that she had +gone riding earlier with Champe. "She is showing him a new path over the +mountain," said Virginia. "I really think she knows them all by heart." + +"I hope she hasn't taken to minding cattle," observed Dan, irritably. "I +believe in women keeping at home, you know," and as he rose to go he told +Virginia that she had "an Irish colour." + +"I have been sitting in the sun," she answered shyly, going back to the +window when he left the room. + +Dan went quickly out to Prince Rupert, but with his foot in the stirrup, he +saw Miss Lydia training a coral honeysuckle at the end of the portico, and +turned away to help her fasten up a broken string. "It blew down +yesterday," she explained sadly. "The storm did a great deal of damage to +the flowers, and the garden looked almost desolate this morning, but Betty +and I worked there until dinner. I tell Betty she must take my place among +the flowers, she has such a talent for making them bloom. Why, if you will +come into the garden, you will be surprised to see how many summer plants +are still in blossom." + +She spoke wistfully, and Dan looked down on her with a tender reverence +which became him strangely. "Why, I shall be delighted to go with you," he +answered. "Do you know I never see you without thinking of your roses? You +seem to carry their fragrance in your clothes." There was a touch of the +Major's flattery in his manner, but Miss Lydia's pale cheeks flushed with +pleasure. + +Smiling faintly, she folded her knitted shawl over her bosom, and he +followed her across the grass to the little whitewashed gate of the garden. +There she entered softly, as if she were going into church, her light steps +barely treading down the tall grass strewn with rose leaves. Beyond the +high box borders the gay October roses bent toward her beneath a light +wind, and in the square beds tangles of summer plants still flowered +untouched by frost. The splendour of the scarlet sage and the delicate +clusters of the four-o'clocks and sweet Williams made a single blur of +colour in the sunshine, and under the neatly clipped box hedges, blossoms +of petunias and verbenas straggled from their trim rows across the walk. + +As he stood beside her, Dan drew in a long breath of the fragrant air. "I +declare, it is like standing in a bunch of pinks," he remarked. + +"There has been no hard frost as yet," returned Miss Lydia, looking up at +him. "Even the verbenas were not nipped, and I don't think I ever had them +bloom so late. Why, it is almost the first of October." + +They strolled leisurely up and down the box-bordered paths, Miss Lydia +talking in her gentle, monotonous voice, and Dan bending his head as he +flicked at the tall grass with his riding-whip. + +"He is a great lover of flowers," said the old lady after he had gone, and +thought in her simple heart that she spoke the truth. + +For two days Dan's pride held him back, but the third being Sunday, he went +over in the afternoon with the pretence of a message from his grandmother. +As the day was mild the great doors were standing open, and from the drive +he saw Mrs. Ambler sitting midway of the hall, with her Bible in her hand +and her class of little negroes at her feet. Beyond her there was a strip +of green and the autumn glory of the garden, and the sunlight coming from +without fell straight upon the leaves of the open book. + +She was reading from the gospel of St. John, and she did not pause until +the chapter was finished; then she looked up and said, smiling: "Shall I +ask you to join my class, or will you look for the girls out of doors? +Virginia, I think, is in the garden, and Betty has just gone riding down +the tavern road." + +"Oh, I'll go after Betty," replied Dan, promptly, and with a gay "good-by" +he untied Prince Rupert and started at a canter for the turnpike. + +A quarter of a mile beyond Uplands the tavern road branched off under a +deep gloom of forest trees. The white sand of the turnpike gave place to a +heavy clay soil, which went to dust in summer and to mud in winter, +impeding equally the passage of wheels. On either side a thick wood ran for +several miles, and the sunshine filtered in bright drops through the green +arch overhead. + +When Dan first caught sight of Betty she was riding in a network of sun and +shade, her face lifted to the bit of blue sky that showed between the +tree-tops. At the sound of his horse she threw a startled look behind her, +and then, drawing aside from the sunken ruts in the "corduroy" road, +waited, smiling, until he galloped up. + +"Why, it's never you!" she exclaimed, surprised. + +"Well, that's not my fault, Betty," he gayly returned. "If I had my way, I +assure you it would be always I. You mustn't blame a fellow for his ill +luck, you know." Then he laid his hand on her bridle and faced her sternly. + +"Look here, Betty, you haven't been treating me right," he said. + +She threw out a deprecating little gesture. "Do I need to put on more +humility?" she questioned, humbly. "Is it respect that I have failed in, +sir?" + +"Oh, bosh!" he interposed, rudely. "I want to know why you went riding +three afternoons with Champe--it wasn't fair of you, you know." + +Betty sighed sadly. "No one has ever asked me before why I went riding with +Champe," she confessed, "and the mighty secret has quite gnawed into my +heart." + +"Share it with me," begged Dan, gallantly, "only I warn you that I shall +have no mercy upon Champe." + +"Poor Champe," said Betty. + +"At least he went riding with you three afternoons--lucky Champe!" + +"Ah, so he did; and must I tell you why?" + +He nodded. "You shan't go home until you do," he declared grimly. + +Betty reached up and plucked a handful of aspen leaves, scattering them +upon the road. + +"By what right, O horse-taming Hector (isn't that the way they talk in +Homer?)" + +"By the right of the strongest, O fair Helena (it's the way they talk in +translations of Homer)." + +"How very learned you are!" sighed Betty. + +"How very lovely you are!" sighed Dan. + +"And you will really force me to tell you?" she asked. + +"For your own sake, don't let it come to that," he replied. + +"But are you sure that you are strong enough to hear it?" + +"I am strong enough for anything," he assured her, "except suspense." + +"Well, if I must, then let me whisper it--I went because--" she drew back, +"I implore you not to uproot the forest in your wrath." + +"Speak quickly," urged Dan, impatiently. + +"I went because--brace yourself--I went because he asked me." + +"O Betty!" he cried, and caught her hand. + +"O Dan!" she laughed, and drew her hand away. + +"You deserve to be whipped," he went on sternly. "How dare you play with +the green-eyed monster I'm wearing on my sleeve? Haven't you heard his +growls, madam?" + +"He's a pretty monster," said Betty. "I should like to pat him." + +"Oh, he needs to be gently stroked, I tell you." + +"Does he wake often--poor monster?" + +Dan lowered his abashed eyes to the road. + +"Well, that--ah, that depends--" he began awkwardly. + +"Ah, that depends upon your fancies," finished Betty, and rode on rapidly. + +It was a moment before he came up with her, and when he did so his face was +flushed. + +"Do you mind about my fancies, Betty?" he asked humbly. + +"I?" said Betty, disdainfully. "Why, what have I to do with them?" + +"With my fancies? nothing--so help me God--nothing." + +"I am glad to hear it," she replied quietly, stroking her horse. Her cheeks +were glowing and she let the overhanging branches screen her face. As they +rode on silently they heard the rustling of the leaves beneath the horses' +feet, and the soft wind playing through the forest. A chain of lights and +shadows ran before them into the misty purple of the distance, where the +dim trees went up like gothic spires. + +Betty's hands were trembling, but fearing the stillness, she spoke in a +careless voice. + +"When do you go back to college?" she inquired politely. + +"In two days--but it's all the same to you, I dare say." + +"Indeed it isn't. I shall be very sorry." + +"You needn't lie to me," he returned irritably. "I beg your pardon, but a +lie is a lie, you know." + +"So I suppose, but I wasn't lying--I shall be very sorry." + +A fiery maple branch fell between them, and he impatiently thrust it aside. + +"When you treat me like this you raise the devil in me," he said angrily. +"As I told you before, Betty, when I'm not Lightfoot I'm Montjoy--it may be +this that makes you plague me so." + +"O Dan, Dan!" she laughed, but in a moment added gravely: "When you're +neither Lightfoot nor Montjoy, you're just yourself, and it's then, after +all, that I like you best. Shall we turn now?" She wheeled her horse about +on the rustling leaves, and they started toward the sunset light shining +far up the road. + +"When you like me best," said Dan, passionately. "Betty, when is that?" His +ardent look was on her face, and she, defying her fears, met it with her +beaming eyes. "When you're just yourself, Dan," she answered and galloped +on. Her lips were smiling, but there was a prayer in her heart, for it +cried, "Dear God, let him love me, let him love me." + + + + +VIII + +BETTY'S UNBELIEF + + +"Dear God, let him love me," she prayed again in the cool twilight of her +chamber. Before the open window she put her hands to her burning cheeks and +felt the wind trickle between her quivering fingers. Her heart fluttered +like a bird and her blood went in little tremours through her veins. For a +single instant she seemed to feel the passage of the earth through space. +"Oh, let him love me! let him love me!" she cried upon her knees. + +When Virginia came in she rose and turned to her with the brightness of +tears on her lashes. + +"Do you want me to help you, dear?" she asked, gently. + +"Oh, I'm all dressed," answered Virginia, coming toward her. She held a +lamp in her hand, and the light fell over her girlish figure in its muslin +gown. "You are so late, Betty," she added, stopping before the bureau. +"Were you by yourself?" + +"Not all the way," replied Betty, slowly. + +"Who was with you? Champe?" + +"No, not Champe--Dan," said Betty, stooping to unfasten her boots. + +Virginia was pinning a red verbena in her hair, and she turned to catch a +side view of her face. + +"Do you know I really believe Dan likes you best," she carelessly remarked. +"I asked him the other afternoon what colour hair he preferred, and he +snapped out, 'red' as suddenly as that. Wasn't it funny?" + +For a moment Betty did not speak; then she came over and stood beside her +sister. + +"Would you mind if he liked me better than you, dear?" she asked, +doubtfully. "Would you mind the least little bit?" + +Virginia laughed merrily and stooped to kiss her. + +"I shouldn't mind if every man in the world liked you better," she answered +gayly. "If they only had as much sense as I've got, they would, foolish +things." + +"I never knew but one who did," returned Betty, "and that was the Major." + +"But Champe, too." + +"Well, perhaps,--but Champe's afraid of you. He calls you Penelope, you +know, because of the 'wooers.' We counted six horses at the portico +yesterday, and he made a bet with me that all of them belonged to the +'wooers'--and they really did, too." + +"Oh, but wooing isn't winning," laughed Virginia, going toward the door. +"You'd better hurry, Betty, supper's ready. I wouldn't touch my hair, if I +were you, it looks just lovely." Her white skirts fluttered across the +dimly lighted hall, and in a moment Betty heard her soft step on the stair. + +Two days later Betty told Dan good-by with smiling lips. He rode over in +the early morning, when she was in the garden gathering loose rose leaves +to scatter among her clothes. There had been a sharp frost the night +before, and now as it melted in the slanting sun rays, Miss Lydia's summer +flowers hung blighted upon their stalks. Only the gay October roses were +still in their full splendour. + +"What an early Betty," said Dan, coming up to her as she stood in the wet +grass beside one of the quaint rose squares. "You are all dewy like a +flower." + +"Oh, I had breakfast an hour ago," she answered, giving him her moist hand +to which a few petals were clinging. + +"Ye Gods! have I missed an hour? Why, I expected to sit waiting on the +door-step until you had had your sleep out." + +"Don't you know if you gather rose leaves with the dew on them, their +sweetness lasts twice as long?" asked Betty. + +"So you got up to gather ye rosebuds, after all, and not to wish me God +speed?" he said despondently. + +"Well, I should have been up anyway," replied Betty, frankly. "This is the +loveliest part of the day, you know. The world looks so fresh with the +first frost over it--only the poor silly summer flowers take cold and die." + +"If you weren't a rose, you'd take cold yourself," remarked Dan, pointing, +with his riding-whip, to the hem of her dimity skirt. "Don't stand in the +grass like that, you make me shiver." + +"Oh, the sun will dry me," she laughed, stepping from the path to the bare +earth of the rose bed. "Why, when you get well into the sunshine it feels +like summer." She talked on merrily, and he, paying small heed to what she +said, kept his ardent look upon her face. His joy was in her bright +presence, in the beauty of her smile, in the kind eyes that shone upon him. +Speech meant so little when he could put out his arm and touch her if he +dared. + +"I am going away in an hour, Betty," he said, at last. + +"But you will be back again at Christmas." + +"At Christmas! Heavens alive! You speak as if it were to-morrow." + +"Oh, but time goes very quickly, you know." + +Dan shook his head impatiently. "I dare say it does with you," he returned, +irritably, "but it wouldn't if you were as much in love as I am." + +"Why, you ought to be used to it by now," urged Betty, mercilessly. "You +were in love last year, I remember." + +"Betty, don't punish me for what I couldn't help. You know I love you." + +"Oh, no," said Betty, nervously plucking rose leaves. "You have been too +often in love before, my good Dan." + +"But I was never in love with you before," retorted Dan, decisively. + +She shook her head, smiling. "And you are not in love with me now," she +replied, gravely. "You have found out that my hair is pretty, or that I can +mix a pudding; but I do not often let down my hair, and I seldom cook, so +you'll get over it, my friend, never fear." + +He flushed angrily. "And if I do not get over it?" he demanded. + +"If you do not get over it?" repeated Betty, trembling. She turned away +from him, strewing a handful of rose leaves upon the grass. "Then I shall +think that you value neither my hair nor my housekeeping," she added, +lightly. + +"If I swear that I love you, will you believe me, Betty?" + +"Don't tempt my faith, Dan, it's too small." + +"Whether you believe it or not, I do love you," he went on. "I may have +been a fool now and then before I found it out, but you don't think that +was falling in love, do you? I confess that I liked a pair of fine eyes or +rosy cheeks, but I could laugh about it even while I thought it was love I +felt. I can't laugh about being in love with you, Betty." + +"I thank you, sir," replied Betty, saucily. + +"When I saw you kneeling by the fire in free Levi's cabin, I knew that I +loved you," he said, hotly. + +"But I can't always kneel to you, Dan," she interposed. + +He put her words impatiently aside, "and what's more I knew then that I had +loved you all my life without knowing it," he pursued. "You may taunt me +with fickleness, but I'm not fickle--I was merely a fool. It took me a long +time to find out what I wanted, but I've found out at last, and, so help me +God, I'll have it yet. I never went without a thing I wanted in my life." + +"Then it will be good for you," responded Betty. "Shall I put some rose +leaves into your pocket?" She spoke indifferently, but all the while she +heard her heart singing for joy. + +In the rage of his boyish passion, he cut brutally at the flowers growing +at his feet. + +"If you keep this up, you'll send me to the devil!" he exclaimed. + +She caught his hand and took the whip from his fingers. "Ah, don't hurt the +poor flowers," she begged, "they aren't to blame." + +"Who is to blame, Betty?" + +She looked up wistfully into his angry face. "You are no better than a +child, Dan," she said, almost sadly, "and you haven't the least idea what +you are storming so about. It's time you were a man, but you aren't, you're +just--" + +"Oh, I know, I'm just a pampered poodle dog," he finished, bitterly. + +"Well, you ought to be something better, and you must be." + +"I'll be anything you please, Betty; I'll be President, if you wish it." + +"No, thank you, I don't care in the least for Presidents." + +"Then I'll be a beggar, you like beggars." + +"You'll be just yourself, if you want to please me, Dan," she said +earnestly. "You will be your best self--neither the flattering Lightfoot, +nor the rude Montjoy. You will learn to work, to wait patiently, and to +love one woman. Whoever she may be, I shall say, God bless her." + +"God bless her, Betty," he echoed fervently, and added, "Since it's a man +you want, I'll be a man, but I almost wish you had said a President. I +could have been one for you, Betty." + +Then he held out his hand. "I don't suppose you will kiss me good-by?" he +pleaded. + +"No, I shan't kiss you good-by," she answered. + +"Never, Betty?" + +Smiling brightly, she gave him her hand. "When you have loved me two years, +perhaps,--or when you marry another woman. Good-by, dear, good-by." + +He turned quickly away and went up the little path to the gate. There he +paused for an instant, looked back, and waved his hand. "Good-by, my +darling!" he called, boldly, and passed under the honeysuckle arbour. As he +mounted his horse in the drive he saw her still standing as he had left +her, the roses falling about her, and the sunshine full upon her bended +head. + +Until he was hidden by the trees she watched him breathlessly, then, +kneeling in the path, she laid her cheek upon the long grass he had trodden +underfoot. "O my love, my love," she whispered to the ground. + +Miss Lydia called her from the house, and she went to her with some loose +roses in her muslin apron. "Did you call me, Aunt Lydia?" she asked, +lifting her radiant eyes to the old lady's face. "I haven't gathered very +many leaves." + +"I wanted you to pot some white violets for me, dear," answered Miss Lydia, +from the back steps. "My winter garden is almost full, but there's a spot +where I can put a few violets. Poor Mr. Bill asked for a geranium for his +window, so I let him take one." + +"Oh, let me pot them for you," begged Betty, eager to be of service. "Send +Petunia for the trowel, and I'll choose you a lovely plant. It's too bad to +see all the dear verbenas bitten by the frost." She tossed a rose into Miss +Lydia's hands, and went back gladly into the garden. + +A fortnight after this the Major came over and besought her to return with +him for a week at Chericoke. Mrs. Lightfoot had taken to her bed, he said +sadly, and the whole place was rapidly falling to rack and ruin. "We need +your hands to put it straight again," he added, "and Molly told me on no +account to come back without you. I am at your mercy, my dear." + +"Why, I should love to go," replied Betty, with the thought of Dan at her +heart. "I'll be ready in a minute," and she ran upstairs to find her +mother, and to pack her things. + +The Major waited for her standing; and when she came down, followed by +Petunia with her clothes, he helped her, with elaborate courtesy, into the +old coach before the portico. + +"It takes me back to my wedding day, Betty," he said, as he stepped in +after her and slammed the door. "It isn't often that I carry off a pretty +girl so easily." + +"Now I know that you didn't carry off Mrs. Lightfoot easily," returned +Betty, laughing from sheer lightness of spirits. "She has told me the whole +story, sir, from the evening that she wore the peach-blow brocade, that +made you fall in love with her on the spot, to the day that she almost +broke down at the altar. You had a narrow escape from bachelorship, sir, so +you needn't boast." + +The Major chuckled in his corner. "I don't doubt that Molly told you so," +he replied, "but, between you and me, I don't believe it ever occurred to +her until forty years afterwards. She got it out of one of those silly +romances she reads in bed--and, take my word for it, you'll find it +somewhere in the pages of her Mrs. Radcliffe, or her Miss Burney. Molly's a +sensible woman, my child,--I'm the last man to deny it--but she always did +read trash. You won't believe me, I dare say, but she actually tried to +faint when I kissed her in the carriage after her wedding--and, bless my +soul, I came to find that she had 'Evelina' tucked away under her cape." + +"Why, she is the most sensible woman in the world," said Betty, "and I'm +quite sure that she was only fitting herself to your ideas, sir. No, you +can't make me believe it of Mrs. Lightfoot." + +"My ideas never took the shape of an Evelina," dissented the Major, warmly, +"but it's a dangerous taste, my dear, the taste for trash. I've always said +that it ruined poor Jane, with all her pride. She got into her head all +kind of notions about that scamp Montjoy, with his pale face and his long +black hair. Poor girl, poor girl! I tried to bring her up on Homer and +Milton, but she took to her mother's bookshelf as a duck to water." He +wiped his eyes, and Betty patted his hand, and wondered if "the scamp +Montjoy" looked the least bit like his son. + +When they reached Chericoke she shook hands with the servants and ran +upstairs to Mrs. Lightfoot's chamber. The old lady, in her ruffled +nightcap, which she always put on when she took to bed, was sitting upright +under her dimity curtains, weeping over "Thaddeus of Warsaw." There was a +little bookstand at her bedside filled with her favourite romances, and at +the beginning of the year she would start systematically to read from the +first volume upon the top shelf to the last one in the corner near the +door. "None of your newfangled writers for me, my dear," she would protest, +snapping her fingers at literature. "Why, they haven't enough sentiment to +give their hero a title--and an untitled hero! I declare, I'd as lief have +a plain heroine, and, before you know it, they'll be writing about their +Sukey Sues, with pug noses, who eloped with their Bill Bates, from the +nearest butcher shop. Ugh! don't talk to me about them! I opened one of Mr. +Dickens's stories the other day and it was actually about a chimney +sweep--a common chimney sweep from a workhouse! Why, I really felt as if I +had been keeping low society." + +Now, as she caught sight of Betty, she laid aside her book, wiped her eyes +on a stiffly folded handkerchief, and became cheerful at once. "I warned +Mr. Lightfoot not to dare to show his face without you," she began; "so I +suppose he brought you off by force." + +"I was only too glad to come," replied Betty, kissing her; "but what must I +do for you first? Shall I rub your head with bay rum?" + +"There's nothing on earth the matter with my head, child," retorted Mrs. +Lightfoot, promptly, "but you may go downstairs, as soon as you take off +your things, and make me some decent tea and toast. Cupid brought me up two +waiters at dinner, and I wouldn't touch either of them with a ten-foot +pole." + +Betty took off her bonnet and shawl and hung them on a chair. "I'll go down +at once and see about it," she answered, "and I'll make Car'line put away +my things. It's my old room I'm to have, I suppose." + +"It's the whole house, if you want it, only don't let any of the darkies +have a hand at my tea. It's their nature to slop." + +"But it isn't mine," Betty answered her, and ran, laughing, down into the +dining room. + +"Dar ain' been no sich chunes sense young Miss rid away in de dead er de +night time," muttered Cupid, in the pantry. "Lawd, Lawd, I des wish you'd +teck up wid Marse Champe, en move 'long over hyer fer good en all. I reckon +dar 'ud be times, den, I reckon, dar 'ould." + +"There are going to be times now, Uncle Cupid," responded Betty, +cheerfully, as she arranged the tray for Mrs. Lightfoot. "I'm going to make +some tea and toast right on this fire for your old Miss. You bring the +kettle, and I'll slice the bread." + +Cupid brought the kettle, grumbling. "I ain' never hyern tell er sich a +mouf es ole Miss es got," he muttered. "I ain' sayin' nuttin' agin er +stomick, case she ain' never let de stuff git down dat fur--en de stomick +hit ain' never tase it yit." + +"Oh, stop grumbling, Uncle Cupid," returned Betty, moving briskly about the +room. She brought the daintiest tea cup from the old sideboard, and leaned +out of the window to pluck a late microphylla rosebud from the creeper upon +the porch. Then, with the bread on the end of a long fork, she sat before +the fire and asked Cupid about the health and fortunes of the house +servants and the field hands. + +"I ain' mix wid no fiel' han's," grunted Cupid, with a social pride +befitting the Major. "Dar ain' no use er my mixin' en I ain' mix. Dey stay +in dere place en I stay in my place--en dere place hit's de quarters, en my +place hit's de dinin' 'oom." + +"But Aunt Rhody--how's she?" inquired Betty, pleasantly, "and Big Abel? He +didn't go back to college, did he?" + +"Zeke, he went," replied Cupid, "en Big Abel he wuz bleeged ter stay behint +'case his wife Saphiry she des put 'er foot right down. Ef'n he 'uz gwine +off again, sez she, she 'uz des gwine tu'n right in en git mah'ed agin. She +ain' so sho', nohow, dat two husban's ain' better'n one, is Saphiry, en she +got 'mos' a min' ter try hit. So Big Abel he des stayed behint." + +"That was wise of Big Abel," remarked Betty. "Now open the door, Uncle +Cupid, and I'll carry this upstairs," and as Cupid threw open the door, she +went out, holding the tray before her. + +The old lady received her graciously, ate the toast and drank the tea, and +even admitted that it couldn't have been better if she had made it with her +own hands. "I think that you will have to come and live with me, Betty," +she said good-humouredly. "What a pity you can't fancy one of those useless +boys of mine. Not that I'd have you marry Dan, child, the Major has spoiled +him to death, and now he's beginning to repent it; but Champe, Champe is a +good and clever lad and would make a mild and amiable husband, I am sure. +Don't marry a man with too much spirit, my dear; if a man has any extra +spirit, he usually expends it in breaking his wife's." + +"Oh, I shan't marry yet awhile," replied Betty, looking out upon the +falling autumn leaves. + +"So I said the day before I married Mr. Lightfoot," rejoined the old lady, +settling her pillows, "and now, if you have nothing better to do, you might +read me a chapter of 'Thaddeus of Warsaw'; you will find it to be a book of +very pretty sentiment." + + + + +IX + +THE MONTJOY BLOOD + + +In the morning Betty was awakened by the tapping of the elm boughs on the +roof above her. An autumn wind was blowing straight from the west, and when +she looked out through the small greenish panes of glass, she saw eddies of +yellowed leaves beating gently against the old brick walls. Overhead light +gray clouds were flying across the sky, and beyond the waving tree-tops a +white mist hung above the dim blue chain of mountains. + +When she went downstairs she found the Major, in his best black broadcloth, +pacing up and down before the house. It was Sunday, and he intended to +drive into town where the rector held his services. + +"You won't go in with me, I reckon?" he ventured hopefully, when Betty +smiled out upon him from the library window. "Ah, my dear, you're as fresh +as the morning, and only an old man to look at you. Well, well, age has its +consolations; you'll spare me a kiss, I suppose?" + +"Then you must come in to get it," answered Betty, her eyes narrowing. +"Breakfast is getting cold, and Cupid is calling down Aunt Rhody's wrath +upon your head." + +"Oh, I'll come, I'll come," returned the Major, hurrying up the steps, and +adding as he entered the dining room, "My child, if you'd only take a fancy +to Champe, I'd be the happiest man on earth." + +"Now I shan't allow any matchmaking on Sunday," said Betty, warningly, as +she prepared Mrs. Lightfoot's breakfast. "Sit down and carve the chicken +while I run upstairs with this." + +She went out and came back in a moment, laughing merrily. "Do you know, she +threatens to become bedridden now that I am here to fix her trays," she +explained, sitting down between the tall silver urns and pouring out the +Major's coffee. "What an uncertain day you have for church," she added as +she gave his cup to Cupid. + +With his eyes on her vivid face the old man listened rapturously to her +fresh young voice--the voice, he said, that always made him think of clear +water falling over stones. It was one of the things that came to her from +Peyton Ambler, he knew, with her warm hazel eyes and the sweet, strong +curve of her mouth. "Ah, but you're like your father," he said as he +watched her. "If you had brown hair you'd be his very image." + +"I used to wish that I had," responded Betty, "but I don't now--I'd just as +soon have red." She was thinking that Dan did not like brown hair so much, +and the thought shone in her face--only the Major, in his ignorance, +mistook its meaning. + +After breakfast he got into the coach and started off, and Betty, with the +key basket on her arm, followed Cupid and Aunt Rhody into the storeroom. +Then she gathered fresh flowers for the table, and went upstairs to read a +chapter from the Bible to Mrs. Lightfoot. + +The Major stayed to dinner in town, returning late in a moody humour and +exhausted by his drive. As Betty brushed her hair before her bureau, she +heard him talking in a loud voice to Mrs. Lightfoot, and when she went in +at supper time the old, lady called her to her bedside and took her hand. + +"He has had a touch of the gout, Betty," she whispered in her ear, "and he +heard some news in town which upset him a little. You must try to cheer him +up at supper, child." + +"Was it bad news?" asked Betty, in alarm. + +"It may not be true, my dear. I hope it isn't, but, as I told Mr. +Lightfoot, it is always better to believe the worst, so if any surprise +comes it may be a pleasant one. Somebody told him in church--and they had +much better have been attending to the service, I'm sure,--that Dan had +gotten into trouble again, and Mr. Lightfoot is very angry about it. He had +a talk with the boy before he went away, and made him promise to turn over +a new leaf this year--but it seems this is the most serious thing that has +happened yet. I must say I always told Mr. Lightfoot it was what he had to +expect." + +"In trouble again?" repeated Betty, kneeling by the bed. Her hands went +cold, and she pressed them nervously together. + +"Of course we know very little about it, my dear," pursued Mrs. Lightfoot. +"All we have heard is that he fought a duel and was sent away from the +University. He was even put into gaol for a night, I believe--a Lightfoot +in a common dirty gaol! Well, well, as I said before, all we can do now is +to expect the worst." + +"Oh, is that all?" cried Betty, and the leaping of her heart told her the +horror of her dim foreboding. She rose to her feet and smiled brightly down +upon the astonished old lady. + +"I don't know what more you want," replied Mrs. Lightfoot, tartly. "If he +ever gets clean again after a whole night in a common gaol, I must say I +don't see how he'll manage it. But if you aren't satisfied I can only tell +you that the affair was all about some bar-room wench, and that the papers +will be full of it. Not that the boy was anything but foolish," she added +hastily. "I'll do him the justice to admit that he's more of a fool than a +villain--and I hardly know whether it's a compliment that I'm paying him or +not. He got some quixotic notion into his head that Harry Maupin insulted +the girl in his presence, and he called him to account for it. As if the +honour of a barkeeper's daughter was the concern of any gentleman!" + +"Oh!" cried Betty, and caught her breath. The word went out of her in a +sudden burst of joy, but the joy was so sharp that a moment afterwards she +hid her wet face in the bedclothes and sobbed softly to herself. + +"I don't think Mr. Lightfoot would have taken it so hard but for Virginia," +said the old lady, with her keen eyes on the girl. "You know he has always +wanted to bring Dan and Virginia together, and he seems to think that the +boy has been dishonourable about it." + +"But Virginia doesn't care--she doesn't care," protested Betty. + +"Well, I'm glad to hear it," returned Mrs. Lightfoot, relieved, "and I hope +the foolish boy will stay away long enough for his grandfather to cool off. +Mr. Lightfoot is a high-tempered man, my child. I've spent fifty years in +keeping him at peace with the world. There now, run down and cheer him up." + +She lay back among her pillows, and Betty leaned over and kissed her with +cold lips before she dried her eyes and went downstairs to find the Major. + +With the first glance at his face she saw that Dan's cause was hopeless for +the hour, and she set herself, with a cheerful countenance, to a discussion +of the trivial happenings of the day. She talked pleasantly of the rector's +sermon, of the morning reading with Mrs. Lightfoot, and of a great hawk +that had appeared suddenly in the air and raised an outcry among the +turkeys on the lawn. When these topics were worn threadbare she bethought +herself of the beauty of the autumn woods, and lamented the ruined garden +with its last sad flowers. + +The Major listened gloomily, putting in a word now and then, and keeping +his weak red eyes upon his plate. There was a heavy cloud on his brow, and +the flush that Betty had learned to dread was in his face. Once when she +spoke carelessly of Dan, he threw out an angry gesture and inquired if she +"found Mrs. Lightfoot easier to-night?" + +"Oh, I think so," replied the girl, and then, as they rose from the table, +she slipped her hand through his arm and went with him into the library. + +"Shall I sit with you this evening?" she asked timidly. "I'd be so glad to +read to you, if you would let me." + +He shook his head, patted her affectionately upon the shoulder, and smiled +down into her upraised face. "No, no, my dear, I've a little work to do," +he replied kindly. "There are a few papers I want to look over, so run up +to Molly and tell her I sent my sunshine to her." + +He stooped and kissed her cheek; and Betty, with a troubled heart, went +slowly up to Mrs. Lightfoot's chamber. + +The Major sat down at his writing table, and spread his papers out before +him. Then he raised the wick of his lamp, and with his pen in his hand, +resolutely set himself to his task. When Cupid came in with the decanter of +Burgundy, he filled a glass and held it absently against the light, but he +did not drink it, and in a moment he put it down with so tremulous a hand +that the wine spilled upon the floor. + +"I've a touch of the gout, Cupid," he said testily. "A touch of the gout +that's been hanging over me for a month or more." + +"Huccome you ain' fit hit, Ole Marster?" + +"Oh, I've been fighting it tooth and nail," answered the old gentleman, +"but there are some things that always get the better of you in the end, +Cupid, and the gout's one of them." + +"En rheumaticks hit's anurr," added Cupid, rubbing his knee. + +He rolled a fresh log upon the andirons and went out, while the Major +returned, frowning, to his work. + +He was still at his writing table, when he heard the sound of a horse +trotting in the drive, and an instant afterwards the quick fall of the old +brass knocker. The flush deepened in his face, and with a look at once +angry and appealing, he half rose from his chair. As he waited the outside +bars were withdrawn, there followed a few short steps across the hall, and +Dan came into the library. + +"I suppose you know what's brought me back, grandpa?" he said quietly as he +entered. + +The Major started up and then sat down again. + +"I do know, sir, and I wish to God I didn't," he replied, choking in his +anger. + +Dan stood where he had halted upon his entrance, and looked at him with +eyes in which there was still a defiant humour. His face was pale and his +hair hung in black streaks across his forehead. The white dust of the +turnpike had settled upon his clothes, and as he moved it floated in a +little cloud about him. + +"I reckon you think it's a pretty bad thing, eh?" he questioned coolly, +though his hands trembled. + +The Major's eyes flashed ominously from beneath his heavy brows. + +"Pretty bad?" he repeated, taking a long breath. "If you want to know what +I think about it, sir, I think that it's a damnable disgrace. Pretty +bad!--By God, sir, do you call having a gaol-bird for a grandson pretty +bad?" + +"Stop, sir!" called Dan, sharply. He had steadied himself to withstand the +shock of the Major's temper, but, in the dash of his youthful folly, he had +forgotten to reckon with his own. "For heaven's sake, let's talk about it +calmly," he added irritably. + +"I am perfectly calm, sir!" thundered the Major, rising to his feet. The +terrible flush went in a wave to his forehead, and he put up one quivering +hand to loosen his high stock. "I tell you calmly that you've done a +damnable thing; that you've brought disgrace upon the name of Lightfoot." + +"It is not my name," replied Dan, lifting his head. "My name is Montjoy, +sir." + +"And it's a name to hang a dog for," retorted the Major. + +As they faced each other with the same flash of temper kindling in both +faces, the likeness between them grew suddenly more striking. It was as if +the spirit of the fiery old man had risen, in a finer and younger shape, +from the air before him. + +"At all events it is not yours," said Dan, hotly. Then he came nearer, and +the anger died out of his eyes. "Don't let's quarrel, grandpa," he pleaded. +"I've gotten into a mess, and I'm sorry for it--on my word I am." + +"So you've come whining to me to get you out," returned the Major, shaking +as if he had gone suddenly palsied. + +Dan drew back and his hand fell to his side. + +"So help me God, I'll never whine to you again," he answered. + +"Do you want to know what you have done, sir?" demanded the Major. "You +have broken your grandmother's heart and mine--and made us wish that we had +left you by the roadside when you came crawling to our door. And, on my +oath, if I had known that the day would ever come when you would try to +murder a Virginia gentleman for the sake of a bar-room hussy, I would have +left you there, sir." + +"Stop!" said Dan again, looking at the old man with his mother's eyes. + +"You have broken your grandmother's heart and mine," repeated the Major, in +a trembling voice, "and I pray to God that you may not break Virginia +Ambler's--poor girl, poor girl!" + +"Virginia Ambler!" said Dan, slowly. "Why, there was nothing between us, +nothing, nothing." + +"And you dare to tell me this to my face, sir?" cried the Major. + +"Dare! of course I dare," returned Dan, defiantly. "If there was ever +anything at all it was upon my side only--and a mere trifling fancy." + +The old gentleman brought his hand down upon his table with a blow that +sent the papers fluttering to the floor. "Trifling!" he roared. "Would you +trifle with a lady from your own state, sir?" + +"I was never in love with her," exclaimed Dan, angrily. + +"Not in love with her? What business have you not to be in love with her?" +retorted the Major, tossing back his long white hair. "I have given her to +understand that you are in love with her, sir." + +The blood rushed to Dan's head, and he stumbled over an ottoman as he +turned away. + +"Then I call it unwarrantable interference," he said brutally, and went +toward the door. There the Major's flashing eyes held him back an instant. + +"It was when I believed you to be worthy of her," went on the old man, +relentlessly, "when--fool that I was--I dared to hope that dirty blood +could be made clean again; that Jack Montjoy's son could be a gentleman." + +For a moment only Dan stood motionless and looked at him from the +threshold. Then, without speaking, he crossed the hall, took down his hat, +and unbarred the outer door. It slammed after him, and he went out into the +night. + +A keen wind was still blowing, and as he descended the steps he felt it +lifting the dampened hair from his forehead. With a breath of relief he +stood bareheaded in the drive and raised his face to the cool elm leaves +that drifted slowly down. After the heated atmosphere of the library there +was something pleasant in the mere absence of light, and in the soft +rustling of the branches overhead. The humour of his blood went suddenly +quiet as if he had plunged headlong into cold water. + +While he stood there motionless his thoughts were suspended, and his +senses, gaining a brief mastery, became almost feverishly alert; he felt +the night wind in his face, he heard the ceaseless stirring of the leaves, +and he saw the sparkle of the gravel in the yellow shine that streamed from +the library windows. But with his first step, his first movement, there +came a swift recoil of his anger, and he told himself with a touch of +youthful rhetoric, "that come what would, he was going to the devil--and +going speedily." + +He had reached the gate and his hand was upon the latch, when he heard the +house door open and shut behind him and his name called softly from the +steps. + +He turned impulsively and stood waiting, while Betty came quickly through +the lamplight that fell in squares upon the drive. + +"Oh, come back, Dan, come back," she said breathlessly. + +With his hand still on the gate he faced her, frowning. + +"I'd die first, Betty," he answered. + +She came swiftly up to him and stood, very pale, in the faint starlight +that shone between the broken clouds. A knitted shawl was over her +shoulders, but her head was bare and her hair made a glow around her face. +Her eyes entreated him before she spoke. + +"Oh, Dan, come back," she pleaded. + +He laughed angrily and shook his head. + +"I'll die first, Betty," he repeated. "Die! I'd die a hundred times first!" + +"He is so old," she said appealingly. "It is not as if he were young and +quite himself, Dan--Oh, it is not like that--but he loves you, and he is so +old." + +"Don't, Betty," he broke in quickly, and added bitterly, "Are you, too, +against me?" + +"I am for the best in you," she answered quietly, and turned away from him. + +"The best!" he snapped his fingers impatiently. "Are you for the shot at +Maupin? the night I spent in gaol? or the beggar I am now? There's an equal +choice, I reckon." + +She looked gravely up at him. + +"I am for the boy I've always known," she replied, "and for the man who was +here two weeks ago--and--yes, I am for the man who stands here now. What +does it matter, Dan? What does it matter?" + +"O, Betty!" he cried breathlessly, and hid his face in his hands. + +"And most of all, I am for the man you are going to be," she went on +slowly, "for the great man who is growing up. Dan, come back!" + +His hands fell from his eyes. "I'll not do that even for you, Betty," he +answered, "and, God knows, there's little else I wouldn't do for +you--there's nothing else." + +"What will you do for yourself, Dan?" + +"For myself?" his anger leaped out again, and he steadied himself against +the gate. "For myself I'll go as far as I can from this damned place. I +wish to God I'd fallen in the road before I came here. I wish I'd gone +after my father and followed in his steps. I'll live on no man's charity, +so help me God. Am I a dog to be kicked out and to go whining back when the +door opens? Go--I'll go to the devil, and be glad of it!" For a moment +Betty did not answer. Her hands were clasped on her bosom, and her eyes +were dark and bright in the pallor of her face. As he looked at her the +rage died out of his voice, and it quivered with a deeper feeling. + +"My dear, my dearest, are you, too, against me?" he asked. + +She met his gaze without flinching, but the bright colour swept suddenly to +her cheeks and dyed them crimson. + +"Then if you will go, take me with you," she said. + +He fell back as if a star had dropped at his feet. For a breathless instant +she saw only his eyes, and they drew her step by step. Then he opened his +arms and she went straight into them. + +"Betty, Betty," he said in a whisper, and kissed her lips. + +She put her hands upon his shoulders, and stood with his arms about her, +looking up into his face. + +"Take me with you--oh, take me with you," she entreated. "I can't be left. +Take me with you." + +"And you love me--Betty, do you love me?" + +"I have loved you all my life--all my life," she answered; "how can I begin +to unlove you now--now when it is too late? Do you think I am any the less +yours if you throw me away? If you break my heart can I help its still +loving you?" + +"Betty, Betty," he said again, and his voice quivered. + +"Take me with you," she repeated passionately, saying it over and over +again with her lips upon his arm. + +He stooped and kissed her almost roughly, and then put her gently away from +him. + +"It is the way my mother went," he said, "and God help me, I am my father's +son. I am afraid,--afraid--do you know what that means?" + +"But I am not afraid," answered the girl steadily. + +He shivered and turned away; then he came back and knelt down to kiss her +skirt. "No, I can't take you with me," he went on rapidly, "but if I live +to be a man I shall come back--I _will_ come back--and you--" + +"And I am waiting," she replied. + +He opened the gate and passed out into the road. + +"I will come back, beloved," he said again, and went on into the darkness. + +Leaning over the gate she strained her eyes into the shadows, crying his +name out into the night. Her voice broke and she hid her face in her arm; +then, fearing to lose the last glimpse of him, she looked up quickly and +sobbed to him to come back for a moment--but for a moment. It seemed to +her, clinging there upon the gate, that when he went out into the darkness +he had gone forever--that the thud of his footsteps in the dust was the +last sound that would ever come from him to her ears. + +Had he looked back she would have gone straight out to him, had he raised a +finger she would have followed with a cheerful face; but he did not look +back, and at last his footsteps died away upon the road. + +When she could see or hear nothing more of him, she turned slowly and crept +toward the house. Her feet dragged under her, and as she walked she cast +back startled glances at the gate. The rustling of the leaves made her +stand breathless a moment, her hand at her bosom; but it was only the wind, +and she went step by step into the house, turning upon the threshold to +throw a look behind her. + +In the hall she paused and laid her hand upon the library door, but the +Major had bolted her out, and she heard him pacing with restless strides up +and down the room. She listened timidly awhile, then, going softly by, went +up to Mrs. Lightfoot. + +The old lady was asleep, but as the girl entered she awoke and sat up, very +straight, in bed. "My pain is much worse, Betty," she complained. "I don't +expect to get a wink of sleep this entire night." + +"I thought you were asleep when I came in," answered Betty, keeping away +from the candlelight; "but I am so sorry you are in pain. Shall I make you +a mustard plaster?" + +Though she smiled, her voice was spiritless and she moved with an effort. +She felt suddenly very tired, and she wanted to lie down somewhere alone in +the darkness. + +"I'd just dropped off when Mr. Lightfoot woke me slamming the doors," +pursued the old lady, querulously. "Men have so little consideration that +nothing surprises me, but I do think he might be more careful when he knows +I am suffering. No, I won't take the mustard plaster, but you may bring me +a cup of hot milk, if you will. It sometimes sends me off into a doze." + +Betty went slowly downstairs again and heated the milk on the dining-room +fire. When it was ready she daintily arranged it upon a tray and carried it +upstairs. "I hope it will do you good," she said gently as she gave it to +the old lady. "You must try to lie quiet--the doctor told you so." + +Mrs. Lightfoot drank the milk and remarked amiably that it was "very nice +though a little smoked--and now, go to bed, my dear," she added kindly. "I +mustn't keep you from your beauty sleep. I'm afraid I've worn you out as it +is." + +Betty smiled and shook her head; then she placed the tray upon a chair, and +went out, softly closing the door after her. + +In her own room she threw herself upon her bed, and cried for Dan until the +morning. + + + + +X + +THE ROAD AT MIDNIGHT + + +When Dan went down into the shadows of the road, he stopped short before he +reached the end of the stone wall, and turned for his last look at +Chericoke. He saw the long old house, with its peaked roof over which the +elm boughs arched, the white stretch of drive before the door, and the +leaves drifting ceaselessly against the yellow squares of the library +windows. As he looked Betty came slowly from the shadow by the gate, where +she had lingered, and crossed the lighted spaces amid the falling leaves. +On the threshold, as she turned to throw a glance into the night, it seemed +to him, for a single instant, that her eyes plunged through the darkness +into his own. Then, while his heart still bounded with the hope, the door +opened, and shut after her, and she was gone. + +For a moment he saw only blackness--so sharp was the quick shutting off of +the indoor light. The vague shapes upon the lawn showed like mere drawings +in outline, the road became a pallid blur in the formless distance, and the +shine of the lamplight on the drive shifted and grew dim as if a curtain +had dropped across the windows. Like a white thread on the blackness he saw +the glimmer beneath his grandmother's shutters, and it was as if he had +looked in from the high top of an elm and seen her lying with her candle on +her breast. + +As he stood there the silence of the old house knocked upon his heart like +sound--and quick fears sprang up within him of a sudden death, or of Betty +weeping for him somewhere alone in the stillness. The long roof under the +waving elm boughs lost, for a heartbeat, the likeness of his home, and +became, as the clouds thickened in the sky, but a great mound of earth over +which the wind blew and the dead leaves fell. + +But at last when he turned away and followed the branch road, his racial +temperament had triumphed over the forebodings of the moment; and with the +flicker of a smile upon his lips, he started briskly toward the turnpike. +As the mind in the first ecstasy of a high passion is purified from the +stain of mere emotion, so the Major, and the Major's anger, were forgotten, +and his own bitter resentment swept as suddenly from his thoughts. He was +overpowered and uplifted by the one supreme feeling from which he still +trembled. All else seemed childish and of small significance beside the +memory of Betty's lips upon his own. What room had he for anger when he was +filled to overflowing with the presence of love? + +The branch road ran out abruptly into the turnpike, and once off the +familiar way by his grandfather's stone wall, he felt the blackness of the +night close round him like a vault. Without a lantern there was small hope +of striking the tavern or the tavern road till morning. To go on meant a +night upon the roadside or in the fields. + +As he stretched out his arm, groping in the blackness, he struck suddenly +upon the body of the blasted tree, and coming round it, his eyes caught the +red light of free Levi's fire, and he heard the sound of a hammer falling +upon heated iron. The little path was somewhere in the darkness, and as he +vainly sought for it, he stumbled over a row of stripped and headless +cornstalks which ran up to the cabin door. Once upon the smooth stone +before the threshold, he gave a boyish whistle and lifted his hand to +knock. "It is I, Uncle Levi--there are no 'hants' about," he cried. + +The hammer was thrown aside, and fell upon the stones, and a moment +afterward, the door flew back quickly, showing the blanched face of free +Levi and the bright glow of the hearth. "Dis yer ain' no time fur pranks," +said the old man, angrily. "Ain't yer ever gwine ter grow up, yit?" and he +added, slowly, "Praise de Lawd hit's you instid er de devil." + +"Oh, it's I, sure enough," returned Dan, lightly, as he came into the +cabin. "I'm on my way to Merry Oaks Tavern, Uncle Levi,--it's ten miles +off, you know, and this blessed night is no better than an ink-pot. I'd +positively be ashamed to send such a night down on a respectable planet. +It's that old lantern of yours I want, by the way, and in case it doesn't +turn up again, take this to buy a new one. No, I can't rest to-night. This +is my working time, and I must be up and doing." He reached for the rusty +old lantern behind the door, and lighted it, laughing as he did so. His +face was pale, and there was a nervous tremor in his hands, but his voice +had lost none of its old heartiness. "Ah, that's it, old man," he said, +when the light was ready. "We'll shake hands in case it's a long parting. +This is a jolly world. Uncle Levi,--good-by, and God bless you," and, +leaving the old man speechless on the hearth, he closed the door and went +out into the night. + +On the turnpike again, with the lantern swinging in his hand, he walked +rapidly in the direction of the tavern road, throwing quick flashes of +light before his footsteps. Behind him he heard the falling of free Levi's +hammer, and knew that the old negro was toiling at his rude forge for the +bread which he would to-morrow eat in freedom. + +With the word he tossed back his hair and quickened his steps, as if he +were leaving servitude behind him in the house at Chericoke; and, as the +anger blazed up within his heart he found pleasure in the knowledge that at +last he was starting out to level his own road. Under the clouds on the +long turnpike it all seemed so easy--as easy as the falling of free Levi's +hammer, which had faded in the distance. + +What was it, after all? A year or two of struggle and of attainment, and he +would come back flushed with success, to clasp Betty in his arms. In a +dozen different ways he pictured to himself the possible manner of that +home-coming, obliterating the year or two that lay between. He saw himself +a great lawyer from a little reading and a single speech, or a judge upon +his bench, famed for his classic learning and his grave decisions. He had +only to choose, he felt, and he might be anything--had they not told him so +at college? did not even his grandfather admit it? He had only to +choose--and, oh, he would choose well--he would choose to be a man, and to +come riding back with his honours thick upon him. + +Looking ahead, he saw himself a few years hence, as he rode leisurely +homeward up the turnpike, while the stray countrymen he met took off their +harvest hats, and stared wonderingly long after he was gone. He saw the +Governor hastening to the road to shake his hand, he saw his grandfather +bowed with the sense of his injustice, tremulous with the flutter of his +pride; and, best of all, he saw Betty--Betty, with the rays of light +beneath her lashes, coming straight across the drive into his arms. + +And then all else faded slowly from him to give place to Betty, and he saw +her growing, changing, brightening, as he had seen her from her childhood +up. The small white figure in the moonlight, the merry little playmate, +hanging on his footsteps, eager to run his errands, the slender girl, with +the red braids and the proud shy eyes, and the woman who knelt upon the +hearth in Aunt Ailsey's cabin, smiling up at him as she dried her +hair--all gathered round him now illuminated against the darkness of the +night. Betty, Betty,--he whispered her name softly beneath his breath, he +spoke it aloud in the silence of the turnpike, he even cried it out against +the mountains, and waited for the echo--Betty, Betty. There was not only +sweetness in the thought of her, there was strength also. The hand that had +held him back when he would have gone out blindly in his passion was the +hand of a woman, not of a girl--of a woman who could face life smiling +because she felt deep in herself the power to conquer it. Two days ago she +had been but the girl he loved, to-night, with her kisses on his lips, she +had become for him at once a shield and a religion. He looked outward and +saw her influence a light upon his pathway; he turned his gaze within and +found her a part of the sacred forces of his life--of his wistful +childhood, his boyish purity, and the memory of his mother. + +He had passed Uplands, and now, as he followed the tavern way, he held the +flash of his lantern near the ground, and went slowly by the crumbling +hollows in the strip of "corduroy" road. There was a thick carpet of moist +leaves underfoot, and above the wind played lightly among the overhanging +branches. His lantern made a shining circle in the midst of a surrounding +blackness, and where the light fell the scattered autumn leaves sent out +gold and scarlet flashes that came and went as quickly as a flame. Once an +owl flew across his path, and startled by the lantern, blindly fluttered +off again. Somewhere in the distance he heard the short bark of a fox; then +it died away, and there was no sound except the ceaseless rustle of the +trees. + +By the time he came out of the wood upon the open road, his high spirits +had gone suddenly down, and the visions of an hour ago showed stale and +lifeless to his clouded eyes. After a day's ride and a poor dinner, the +ten-mile walk had left him with aching limbs, and a growing conviction that +despite his former aspirations, he was fast going to the devil along the +tavern road. When at last he swung open the whitewashed gate before the +inn, and threw the light of his lantern on the great oaks in the yard, the +relief he felt was hardly brighter than despair, and it made very little +difference, he grimly told himself, whether he put up for the night or kept +the road forever. With a clatter he went into the little wooden porch and +knocked upon the door. + +He was still knocking when a window was raised suddenly above him, and a +man's voice called out, "if he wanted a place for night-hawks to go on to +hell." Then, being evidently a garrulous body, the speaker leaned +comfortably upon the sill, and sent down a string of remarks, which Dan +promptly shortened with an oath. + +"Hold your tongue, Jack Hicks," he cried, angrily, "and come down and open +this door before I break it in. I've walked ten miles to-night and I can't +stand here till morning. How long has it been since you had a guest?" + +"There was six of 'em changin' stages this mornin'," drawled Jack, in +reply, still hanging from the sill. "I gave 'em a dinner of fried chicken +and battercakes, and two of 'em being Yankees hadn't never tasted it +befo'--and a month ago one dropped in to spend the night--" + +He broke off hastily, for his wife had joined him at the window, and as Dan +looked up with the flash of the lantern in his face, she gave a cry and +called his name. + +"Put on your clothes and go down, you fool," she said, "it's Mr. Dan--don't +you see it's Mr. Dan, and he's as white as yo' nightshirt. Go down, I tell +you,--go down and let him in." There was a skurrying in the room and on the +staircase, and a moment later the door was flung open and a lamp flashed in +the darkness. + +"Walk in, suh, walk right in," said Jack Hicks, hospitably, "day or night +you're welcome--as welcome as the Major himself." He drew back and stood +with the lamplight full upon him--a loose, ill-proportioned figure, with a +flabby face and pale blue eyes set under swollen lids. + +"I want something to eat, Jack," returned Dan, as he entered and put down +his lantern, "and a place to sleep--in fact I want anything you have to +offer." + +Then, as Mrs. Hicks appeared upon the stair, he greeted her, despite his +weariness, with something of his old jesting manner. "I am begging a +supper," he remarked affably, as he shook her hand, "and I may as well +confess, by the way, that I am positively starving." + +The woman beamed upon him, as women always did, and while she led the way +into the little dining room, and set out the cold meat and bread upon the +oil-cloth covering of the table, she asked him eager questions about the +Major and Mrs. Lightfoot, which he aroused himself to parry with a tired +laugh. She was tall and thin, with a wrinkled brown face, and a row of curl +papers about her forehead. Her faded calico wrapper hung loosely over her +nightgown, and he saw her bare feet through the cracks in her worn-out +leather slippers. + +"The poor young gentleman is all but dead," she said at last. "You give him +his supper, Jack, and I'll go right up to fix his room. To think of his +walkin' ten miles in the pitch blackness--the poor young gentleman." + +She went out, her run down slippers flapping on the stair, and Dan, as he +ate his ham and bread, listened impatiently to the drawling voice of Jack +Hicks, who discussed the condition of the country while he drew apple cider +from a keg into a white china pitcher. As he talked, his fat face shone +with a drowsy good-humour, and his puffed lids winked sleepily over his +expressionless blue eyes. He moved heavily as if his limbs were forever +coming in the way of his intentions. + +"Yes, suh, I never was one of them folks as ain't satisfied unless they're +always a-fussin'," he remarked, as he placed the pitcher upon the table. +"Thar's a sight of them kind in these here parts, but I ain't one of 'em. +Lord, Lord, I tell 'em, befo' you git ready to jump out of the fryin' pan, +you'd better make mighty sure you ain't fixin' to land yo'self in the fire. +That's what I always had agin these here abolitionists as used to come +pokin' round here--they ain't never learned to set down an' cross thar +hands, an' leave the Lord to mind his own business. Bless my soul, I reckon +they'd have wanted to have a hand in that little fuss of Lucifer's if +they'd been alive--that's what I tell 'em, suh. An' now thar's all this +talk about the freein' of the niggers--free? What are they goin' to do with +'em after they're done set 'em free? Ain't they the sons of Ham? I ask 'em; +an' warn't they made to be servants of servants like the Bible says? It's a +bold man that goes plum agin the Bible, and flies smack into the face of +God Almighty--it's a bold man, an' he ain't me, suh. What I say is, if the +Lord can stand it, I reckon the rest of the country--" + +He paused to draw breath, and Dan laid down his knife and fork and pushed +back his chair. "Before you begin again, Jack," he said coolly, "will you +spare enough wind to carry me upstairs?" + +"That's what I tell 'em," pursued Jack amiably, as he lighted a candle and +led the way into the hall. "They used to come down here every once in a +while an' try to draw me out; and one of 'em 'most got a coat of tar an' +feathers for meddlin' with my man Lacy; but if the Lord--here we are, here +we are." + +He stopped upon the landing and opened the door of a long room, in which +Mrs. Hicks was putting the last touches to the bed. She stopped as Dan came +in, and by the pale flicker of a tallow candle stood looking at him from +the threshold. "If you'll jest knock on the floor when you wake up, I'll +know when to send yo' hot water," she said, "and if thar's anything else +you want, you can jest knock agin." + +With a smile he thanked her and promised to remember; and then as she went +out into the hall, he bolted the door, and threw himself into a chair +beside the window. Sleep had quite deserted him, and the dawn was on the +mountains when at last he lay down and closed his eyes. + + + + +XI + +AT MERRY OAKS TAVERN + + +Upon awaking his first thought was that he had got "into a deucedly +uncomfortable fix," and when he stretched out his hand from the bedside the +need of fresh clothes appeared less easy to be borne than the more abstract +wreck of his career. For the first time he clearly grasped some outline of +his future--a future in which a change of linen would become a luxury; and +it was with smarting eyes and a nervous tightening of the throat that he +glanced about the long room, with its whitewashed walls, and told himself +that he had come early to the end of his ambition. In the ill-regulated +tenor of his thoughts but a hair's breadth divided assurance from despair. +Last night the vaguest hope had seemed to be a certainty; to-day his fat +acres and the sturdy slaves upon them had vanished like a dream, and the +building of his fortunes had become suddenly a very different matter from +the rearing of airy castles along the road. + +As he lay there, with his strong white hands folded upon the quilt, his +eyes went beyond the little lattice at the window, and rested upon the dark +gray chain of mountains over which the white clouds sailed like birds. +Somewhere nearer those mountains he knew that Chericoke was standing under +the clouded sky, with the half-bared elms knocking night and day upon the +windows. He could see the open doors, through which the wind blew steadily, +and the crooked stair down which his mother had come in her careless +girlhood. + +It seemed to him, lying there, that in this one hour he had drawn closer +into sympathy with his mother, and when he looked up from his pillow, he +half expected to see her merry eyes bending over him, and to feel her thin +and trembling hand upon his brow. His old worship of her awoke to life, and +he suffered over again the moment in his childhood when he had called her +and she had not answered, and they had pushed him from the room and told +him she was dead. He remembered the clear white of her face, with the +violet shadows in the hollows; and he remembered the baby lying as if +asleep upon her bosom. For a moment he felt that he had never grown older +since that day--that he was still a child grieving for her loss--while all +the time she was not dead, but stood beside him and smiled down upon his +pillow. Poor mother, with the merry eyes and the bitter mouth. + +Then as he looked the face grew younger, though the smile did not change, +and he saw that it was Betty, after all--Betty with the tenderness in her +eyes and the motherly yearning in her outstretched arms. The two women he +loved were forever blended in his thoughts, and he dimly realized that +whatever the future made of him, he should be moulded less by events than +by the hands of these two women. Events might subdue, but love alone could +create the spirit that gave him life. + +There was a tap at his door, and when he arose and opened it, Mrs. Hicks +handed in a pitcher of hot water and inquired "if he had recollected to +knock upon the floor?" + +He set the water upon the table, and after he had dressed brushed +hopelessly, with a trembling hand, at the dust upon his clothes. Then he +went to the window and stood gloomily looking down among the great oak +trees to the strip of yard where a pig was rooting in the acorns. + +A small porch ran across the entrance to the inn, and Jack Hicks was +already seated on it, with a pipe in his mouth, and his feet upon the +railing. His drowsy gaze was turned upon the woodpile hard by, where an old +negro slave was chopping aimlessly into a new pine log, and a black urchin +gathering chips into a big split basket. At a little distance the Hopeville +stage was drawn out under the trees, the empty shafts lying upon the +ground, and on the box a red and black rooster stood crowing. Overhead +there was a dull gray sky, and the scene, in all its ugliness, showed +stripped of the redeeming grace of lights and shadows. + +Jack Hicks, smoking on his porch, presented a picture of bodily comfort and +philosophic ease of mind. He was owner of some rich acres, and his +possessions, it was said, might have been readily doubled had he chosen to +barter for them the peace of perfect inactivity. To do him justice the idea +had never occurred to him in the light of a temptation, and when a +neighbour had once remarked in his hearing that he "reckoned Jack would +rather lose a dollar than walk a mile to fetch it," he had answered +blandly, and without embarrassment, that "a mile was a goodish stretch on a +sandy road." So he sat and dozed beneath his sturdy oaks, while his wife +went ragged at the heels and his swarm of tow-headed children rolled +contentedly with the pigs among the acorns. + +Dan was still looking moodily down into the yard, when he heard a gentle +pressure upon the handle of his door, and as he turned, it opened quickly +and Big Abel, bearing a large white bundle upon his shoulders, staggered +into the room. + +"Ef'n you'd des let me knowed hit, I could er brung a bigger load," he +remarked sternly. + +While he drew breath Dan stared at him with the blankness of surprise. +"Where did you come from, Big Abel?" he questioned at last, speaking in a +whisper. + +Big Abel was busily untying the sheet he had brought, and spreading out the +contents upon the bed, and he did not pause as he sullenly answered:-- + +"Ole Marster's." + +"Who sent you?" + +Big Abel snorted. "Who gwine sen' me?" he demanded in his turn. + +"Well, I declare," said Dan, and after a moment, "how did you get away, +man?" + +"Lawd, Lawd," returned Big Abel, "I wa'n' bo'n yestiddy nur de day befo'. +Terreckly I seed you a-cuttin' up de drive, I knowed dar wuz mo' den wuz in +de tail er de eye, en w'en you des lit right out agin en bang de do' behint +you fitten ter bus' hit, den I begin ter steddy 'bout de close in de big +wa'drobe. I got out one er ole Miss's sheets w'en she wa'n' lookin, en I +tie up all de summer close de bes' I kin--caze dat ar do' bang hit ain' +soun' like you gwine be back fo' de summer right plum hyer. I'se done heah +a do' bang befo' now, en dars mo' in it den des de shettin' ter stay shet." + +"So you ran away?" said Dan, with a long whistle. + +"Ain't you done run away?" + +"I--oh, I was turned out," answered the young man, with his eyes on the +negro. "But--bless my soul, Big Abel, why did you do it?" + +Big Abel muttered something beneath his breath, and went on laying out the +things. + +"How you gwine git dese yer close ef I ain' tote 'em 'long de road?" he +asked presently. "How you gwine git dis yer close bresh ef I ain' brung hit +ter you? Whar de close you got? Whar de close bresh?" + +"You're a fool, Big Abel," retorted Dan. "Go back where you belong and +don't hang about me any more. I'm a beggar, I tell you, and I'm likely to +be a beggar at the judgment day." + +"Whar de close bresh?" repeated Big Abel, scornfully. + +"What would Saphiry say, I'd like to know?" went on Dan. "It isn't fair to +Saphiry to run off this way." + +"Don' you bodder 'bout Saphiry," responded Big Abel. "I'se done loss my +tase fur Saphiry, young Marster." + +"I tell you you're a fool," snapped out Dan, sharply. + +"De Lawd he knows," piously rejoined Big Abel, and he added: "Dar ain' no +use a-rumpasin' case hyer I is en hyer I'se gwine ter stay. Whar you run, +dar I'se gwine ter run right atter, so 'tain' no use a-rumpasin'. Hit's a +pity dese yer ain' nuttin' but summer close." + +Dan looked at him a moment in silence, then he put out his hand and slapped +him upon the shoulder. + +"You're a fool--God bless you," he said. + +"Go 'way f'om yer, young Marster," responded the negro, in a high +good-humour. "Dar's a speck er dut right on yo' shut." + +"Then give me another," cried Dan, gayly, and threw off his coat. + +When he went down stairs, carefully brushed, a half-hour afterward, the +world had grown suddenly to wear a more cheerful aspect. He greeted Mrs. +Hicks with his careless good-humour, and spoke pleasantly to the dirty +white-haired children that streamed through the dining room. + +"Yes, I'll take my breakfast now, if you please," he said as he sat down at +one end of the long, oilcloth-covered table. Mrs. Hicks brought him his +coffee and cakes, and then stood, with her hands upon a chair back, and +watched him with a frank delight in his well-dressed comely figure. + +"You do favour the Major, Mr. Dan," she suddenly remarked. + +He started impatiently. "Oh, the Lightfoots are all alike, you know," he +responded. "We are fond of saying that a strain of Lightfoot blood is good +for two centuries of intermixing." Then, as he looked up at her faded +wrapper and twisted curl papers, he flinched and turned away as if her +ugliness afflicted his eyes. "Do not let me keep you," he added hastily. + +But the woman stooped to shake a child that was tugging at her dress, and +talked on in her drawling voice, while a greedy interest gave life to her +worn and sallow face. "How long do you think of stayin'?" she asked +curiously, "and do you often take a notion to walk so fur in the dead of +night? Why, I declar, when I looked out an' saw you I couldn't believe my +eyes. That's not Mr. Dan, I said, you won't catch Mr. Dan out in the pitch +darkness with a lantern and ten miles from home." + +"I really do not want to keep you," he broke in shortly, all the +good-humour gone from his voice. + +"Thar ain't nothin' to do right now," she answered with a searching look +into his face. "I was jest waitin' to bring you some mo' cakes." She went +out and came in presently with a fresh plateful. "I remember jest as well +the first time you ever took breakfast here," she said. "You wa'n't more'n +twelve, I don't reckon, an' the Major brought you by in the coach, with Big +Abel driving. The Major didn't like the molasses we gave him, and he pushed +the pitcher away and said it wasn't fit for pigs; and then you looked about +real peart and spoke up, 'It's good molasses, grandpa, I like it.' Sakes +alive, it seems jest like yestiddy. I don't reckon the Major is comin' by +to-day, is he?" + +He pushed his plate away and rose hurriedly, then, without replying, he +brushed past her, and went out upon the porch. + +There he found Jack Hicks, and forced himself squarely into a discussion of +his altered fortunes. "I may as well tell you, Jack," he said, with a touch +of arrogance, "that I'm turned out upon the world, at last, and I've got to +make a living. I've left Chericoke for good, and as I've got to stay here +until I find a place to go, there's no use making a secret of it." + +The pipe dropped from Jack's mouth, and he stared back in astonishment. + +"Bless my soul and body!" he exclaimed. "Is the old gentleman crazy or is +you?" + +"You forget yourself," sharply retorted Dan. + +"Well, well," pursued Jack, good-naturedly, as he knocked the ashes from +his pipe and slowly refilled it. "If you hadn't have told me, I wouldn't +have believed you--well, well." He put his pipe into his mouth and hung on +it for a moment; then he took it out and spoke thoughtfully. "I reckon I've +known you from a child, haven't I, Mr. Dan?" he asked. + +"That's so, Jack," responded the young man, "and if you can recommend me, I +want you to help me to a job for a week or two--then I'm off to town." + +"I've known you from a child year in an' year out," went on Jack, blandly +disregarding the interruption. "From the time you was sech a +pleasant-spoken little boy that it did me good to bow to you when you rode +by with the Major. 'Thar's not another like him in the country,' I said to +Bill Bates, an' he said to me, 'Thar's not a man between here an' +Leicesterburg as ain't ready to say the same.' Then time went on an' you +got bigger, an' the year came when the crops failed an' Sairy got sick, an' +I took a mortgage on this here house--an' what should happen but that you +stepped right up an' paid it out of yo' own pocket. And you kept it from +the Major. Lord, Lord, to think the Major never knew which way the money +went." + +"We won't speak of that," said Dan, throwing back his head. The thought +that the innkeeper might be going to offer him the money stung him into +anger. + +But Jack knew his man, and he would as soon have thought of throwing a +handful of dust into his face. "Jest as you like, suh, jest as you like," +he returned easily, and went on smoking. + +Dan sat down in a chair upon the porch, and taking out his knife began idly +whittling at the end of a stick. A small boy, in blue jean breeches, +watched him eagerly from the steps, and he spoke to him pleasantly while he +cut into the wood. + +"Did you ever see a horse's head on a cane, sonny?" + +The child sucked his dirty thumb and edged nearer. + +"Naw, suh, but I've seen a dawg's," he answered, drawing out his thumb like +a stopper and sticking it in again. + +"Well, you watch this and you'll see a horse's. There, now don't take your +eyes away." + +He whittled silently for a time, then as he looked up his glance fell on +the stagecoach in the yard, and he turned from it to Jack Hicks. + +"There's one thing on earth I know about, Jack," he said, "and that's a +horse." + +"Not a better jedge in the county, suh," was Jack's response. + +As Dan whittled a flush rose to his face. "Does Tom Hyden still drive the +Hopeville stage?" he asked. + +"Well, you see it's this way," answered Jack, weighing his words. "Tom he's +a first-rate hand at horses, but he drinks like a fish, and last week he +married a wife who owns a house an' farm up the road. So long as he had to +earn his own livin' he kept sober long enough to run the stage, but since +he's gone and married, he says thar's no call fur him to keep a level +head--so he don't keep it. Yes, that's about how 'tis, suh." + +Dan finished the stick and handed it to the child. "I tell you what, Jack," +he said suddenly, "I want Tom Hyden's place, and I'm going to drive that +stage over to Hopeville this afternoon. Phil Banks runs it, doesn't +he?--well, I know him." He rose and stood humorously looking out upon the +coach. "There's no time like the present," he added, "so I begin work +to-day." + +Jack Hicks silently stared up at him for a moment; then he coughed and +exclaimed hoarsely:-- + +"The jedgment ain't fur off," but Dan laughed the prophecy aside and went +upstairs to write to Betty. + +"I've got a job, Big Abel," he began, going into his room, where the negro +was pressing a pair of trousers with a flatiron, "and what's more it will +keep me till I get another." + +Big Abel gloomily shook his head. "We all 'ud des better go 'long home ter +Ole Miss," he returned, for he was in no mood for compromises. "Caze I ain' +use ter de po' w'ite trash en dey ain' use ter me." + +"Go if you want to," retorted Dan, sternly, "but you go alone," and the +negro, protesting under his breath, laid the clothes away and went down to +his breakfast. + +Dan sat down by the window and wrote a letter to Betty which he never sent. +When he thought of her now it was as if half the world instead of ten miles +lay between them; and quickly as he would have resented the hint of it from +Jack Hicks, to himself he admitted that he was fast sinking where Betty +could not follow him. What would the end be? he asked, and disheartened by +the question, tore the paper into bits and walked moodily up and down the +room. He had lived so blithely until to-day! His lines had fallen so +smoothly in the pleasant places! Not without a grim humour he remembered +now that last year his grievance had been that his tailor failed to fit +him. Last year he had walked the floor in a rage because of a wrinkled +coat, and to-day--His road had gone rough so suddenly that he stumbled like +a blind man when he tried to go over it in his old buoyant manner. + +An hour later he was still pacing restlessly to and fro, when the door +softly opened and Mrs. Hicks looked in upon him with a deprecating smile. +As she lingered on the threshold, he stopped in the middle of the room and +threw her a sharp glance over his shoulder. + +"Is there anything you wish?" he questioned irritably. + +Shaking her head, she came slowly toward him and stood in her soiled +wrapper and curl papers, where the gray light from the latticed window fell +full upon her. + +"It ain't nothin'," she answered hurriedly. "Nothin' except Jack's been +tellin' me you're in trouble, Mr. Dan." + +"Then he has been telling you something that concerns nobody but myself," +he replied coolly, and continued his walking. + +There was a nervous flutter of her wrapper, and she passed her knotted hand +over her face. + +"You are like yo' mother, Mr. Dan," she said with an unexpectedness that +brought him to a halt. "An' I was the last one to see her the night she +went away. She came in here, po' thing, all shiverin' with the cold, an' +she wouldn't set down but kep' walkin' up an' down, up an' down, jest like +you've been doin' fur this last hour. Po' thing! Po' thing! I tried to make +her take a sip of brandy, but she laughed an' said she was quite warm, with +her teeth chatterin' fit to break--" + +"You are very good, Mrs. Hicks," interrupted Dan, in an affected drawl +which steadied his voice, "but do you know, I'd really rather that you +wouldn't." + +Her sallow face twitched and she looked wistfully up at him. + +"It isn't that, Mr. Dan," she went on slowly, "but I've had trouble myself, +God knows, and when I think of that po' proud young lady, an' the way she +went, I can't help sayin' what I feel--it won't stay back. So if you'll +jest keep on here, an' give up the stage drivin' an' wait twil the old +gentleman comes round--Jack an' I'll do our best fur you--we'll do our +best, even if it ain't much." + +Her lips quivered, and as he watched her it seemed to him that a new +meaning passed into her face--something that made her look like Betty and +his mother--that made all good women who had loved him look alike. For the +moment he forgot her ugliness, and with the beginning of that keener +insight into life which would come to him as he touched with humanity, he +saw only the dignity with which suffering had endowed this plain and simple +woman. The furrows upon her cheeks were no longer mere disfigurements; they +raised her from the ordinary level of the ignorant and the ugly into some +bond of sympathy with his dead mother. + +"My dear Mrs. Hicks," he stammered, abashed and reddening. "Why, I shall +take a positive pleasure in driving the stage, I assure you." + +He crossed to the mirror and carefully brushed a stray lock of hair into +place; then he took up his hat and gloves and turned toward the door. "I +think it is waiting for me now," he added lightly; "a pleasant evening to +you." + +But she stood straight before him and as he met her eyes his affected +jauntiness dropped from him. With a boyish awkwardness he took her hand and +held it for an instant as he looked at her. "My dear madam, you are a good +woman," he said, and went whistling down to take the stage. + +Upon the porch he found Jack Hicks seated between a stout gentleman and a +thin lady, who were to be the passengers to Hopeville; and as Dan appeared +the innkeeper started to his feet and swung open the door of the coach for +the thin lady to pass inside. "You'll find it a pleasant ride, mum," he +heartily assured her. "I've often taken it myself an', rain or shine, +thar's not a prettier road in all Virginny," then he moved humbly back as +Dan, carelessly drawing on his gloves, came down the steps. "I hope we +haven't hurried you, suh," he stammered. + +"Not a bit--not a bit," returned Dan, affably, slipping on his overcoat, +which Big Abel had run up to hold for him. + +"You gwine git right soakin' wet, Marse Dan," said Big Abel, anxiously. + +"Oh, I'll not melt," responded Dan, and bowing to the thin lady he stepped +upon the wheel and mounted lightly to the box. + +"There's no end to this eternal drizzle," he called down, as he tucked the +waterproof robe about him and took up the reins. + +Then, with a merry crack of the whip, the stage rolled through the gate and +on its way. + +As it turned into the road, a man on horseback came galloping from the +direction of the town, and when he neared the tavern he stood up in his +stirrups and shouted his piece of news. + +"Thar was a raid on Harper's Ferry in the night," he yelled hoarsely. "The +arsenal has fallen, an' they're armin' the damned niggers." + + + + +XII + +THE NIGHT OF FEAR + + +Late in the afternoon, as the Governor neared the tavern, he was met by a +messenger with the news; and at once turning his horse's head, he started +back to Uplands. A dim fear, which had been with him since boyhood, seemed +to take shape and meaning with the words; and in a lightning flash of +understanding he knew that he had lived before through the horror of this +moment. If his fathers had sinned, surely the shadow of their wrong had +passed them by to fall the heavier upon their sons; for even as his blood +rang in his ears, he saw a savage justice in the thing he feared--a +recompense to natural laws in which the innocent should weigh as naught +against the guilty. + +A fine rain was falling; and as he went on, the end of a drizzling +afternoon dwindled rapidly into night. Across the meadows he saw the lamps +in scattered cottages twinkle brightly through the dusk which rolled like +fog down from the mountains. The road he followed sagged between two gray +hills into a narrow valley, and regaining its balance upon the farther +side, stretched over a cattle pasture into the thick cover of the woods. + +As he reached the summit of the first hill, he saw the Major's coach +creeping slowly up the incline, and heard the old gentleman scolding +through the window at Congo on the box. + +"My dear Major, home's the place for you," he said as he drew rein. "Is it +possible that the news hasn't reached you yet?" + +Remembering Congo, he spoke cautiously, but the Major, in his anger, tossed +discretion to the winds. + +"Reached me?--bless my soul!--do you take me for a ground hog?" he cried, +thrusting his red face through the window. "I met Tom Bickels four miles +back, and the horses haven't drawn breath since. But it's what I expected +all along--I was just telling Congo so--it all comes from the mistaken +tolerance of black Republicans. Let me open my doors to them to-day, and +they'll be tempting Congo to murder me in my bed to-morrow." + +"Go 'way f'om yer, Ole Marster," protested Congo from the box, flicking at +the harness with his long whip. + +The Governor looked a little anxiously at the negro, and then shook his +head impatiently. Though a less exacting master than the Major, he had not +the same childlike trust in the slaves he owned. + +"Shall you not turn back?" he asked, surprised. + +"Champe's there," responded the Major, "so I came on for the particulars. A +night in town isn't to my liking, but I can't sleep a wink until I hear a +thing or two. You're going out, eh?" + +"I'm riding home," said the Governor, "it makes me uneasy to be away from +Uplands." He paused, hesitated an instant, and then broke out suddenly. +"Good God, Major, what does it mean?" + +The Major shook his head until his long white hair fell across his eyes. + +"Mean, sir?" he thundered in a rage. "It means, I reckon, that those damned +friends of yours have a mind to murder you. It means that after all your +speech-making and your brotherly love, they're putting pitchforks into the +hands of savages and loosening them upon you. Oh, you needn't mind Congo, +Governor. Congo's heart's as white as mine." + +"Dat's so, Ole Marster," put in Congo, approvingly. + +The Governor was trembling as he leaned down from his saddle. + +"We know nothing as yet, sir," he began, "there must be some--" + +"Oh, go on, go on," cried the Major, striking the carriage window. "Keep up +your speech-making and your handshaking until your wife gets murdered in +her bed--but, by God, sir, if Virginia doesn't secede after this, I'll +secede without her!" + +The coach moved on and the Governor, touching his horse with the whip, rode +rapidly down the hill. + +As he descended into the valley, a thick mist rolled over him and the road +lost itself in the blur of the surrounding fields. Without slackening his +pace, he lighted the lantern at his saddle-bow and turned up the collar of +his coat about his ears. The fine rain was soaking through his clothes, but +in the tension of his nerves he was oblivious of the weather. The sun might +have risen overhead and he would not have known it. + +With the coming down of the darkness a slow fear crept, like a physical +chill, from head to foot. A visible danger he felt that he might meet face +to face and conquer; but how could he stand against an enemy that crept +upon him unawares?--against the large uncertainty, the utter ignorance of +the depth or meaning of the outbreak, the knowledge of a hidden evil which +might be even now brooding at his fireside? + +A thousand hideous possibilities came toward him from out the stretch of +the wood. The light of a distant window, seen through the thinned edge of +the forest; the rustle of a small animal in the underbrush; the drop of a +walnut on the wet leaves in the road; the very odours which rose from the +moist earth and dripped from the leafless branches--all sent him faster on +his way, with a sound within his ears that was like the drumming of his +heart. + +To quiet his nerves, he sought to bring before him a picture of the house +at Uplands, of the calm white pillars and the lamplight shining from the +door; but even as he looked the vision of a slave-war rushed between, and +the old buried horrors of the Southampton uprising sprang suddenly to life +and thronged about the image of his home. Yesterday those tales had been +for him as colourless as history, as dry as dates; to-night, with this new +fear at his heart, the past became as vivid as the present, and it seemed +to him that beyond each lantern flash he saw a murdered woman, or an infant +with its brains dashed out at its mother's breast. This was what he feared, +for this was what the message meant to him: "The slaves are armed and +rising." + +And yet with it all, he felt that there was some wild justice in the thing +he dreaded, in the revolt of an enslaved and ignorant people, in the +pitiable and ineffectual struggle for a freedom which would mean, in the +beginning, but the power to go forth and kill. It was the recognition of +this deeper pathos that made him hesitate to reproach even while his +thoughts dwelt on the evils--that would, if the need came, send him +fearless and gentle to the fight. For what he saw was that behind the new +wrongs were the old ones, and that the sinners of to-day were, perhaps, the +sinned against of yesterday. + +When at last he came out into the turnpike, he had not the courage to look +among the trees for the lights of Uplands; and for a while he rode with his +eyes following the lantern flash as it ran onward over the wet ground. The +small yellow circle held his gaze, and as if fascinated he watched it +moving along the road, now shining on the silver grains in a ring of sand, +now glancing back from the standing water in a wheelrut, and now +illuminating a mossy stone or a weed upon the roadside. It was the one +bright thing in a universe of blackness, until, as he came suddenly upon an +elevation, the trees parted and he saw the windows of his home glowing upon +the night. As he looked a great peace fell over him, and he rode on, +thanking God. + +When he turned into the drive, his past anxiety appeared to him to be +ridiculous, and as he glanced from the clear lights in the great house to +the chain of lesser ones that stretched along the quarters, he laughed +aloud in the first exhilaration of his relief. This at least was safe, God +keep the others. + +At his first call as he alighted before the portico, Hosea came running for +his horse, and when he entered the house, the cheerful face of Uncle +Shadrach looked out from the dining room. + +"Hi! Marse Peyton, I 'lowed you wuz gwine ter spen' de night." + +"Oh, I had to get back, Shadrach," replied the Governor. "No, I won't take +any supper--you needn't bring it--but give me a glass of Burgundy, and then +go to bed. Where is your mistress, by the way? Has she gone to her room?" + +Uncle Shadrach brought the bottle of Burgundy from the cellaret and placed +it upon the table. + +"Naw, suh, Miss July she set out ter de quarters ter see atter Mahaley," he +returned. "Mahaley she's moughty bad off, but 'tain' no night fur Miss +July--dat's w'at I tell 'er--one er dese yer spittin' nights ain' no night +ter be out in." + +"You're right, Shadrach, you're right," responded the Governor; and rising +he drank the wine standing. "It isn't a fit night for her to be out, and +I'll go after her at once." + +He took up his lantern, and as the old negro opened the doors before him, +went out upon the back porch and down the steps. + +From the steps a narrow path ran by the kitchen, and skirting the +garden-wall, straggled through the orchard and past the house of the +overseer to the big barn and the cabins in the quarters. There was a light +from the barn door, and as he passed he heard the sound of fiddles and the +shuffling steps of the field hands in a noisy "game." The words they sang +floated out into the night, and with the squeaking of the fiddles followed +him along his path. + +When he reached the quarters, he went from door to door, asking for his +wife. "Is this Mahaley's cabin?" he anxiously inquired, "and has your +mistress gone by?" + +In the first room an old negro woman sat on the hearth wrapping the hair of +her grandchild, and she rose with a courtesy and a smile of welcome. At the +question her face fell and she shook her head. + +"Dis yer ain' Mahaley, Marster," she replied. "En dis yer ain' Mahaley's +cabin--caze Mahaley she ain' never set foot inside my do', en I ain' gwine +set foot at her buryin'." She spoke shrilly, moved by a hidden spite, but +the Governor, without stopping, went on along the line of open doors. In +one a field negro was roasting chestnuts in the embers of a log fire, and +while waiting he had fallen asleep, with his head on his breast and his +gnarled hands hanging between his knees. The firelight ran over him, and as +he slept he stirred and muttered something in his dreams. + +After the first glance, his master passed him by and moved on to the +adjoining cabin. "Does Mahaley live here?" he asked again and yet again, +until, suddenly, he had no need to put the question for from the last room +he heard a low voice praying, and upon looking in saw his wife kneeling +with her open Bible near the bedside. + +With his hat in his hand, he stood within the shadow of the doorway and +waited for the earnest voice to fall silent. Mahaley was dying, this he saw +when his glance wandered to the shrunken figure beneath the patchwork +quilt; and at the same instant he realized how small a part was his in +Mahaley's life or death. He should hardly have known her had he met her +last week in the corn field; and it was by chance only that he knew her now +when she came to die. + +As he stood there the burden of his responsibility weighed upon him like +old age. Here in this scant cabin things so serious as birth and death +showed in a pathetic bareness, stripped of all ceremonial trappings, as +mere events in the orderly working out of natural laws--events as +seasonable as the springing up and the cutting down of the corn. In these +simple lives, so closely lived to the ground, grave things were sweetened +by an unconscious humour which was of the soil itself; and even death lost +something of its strangeness when it came like the grateful shadow which +falls over a tired worker in the field. + +Mrs. Ambler finished her prayer and rose from her knees; and as she did so +two slave women, crouching in a corner by the fire, broke into loud +moaning, which filled the little room with an animal and inarticulate sound +of grief. + +"Come away, Julia," implored the Governor in a whisper, resisting an +impulse to close his ears against the cry. + +But his wife shook her head and spoke for a moment with the sick woman +before she wrapped her shawl about her and came out into the open air. Then +she gave a sigh of relief, and, with her hand through her husband's arm, +followed the path across the orchard. + +"So you came home, after all," she said. For a moment he made no response; +then, glancing about him in the darkness, he spoke in a low voice, as if +fearing the sound of his own words. + +"Bad news brought me home, Julia," he replied, "At the tavern they told me +a message had come to Leicesterburg from Harper's Ferry. An attack was made +on the arsenal at midnight, and, it may be but a rumour, my dear, it was +feared that the slaves for miles around were armed for an uprising." + +His voice faltered, and he put out his hand to steady her, but she looked +up at him and he saw her clear eyes shining in the gloom. + +"Oh, poor creatures," she murmured beneath her breath. + +"Julia, Julia," he said softly, and lifted the lantern that he might look +into her face. As the light fell on her he knew that she was as much a +mystery to him now as she had been twenty years ago on her wedding-day. + +When they went into the house, he followed Uncle Shadrach about and +carefully barred the windows, shooting bolts which were rusted from disuse. +After the old negro had gone out he examined the locks again; and then +going into the hall took down a bird gun and an army pistol from their +places on the rack. These he loaded and laid near at hand beside the books +upon his table. + +There was no sleep for him that night, and until dawn he sat, watchful, in +his chair, or moved softly from window to window, looking for a torch upon +the road and listening for the sound of approaching steps. + + + + +XIII + +CRABBED AGE AND CALLOW YOUTH + + +With the morning came trustier tidings. The slaves had taken no part in the +attack, the weapons had dropped from the few dark hands into which they had +been given, and while the shots that might bring them freedom yet rang at +Harper's Ferry, the negroes themselves went with cheerful faces to their +work, or looked up, singing, from their labours in the field. In the green +valley, set amid blue mountains, they moved quietly back and forth, raking +the wind-drifts of fallen leaves, or ploughing the rich earth for the +autumn sowing of the grain. + +As the Governor was sitting down to breakfast, the Lightfoot coach rolled +up to the portico, and the Major stepped down to deliver himself of his +garnered news. He was in no pleasant humour, for he had met Dan face to +face that morning as he passed the tavern, and as if this were not +sufficient to try the patience of an irascible old gentleman, a spasm of +gout had seized him as he made ready to descend. + +But at the sight of Mrs. Ambler, he trod valiantly upon his gouty toe, and +screwed his features into his blandest smile--an effort which drew so +heavily upon the source of his good-nature, that he arrived at Chericoke an +hour later in what was known to Betty as "a purple rage." + +"You know I have always warned you, Molly," was his first offensive thrust +as he entered Mrs. Lightfoot's chamber, "that your taste for trash would be +the ruin of the family. It has ruined your daughter, and now it is ruining +your grandson. Well, well, you can't say that it is for lack of warning." + +From the centre of her tester bed, the old lady calmly regarded him. "I +told you to bring back the boy, Mr. Lightfoot," she returned. "You surely +saw him in town, didn't you?" + +"Oh, yes, I saw him," replied the Major, loosening his high black stock. +"But where do you suppose I saw him, ma'am? and how? Why, the young +scapegrace has actually gone and hired himself out as a stagedriver--a +common stagedriver. And, bless my soul, he had the audacity to tip his hat +to me from the box--from the box with the reins in his hand, ma'am!" + +"What stage, Mr. Lightfoot?" inquired his wife, with an eye for +particulars. + +"Oh, I wash my hands of him," pursued the Major, waving her question aside. +"I wash my hands of him, and that's the end of it. In my day, the young +were supposed to show some respect for their elders, and every calf wasn't +of the opinion that he could bellow like a bull--but things are changed +now, and I wash my hands of it all. A more ungrateful family, I am willing +to maintain, no man was ever blessed with--which comes, I reckon, from +sparing the rod and spoiling the child--but I'm sure I don't see how it is +that it is always your temper that gets inherited." + +The personal note fell unheeded upon his wife's ears. + +"You don't mean to tell me that you came away and left the boy sitting on +the box of a stagecoach?" she demanded sharply. + +"Would you have me claim a stagedriver as a grandson?" retorted the Major, +"because I may as well say now, ma'am, that there are some things I'll not +stoop to. Why, I'd as lief have an uncle who was a chimney sweep." + +Mrs. Lightfoot turned uneasily in bed. "It means, I suppose, that I shall +have to get up and go after him," she remarked, "and you yourself heard the +doctor tell me not to move out of bed for a week. It does seem to me, Mr. +Lightfoot, that you might show some consideration for my state of health. +Do ride in this afternoon, and tell Dan that I say he must behave himself +properly." + +But the Major turned upon her the terrific countenance she had last seen on +Jane's wedding day, and she fell silent from sheer inability to utter a +protest befitting the occasion. + +"If that stagedriver enters my house, I leave it, ma'am," thundered the old +gentleman, with a stamp of his gouty foot. "You may choose between us, if +you like,--I have never interfered with your fancies--but, by God, if you +bring him inside my doors I--I will horsewhip him, madam," and he went +limping out into the hall. + +On the stair he met Betty, who looked at him with pleading eyes, but fled, +affrighted, before the colour of his wrath; and in his library he found +Champe reading his favourite volume of Mr. Addison. + +"I hope you aren't scratching up my books, sir," he observed, eying the +pencil in his great-nephew's hand. + +Champe looked at him with his cool glance, and rose leisurely to his feet. +"Why, I'd as soon think of scrawling over Aunt Emmeline's window pane," he +returned pleasantly, and added, "I hope you had a successful trip, sir." + +"I got a lukewarm supper and a cold breakfast," replied the Major +irritably, "and I heard that the Marines had those Kansas raiders entrapped +like rats in the arsenal, if that is what you mean." + +"No, I wasn't thinking of that," replied Champe, as quietly as before. "I +came home to find out about Dan, you know, and I hoped you went into town +to look him up." + +"Well, I didn't, sir," declared the Major, "and as for that scamp--I have +as much knowledge of his whereabouts as I care for.--Do you know, sir," he +broke out fiercely, "that he has taken to driving a common stage?" + +Champe was sharpening his pencil, and he did not look up as he answered. +"Then the sooner he leaves off the better, eh, sir?" he inquired. + +"Oh, there's your everlasting wrangling!" exclaimed the Major with a +hopeless gesture. "You catch it from Molly, I reckon, and between you, +you'll drive me into dotage yet. Always arguing! Never any peace. Why, I +believe if I were to take it into my head to remark that white is white, +you would both be setting out to convince me that it is black. I tell you +now, sir, that the sooner you curb that tendency of yours, the better it +will be." + +"Aren't we rather straying from the point?" interposed Champe half angrily. + +"There it is again," gasped the Major. + +The knife slipped in Champe's hand and scratched his finger. "Surely you +don't intend to leave Dan to knock about for himself much longer?" he said +coolly. "If you do, sir, I don't mind saying that I think it is a damn +shame." + +"How dare you use such language in my presence?" roared the old gentleman, +growing purple to the neck. "Have you, also, been fighting for barmaids and +taking up with gaol-birds? It is what I have to expect, I suppose, and I +may as well accustom my ears to profanity; but damn you, sir, you must +learn some decency;" and going into the hall he shouted to Congo to bring +him a julep. + +Champe said nothing more; and when the julep appeared on a silver tray, he +left the room and went upstairs to where Betty was waiting. "He's awful, +there's no use mincing words, he's simply awful," he remarked in an +exhausted voice. + +"But what does he say? tell me," questioned Betty, as she moved to a little +peaked window which overlooked the lawn. + +"What doesn't he say?" groaned Champe with his eyes upon her as she stood +relieved against the greenish panes of glass. + +"Do you think I might speak to him?" she persisted eagerly. + +"My dear girl, do you want to have your head bitten off for your pains? His +temper is positively tremendous. By Jove, I didn't know he had it in him +after all these years; I thought he had worn it out on dear Aunt Molly. And +Beau, by the way, isn't going to be the only one to suffer for his daring, +which makes me wish that he had chosen to embrace the saintly instead of +the heroic virtues. I confess that I could find it in my heart to prefer +less of David and more of Job." + +"How can you?" remonstrated Betty. She pressed her hands together and +looked wistfully up at him. "But what are you going to do about it?" she +demanded. + +For a moment his eyes dwelt on her. + +"Betty, Betty, how you care!" he exclaimed. + +"Care?" she laughed impatiently. "Oh, I care, but what good does that do?" + +"Would you care as much for me, I wonder?" She smiled up at him and shook +her head. + +"No, I shouldn't, Champe," she answered honestly. + +He turned his gaze away from her, and looked through the dim old window +panes out upon the clustered elm boughs. + +"Well, I'll do this much," he said in a cheerful voice. "I'll ride to the +tavern this morning and find out how the land lies there. I'll see Beau, +and I'll do my best for him, and for you, Betty." She put out her hand and +touched his arm. "Dear Champe!" she exclaimed impulsively. + +"Oh, I dare say," he scoffed, "but is there any message?" + +"Tell him to come back," she answered, "to come back now, or when he will." + +"Or when he will," he repeated smiling, and went down to order his horse. + +At the tavern he found Jack Hicks and a neighbouring farmer or two, seated +upon the porch discussing the raid upon Harper's Ferry. They would have +drawn him into the talk, but he asked at once for Dan, and upon learning +the room in which he lodged, ran up the narrow stair and rapped upon the +door. Then, without waiting for a response, he burst into the room with +outstretched hand. "Why, they've put you into a tenpin alley," were his +words of greeting. + +With a laugh Dan sprang up from his chair beside the window. "What on earth +are you doing here, old man?" he asked. + +"Well, just at present I'm trying to pull you out of the hole you've +stumbled into. I say, in the name of all that's rational, why did you allow +yourself to get into such a scrape?" + +Dan sat down again and motioned to a split-bottomed chair he had used for a +footstool. + +"There's no use going into that," he replied frowning, "I raised the row +and I'm ready to bear the consequences." + +"Ah, that's the point, my dear fellow; Aunt Molly and I have been bearing +them all the morning." + +"Of course, I'm sorry for that, but I may as well tell you now that things +are settled so far as I am concerned. I've been kicked out and I wouldn't +go back again if they came for me in a golden chariot." + +"I hardly think that's likely to happen," was Champe's cheerful rejoinder. +"The old gentleman has had his temper touched, as, I dare say, you're +aware, and, as ill-luck would have it, he saw you on the stagecoach this +morning. My dear Beau, you ought to have crawled under the box." + +"Nonsense!" protested Dan, "it's no concern of his." He turned his flushed +boyish face angrily away. + +Champe looked at him steadily with a twinkle in his eyes. "Well, I hope +your independence will come buttered," he remarked. "I doubt if you will +find the taste of dry bread to your liking. By the way, do you intend to +enter Jack Hicks's household?" + +"For a fortnight, perhaps. I've written to Judge Compton, and if he'll take +me into his office, I shall study law." + +Champe gave a long whistle. "I should have supposed that your taste would +be for tailoring," he observed, "your genius for the fashions is immense." + +"I hope to cultivate that also," said Dan, smiling, as he glanced at his +coat. + +"What? on bread and cheese and Blackstone?" + +"Oh, Blackstone! I never heard he wasn't a well-dressed old chap." + +"At least you'll take half my allowance?" + +Dan shook his head. "Not a cent--not a copper cent." + +"But how will you live, man?" + +"Oh, somehow," he laughed carelessly. "I'll live somehow." + +"It's rather a shame, you know," responded Champe, "but there's one thing +of which I am very sure--the old gentleman will come round. We'll make him +do it, Aunt Molly and I--and Betty." + +Dan started. + +"Betty sent you a message, by the way," pursued Champe, looking through the +window. "It was something about coming home; she says you are to come home +now--or when you will." He rose and took up his hat and riding-whip. + +"Or when I will," said Dan, rising also. "Tell her--no, don't tell her +anything--what's the use?" + +"She doesn't need telling," responded Champe, going toward the door; and he +added as they went together down the stair, "She always understands without +words, somehow." + +Dan followed him into the yard, and watched him, from under the oaks beside +the empty stagecoach, as he mounted and rode away. + +"For heaven's sake, remember my warning," said Champe, turning in the +saddle, "and don't insist upon eating dry bread if you're offered butter." + +"And you will look after Aunt Molly and Betty?" Dan rejoined. + +"Oh, I'll look after them," replied the other lightly, and rode off at an +amble. + +Dan looked after the horse and rider until they passed slowly out of sight; +then, coming back to the porch, he sat down among the farmers, and +listened, abstractedly, to the drawling voice of Jack Hicks. + +When Champe reached Chericoke, he saw Betty looking for him from Aunt +Emmeline's window seat; and as he dismounted, she ran out and joined him +upon the steps. + +"And you saw him?" she asked breathlessly. + +"It was pleasant to think that you came to meet me for my own sake," he +returned; and at her impatient gesture, caught her hand and looked into her +eyes. + +"I saw him, my dear," he said, "and he was in a temper that would have +proved his descent had he been lost in infancy." + +She eagerly questioned him, and he answered with forbearing amusement. "Is +that all?" she asked at last, and when he nodded, smiling, she went up to +Mrs. Lightfoot's bedside and besought her "to make the Major listen to +reason." + +"He never listened to it in his life, my child," the old lady replied, "and +I think it is hardly to be expected of him that he should begin at his +present age." Then she gathered, bit by bit, the news that Champe had +brought, and ended by remarking that "the ways of men and boys were past +finding out." + +"Do you think the Major will ever forgive him?" asked Betty, hopelessly. + +"He never forgave poor Jane," answered Mrs. Lightfoot, her voice breaking +at the mention of her daughter. "But whether he forgives him or not, the +silly boy must be made to come home; and as soon as I am out of this bed, +I must get into the coach and drive to that God-forsaken tavern. After ten +years, nothing will content them, I suppose, but that I should jolt my +bones to pieces." + +Betty looked at her anxiously. "When will you be up?" she inquired, +flushing, as the old lady's sharp eyes pierced her through. + +"I really think, my dear, that you are less sensible than I took you to +be," returned Mrs. Lightfoot. "It was very foolish of you to allow yourself +to take a fancy to Dan. You should have insisted upon preferring Champe, as +I cautioned you to do. In entering into marriage it is always well to +consider first, family connections and secondly, personal disposition; and +in both of these particulars there is no fault to be found with Champe. His +mother was a Randolph, my child, which is greatly to his credit. As for +Dan, I fear he will make anything but a safe husband." + +"Safe!" exclaimed Betty indignantly, "did you marry the Major because he +was 'safe,' I wonder?" + +Mrs. Lightfoot accepted the rebuke with meekness. + +"Had I done so, I should certainly have proved myself to be a fool," she +returned with grim humour, "but since you have fully decided that you +prefer to be miserable, I shall take you with me tomorrow when I go for +Dan." + +But on the morrow the old lady did not leave her bed, and the doctor, who +came with his saddlebags from Leicesterburg, glanced her over and ordered +"perfect repose of mind and body" before he drank his julep and rode away. + +"Perfect repose, indeed!" scoffed his patient, from behind her curtains, +when the visit was over. "Why, the idiot might as well have ordered me a +mustard plaster. If he thinks there's any 'repose' in being married to Mr. +Lightfoot, I'd be very glad to have him try it for a week." + +Betty made no response, for her throat was strained and aching; but in a +moment Mrs. Lightfoot called her to her bedside and patted her upon the +arm. + +"We'll go next week, child," she said gently. "When you have been married +as long as I have been, you will know that a week the more or the less of a +man's society makes very little difference in the long run." + +And the next week they went. On a ripe October day, when the earth was all +red and gold, the coach was brought out into the drive, and Mrs. Lightfoot +came down, leaning upon Champe and Betty. + +The Major was reading his Horace in the library, and though he heard the +new pair of roans pawing on the gravel, he gave no sign of displeasure. His +age had oppressed him in the last few days, and he carried stains, like +spilled wine, on his cheeks. He could not ease his swollen heart by +outbursts of anger, and the sensitiveness of his temper warned off the +sympathy which he was too proud to unbend and seek. So he sat and stared at +the unturned Latin page, and the hand he raised to his throat trembled +slightly in the air. + +Outside, Betty, in her most becoming bonnet, with her blue barege shawl +over her soft white gown, wrapped Mrs. Lightfoot in woollen robes, and +fluttered nervously when the old lady remembered that she had left her +spectacles behind. + +"I brought the empty case; here it is, my dear," she said, offering it to +the girl. "Surely you don't intend to take me off without my glasses?" + +Mitty was sent upstairs on a search for them, and in her absence her +mistress suddenly decided that she needed an extra wrap. "The little white +nuby in my top drawer, Betty--I felt a chill striking the back of my neck." + +Betty threw her armful of robes into the coach, and ran hurriedly up to the +old lady's room, coming down, in a moment, with the spectacles in one hand +and the little white shawl in the other. + +"Now, we must really start, Congo," she called, as she sat down beside Mrs. +Lightfoot, and when the coach rolled along the drive, she leaned out and +kissed her hand to Champe upon the steps. + +"It is a heavenly day," she said with a sigh of happiness. "Oh, isn't it +too good to be real weather?" + +Mrs. Lightfoot did not answer, for she was busily examining the contents of +her black silk bag. + +"Stop Congo, Betty," she exclaimed, after a hasty search. "I have forgotten +my handkerchief; I sprinkled it with camphor and left it on the bureau. +Tell him to go back at once." + +"Take mine, take mine!" cried the girl, pressing it upon her; and then +turning her back upon the old lady, she leaned from the window and looked +over the valley filled with sunshine. + +The whip cracked, the fat roans kicked the dust, and on they went merrily +down the branch road into the turnpike; past Aunt Ailsey's cabin, past the +wild cherry tree, where the blue sky shone through naked twigs; down the +long curve, past the tuft of cedars--and still the turnpike swept wide and +white, into the distance, dividing gay fields dotted with browsing cattle. +At Uplands Betty caught a glimpse of Aunt Lydia between the silver poplars, +and called joyfully from the window; but the words were lost in the +rattling of the wheels; and as she lay back in her corner, Uplands was left +behind, and in a little while they passed into the tavern road and went on +beneath the shade of interlacing branches. + +Underfoot the ground was russet, and through the misty woods she saw the +leaves still falling against a dim blue perspective. The sunshine struck in +arrows across the way, and far ahead, at the end of the long vista, there +was golden space. + +With the ten miles behind them, they came to the tavern in the early +afternoon, and, as a small tow-headed boy swung open the gate, the coach +rolled into the yard and drew up before the steps. + +Jack Hicks started from his seat, and throwing his pipe aside, came +hurriedly to the wheels, but before he laid his hand upon the door, Betty +opened it and sprang lightly to the ground, her face radiant in the shadow +of her bonnet. + +"Let me speak, child," called Mrs. Lightfoot after her, adding, with +courteous condescension, "How are you, Mr. Hicks? Will you go up at once +and tell my grandson to pack his things and come straight down. As soon as +the horses are rested we must start back again." + +With visible perturbation Jack looked from the coach to the tavern door, +and stood awkwardly scraping his feet upon the road. + +"I--I'll go up with all the pleasure in life, mum," he stammered; "but I +don't reckon thar's no use--he--he's gone." + +"Gone?" cried the aghast old lady; and Betty rested her hand upon the +wheel. + +"Big Abel, he's gone, too," went on Jack, gaining courage from the +accustomed sound of his own drawl. "Mr. Dan tried his best to git away +without him--but Lord, Lord, the sense that nigger's got. Why, his marster +might as well have tried to give his own skin the slip--" + +"Where did they go?" sharply put in the old lady. "Don't mumble your words, +speak plainly, if you please." + +"He wouldn't tell me, mum; I axed him, but he wouldn't say. A letter came +last night, and this morning at sunup they were off--Mr. Dan in front, and +Big Abel behind with the bundle on his shoulder. They walked to +Leicestersburg, that's all I know, mum." + +"Let me get inside," said Betty, quickly. Her face had gone white, but she +thanked Jack when he picked up the shawl she dropped, and went steadily +into the coach. "We may as well go back," she added with a little laugh. + +Mrs. Lightfoot threw an anxious look into her face. + +"We must consider the horses, my dear," she responded. "Mr. Hicks, will you +see that the horses are well fed and watered. Let them take their time." + +"Oh, I forgot the horses," returned Betty apologetically, and patiently sat +down with her arm leaning in the window. There was a smile on her lips, and +she stared with bright eyes at the oak trees and the children playing among +the acorns. + + + + +XIV + +THE HUSH BEFORE THE STORM + + +The autumn crept into winter; the winter went by, short and fitful, and the +spring unfolded slowly. With the milder weather the mud dried in the roads, +and the Major and the Governor went daily into Leicesterburg. The younger +man had carried his oratory and his influence into the larger cities of the +state, and he had come home, at the end of a month of speech-making, in a +fervour of almost boyish enthusiasm. + +"I pledge my word for it, Julia," he had declared to his wife, "it will +take more than a Republican President to sever Virginia from the Union--in +fact, I'm inclined to think that it will take a thunderbolt from heaven, or +the Major for a despot!" + +When, as the spring went on, men came from the political turmoil to ask for +his advice, he repeated the words with a conviction that was in itself a +ring of emphasis. + +"We are in the Union, gentlemen, for better or for worse"--and of all the +guests who drank his Madeira under the pleasant shade of his maples, only +the Major found voice to raise a protest. + +"We'll learn, sir, we'll live and learn," interposed the old gentleman. + +"Let us hope we shall live easily," said the doctor, lifting his glass. + +"And learn wisdom," added the rector, with a chuckle. + +Through the spring and summer they rode leisurely back and forth, bringing +bundles of newspapers when they came, and taking away with them a memory of +the broad white portico and the mellow wine. + +The Major took a spasmodic part in the discussions of peace or war, sitting +sometimes in a moody silence, and flaring up, like an exhausted candle, at +the news of an abolition outbreak. In his heart he regarded the state of +peace as a mean and beggarly condition and the sure resort of bloodless +cowards; but even a prospect of the inspiring dash of war could not elicit +so much as the semblance of his old ardour. His smile flashed but seldom +over his harsh features--it needed indeed the presence of Mrs. Ambler or of +Betty to bring it forth--and his erect figure had given way in the chest, +as if a strong wind bent him forward when he walked. + +"He has grown to be an old man," his neighbours said pityingly; and it is +true that the weight of his years had fallen upon him in a night--as if he +had gone to bed in a hale old age, with the sap of youth in his veins, to +awaken with bleared eyes and a trembling hand. Since the day of his wife's +return from the tavern, when he had peered from his hiding-place in his +library window, he had not mentioned his grandson by name; and yet the +thought of him seemed forever lying beneath his captious exclamations. He +pricked nervously at the subject, made roundabout allusions to the base +ingratitude from which he suffered; and the desertion of Big Abel had +damned for him the whole faithful race from which the offender sprang. + +"They are all alike," he sweepingly declared. "There is not a trustworthy +one among them. They'll eat my bread and steal my chickens, and then run +off with the first scapegrace that gives them a chance." + +"I think Big Abel did just right," said Betty, fearlessly. + +The old gentleman squared himself to fix her with his weak red eyes. + +"Oh, you're just the same," he returned pettishly, "just the same." + +"But I don't steal your chickens, sir," protested the girl, laughing. + +The Major grunted and looked down at her in angry silence; then his face +relaxed and a frosty smile played about his lips. + +"You are young, my child," he replied, in a kind of austere sadness, "and +youth is always an enemy to the old--to the old," he repeated quietly, and +looked at his wrinkled hand. + +But in the excitement of the next autumn, he showed for a time a revival of +his flagging spirit. When the elections came he followed them with an +absorption that had in it all the violence of a mental malady. The four +possible Presidents that stood before the people were drawn for him in bold +lines of black and white--the outward and visible distinction between, on +the one side, the three "adventurers" whom he heartily opposed, and, on the +other, the "Kentucky gentleman," for whom he as heartily voted. There was +no wavering in his convictions--no uncertainty; he was troubled by no +delicate shades of indecision. What he believed, and that alone, was +God-given right; what he did not believe, with all things pertaining to it, +was equally God-forsaken error. + +Toward the Governor, when the people's choice was known, he displayed a +resentment that was almost touching in its simplicity. + +"There's a man who would tear the last rag of honour from the Old +Dominion," he remarked, in speaking of his absent neighbour. + +"Ah, Major," sighed the rector, for it was upon one of his weekly visits, +"what course would you have us gird our loins to pursue?" + +"Course?" promptly retorted the Major. "Why, the course of courage, sir." + +The rector shook his great head. "My dear friend, I fear you recognize the +virtue only when she carries the battle-axe," he observed. + +For a moment the Major glared at him; then, restrained by his inherited +reverence for the pulpit, he yielded the point with the soothing +acknowledgment that he was always "willing to make due allowance for +ministers of the gospel." + +"My dear sir," gasped Mr. Blake, as his jaw dropped. His face showed +plainly that so professional an allowance was exactly what he did not take +to be his due; but he let sleeping dangers lie, and it was not until a +fortnight later, when he rode out with a copy of the _Charleston Mercury_ +and the news of the secession of South Carolina, that he found the daring +to begin a direct approach. + +It was a cold, bright evening in December, and the Major unfolded the paper +and read it by the firelight, which glimmered redly on the frosted window +panes. When he had finished, he looked over the fluttering sheet into the +pale face of the rector, and waited breathlessly for the first decisive +words. + +"May she depart in peace," said the minister, in a low voice. + +The old gentleman drew a long breath, and, in the cheerful glow, the other, +looking at him, saw his weak red eyes fill with tears. Then he took out his +handkerchief, shook it from its folds, and loudly blew his nose. + +"It was the Union our fathers made, Mr. Blake," he said. + +"And the Union you fought for, Major," returned the rector. + +"In two wars, sir," he glanced down at his arm as if he half expected to +see a wound, "and I shall never fight for another," he added with a sigh. +"My fighting days are over." + +They were both silent, and the logs merrily crackled on the great brass +andirons, while the flames went singing up the chimney. A glass of Burgundy +was at the rector's hand, and he lifted it from the silver tray and sipped +it as he waited. At last the old man spoke, bending forward from his +station upon the hearth-rug. + +"You haven't seen Peyton Ambler, I reckon?" + +"I passed him coming out of town and he was trembling like a leaf," replied +the rector. "He looks badly, by the way. I must remember to tell the doctor +he needs building up." + +"He didn't speak about this, eh?" + +"About South Carolina? Oh, yes, he spoke, sir. It happened that Jack Powell +came up with him when I did--the boy was cheering with all his might, and I +heard him ask the Governor if he questioned the right of the state to +secede?" + +"And Peyton said, sir?" The Major leaned eagerly toward him. + +"He said," pursued the rector, laughing softly. "'God forbid, my boy, that +I should question the right of any man or any country to pursue folly.'" + +"Folly!" cried the Major, sharply, firing at the first sign of opposition. +"It was a brave deed, sir, a brave deed--and I--yes, I envy the honour for +Virginia. And as for Peyton Ambler, it is my belief that it is he who has +sapped the courage of the state. Why, my honest opinion is that there are +not fifty men in Virginia with the spirit to secede--and they are women." + +The rector laughed and tapped his wine-glass. + +"You mustn't let that reach Mrs. Lightfoot's ears, Major," he cautioned, +"for I happen to know that she prides herself upon being what the papers +call a 'skulker.'" He stopped and rose heavily to his feet, for, at this +point, the door was opened by Cupid and the old lady rustled stiffly into +the room. + +"I came down to tell you, Mr. Lightfoot, that you really must not allow +yourself to become excited," she explained, when the rector had comfortably +settled her upon the hearth-rug. + +"Pish! tush! my dear, there's not a cooler man in Virginia," replied the +Major, frowning; but for the rest of the evening he brooded in troubled +silence in his easy chair. + +In February, a week after a convention of the people was called at +Richmond, the old gentleman surrendered to a sharp siege of the gout, and +through the long winter days he sat, red and querulous, before the library +fire, with his bandaged foot upon the ottoman that wore Aunt Emmeline's +wedding dress. From Leicesterburg a stanch Union man had gone to the +convention; and the Major still resented the selection of his neighbours as +bitterly as if it were an affront to aspirations of his own. + +"Dick Powell! Pooh! he's another Peyton Ambler," he remarked testily, "and +on my word there're too many of his kind--too many of his kind. What we +lack, sir, is men of spirit." + +When his friends came now he shot his angry questions, like bullets, from +the fireside. "Haven't they done anything yet, eh? How much longer do you +reckon that roomful of old women will gabble in Richmond? Why, we might as +well put a flock of sheep to decide upon a measure!" + +But the "roomful of old women" would not be hurried, and the Major grew +almost hoarse with scolding. For more than two months, while North and +South barked at each other across her borders, Virginia patiently and +fruitlessly worked for peace; and for more than two months the Major +writhed a prisoner upon the hearth. + +With the coming of the spring his health mended, and on an April morning, +when Betty and the Governor drove over for a quiet chat, they found him +limping painfully up and down the drive with the help of a great +gold-knobbed walking-stick. + +He greeted them cordially, and limped after them into the library where +Mrs. Lightfoot sat knitting. While he slowly settled his foot, in its loose +"carpet" slipper, upon the ottoman, he began a rambling story of the War of +1812, recalling with relish a time when rations grew scant in camp, and +"Will Bolling and myself set out to scour the country." His thoughts had +made a quick spring backward, and in the midst of events that fired the +Governor's blood, he could still fondly dwell upon the battles of his +youth. + +The younger man, facing him upon the hearth, listened with his patient +courtesy, and put in a sympathetic word at intervals. No personal anxiety +could cloud his comely face, nor any grievance of his own sharpen the edge +of his peculiar suavity. It was only when he rose to go that he voiced, for +a single instant, his recognition of the general danger, and replied to the +Major's inquiry about his health with the remark, "Ah, grave times make +grave faces, sir." + +Then he bowed over Mrs. Lightfoot's hand, and with his arm about Betty went +out to the carriage. + +"The Major's an old man, daughter," he observed, as they rolled rapidly +back to Uplands. + +"You mean he has broken--" said Betty, and stopped short. + +"Since Dan went away." As the Governor completed her sentence, he turned +and looked thoughtfully into her face. "It's hard to judge the young, my +dear, but--" he broke off as Betty had done, and added after a pause, "I +wonder where he is now?" + +Betty raised her eyes and met his look. "I do not know," she answered, "but +I do know that he will come back;" and the Governor, being wise in his +generation, said nothing more. + +That afternoon he went down into the country to inspect a decayed +plantation which had come into his hands, and returning two days later, he +rode into Leicesterburg and up to the steps of the little post-office, +where, as usual, the neighbouring farmers lounged while they waited for an +expected despatch, or discussed the midday mail with each newcomer. It was +April weather, and the afternoon sunshine, having scattered the loose +clouds in the west, slanted brightly down upon the dusty street, the little +whitewashed building, and the locust tree in full bloom before the porch. + +When he had dismounted, the Governor tied his horse to the long white pole, +raised for that purpose along the sidewalk, and went slowly up the steps, +shaking a dozen outstretched hands before he reached the door. + +"What news, gentlemen?" he asked with his pleasant smile. "For two days I +have been beyond the papers." + +"Then there's news enough, Governor," responded several voices, uniting in +a common excitement. "There's news enough since Tuesday, and yet we're +waiting here for more. The President has called for troops from Virginia to +invade the South." + +"To invade the South," repeated the Governor, paling, and a man behind him +took up the words and said them over with a fine sarcasm, "To invade the +South!" + +The Governor turned away and walked to the end of the little porch, where +he stood leaning upon the railing. With his eyes on the blossoming locust +tree, he waited, in helpless patience, for the words to enter into his +thoughts and to readjust his conceptions of the last few months. There +slowly came to him, as he recognized the portentous gravity in the air +about him, something of the significance of that ringing call; and as he +stood there he saw before him the vision of an army led by strangers +against the people of its blood--of an army wasting the soil it loved, +warring for an alien right against the convictions it clung to and the +faith it cherished. + +His brow darkened, and he turned with set lips to the group upon the steps. +He was about to speak, but before the words were uttered, there was a cheer +from the open doorway, and a man, waving a despatch in his hand, came +running into the crowd. + +"Last night there was a secret session," he cried gayly, "and Virginia has +seceded! hurrah! hurrah! Virginia has seceded!" The gay voice passed, and +the speaker, still waving the paper in his hand, ran down into the street. + +The men upon the porch looked at one another, and were silent. In the +bright sunshine their faces showed pale and troubled, and when the sound of +cheers came floating from the courthouse green, they started as if at the +first report of cannon. Then, raising his hand, the Governor bared his head +and spoke:-- + +"God bless Virginia, gentlemen," he said. + + * * * * * + +The next week Champe came home from college, flushed with enthusiasm, eager +to test his steel. + +"It's great news, uncle," were his first joyful words, as he shook the +Major's hand. + +"That it is, my boy, that it is," chuckled the Major, in a high +good-humour. + +"I'm going, you know," went on the young man lightly. "They're getting up a +company in Leicesterburg, and I'm to be Captain. I got a letter about it a +week ago, and I've been studying like thunder ever since." + +"Well, well, it will be a pleasant little change for you," responded the +old man. "There's nothing like a few weeks of war to give one an appetite." + +Mrs. Lightfoot looked up from her knitting with a serious face. + +"Don't you think it may last months, Mr. Lightfoot?" she inquired +dubiously. "I was wondering if I hadn't better supply Champe with extra +underclothing." + +"Tut-tut, ma'am," protested the Major, warmly. "Can't you leave such things +as war to my judgment? Haven't I been in two? Months! Nonsense! Why, in two +weeks we'll sweep every Yankee in the country as far north as Greenland. +Two weeks will be ample time, ma'am." + +"Well, I give them six months," generously remarked Champe, in defiance of +the Major's gathering frown. + +"And what do you know about it, sir?" demanded the old gentleman. "Were you +in the War of 1812? Were you even in the Mexican War, sir?" + +"Well, hardly," replied Champe, smiling, "but all the same I give them six +months to get whipped." + +"I'm sure I hope it will be over before winter," observed Mrs. Lightfoot, +glancing round. "Things will be a little upset, I fear." + +The Major twitched with anger. "There you go again--both of you!" he +exclaimed. "I might suppose after all these years you would place some +reliance on my judgment; but, no, you will keep up your croaking until our +troops are dictating terms at Washington. Six months! Tush!" + +"Professor Bates thinks it will take a year," returned Champe, his interest +overleaping his discretion. + +"And when did he fight, sir?" inquired the Major. + +"Well, any way, it's safer to prepare for six months," was Champe's +rejoinder. "I shouldn't like to run short of things, you know." + +"You'll do nothing of the kind, sir," thundered the Major. "It's going to +be a two weeks' war, and you shall take an outfit for two weeks, or stay at +home! By God, sir, if you contradict me again I'll not let you go to fight +the Yankees." + +Champe stared for an instant into the inflamed face of the old gentleman, +and then his cheery smile broke out. + +"That settles it, uncle," he said soothingly. "It's to be a war of two +weeks, and I'll come home a Major-general before the holidays." + + + + +BOOK THIRD + +THE SCHOOL OF WAR + + + + +I + +HOW MERRY GENTLEMEN WENT TO WAR + + +The July sun fell straight and hot upon the camp, and Dan, as he sat on a +woodpile and ate a green apple, wistfully cast his eyes about for a deeper +shade. But the young tree from which he had just shaken its last fruit +stood alone between the scattered tents and the blur of willows down the +gentle slope, and beneath its speckled shadow the mess had gathered +sleepily, after the mid-day meal. + +In the group of privates, stretched under the gauzy shade on the trampled +grass, the first thing to strike an observer would have been, perhaps, +their surprising youth. They were all young--the eldest hardly more than +three and twenty--and the faces bore a curious resemblance in type, as if +they were, one and all, variations from a common stock. There was about +them, too, a peculiar expression of enthusiasm, showing even in the faces +of those who slept; a single wave of emotion which, rising to its height in +an entire people revealed itself in the features of the individual soldier. +As yet the flower of the South had not withered on its stalk, and the men +first gathered to defend the borders were men who embraced a cause as +fervently as they would embrace a woman; men in whom the love of an +abstract principle became, not a religion, but a romantic passion. + +Beyond them, past the scattered tents and the piles of clean straw, the +bruised grass of the field swept down to a little stream and the fallen +stones that had once marked off the turnpike. Farther away, there was a +dark stretch of pines relieved against the faint blue tracery of the +distant mountains. + +Dan, sitting in the thin shelter on the woodpile, threw a single glance at +the strip of pines, and brought back his gaze to Big Abel who was splitting +an oak log hard by. The work had been assigned to the master, who had, in +turn, tossed it to the servant, with the remark that he "came out to kill +men, not to cut wood." + +"I say, Big Abel, this sun's blazing hot," he now offered cheerfully. + +Big Abel paused for a moment and wiped his brow with his blue cotton +sleeve. + +"Dis yer ain' no oak, caze it's w'it-leather," he rejoined in an injured +tone, as he lifted the axe and sent it with all his might into the +shivering log, which threw out a shower of fine chips. The powerful stroke +brought into play the negro's splendid muscles, and Dan, watching him, +carelessly observed to a young fellow lying half asleep upon the ground, +"Big Abel could whip us all, Bland, if he had a mind to." + +Bland grunted and opened his eyes; then he yawned, stretched his arms, and +sat up against the logs. He was bright and boyish-looking, with a frank +tanned face, which made his curling flaxen hair seem almost white. + +"I worked like a darky hauling yesterday," he said reproachfully, "but when +your turn comes, you climb a woodpile and pass the job along. When we go +into battle I suppose Dandy and you will sit down to boil coffee, and hand +your muskets to the servants." + +"Oh, are we ever going into battle?" growled Jack Powell from the other +side. "Here I've been at this blamed drilling until I'm stiff in every +joint, and I haven't seen so much as the tail end of a fight. You may rant +as long as you please about martial glory, but if there's any man who +thinks it's fun merely to get dirty and eat raw food, well, he's welcome to +my share of it, that's all. I haven't had so much as one of the necessities +of life since I settled down in this old field; even my hair has taken to +standing on end. I say, Beau, do you happen to have any pomade about you? +Oh, you needn't jeer, Bland, there's no danger of your getting bald, with +that sheepskin over your scalp; and, besides, I'm willing enough to +sacrifice my life for my country. I object only to giving it my hair +instead." + +"I believe you'll find a little in my knapsack," gravely replied Dan, to be +assailed on the spot by a chorus of comic demands. + +"I say, Beau, have you any rouge on hand? I'm growing pale. Please drop a +little cologne on this handkerchief, my boy. May I borrow your powder puff? +I've been sitting in the sun. Don't you want that gallon of stale +buttermilk to take your tan off, Miss Nancy?" + +"Oh, shut up!" cried Dan, sharply; "if you choose to turn pigs simply +because you've come out to do a little fighting, I've nothing to say +against it; but I prefer to remain a gentleman, that's all." + +"He prefers to remain a gentleman, that's all," chanted the chorus round +the apple tree. + +"And I'll knock your confounded heads off, if you keep this up," pursued +Dan furiously. + +"And he'll knock our confounded heads off, if we keep this up," shouted the +chorus in a jubilant refrain. + +"Well, I'll tell you one thing," remarked Jack Powell, feeling his +responsibility in the matter of the pomade. "All I've got to say is, if +this is what you call war, it's a pretty stale business. The next time I +want to be frisky, I'll volunteer to pass the lemonade at a Sunday-school +picnic." + +"And has anybody called it war, Dandy?" inquired Bland, witheringly. + +"Well, somebody might, you know," replied Jack, opening his fine white +shirt at the neck, "did I hear you call it war, Kemper?" he asked politely, +as he punched a stout sleeper beside him. + +Kemper started up and aimed a blow at vacancy. "Oh, you heard the devil!" +he retorted. + +"I beg your pardon; it was mistaken identity," returned Jack suavely. + +"Look here, my lad, don't fool with Kemper when he's hot," cautioned Bland, +"He's red enough to fire those bales of straw. I say, Kemper, may I light +my pipe at your face?" + +"Shut up, now, or he'll be puffing round here like a steam engine," said a +small dark man named Baker, "let smouldering fires lie on a day like this. +Give me a light, Dandy." + +Jack Powell held out his cigar, and then, leaning back against the tree, +blew a cloud of smoke about his head. + +"I'll be blessed if I don't think seven hours' drill is too much of a bad +thing," he plaintively remarked; "and I may as well add, by the bye, that +the next time I go to war, I intend to go in the character of a +Major-general." + +"Make it Commander-in-chief. Don't be too modest, my boy." + +"Well, you may laugh if you like," pursued Jack, "but between you and me, +it was all the fault of those girls at home--they have an idea that +patriotism never trims its sleeves, you know. On my word, I might have been +Captain of the Leicesterburg Guards after Champe Lightfoot joined the +cavalry; but such averted looks were turned from me by the ladies, that I +had to jump into the ranks merely to reinstate myself in their regard. They +made even Governor Ambler volunteer as a private, I believe, but he was +lucky and got made a Colonel instead." + +Bland laughed softly. + +"That reminds me of our Colonel," he observed. "I overheard him talking to +himself the other day, and he said: 'All I ask is not to be in command of a +volunteer regiment in hell.'" + +"Oh, he won't," put in Dan; "all the volunteers will be in heaven--unless +they're sent down below because they were too big fools to join the +cavalry." + +"Then, in heaven's name, why didn't you join the cavalry?" inquired Baker. + +Dan looked at him a moment, and then threw the apple core at a water bucket +that stood upside down upon the grass. "Well, I couldn't go on my own +horse, you see," he replied, "and I wouldn't go on the Government's. I +don't ride hacks." + +"So you came into the infantry to get court-martialled," remarked Bland. +"The captain said down the valley, you'll remember, that if the war lasted +a month, you'd be court-martialled for disobedience on the thirtieth day." + +Dan growled under his breath. "Well, I didn't enter the army to be hectored +by any fool who comes along," he returned. "Look at that fellow Jones, now. +He thinks because he happens to be Lieutenant that he's got a right to +forget that I'm a gentleman and he's not. Why, the day before we came up +here, he got after me at drill about being out of step, or some little +thing like that; and, by George, to hear him roar you'd have thought that +war wasn't anything but monkeying round with a musket. Why, the rascal came +from my part of the country, and his father before him wasn't fit to black +my boots." + +"Did you knock him down?" eagerly inquired Bland. + +"I told him to take off his confounded finery and I would," answered Dan. +"So when drill was over, we went off behind a tent, and I smashed his nose. +He's no coward, I'll say that for him, and when the Captain told him he +looked as if he'd been fighting, he laughed and said he had had 'a little +personal encounter with the enemy.'" + +"Well, I'm willing enough to do battle for my country," said Jack Powell, +"but I'll be blessed if I'm going to have my elbow jogged by the poor white +trash while I'm doing it." + +"He was scolding at us yesterday because when we were detailed to clean out +the camp, we gave the order to the servants," put in Baker. "Clean out the +camp! Does he think my grandmother was a chambermaid?" He suddenly broke +off and helped himself to a drink of water from a dripping bucket that a +tall mountaineer was passing round the group. + +"Been to the creek, Pinetop?" he asked good-humouredly. + +The mountaineer, who had won his title from his great height, towering as +he did above every man in the company, nodded drowsily as he settled +himself upon the ground. He was lithe and hardy as a young hickory, and his +abundant hair was of the colour of ripe wheat. At the call to arms he had +come, with long strides, down from his bare little cabin in the Blue Ridge, +bringing with him a flintlock musket, a corncob pipe, and a stockingful of +Virginia tobacco. Since the day of his arrival, he had accepted the pointed +jokes of the mess into which he had drifted, with grave lips and a flicker +of his calm blue eyes. They had jeered him unmercifully, and he had +regarded them with serene and wondering attention. "I say, Pinetop, is it +raining up where you are?" a wit had put to him on the first day, and he +had looked down and answered placidly:-- + +"Naw, it's cl'ar." + +As he sat down in the group beside the woodpile, Bland tossed him the +latest paper, but carefully folding it into a square, he laid it aside, and +stretched himself upon the brown grass. + +"This here's powerful weather for sweatin'," he pleasantly observed, as he +pulled a mullein leaf from the foot of the apple tree and placed it over +his eyes. Then he turned over and in a moment was sleeping as quietly as a +child. + +Dan got down from the logs and stood thoughtfully staring in the direction +of the happy little town lying embosomed in green hills. That little town +gave to him, as he stood there in the noon heat, a memory of deep gardens +filled with fragrance, of open houses set in blue shadows, and of the +bright fluttering of Confederate flags. For a moment he looked toward it +down the hot road; then, with a sigh, he turned away and wandered off to +seek the outside shadow of a tent. + +As he flung himself down in the strip of shade, his gaze went longingly to +the dim chain of mountains which showed like faint blue clouds against the +sky, while his thoughts returned, as a sick man's, to the clustered elm +boughs and the smooth lawn at Chericoke, and to Betty blooming like a +flower in a network of sun and shade. + +The memory was so vivid that when he closed his eyes it was almost as if he +heard the tapping of the tree-tops against the roof, and felt the pleasant +breeze blowing over the sweet-smelling meadows. He looked, through his +closed eyes, into the dim old house, seeing the rustling grasses in the +great blue jar and their delicate shadow trembling on the pure white wall. +There was the tender hush about it that belongs to the memories of dead +friends or absent places; a hush that was reverent as a Sabbath calm. He +saw the shining swords of the Major and the Major's father; the rear door +with the microphylla roses nodding upon the lintel, and, high above all, +the shadowy bend of the staircase, with Betty standing there in her cool +blue gown. + +He opened his eyes with a start, and pillowing his head on his arm, lay +looking off into the burning distance. A bee, straying from a field of +clover across the road, buzzed, for a moment, round his face, and then +knocked, with a flapping noise, against the canvas tent. Far away, beyond +the murmur of the camp, he heard a partridge whistling in a tangled meadow; +and at the same instant his own name called through the sunlight. + +"I say, Beau, Beau, where are you?" He sat up, and shouted in response, and +Jack Powell came hurriedly round the tent to fling himself down upon the +beaten grass. + +"Oh, you don't know what you missed!" he cried, chuckling. "You didn't stay +long enough to hear the joke on Bland." + +"I hope it's a fresh one," was Dan's response. "If it's that old thing +about the mule and the darky, I may as well say in the beginning that I +heard it in the ark." + +"Oh, it's new, old man. He made the mistake of trying to get some fun out +of Pinetop, and he got more than he bargained for, that's all. He began to +tease him about those blue jean trousers he carries in his knapsack. You've +seen them, I reckon?" + +Dan nodded as he chewed idly at a blade of grass. "I tried to get him to +throw them away yesterday," he said, "and he did go so far as to haul them +out and look them over; but after meditating a half hour, he packed them +away again and declared there was 'a sight of wear left in them still.' He +told me if he ever made up his mind to get rid of them, and peace should +come next day, he'd never forgive himself." + +"Well, I warned Bland not to meddle with him," pursued Jack, "but he got +bored and set in to make things lively. 'Look here, Pinetop,' he began, +'will you do me the favour to give me the name of the tailor who made your +blue jeans?' and, bless your life, Pinetop just took the mullein leaf from +his eyes, and sang out 'Maw.' That was what Bland wanted, of course, so, +without waiting for the danger signal, he plunged in again. 'Then if you +don't object I should be glad to have the pattern of them,' he went on, as +smooth as butter. 'I want them to wear when I go home again, you know. Why, +they're just the things to take a lady's eye--they have almost the fit of a +flour-sack--and the ladies are fond of flour, aren't they?' The whole crowd +was waiting, ready to howl at Pinetop's answer, and, sure enough, he raised +himself on his elbow, and drawled out in his sing-song tone: 'I say, Sonny, +ain't yo' Maw done put you into breeches yit?'" + +"It serves him right," said Dan sternly, "and that's what I like about +Pinetop, Jack, there's no ruffling him." He brushed off the bee that had +fallen on his head, and dodged as it angrily flew back again. + +"Some of the boys raised a row when he came into our mess," returned Jack, +"but where every man's fighting for his country, we're all equal, say I. +What makes me dog-tired, though, is the airs some of these fool officers +put on; all this talk about an 'officer's mess' now, as if a man is too +good to eat with me who wouldn't dare to sit down to my table if he had on +civilian's clothes. It's all bosh, that's what it is." + +He got up and strolled off with his grievance, and Dan, stretching himself +upon the ground, looked across the hills, to the far mountains where the +shadows thickened. + + + + +II + +THE DAY'S MARCH + + +In the gray dawn tents were struck, and five days' rations were issued with +the marching orders. As Dan packed his knapsack with trembling hands, he +saw men stalking back and forth like gigantic shadows, and heard the hoarse +shouting of the company officers through the thick fog which had rolled +down from the mountains. There was a persistent buzz in the air, as if a +great swarm of bees had settled over the misty valley. Each man was asking +unanswerable questions of his neighbour. + +At a little distance Big Abel, with several of the company "darkies" was +struggling energetically over the property of the mess, storing the cooking +utensils into a stout camp chest, which the strength of several men would +lift, when filled, into the wagon. Bland, who had just tossed his overcoat +across to them, turned abruptly upon Dan, and demanded warmly "what had +become of his case of razors?" + +"Where are we going?" was Dan's response, as he knelt down to roll up his +oilcloth and blanket. "By Jove, it looks as if we'd gobble up Patterson for +breakfast!" + +"I say, where's my case of razors?" inquired Bland, with irritation. "They +were lying here a moment ago, and now they're gone. Dandy, have you got my +razors?" + +"Look here, Beau, what are you going to leave behind?" asked Kemper over +Bland's shoulder. + +"Leave behind? Why, dull care," rejoined Dan gayly. "By the way, Pinetop, +why don't you save your appetite for Patterson's dainties?" + +Pinetop, who was leisurely eating his breakfast of "hardtack" and bacon, +took a long draught from his tin cup, and replied, as he wiped his mouth on +his shirt sleeve, that he "reckoned thar wouldn't be any trouble about +finding room for them, too." The general gayety was reflected in his face; +he laughed as he bit deeply into his half-cooked bacon. + +Dan stood up and nervously strapped on his knapsack; then he swung his +canteen over his shoulder and carefully tightened his belt. His face was +flushed, and when he spoke his voice quivered with emotion. It seemed to +him that the delay of every instant was a reckless waste of time, and he +trembled at the thought that the enemy might be preparing to fall upon them +unawares; that while the camp was swarming like an ant's nest, Patterson +and his men might be making good use of the fleeting moments. + +"Why the devil don't we move? We ought to move," he said angrily, as he +glanced round the crowded field where the men were arraying themselves in +all the useless trappings of the Southern volunteer. Kemper was busily +placing his necessary toilet articles in his haversack, having thrown away +half his rations for the purpose; Jack Powell, completely dressed for the +march, was examining his heavy revolver, with the conscious pride a field +officer might have felt in his sword. As he stuck it into his belt, he +straightened himself with a laugh and jauntily set his small cap on his +curling hair; he was clean, comely, and smooth-shaven as if he had just +stepped from a hot bath and the hands of his barber. + +"You may roll Dandy in the dust and he'll come out washed," Baker had once +forcibly remarked. + +"I say, boys, why don't we start?" persisted Dan impatiently, flicking with +his handkerchief at a grain of sand on his high boots. Then, as Big Abel +brought him a cup of coffee, he drank it standing, casting eager glances +over the rim of his cup. He had an odd feeling that it was all a great fox +hunt they were soon to start upon; that they were waiting only for the +calling of the hounds. The Major's fighting blood had stirred within his +grandson's veins, and generations of dead Lightfoots were scenting the +coming battle from the dust. When Dan thought now of the end to which he +should presently be marching, it suggested to him but a quickened +exhilaration of the pulses and an old engraving of "Waterloo," which hung +on the dining-room wall at Chericoke. That was war; and he remembered +vividly the childish thrill with which he had first looked up at it. He saw +the prancing horses, the dramatic gestures of the generals with flowing +hair, the blur of waving flags and naked swords. It was like a page torn +from the eternal Romance; a page upon which he and his comrades should play +heroic parts; and it was white blood, indeed, that did not glow with the +hope of sharing in that picture; of hanging immortal in an engraving on the +wall. + +The "fall in" of the sergeant was already sounding from the road, and, with +a last glance about the field, Dan ran down the gentle slope and across the +little stream to take his place in the ranks of the forming column. An +officer on a milk-white horse was making frantic gestures to the line, and +the young man followed him an instant with his eyes. Then, as he stood +there in the warm sunshine, he felt his impatience prick him like a needle. +He wanted to push forward the regiments in front of him, to start in any +direction--only to start. The suppressed excitement of the fox hunt was +upon him, and the hoarse voices of the officers thrilled him as if they +were the baying of the hounds. He heard the musical jingle of moving +cavalry, the hurried tread of feet in the soft dust, the smothered oaths of +men who stumbled over the scattered stones. And, at last, when the sun +stood high above, the long column swung off toward the south, leaving the +enemy and the north behind it. + +"By God, we're running away," said Bland in a whisper. With the words the +gayety passed suddenly from the army, and it moved slowly with the +dispirited tread of beaten men. The enemy lay to the north, and it was +marching to the south and home. + +As it passed through the fragrant streets of Winchester, women, with +startled eyes, ran from open doors into the deep old gardens, and watched +it over the honeysuckle hedges. Under the fluttering flags, past the long +blue shadows, with the playing of the bands and the clatter of the +canteens--on it went into the white dust and the sunshine. From a wide +piazza, a group of schoolgirls pelted the troops with roses, and as Dan +went by he caught a white bud and stuck it into his cap. He looked back +laughing, to meet the flash of laughing eyes; then the gray line swept out +upon the turnpike and went down the broad road through the smooth green +fields, over which the sunlight lay like melted gold. + +Dan, walking between Pinetop and Jack Powell, felt a sudden homesickness +for the abandoned camp, which they were leaving with the gay little town +and the red clay forts, naked to the enemy's guns. He saw the branching +apple tree, the burned-out fires, the silvery fringe of willows by the +stream; and he saw the men in blue already in possession of his woodpile, +broiling their bacon by the logs that Big Abel had cut. + +At the end of three miles the brigades abruptly halted, and he listened, +looking at the ground, to an order, which was read by a slim young officer +who pulled nervously at his moustache. Down the column came a single +ringing cheer, and, without waiting for the command, the men pushed eagerly +forward along the road. What was a forced march of thirty miles to an army +that had never seen a battle? + +As they went on a boyish merriment tripped lightly down the turnpike; jests +were shouted, a wit began to tease a mounted officer who was trying to +reach the front, and somebody with a tenor voice was singing "Dixie." A +stray countryman, sitting upon the wall of loose stones, was greeted +affectionately by each passing company. He was a big, stupid-looking man, +with a gray fowl hanging, head downward, from his hand, and as he responded +"Howdy," in an expressionless tone, the fowl craned its long neck upward +and pecked at the creeper on the wall. + +"Howdy, Jim!" "Howdy, Peter!" "Howdy, Luke!" sang the first line. "How's +your wife?" "How's your wife's mother?" "How's your sister-in-law's uncle?" +inquired the next. The countryman spat into the ditch and stared solemnly +in reply, and the gray fowl, still craning its neck, pecked steadily at the +leaves upon the stones. + +Dan looked up into the blue sky, across the open meadows to the far-off low +mountains, and then down the long turnpike where the dust hung in a yellow +cloud. In the bright sunshine he saw the flash of steel and the glitter of +gold braid, and the noise of tramping feet cheered him like music as he +walked on gayly, filled with visions. For was he not marching to his chosen +end--to victory, to Chericoke--to Betty? Or if the worst came to the +worst--well, a man had but one life, after all, and a life was a little +thing to give his country. Then, as always, his patriotism appealed to him +as a romance rather than a religion--the fine Southern ardour which had +sent him, at the first call, into the ranks, had sprung from an inward, not +an outward pressure. The sound of the bugle, the fluttering of the flags, +the flash of hot steel in the sunlight, the high old words that stirred +men's pulses--these things were his by blood and right of heritage. He +could no more have stifled the impulse that prompted him to take a side in +any fight than he could have kept his heart cool beneath the impassioned +voice of a Southern orator. The Major's blood ran warm through many +generations. + +"I say, Beau, did you put a millstone in my knapsack?" inquired Bland +suddenly. His face was flushed, and there was a streak of wet dust across +his forehead. "If you did, it was a dirty joke," he added irritably. Dan +laughed. "Now that's odd," he replied, "because there's one in mine also, +and, moreover, somebody has stuck penknives in my boots. Was it you, +Pinetop?" + +But the mountaineer shook his head in silence, and then, as they halted to +rest upon the roadside, he flung himself down beneath the shadow of a +sycamore, and raised his canteen to his lips. He had come leisurely at his +long strides, and as Dan looked at him lying upon the short grass by the +wall, he shook his own roughened hair, in impatient envy. "Why, you've +stood it like a Major, Pinetop," he remarked. + +Pinetop opened his eyes. "Stood what?" he drawled. + +"Why, this heat, this dust, this whole confounded march. I don't believe +you've turned a hair, as Big Abel says." + +"Good Lord," said Pinetop. "I don't reckon you've ever ploughed up hill +with a steer team." + +Without replying, Dan unstrapped his knapsack and threw it upon the +roadside. "What doesn't go in my haversack, doesn't go, that's all," he +observed. "How about you, Dandy?" + +"Oh, I threw mine away a mile after starting," returned Jack Powell, "my +luxuries are with a girl I left behind me. I've sacrificed everything to +the cause except my toothbrush, and, by Jove, if the weight of that goes on +increasing, I shall be forced to dispense with it forever. I got rid of my +rations long ago. Pinetop says a man can't starve in blackberry season, and +I hope he's right. Anyway, the Lord will provide--or he won't, that's +certain." + +"Is this the reward of faith, I wonder?" said Dan, as he looked at a lame +old negro who wheeled a cider cart and a tray of green apple pies down a +red clay lane that branched off under thick locust trees. "This way, Uncle, +here's your man." + +The old negro slowly approached them to be instantly surrounded by the +thirsty regiment. + +"Howdy, Marsters? howdy?" he began, pulling his grizzled hair. "Dese yer's +right nice pies, dat dey is, suh." + +"Look here, Uncle, weren't they made in the ark, now?" inquired Bland +jestingly, as he bit into a greasy crust. + +"De ark? naw, suh; my Mehaley she des done bake 'em in de cabin over +yonder." He lifted his shrivelled hand and pointed, with a tremulous +gesture, to a log hut showing among the distant trees. + +"What? are you a free man, Uncle?" + +"Free? Go 'way f'om yer! ain' you never hyearn tell er Marse Plunkett?" + +"Plunkett?" gravely repeated Bland, filling his canteen with cider. "Look +here, stand back, boys, it's my turn now.--Plunkett--Plunkett--can I have a +long-lost friend named Plunkett? Where is he, Uncle? has he gone to fight?" + +"Marse Plunkett? Naw, suh, he ain' fit nobody." + +"Well, you tell him from me that he'd better enlist at once," put in Jack +Powell. "This isn't the time for skulkers, Uncle; he's on our side, isn't +he?" The old negro shook his head, looking uneasily at the froth that +dripped from the keg into the dust. + +"Naw, suh, Marse Plunkett, he's fur de Un'on, but he's pow'ful feared er de +Yankees," he returned. + +Bland broke into a laugh. "Oh, come, that's downright treason," he +protested merrily. "Your Marse Plunkett's a skulker sure enough, and you +may tell him so with my compliments. You're on the Yankee side, too, I +reckon, and there're bullets in these pies, sure as I live." + +The old man shuffled nervously on his bare feet. + +"Go 'way, Marster, w'at I know 'bout 'sides'?" he replied, tilting his keg +to drain the last few drops into the canteen of a thirsty soldier. "I'se on +de Lawd's side, dat's whar I is." + +He fell back startled, for the call of "Column, forward!" was shouted down +the road, and in an instant the men had left the emptied cart, and were +marching on into the sunny distance. + +As the afternoon lengthened the heat grew more oppressive. Straight ahead +there was dust and sunshine and the ceaseless tramp, and on either side the +fresh fields were scorched and whitened by a powdering of hot sand. Beyond +the rise and dip of the hills, the mountains burned like blue flames on the +horizon, and overhead the sky was hard as an inverted brazier. + +Dan had begun to limp, for his stiff boots galled his feet. His senses were +blunted by the hot sand which filled his eyes and ears and nostrils, and +there was a shimmer over all the broad landscape. When he shook his hair +from his forehead, the dust floated slowly down and settled in a scorching +ring about his neck. + +The day closed gradually, and as they neared the river, the mountains +emerged from obscure outlines into wooded heights upon which the trees +showed soft and gray in the sunset. A cool breath was blown through a strip +of damp woodland, where the pale bodies of the sycamores were festooned in +luxuriant vines, and from the twilight long shadows stretched across the +red clay road. Then, as they went down a rocky slope, a fringe of willows +appeared suddenly from the blur of green, and they saw the Shenandoah +running between falling banks, with the colours of the sunset floating like +pink flowers upon its breast. + +With a shout the front line plunged into the stream, holding its heavy +muskets high above the current of the water, and filing upon the opposite +bank, into a rough road which wound amid the ferns. + +Midway of the river, near the fording point, there was a little island +which lay like a feathery tree-top upon the tinted water; and as Dan went +by, he felt the brush of willows on his face and heard the soft lapping of +the small waves upon the shore. The keen smell of the sycamores drifted to +him from the bank that he had left, and straight up stream he saw a single +peaked blue hill upon which a white cloud rested. For a moment he lingered, +breathing in the fragrance, then the rear line pressed upon him, and, +crossing rapidly, he stood on the rocky edge, shaking the water from his +clothes. Out of the after-glow came the steady tramp of tired feet, and +with aching limbs, he turned and hastened with the column into the mountain +pass. + + + + +III + +THE REIGN OF THE BRUTE + + +The noise of the guns rolled over the green hills into the little valley +where the regiment had halted before a wayside spring, which lay hidden +beneath a clump of rank pokeberry. As each company filled its canteens, it +filed across the sunny road, from which the dust rose like steam, and stood +resting in an open meadow that swept down into a hollow between two gently +rising hills. From the spring a thin stream trickled, bordered by short +grass, and the water, dashed from it by the thirsty men, gathered in +shining puddles in the red clay road. By one of these puddles a man had +knelt to wash his face, and as Dan passed, draining his canteen, he looked +up with a sprinkling of brown drops on his forehead. Near him, unharmed by +the tramping feet, a little purple flower was blooming in the mud. + +Dan gazed thoughtfully down upon him and upon the little purple flower in +its dangerous spot. What did mud or dust matter, he questioned grimly, when +in a breathing space they would be in the midst of the smoke that hung +close above the hill-top? The sound of the cannon ceased suddenly, as +abruptly as if the battery had sunk into the ground, and through the sunny +air he heard a long rattle that reminded him of the fall of hail on the +shingled roof at Chericoke. As his canteen struck against his side, it +seemed to him that it met the resistance of a leaden weight. There was a +lump in his throat and his lips felt parched, though the moisture from the +fresh spring water was hardly dried. When he moved he was conscious of +stepping high above the earth, as he had done once at college after an +over-merry night and many wines. + +Straight ahead the sunshine lay hot and still over the smooth fields and +the little hollow where a brook ran between marshy banks. High above he saw +it flashing on the gray smoke that hung in tatters from the tree-tops on +the hill. + +An ambulance, drawn by a white and a bay horse, turned gayly from the road +into the meadow, and he saw, with surprise, that one of the surgeons was +trimming his finger nails with a small penknife. The surgeon was a slight +young man, with pointed yellow whiskers, and light blue eyes that squinted +in the sunshine. As he passed he stifled a yawn with an elaborate +affectation of unconcern. + +A man on horseback, with a white handkerchief tied above his collar, +galloped up and spoke in a low voice to the Colonel. Then, as his horse +reared, he glanced nervously about, grew embarrassed, and, with a sharp +jerk of the bridle, galloped off again across the field. Presently other +men rode back and forth along the road; there were so many of them that Dan +wondered, bewildered, if anybody was left to make the battle beyond the +hill. + +The regiment formed into line and started at "double quick" across the +broad meadow powdered white with daisies. As it went into the ravine, +skirting the hillside, a stream of men came toward it and passed slowly to +the rear. Some were on stretchers, some were stumbling in the arms of +slightly wounded comrades, some were merely warm and dirty and very much +afraid. One and all advised the fresh regiment to "go home and finish +ploughing." "The Yankees have got us on the hip," they declared +emphatically. "Whoopee! it's as hot as hell where you're going." Then a +boy, with a blood-stained sleeve, waved his shattered arm in the air and +laughed deliriously. "Don't believe them, friends, it's glorious!" he +cried, in the voice of the far South, and lurched forward upon the grass. + +The sight of the soaked shirt and the smell of blood turned Dan faint. He +felt a sudden tremor in his limbs, and his arteries throbbed dully in his +ears. "I didn't know it was like this," he muttered thickly. "Why, they're +no better than mangled rabbits--I didn't know it was like this." + +They wound through the little ravine, climbed a hillside planted in thin +corn, and were ordered to "load and lie down" in a strip of woodland. Dan +tore at his cartridge with set teeth; then as he drove his ramrod home, a +shell, thrown from a distant gun, burst in the trees above him, and a red +flame ran, for an instant, along the barrel of his musket. He dodged +quickly, and a rain of young pine needles fell in scattered showers from +the smoked boughs overhead. Somewhere beside him a man was groaning in +terror or in pain. "I'm hit, boys, by God, I'm hit this time." The groans +changed promptly into a laugh. "Bless my soul! the plagued thing went right +into the earth beneath me." + +"Damn you, it went into my leg," retorted a hoarse voice that fell suddenly +silent. + +With a shiver Dan lay down on the carpet of rotted pine-cones and peered, +like a squirrel, through the meshes of the brushwood. At first he saw only +gray smoke and a long sweep of briers and broom-sedge, standing out dimly +from an obscurity that was thick as dusk. Then came a clatter near at hand, +and a battery swept at a long gallop across the thinned edge of the pines. +So close it came that he saw the flashing white eyeballs and the spreading +sorrel manes of the horses, and almost felt their hot breath upon his +cheek. He heard the shouts of the outriders, the crack of the stout whips, +the rattle of the caissons, and, before it passed, he had caught the +excited gestures of the men upon the guns. The battery unlimbered, as he +watched it, shot a few rounds from the summit of the hill, and retreated +rapidly to a new position. When the wind scattered the heavy smoke, he saw +only the broom-sedge and several ridges of poor corn; some of the gaunt +stalks blackened and beaten to the ground, some still flaunting their brave +tassels beneath the whistling bullets. It was all in sunlight, and the gray +smoke swept ceaselessly to and fro over the smiling face of the field. + +Then, as he turned a little in his shelter, he saw that there was a single +Confederate battery in position under a slight swell on his left. Beyond it +he knew that the long slope sank gently into a marshy stream and the broad +turnpike, but the brow of the hill went up against the sky, and hidden in +the brushwood he could see only the darkened line of the horizon. Against +it the guns stood there in the sunlight, unsupported, solitary, majestic, +while around them the earth was tossed up in the air as if a loose plough +had run wild across the field. A handful of artillerymen moved back and +forth, like dim outlines, serving the guns in a group of fallen horses that +showed in dark mounds upon the hill. From time to time he saw a rammer +waved excitedly as a shot went home, or heard, in a lull, the hoarse voices +of the gunners when they called for "grape!" + +As he lay there, with his eyes on the solitary battery, he forgot, for an +instant, his own part in the coming work. A bullet cut the air above him, +and a branch, clipped as by a razor's stroke, fell upon his head; but his +nerves had grown steady and his thoughts were not of himself; he was +watching, with breathless interest, for another of the gray shadows at the +guns to go down among the fallen horses. + +Then, while he watched, he saw other batteries come out upon the hill; saw +the cannon thrown into position and heard the call change from "grape!" to +"canister!" On the edge of the pines a voice was speaking, and beyond the +voice a man on horseback was riding quietly back and forth in the open. +Behind him Jack Powell called out suddenly, "We're ready, Colonel Burwell!" +and his voice was easy, familiar, almost affectionate. + +"I know it, boys!" replied the Colonel in the same tone, and Dan felt a +quick sympathy spring up within him. At that instant he knew that he loved +every man in the regiment beside him--loved the affectionate Colonel, with +the sleepy voice, loved Pinetop, loved the lieutenant whose nose he had +broken after drill. + +At a word he had leaped, with the others, to his feet, and stood drawn up +for battle against the wood. Then it was that he saw the General of the day +riding beside fluttering colours across the waste land to the crest of the +hill. He was rallying the scattered brigades about the flag--so the fight +had gone against them and gone badly, after all. + +Around him the men drifted back, frightened, straggling, defeated, and the +broken ranks closed up slowly. The standards dipped for a moment before a +sharp fire, and then, as the colour bearers shook out the bright folds, +soared like great red birds' wings above the smoke. + +It seemed to Dan that he stood for hours motionless there against the +pines. For a time the fight passed away from him, and he remembered a +mountain storm which had caught him as a boy in the woods at Chericoke. He +heard again the cloud burst overhead, the soughing of the pines and the +crackling of dried branches as they came drifting down through interlacing +boughs. The old childish terror returned to him, and he recalled his mad +rush for light and space when he had doubled like a hare in the wooded +twilight among the dim bodies of the trees. Then as now it was not the open +that he feared, but the unseen horror of the shelter. + +Again the affectionate voice came from the sunlight and he gripped his +musket as he started forward. He had caught only the last words, and he +repeated them half mechanically, as he stepped out from the brushwood. Once +again, when he stood on the trampled broom-sedge, he said them over with a +nervous jerk, "Wait until they come within fifty yards--and, for God's +sake, boys, shoot at the knees!" + +He thought of the jolly Colonel, and laughed hysterically. Why, he had been +at that man's wedding--had kissed his bride--and now he was begging him to +shoot at people's knees! + +With a cheer, the regiment broke from cover and swept forward toward the +summit of the hill. Dan's foot caught in a blackberry vine, and he stumbled +blindly. As he regained himself a shell ripped up the ground before him, +flinging the warm clods of earth into his face. A "worm" fence at a little +distance scattered beneath the fire, and as he looked up he saw the long +rails flying across the field. For an instant he hesitated; then something +that was like a nervous spasm shook his heart, and he was no more afraid. +Over the blackberries and the broom-sedge, on he went toward the swirls of +golden dust that swept upward from the bright green slope. If this was a +battle, what was the old engraving? Where were the prancing horses and the +uplifted swords? + +Something whistled in his ears and the air was filled with sharp sounds +that set his teeth on edge. A man went down beside him and clutched at his +boots as he ran past; but the smell of the battle--a smell of oil and +smoke, of blood and sweat--was in his nostrils, and he could have kicked +the stiff hands grasping at his feet. The hot old blood of his fathers had +stirred again and the dead had rallied to the call of their descendant. He +was not afraid, for he had been here long before. + +Behind him, and beside him, row after row of gray men leaped from the +shadow--the very hill seemed rising to his support--and it was almost +gayly, as the dead fighters lived again, that he went straight onward over +the sunny field. He saw the golden dust float nearer up the slope, saw the +brave flags unfurling in the breeze--saw, at last, man after man emerge +from the yellow cloud. As he bent to fire, the fury of the game swept over +him and aroused the sleeping brute within him. All the primeval instincts, +throttled by the restraint of centuries--the instincts of bloodguiltiness, +of hot pursuit, of the fierce exhilaration of the chase, of the death +grapple with a resisting foe--these awoke suddenly to life and turned the +battle scarlet to his eyes. + + * * * * * + +Two hours later, when the heavy clouds were smothering the sunset, he came +slowly back across the field. A gripping nausea had seized upon him--a +nausea such as he had known before after that merry night at college. His +head throbbed, and as he walked he staggered like a drunken man. The +revulsion of his overwrought emotions had thrown him into a state of +sensibility almost hysterical. + +The battle-field stretched grimly round him, and as the sunset was blotted +out, a gray mist crept slowly from the west. Here and there he saw men +looking for the wounded, and he heard one utter an impatient "Pshaw!" as he +lifted a half-cold body and let it fall. Rude stretchers went by him on +either side, and still the field seemed as thickly sown as before; on the +left, where a regiment of Zouaves had been cut down, there was a flash of +white and scarlet, as if the loose grass was strewn with great tropical +flowers. Among them he saw the reproachful eyes of dead and dying horses. + +Before him, on the gradual slope of the hill, stood a group of abandoned +guns, and there was something almost human in the pathos of their utter +isolation. Around them the ground was scorched and blackened, and scattered +over the broken trails lay the men who had fallen at their post. He saw +them lying there in the fading daylight, with the sponges and the rammers +still in their hands, and he saw upon each man's face the look with which +he had met and recognized the end. Some were smiling, some staring, and one +lay grinning as if at a ghastly joke. Near him a boy, with the hair still +damp on his forehead, had fallen upon an uprooted blackberry vine, and the +purple stain of the berries was on his mouth. As Dan looked down upon him, +the smell of powder and burned grass came to him with a wave of sickness, +and turning he stumbled on across the field. At the first step his foot +struck upon something hard, and, picking it up, he saw that it was a Minie +ball, which, in passing through a man's spine, had been transformed into a +mass of mingled bone and lead. With a gesture of disgust he dropped it and +went on rapidly. A stretcher moved beside him, and the man on it, shot +through the waist, was saying in a whisper, "It is cold--cold--so cold." +Against his will, Dan found, he had fallen into step with the men who bore +the stretcher, and together they kept time to the words of the wounded +soldier who cried out ceaselessly that it was cold. On their way they +passed a group on horseback and, standing near it, a handsome artilleryman, +who wore a red flannel shirt with one sleeve missing. As Dan went on he +discovered that he was thinking of the handsome man in the red shirt and +wondering how he had lost his missing sleeve. He pondered the question as +if it were a puzzle, and, finally, yielded it up in doubt. + +Beyond the base of the hill they came into the small ravine which had been +turned into a rude field hospital. Here the stretcher was put down, and a +tired-looking surgeon, wiping his hands upon a soiled towel, came and knelt +down beside the wounded man. + +"Bring a light--I can't see--bring a light!" he exclaimed irritably, as he +cut away the clothes with gentle fingers. + +Dan was passing on, when he heard his name called from behind, and turning +quickly found Governor Ambler anxiously regarding him. + +"You're not hurt, my boy?" asked the Governor, and from his tone he might +have parted from the younger man only the day before. + +"Hurt? Oh, no, I'm not hurt," replied Dan a little bitterly, "but there's a +whole field of them back there, Colonel." + +"Well, I suppose so--I suppose so," returned the other absently. "I'm +looking after my men now, poor fellows. A victory doesn't come cheap, you +know, and thank God, it was a glorious victory." + +"A glorious victory," repeated Dan, looking at the surgeons who were +working by the light of tallow candles. + +The Governor followed his gaze. "It's your first fight," he said, "and you +haven't learned your lesson as I learned mine in Mexico. The best, or the +worst of it, is that after the first fight it comes easy, my boy, it comes +too easy." + +There was hot blood in him also, thought Dan, as he looked at him--and yet +of all the men that he had ever known he would have called the Governor the +most humane. + +"I dare say--I'll get used to it, sir," he answered. "Yes, it was a +glorious victory." + +He broke away and went off into the twilight over the wide meadow to the +little wayside spring. Across the road there was a field of clover, where a +few campfires twinkled, and he hastened toward it eager to lie down in the +darkness and fall asleep. As his feet sank in the moist earth, he looked +down and saw that the little purple flower was still blooming in the mud. + + + + +IV + +AFTER THE BATTLE + + +The field of trampled clover looked as if a windstorm had swept over it, +strewing the contents of a dozen dismantled houses. There were stacks of +arms and piles of cooking utensils, knapsacks, half emptied, lay beside the +charred remains of fires, and loose fence rails showed red and white +glimpses of playing cards, hidden, before the fight, by superstitious +soldiers. + +Groups of men were scattered in dark spots over the field, and about them +stragglers drifted slowly back from the road to Centreville. There was no +discipline, no order--regiment was mixed with regiment, and each man was +hopelessly inquiring for his lost company. + +As Dan stepped over the fallen fence upon the crushed pink heads of the +clover, he came upon a circle of privates making merry over a lunch basket +they had picked up on the turnpike--a basket brought by one of the +Washington parties who had gayly driven out to watch the battle. A broken +fence rail was ablaze in the centre of the group, and as the red light fell +on each soiled and unshaven face, it stood out grotesquely from the +surrounding gloom. Some were slightly wounded, some had merely scented the +battle from behind the hill--all were drinking rare wine in honour of the +early ending of the war. As Dan looked past them over the darkening meadow, +where the returning soldiers drifted aimlessly across the patches of red +light, he asked himself almost impatiently if this were the pure and +patriotic army that held in its ranks the best born of the South? To him, +standing there, it seemed but a loosened mass, without strength and without +cohesion, a mob of schoolboys come back from a sham battle on the college +green. It was his first fight, and he did not know that what he looked upon +was but the sure result of an easy victory upon the undisciplined ardour of +raw troops--that the sinews of an army are wrought not by a single trial, +but by the strain of prolonged and strenuous endeavour. + +"I say, do you reckon they'll lemme go home ter-morrow?" inquired a +slightly wounded man in the group before him. "Thar's my terbaccy needs +lookin' arter or the worms 'ull eat it clean up 'fo' I git thar." He shook +the shaggy hair from his face, and straightened the white cotton bandage +about his chin. On the right side, where the wound was, his thick sandy +beard had been cut away, and the outstanding tuft on his left cheek gave +him a peculiarly ill-proportioned look. + +"Lordy! I tell you we gave it ter 'em!" exclaimed another in excited jerks. +"Fight! Wall, that's what I call fightin', leastways it's put. I declar' I +reckon I hit six Yankees plum on the head with the butt of this here +musket." + +He paused to knock the head off a champagne bottle, and lifting the broken +neck to his lips drained the foaming wine, which spilled in white froth +upon his clothes. His face was red in the firelight, and when he spoke his +words rolled like marbles from his tongue. Dan, looking at him, felt a +curious conviction that the man had not gone near enough to the guns to +smell the powder. + +"Wall, it may be so, but I ain't seed you," returned the first speaker, +contemptuously, as he stroked his bandage. "I was thar all day and I ain't +seed you raise no special dust." + +"Oh, I ain't claimin' nothin' special," put in the other, discomfited. + +"Six is a good many, I reckon," drawled the wounded man, reflectively, "and +I ain't sayin' I settled six on 'em hand to hand--I ain't sayin' that." He +spoke with conscious modesty, as if the smallness of his assertion was +equalled only by the greatness of his achievements. "I ain't sayin' I +settled more'n three on 'em, I reckon." + +Dan left the group and went on slowly across the field, now and then +stumbling upon a sleeper who lay prone upon the trodden clover, obscured by +the heavy dusk. The mass of the army was still somewhere on the long +road--only the exhausted, the sickened, or the unambitious drifted back to +fall asleep upon the uncovered ground. + +As Dan crossed the meadow he drew near to a knot of men from a Kentucky +regiment, gathered in the light of a small wood fire, and recognizing one +of them, he stopped to inquire for news of his missing friends. + +"Oh, you wouldn't know your sweetheart on a night like this," replied the +man he knew--a big handsome fellow, with a peculiar richness of voice. +"Find a hole, Montjoy, and go to sleep in it, that's my advice. Were you +much cut up?" + +"I don't know," answered Dan, uneasily. "I'm trying to make sure that we +were not. I lost the others somewhere on the road--a horse knocked me +down." + +"Well, if this is to be the last battle, I shouldn't mind a scratch +myself," put in a voice from the darkness, "even if it's nothing more than +a bruise from a horse's hoof. By the bye, Montjoy, did you see the way +Stuart rode down the Zouaves? I declare the slope looked like a field of +poppies in full bloom. Your cousin was in that charge, I believe, and he +came out whole. I saw him afterwards." + +"Oh, the cavalry gets the best of everything," said Dan, with a sigh, and +he was passing on, when Jack Powell, coming out of the darkness, stumbled +against him, and broke into a delighted laugh. + +"Why, bless my soul, Beau, I thought you'd run after the fleshpots of +Washington!" His face was flushed with excitement and the soft curls upon +his forehead were wet and dark. Around his mouth there was a black stain +from bitten cartridges. "By George, it was a jolly day, wasn't it, old +man?" he added warmly. + +"Where are the others?" asked Dan, grasping his arm in an almost frantic +pressure. + +"The others? they're all right--all except poor Welch, who got a ball in +his thigh, you know. Did you see him when he was taken off the field? He +laughed as he passed me and shouted back that he 'was always willing to +spare a leg or two to the cause!'" + +"Where are you off to?" inquired Dan, still grasping his arm. + +"I? oh, I'm on the scent of water. I haven't learned to sleep dirty yet, +which Bland says is a sign I'm no soldier. By the way, your darky, Big +Abel, has a coffee-boiler over yonder in the fence corner. He's been +tearing his wool out over your absence; you'd better ease his mind." With a +laugh and a wave of his hand, he plunged into the darkness, and Dan made +his way slowly to the campfire, which twinkled from the old rail fence. As +he groped toward it curses sprang up like mustard from the earth beneath. +"Get off my leg, and be damned," growled a voice under his feet. "Oh, this +here ain't no pesky jedgment day," exclaimed another just ahead. Without +answering he stepped over the dark bodies, and, ten minutes later, came +upon Big Abel waiting patiently beside the dying fire. + +At sight of him the negro leaped, with a shout, to his feet; then, +recovering himself, hid his joy beneath an accusing mask. + +"Dis yer coffee hit's done 'mos' bile away," he remarked gloomily. "En ef'n +it don' tase like hit oughter tase, 'tain' no use ter tu'n up yo' nose, +caze 'tain' de faul' er de coffee, ner de faul' er me nurr." + +"How are you, old man?" asked Bland, turning over in the shadow. + +"Who's there?" responded Dan, as he peered from the light into the +obscurity. + +"All the mess except Welch, poor devil. Baker got his hair singed by our +rear line, and he says he thinks it's safer to mix with the Yankees next +time. Somebody behind him shot his cowlick clean off." + +"Cowlick, the mischief!" retorted Baker, witheringly. "Why, my scalp is as +bald as your hand. The fool shaved me like a barber." + +"It's a pity he didn't aim at your whiskers," was Dan's rejoinder. "The +chief thing I've got against this war is that when it's over there won't be +a smooth-shaven man in the South." + +"Oh, we'll stand them up before our rear line," suggested Baker, moodily. +"You may laugh, Bland, but you wouldn't like it yourself, and if they keep +up their precious marksmanship your turn will come yet. We'll be a regiment +of baldheads before Christmas." + +Dan sat down upon the blanket Big Abel had spread and leaned heavily upon +his knapsack, which the negro had picked up on the roadside. A nervous +chill had come over him and he was shaking with icy starts from head to +foot. Big Abel brought a cup of coffee, and as he took it from him, his +hand quivered so that he set the cup upon the ground; then he lifted it and +drank the hot coffee in long draughts. + +"I should have lost my very identity but for you, Big Abel," he observed +gratefully, as he glanced round at the property the negro had protected. + +Big Abel leaned forward and stirred the ashes with a small stick. + +"En I done fit fer 'em, suh," he replied. "I des tell you all de fittin' +ain' been over yonder on dat ar hill caze I'se done fit right yer in dis +yer fence conder, en I ain' fit de Yankees nurr. Lawd, Lawd, dese yer folks +es is been a-sniffin' roun' my pile all day, ain' de kinder folks I'se used +ter, caze my folks dey don' steal w'at don' b'long ter 'em, en dese yer +folks dey do. Ole Marster steal? Huh! he 'ouldn't even tech a chicken dat +'uz roos'in in his own yard. But dese yer sodgers!--Why, you cyarn tu'n yo' +eye a splinter off de vittles fo' dey's done got 'em. Dey poke dey han's +right spang in de fire en eat de ashes en all." + +He went off grumbling to lie down at a little distance, and Dan sat +thoughtfully looking into the smouldering fire. Bland and Baker, having +heatedly discussed the details of the victory, had at last drifted into +silence; only Pinetop was awake--this he learned from the odour of the +corncob pipe which floated from a sheltered corner. + +"Come over, Pinetop," called Dan, cordially, "and let's make ready for the +pursuit to-morrow. Why, to-morrow we may eat a civilized dinner in +Washington--think of that!" + +He spoke excitedly, for he was still quivering from the tumult of his +thoughts. There was no sleep possible for him just now; his limbs twitched +restlessly, and he felt the prick of strong emotion in his blood. + +"I say, Pinetop, what do you think of the fight?" he asked with an +embarrassed boyish eagerness. In the faint light of the fire his eyes +burned like coals and there was a thick black stain around his mouth. The +hand in which he had held his ramrod was of a dark rust colour, as if the +stain of the battle had seared into the skin. A smell of hot powder still +hung about his clothes. + +The mountaineer left the shadow of the fence corner and slowly dragged +himself into the little glow, where he sat puffing at his corncob pipe. He +gave an easy, sociable nod and stared silently at the embers. + +"Was it just what you imagined it would be?" went on Dan, curiously. + +Pinetop took his pipe from his mouth and nodded again. "Wall, 'twas and +'twan't," he answered pleasantly. + +"I must say it made me sick," admitted Dan, leaning his head in his hand. +"I've always been a fool about the smell of blood; and it made me downright +sick." + +"Wall, I ain't got much of a stomach for a fight myself," returned Pinetop, +reflectively. "You see I ain't never fought anythin' bigger'n a skunk until +to-day; and when I stood out thar with them bullets sizzlin' like fryin' +pans round my head, I kind of says to myself: 'Look here, what's all this +fuss about anyhow? If these here folks have come arter the niggers, let 'em +take 'em off and welcome.' I ain't never owned a nigger in my life, and, +what's more, I ain't never seen one that's worth owning. 'Let 'em take 'em +and welcome,' that's what I said. Bless your life, as I stood out thar I +didn't see how I was goin' to fire my musket, till all of a jiffy a thought +jest jumped into my head and sent me bangin' down that hill. 'Them folks +have set thar feet on ole Virginny,' was what I thought 'They've set thar +feet on ole Virginny, and they've got to take 'em off damn quick!'" + +His teeth closed over his pipe as if it were a cartridge; then, after a +silent moment, he opened his mouth and spoke again. + +"What I can't make out for the life of me," he said, "is how those boys +from the other states gave thar licks so sharp. If I'd been born across the +line in Tennessee, I wouldn't have fired my musket off to-day. They wan't +a-settin' thar feet on Tennessee. But ole Virginny--wall, I've got a +powerful fancy for ole Virginny, and they ain't goin' to project with her +dust, if I can stand between." He turned away, and, emptying his pipe, +rolled over upon the ground. + +Dan lay down upon the blanket, and, with his hand upon his knapsack, gazed +at the small red ember burning amid the ashes. When the last spark faded +into blackness it was as if his thoughts went groping for a light. Sleep +came fitfully in flights and pauses, in broken dreams and brief awakenings. +Losing himself at last it was only to return to the woods at Chericoke and +to see Betty coming to him among the dim blue bodies of the trees. He saw +the faint sunshine falling upon her head and the stir of the young leaves +above her as a light wind passed. Under her feet the grass was studded with +violets, and the bonnet swinging from her arm was filled with purple +blossoms. She came on steadily over the path of grass and violets, but when +he reached out to touch her a great shame fell over him for there was blood +upon his hand. + +There was something cold in his face, and he emerged slowly from his sleep +into the consciousness of dawn and a heavy rain. The swollen clouds hung +close above the hills, and the distance was obscured by the gray sheets of +water which fell like a curtain from heaven to earth. Near by a wagon had +drawn up in the night, and he saw that a group of half-drenched privates +had already taken shelter between the wheels. Gathering up his oilcloth, he +hastily formed a tent with the aid of a deep fence corner, and, when he had +drawn his blanket across the opening, sat partly protected from the shower. +As the damp air blew into his face, he became quickly and clearly awake, +and it was with the glimmer of a smile that he looked over the wet meadow +and the sleeping regiments. Then a shudder followed, for he saw in the +lines of gray men stretched beneath the rain some likeness to that other +field beyond the hill where the dead were still lying, row on row. He saw +them stark and cold on the scorched grass beside the guns, or in the thin +ridges of trampled corn, where the gay young tassels were now storm-beaten +upon the ripped-up earth. He saw them as he had seen them the evening +before--not in the glow of battle, but with the acuteness of a brooding +sympathy--saw them frowning, smiling, and with features which death had +twisted into a ghastly grin. They were all there--each man with open eyes +and stiff hands grasping the clothes above his wound. + +But to Dan, sitting in the gray dawn in the fence corner, the first horror +faded quickly into an emotion almost triumphant. The great field was +silent, reproachful, filled with accusing eyes--but was it not filled with +glory, too? He was young, and his weakened pulses quickened at the thought. +Since men must die, where was a brighter death than to fall beneath the +flutter of the colours, with the thunder of the cannon in one's ears? He +knew now why his fathers had loved a fight, had loved the glitter of the +bayonets and the savage smell of the discoloured earth. + +For a moment the old racial spirit flashed above the peculiar sensitiveness +which had come to him from his childhood and his suffering mother; then the +flame went out and the rows of dead men stared at him through the falling +rain in the deserted field. + + + + +V + +THE WOMAN'S PART + + +At sunrise on the morning of the battle Betty and Virginia, from the +whitewashed porch of a little railway inn near Manassas, watched the +Governor's regiment as it marched down the single street and into the red +clay road. Through the first faint sunshine, growing deeper as the sun rose +gloriously above the hills, there sounded a peculiar freshness in the +martial music as it triumphantly floated back across the fields. To Betty +it almost seemed that the drums were laughing as they went to battle; and +when the gay air at last faded in the distance, the silence closed about +her with a strangeness she had never felt before--as if the absence of +sound was grown melancholy, like the absence of light. + +She shut her eyes and brought back the long gray line passing across the +sunbeams: the tanned eager faces, the waving flags, the rapid, almost +impatient tread of the men as they swung onward. A laugh had run along the +column as it went by her and she had smiled in quick sympathy with some +foolish jest. It was all so natural to her, the gayety and the ardour and +the invincible dash of the young army--it was all so like the spirit of Dan +and so dear to her because of the likeness. + +Somewhere--not far away, she knew--he also was stepping briskly across the +first sun rays, and her heart followed him even while she smiled down upon +the regiment before her. It was as if her soul were suddenly freed from her +bodily presence, and in a kind of dual consciousness she seemed to be +standing upon the little whitewashed porch and walking onward beside Dan at +the same moment. The wonder of it glowed in her rapt face, and Virginia, +turning to put some trivial question, was startled by the passion of her +look. + +"Have--have you seen--some one, Betty?" she whispered. + +The charm was snapped and Betty fell back into time and place. + +"Oh, yes, I have seen--some one," her voice thrilled as she spoke. "I saw +him as clearly as I see you; he was all in sunshine and there was a flag +close above his head. He looked up and smiled at me. Yes, I saw him! I saw +him!" + +"It was Dan," said Virginia--not as a question, but in a wondering assent. +"Why, Betty, I thought you had forgotten Dan--papa thought so, too." + +"Forgotten!" exclaimed Betty scornfully. She fell away from the crowd and +Virginia followed her. The two stood leaning against the whitewashed wall +in the dust that still rose from the street. "So you thought I had +forgotten him," said Betty again. She raised her hand to her bosom and +crushed the lace upon her dress. "Well, you were wrong," she added quietly. + +Virginia looked at her and smiled. "I am almost glad," she answered in her +sweet girlish voice. "I don't like to have Dan forgotten even if--if he +ought to be." + +"I didn't love him because he ought to be loved," said Betty. "I loved him +because I couldn't help it--because he was himself and I was myself, I +suppose. I was born to love him, and to stop loving him I should have to be +born again. I don't care what he does--I don't care what he is even--I +would rather love him than--than be a queen." She held her hands tightly +together. "I would be his servant if he would let me," she went on. "I +would work for him like a slave--but he won't let me. And yet he does love +me just the same--just the same." + +"He does--he does," admitted Virginia softly. She had never seen Betty like +this before, and she felt that her sister had become suddenly very strange +and very sacred. Her hands were outstretched to comfort, but Betty turned +gently away from her and went up the narrow staircase to the bare little +room where the girls slept together. + +Alone within the four white walls she moved breathlessly to and fro like a +woodland creature that has been entrapped. At the moment she was telling +herself that she wanted to keep onward with the army; then her courage +would have fluttered upward like the flags. It was not the sound of the +cannon that she dreaded, nor the sight of blood--these would have nerved +her as they nerved the generations at her back--but the folded hands and +the terrible patience that are the woman's share of a war. The old fighting +blood was in her veins--she was as much the child of her father as a son +could have been--and yet while the great world over there was filled with +noise she was told to go into her room and pray. Pray! Why, a man might +pray with his musket in his hand, that was worth while. + +In the adjoining room she saw her mother sitting in a square of sunlight +with her open Bible on her knees. + +"Oh, speak, mamma!" she called half angrily. "Move, do anything but sit so +still. I can't bear it!" She caught her breath sharply, for with her words +a low sound like distant thunder filled the room and the little street +outside. As she clung with both hands to the window it seemed to her that a +gray haze had fallen over the sunny valley. "Some one is dead," she said +almost calmly, "that killed how many?" + +The room stifled her and she ran hurriedly down into the street, where a +few startled women and old men had rushed at the first roll of the cannon. +As she stood among them, straining her eyes from end to end of the little +village, her heart beat in her throat and she could only quaver out an +appeal for news. + +"Where is it? Doesn't any one know anything? What does it mean?" + +"It means a battle, Miss, that's one thing," remarked on obliging +by-stander who leaned heavily upon a wooden leg. "Bless you, I kin a'most +taste the powder." He smacked his lips and spat into the dust. "To think +that I went all the way down to Mexico fur a fight," he pursued +regretfully, "when I could have set right here at home and had it all in +old Virginny. Well, well, that comes of hurryin' the Lord afo' he's ready." + +He rambled on excitedly, but Betty, frowning with impatience, turned from +him and walked rapidly up and down the single street, where the voices of +the guns growled through the muffling distance. "That killed how many? how +many?" she would say at each long roll, and again, "How many died that +moment, and was one Dan?" + +Up and down the little village, through the heavy sunshine and the white +dust, among the whimpering women and old men, she walked until the day wore +on and the shadows grew longer across the street. Once a man had come with +the news of a sharp repulse, and in the early afternoon a deserter +straggled in with the cry that the enemy was marching upon the village. It +was not until the night had fallen, when the wounded began to arrive on +baggage trains, that the story of the day was told, and a single shout went +up from the waiting groups. The Confederacy was established! Washington was +theirs by right of arms, and tomorrow the young army would dictate terms of +peace to a great nation! The flags waved, women wept, and the wounded +soldiers, as they rolled in on baggage cars, were hailed as the deliverers +of a people. The new Confederacy! An emotion half romantic, half maternal +filled Betty as she bent above an open wound--for it was in her blood to do +battle to the death for a belief, to throw herself into a cause as into the +arms of a lover. She was made of the stuff of soldiers, and come what might +she would always take her stand upon her people's side. + +There were cheers and sobs in the little street about her; in the distance +a man was shouting for the flag, and nearer by a woman with a lantern in +her hand was searching among the living for her dead. The joy and the +anguish of it entered into the girl like wine. She felt her pulses leap and +a vigour that was not her own nerved her from head to foot. With that power +of ardent sacrifice which lies beneath all shams in the Southern heart, she +told herself that no endurance was too great, no hope too large with which +to serve the cause. + +The exaltation was still with her when, a little later, she went up to her +room and knelt down to thank God. Her people's simple faith was hers also, +and as she prayed with her brow on her clasped hands it was as if she gave +thanks to some great warrior who had drawn his sword in defence of the land +she loved. God was on her side, supreme, beneficent, watchful in little +things, as He has been on the side of all fervent hearts since the +beginning of time. + +But after her return to Uplands in midsummer she suffered a peculiar +restlessness from the tranquil August weather. The long white road +irritated her with its aspect of listless patience, and at times she wanted +to push back the crowding hills and leave the horizon open to her view. +When a squadron of cavalry swept along the turnpike her heart would follow +it like a bird while she leaned, with straining eyes, against a great white +column. Then, as the last rider was blotted out into the landscape, she +would clasp her hands and walk rapidly up and down between the lilacs. It +was all waiting--waiting--waiting--nothing else. + +"Something must happen, mamma, or I shall go mad," she said one day, +breaking in upon Mrs. Ambler as she sorted a heap of old letters in the +library. + +"But what? What?" asked Virginia from the shadow of the window seat. +"Surely you don't want a battle, Betty?" + +Mrs. Ambler shuddered. + +"Don't tempt Providence, dear," she said seriously, untying a faded ribbon +about a piece of old parchment. "Be grateful for just this calm and go out +for a walk. You might take this pitcher of flaxseed tea to Floretta's +cabin, if you've nothing else to do. Ask how the baby is to-day, and tell +her to keep the red flannel warm on its chest." + +Betty went into the hall after her bonnet and came back for the pitcher. +"I'm going to walk across the fields to Chericoke," she said, "and Hosea is +to bring the carriage for me about sunset. We must have some white silk to +make those flags out of, and there isn't a bit in the house." + +She went out, stepping slowly in her wide skirts and holding the pitcher +carefully before her. + +Floretta's baby was sleeping, and after a few pleasant words the girl kept +on to Chericoke. There she found that the Major had gone to town for news, +leaving Mrs. Lightfoot to her pickle making in the big storeroom, where the +earthenware jars stood in clean brown rows upon the shelves. The air was +sharp with the smell of vinegar and spices, and fragrant moisture dripped +from the old lady's delicate hands. At the moment she had forgotten the war +just beyond her doors, and even the vacant places in her household; her +nervous flutter was caused by finding the plucked corn too large to salt. + +"Come in, child, come in," she said, as Betty appeared in the doorway. +"You're too good a housekeeper to mind the smell of brine." + +"How the soldiers will enjoy it," laughed Betty in reply. "It's fortunate +that both sides are fond of spices." + +The old lady was tying a linen cloth over the mouth of a great brown jar, +and she did not look up as she answered. "I'm not consulting their tastes, +my dear, though, as for that, I'm willing enough to feast our own men so +long as the Yankees keep away. This jar, by the bye, is filled with +'Confederate pickle'--it was as little as I could do to compliment the +Government, I thought, and the green tomato catchup I've named in honour of +General Beauregard." + +Betty smiled; and then, while Mrs. Lightfoot stood sharply regarding +Car'line, who was shucking a tray of young corn, she timidly began upon her +mission. "The flags must be finished, and I can't find the silk," she +pleaded. "Isn't there a scrap in the house I may have? Let me look about +the attic." + +The old lady shook her head. "I haven't allowed anybody to set foot in my +attic for forty years," she replied decisively. "Why, I'd almost as soon +they'd step into my grandfather's vault." Then as Betty's face fell she +added generously. "As for white silk, I haven't any except my wedding +dress, and that's yellow with age; but you may take it if you want it. I'm +sure it couldn't come to a better end; at least it will have been to the +front upon two important occasions." + +"Your wedding dress!" exclaimed Betty in surprise, "oh, how could you?" + +Mrs. Lightfoot smiled grimly. + +"I could give more than a wedding dress if the Confederacy called for it, +my dear," she answered. "Indeed, I'm not perfectly sure that I couldn't +give the Major himself--but go upstairs and wait for me while I send +Car'line for the keys." + +She returned to the storeroom, and Betty went upstairs to wander leisurely +through the cool faintly lighted chambers. They were all newly swept and +scented with lavender, and the high tester beds, with their slender fluted +posts, looked as if they had stood spotless and untouched for generations. +In Dan's room, which had been his mother's also, the girl walked slowly up +and down, meeting, as she passed, her own eyes in the darkened mirror. Her +mind fretted with the thought that Dan's image had risen so often in the +glass, and yet had left no hint for her as she looked in now. If it had +only caught and held his reflection, that blank mirror, she could have +found it, she felt sure, though a dozen faces had passed by since. Was +there nothing left of him, she wondered, nothing in the place where he had +lived his life? She turned to the bed and picked up, one by one, the +scattered books upon the little table. Among them there was a copy of the +"Morte d'Arthur," and as it fell open in her hand, she found a bit of her +own blue ribbon between the faded leaves. A tremor ran through her limbs, +and going to the window she placed the book upon the sill and read the +words aloud in the fragrant stillness. Behind her in the dim room Dan +seemed to rise as suddenly as a ghost--and that high-flown chivalry of his, +which delighted in sounding phrases as in heroic virtues, was loosened from +the leaves of the old romance. + +"For there was never worshipful man nor worshipful woman but they loved one +better than another, and worship in arms may never be foiled; but first +reserve the honour to God, and secondly the quarrel must come of thy lady; +and such love I call virtuous love." + +She leaned her cheek upon the book and looked out dreamily into the green +box mazes of the garden. In the midst of war a great peace had come to her, +and the quiet summer weather no longer troubled her with its unbroken calm. +Her heart had grown suddenly strong again; even the long waiting had become +but a fit service for her love. + +There was a step in the hall and Mrs. Lightfoot rustled in with her wedding +dress. + +"You may take it and welcome, child," she said, as she gave it into Betty's +arms. "I can't help feeling that there was something providential in my +selecting white when my taste always leaned toward a peach-blow brocade. +Well, well, who would have believed that I was buying a flag as well as a +frock? If I'd even hinted such a thing, they would have said I had the +vapours." + +Betty accepted the gift with her pretty effusion of manner, and went +downstairs to where Hosea was waiting for her with the big carriage. As she +drove home in a happy revery, her eyes dwelt contentedly on the sunburnt +August fields, and the thought of war did not enter in to disturb her +dreams. + +Once a line of Confederate cavalrymen rode by at a gallop and saluted her +as her face showed at the window. They were strangers to her, but with the +peculiar feeling of kinship which united the people of the South, she +leaned out to wish them "God speed" as she waved her handkerchief. + +When, a little later, she turned into the drive at Uplands, it was to find, +from the prints upon the gravel, that the soldiers had been there before +her. Beyond the Doric columns she caught a glimpse of a gray sleeve, and +for a single instant a wild hope shot up within her heart. Then as the +carriage stopped, and she sprang quickly to the ground, the man in gray +came out upon the portico, and she saw that it was Jack Morson. + +"I've come for Virginia, Betty," he began impulsively, as he took her hand, +"and she promises to marry me before the battle." + +Betty laughed with trembling lips. "And here is the dress," she said gayly, +holding out the yellowed silk. + + + + +VI + +ON THE ROAD TO ROMNEY + + +After a peaceful Christmas, New Year's Day rose bright and mild, and Dan as +he started from Winchester with the column felt that he was escaping to +freedom from the tedious duties of camp life. + +"Thank God we're on the war-path again," he remarked to Pinetop, who was +stalking at his side. The two had become close friends during the dull +weeks after their first battle, and Bland, who had brought a taste for the +classics from the lecture-room, had already referred to them in pointless +jokes as "Pylades and Orestes." + +"It looks mighty like summer," responded Pinetop cheerfully. He threw a +keen glance up into the blue clouds, and then sniffed suspiciously at the +dust that rose high in the road. "But I ain't one to put much faith in +looks," he added with his usual caution, as he shifted the knapsack upon +his shoulders. + +Dan laughed easily. "Well, I'm heartily glad I left my overcoat behind me," +he said, breathing hard as he climbed the mountain road, where the red clay +had stiffened into channels. + +The sunshine fell brightly over them, lying in golden drops upon the fallen +leaves. To Dan the march brought back the early winter rides at Chericoke, +and the chain of lights and shadows that ran on clear days over the tavern +road. Joyously throwing back his head, he whistled a love song as he +tramped up the mountain side. The irksome summer, with its slow fevers and +its sharp attacks of measles, its scarcity of pure water and supplies of +half-cooked food, was suddenly blotted from his thoughts, and his first +romantic ardour returned to him in long draughts of wind and sun. After +each depression his elastic temperament had sprung upward; the past months +had but strengthened him in body as in mind. + +In the afternoon a gray cloud came up suddenly and the sunshine, after a +feeble struggle, was driven from the mountains. As the wind blew in short +gusts down the steep road, Dan tightened his coat and looked at Pinetop's +knapsack with his unfailing laugh. + +"That's beginning to look comfortable. I hope to heaven the wagons aren't +far off." + +Pinetop turned and glanced back into the valley. "I'll be blessed if I +believe they're anywhere," was his answer. + +"Well, if they aren't, I'll be somewhere before morning; why, it feels like +snow." + +A gust of wind, sharp as a blade, struck from the gray sky, and whirlpools +of dead leaves were swept into the forest. Falling silent, Dan swung his +arms to quicken the current of his blood, and walked on more rapidly. Over +the long column gloom had settled with the clouds, and they were brave lips +that offered a jest in the teeth of the wind. There were no blankets, few +overcoats, and fewer rations, and the supply wagons were crawling somewhere +in the valley. + +The day wore on, and still the rough country road climbed upward embedded +in withered leaves. On the high wind came the first flakes of a snowstorm, +followed by a fine rain that enveloped the hills like mist. As Dan stumbled +on, his feet slipped on the wet clay, and he was forced to catch at the +bared saplings for support. The cold had entered his lungs as a knife, and +his breath circled in a little cloud about his mouth. Through the storm he +heard the quick oaths of his companions ring out like distant shots. + +When night fell they halted to bivouac by the roadside, and until daybreak +the pine woods were filled with the cheerful glow of the campfires. There +were no rations, and Dan, making a jest of his hunger, had stretched +himself in the full light of the crackling branches. With the defiant +humour which had made him the favourite of the mess, he laughed at the +frozen roads, at the change in the wind, at his own struggles with the wet +kindling wood, at the supply wagons creeping slowly after them. His courage +had all the gayety of his passions--it showed itself in a smile, in a +whistle, in the steady hand with which he played toss and catch with fate. +The superb silence of Pinetop, plodding evenly along, was as far removed +from him as the lofty grandeur of the mountains. A jest warmed his heart +against the cold; with set lips and grave eyes, he would have fallen before +the next ridge was crossed. + +Through the woods other fires were burning, and long reddish shadows crept +among the pine trees over the rotting mould. For warmth Dan had spread a +covering of dried leaves over him, raking them from sheltered corners of +the forest. When he rose from time to time during the night to take his +turn at replenishing the fire the leaves drifted in gravelike mounds about +his feet. + +For three days the march was steadily upward over long ridges coated deep +with ice. In the face of the strong wind, which blew always down the steep +road, the army passed on, complaining, cursing, asking a gigantic question +of its General. Among the raw soldiers there had been desertions by the +dozen, filling the streets of the little town with frost-bitten +malcontents. "It was all a wild goose chase," they declared bitterly, "and +if Old Jack wasn't a March hare--well, he was something madder!" + +Dan listened to the curses with his ready smile, and walked on bravely. +Since the first evening he had uttered no complaint, asked no question. He +had undertaken to march, and he meant to march, that was all. In the front +with which he veiled his suffering there was no lessening of his old +careless confidence--if his dash had hardened into endurance it wore still +an expression that was almost debonair. + +So as the column straggled weakly upward, he wrung his stiffened fingers +and joked with Jack Powell, who stumbled after him. The cold had brought a +glow to his tanned face, and when he lifted his eyes from the road Pinetop +saw that they were shining brightly. Once he slipped on the frozen mud, and +as his musket dropped from his hand, it went off sharply, the load entering +the ground. + +"Are you hurt?" asked Jack, springing toward him; but Dan looked round +laughing as he clasped his knee. + +"Oh, I merely groaned because I might have been," he said lightly, and +limped on, singing a bit of doggerel which had taken possession of his +regiment. + + "Then let the Yanks say what they will, + We'll be gay and happy still; + Gay and happy, gay and happy, + We'll be gay and happy still." + +On the third day out they reached a little village in the mountains, but +before the week's end they had pushed on again, and the white roads still +stretched before them. As they went higher the tracks grew steeper, and now +and then a musket shot rang out on the roadside as a man lost his footing +and went down upon the ice. Behind them the wagon train crept inch by inch, +or waited patiently for hours while a wheel was hoisted from the ditch +beside the road. There was blood on the muzzles of the horses and on the +shining ice that stretched beyond them. + +To Dan these terrible days were as the anguish of a new birth, in which the +thing to be born suffered the conscious throes of awakening life. He could +never be the same again; something was altered in him forever; this he felt +dimly as he dragged his aching body onward. Days like these would prove the +stuff that had gone into the making of him. When the march to Romney lay +behind him he should know himself to be either a soldier or a coward. A +soldier or a coward! he said the words over again as he struggled to keep +down the pangs of hunger, telling himself that the road led not merely to +Romney, but to a greater victory than his General dreamed of. Romney might +be worthless, after all, the grim march but a mad prank of Jackson's, as +men said; but whether to lay down one's arms or to struggle till the end +was reached, this was the question asked by those stern mountains. Nature +stood ranged against him--he fought it step by step, and day by day. + +At times something like delirium seized him, and he went on blindly, +stepping high above the ice. For hours he was tortured by the longing for +raw beef, for the fresh blood that would put heat into his veins. The +kitchen at Chericoke flamed upon the hillside, as he remembered it on +winter evenings when the great chimney was filled with light and the crane +was in its place above the hickory. The smell of newly baked bread floated +in his nostrils, and for a little while he believed himself to be lying +again upon the hearth as he thrilled at Aunt Rhody's stories. Then his +fancies would take other shapes, and warm colours would glow in red and +yellow circles before his eyes. When he thought of Betty now it was no +longer tenderly but with a despairing passion. He was haunted less by her +visible image than by broken dreams of her peculiar womanly beauties--of +her soft hands and the warmth of her girlish bosom. + +But from the first day to the last he had no thought of yielding; and each +feeble step had sent him a step farther upon the road. He had often fallen, +but he had always struggled up again and laughed. Once he made a ghastly +joke about his dying in the snow, and Jack Powell turned upon him with an +oath and bade him to be silent. + +"For God's sake don't," added the boy weakly, and fell to whimpering like +a child. + +"Oh, go home to your mother," retorted Dan, with a kind of desperate +cruelty. + +Jack sobbed outright. + +"I wish I could," he answered, and dropped over upon the roadside. + +Dan caught him up, and poured his last spoonful of brandy down his throat, +then he seized his arm and dragged him bodily along. + +"Oh, I say don't be an ass," he implored. "Here comes old Stonewall." + +The commanding General rode by, glanced quietly over them, and passed on, +his chest bowed, his cadet cap pulled down over his eyes. A moment later +Dan, looking over the hillside, at the winding road, saw him dismount and +put his shoulder to a sunken wheel. The sight suddenly nerved the younger +man, and he went on quickly, dragging Jack up with him. + +That night they rested in a burned-out clearing where the pine trees had +been felled for fence rails. The rails went readily to fires, and Pinetop +fried strips of fat bacon in the skillet he had brought upon his musket. +Somebody produced a handful of coffee from his pocket, and a little later +Dan, dozing beside the flames, was awakened by the aroma. + +"By George!" he burst out, and sat up speechless. + +Pinetop was mixing thin cornmeal paste into the gravy, and he looked up as +he stirred busily with a small stick. + +"Wall, I reckon these here slapjacks air about done," he remarked in a +moment, adding with a glance at Dan, "and if your stomach's near as empty +as your eyes, I reckon your turn comes first." + +"I reckon it does," said Dan, and filling his tin cup, he drank scalding +coffee in short gulps. When he had finished it, he piled fresh rails upon +the fire and lay down to sleep with his feet against the embers. + +With the earliest dawn a long shiver woke him, and as he put out his hand +it touched something wet and cold. The fire had died to a red heart, and a +thick blanket of snow covered him from head to foot. Straight above there +was a pale yellow light where the stars shone dimly after the storm. + +He started to his feet, rubbing a handful of snow upon his face. The red +embers, sheltered by the body of a solitary pine, still glowed under the +charred brushwood, and kneeling upon the ground, he fanned them into a +feeble blaze. Then he laid the rails crosswise, protecting them with his +blanket until they caught and flamed up against the blackened pine. + +Near by Jack Powell was moaning in his sleep, and Dan leaned over to shake +him into consciousness. "Oh, damn it all, wake up, you fool!" he said +roughly, but Jack rolled over like one drugged and broke into frightened +whimpers such as a child makes in the dark. He was dreaming of home, and as +Dan listened to the half-choked words, his face contracted sharply. "Wake +up, you fool!" he repeated angrily, rolling him back and forth before the +fire. + +A little later, when Jack had grown warm beneath his touch, he threw a +blanket over him, and turned to lie down in his own place. As he tossed a +last armful on the fire, his eyes roamed over the long mounds of snow that +filled the clearing, and he caught his breath as a man might who had waked +suddenly among the dead. In the beginning of dawn, with the glimmer of +smouldering fires reddening the snow, there was something almost ghastly in +the sloping field filled with white graves and surrounded by white +mountains. Even the wintry sky borrowed, for an hour, the spectral aspect +of the earth, and the familiar shapes of cloud, as of hill, stood out with +all the majesty of uncovered laws--stripped of the mere frivolous effect of +light or shade. It was like the first day--or the last. + +Dan, sitting watchful beside the fire, fell into the peculiar mental state +which comes only after an inward struggle that has laid bare the sinews of +one's life. He had fought the good fight to the end, and he knew that from +this day he should go easier with himself because he knew that he had +conquered. + +The old doubt--the old distrust of his own strength--was fallen from him. +At the moment he could have gone to Betty, fearless and full of hope, and +have said, "Come, for I am grown up at last--at last I have grown up to my +love." A great tenderness was in his heart, and the tears, which had not +risen for all the bodily suffering of the past two weeks, came slowly to +his eyes. The purpose of life seemed suddenly clear to him, and the large +patience of the sky passed into his own nature as he sat facing the white +dawn. At rare intervals in the lives of all strenuous souls there comes +this sense of kinship with external things--this passionate recognition of +the appeal of the dumb world. Sky and mountains and the white sweep of the +fields awoke in him the peculiar tenderness he had always felt for animals +or plants. His old childish petulance was gone from him forever; in its +place he was aware of a kindly tolerance which softened even the common +outlines of his daily life. It was as if he had awakened breathlessly to +find himself a man. + +And Betty came to him again--not in detached visions, but entire and +womanly. When he remembered her as on that last night at Chericoke it was +with the impulse to fall down and kiss her feet. Reckless and blind with +anger as he had been, she would have come cheerfully with him wherever his +road led; and it was this passionate betrayal of herself that had taught +him the full measure of her love. An attempt to trifle, to waver, to +bargain with the future, he might have looked back upon with tender scorn; +but the gesture with which she had made her choice was as desperate as his +own mood--and it was for this one reckless moment that he loved her best. + +The east paled slowly as the day broke in a cloud, and the long shadows +beside the fire lost their reddish glimmer. A little bird, dazed by the +cold and the strange light, flew into the smoke against the stunted pine, +and fell, a wet ball of feathers at Dan's feet. He picked it up, warmed it +in his coat, and fed it from the loose crumbs in his pocket. + +When Pinetop awoke he was gently stroking the bird while he sang in a low +voice:-- + + "Gay and happy, gay and happy, + We'll be gay and happy still." + + + + +VII + +"I WAIT MY TIME" + + +When he returned to Winchester it was to find Virginia already there as +Jack Morson's wife. Since her marriage in late summer she had followed her +husband's regiment from place to place, drifting at last to a big yellow +house on the edge of the fiery little town. Dan, passing along the street +one day, heard his name called in a familiar voice, and turned to find her +looking at him through the network of a tall, wrought-iron gate. + +"Virginia! Bless my soul! Where's Betty?" he exclaimed amazed. + +Virginia left the gate and gave him her hand over the dried creepers on the +wall. + +"Why, you look ten years older," was her response. + +"Indeed! Well, two years of beggary, to say nothing of eight months of war, +isn't just the thing to insure immortal youth, is it? You see, I'm turning +gray." + +The pallor of the long march was in his face, giving him a striking though +unnatural beauty. His eyes were heavy and his hair hung dishevelled about +his brow, but the change went deeper still, and the girl saw it. "You're +bigger--that's it," she said, and added impulsively, "Oh, how I wish Betty +could see you now." + +Her hand was upon the wall and he gave it a quick, pleased pressure. + +"I wish to heaven she could," he echoed heartily. + +"But I shall tell her everything when I write--everything. I shall tell her +that you are taller and stronger and that you have been in all the fights +and haven't a scar to show. Betty loves scars, you see, and she doesn't +mind even wounds--real wounds. She wanted to go into the hospitals, but I +came away and mamma wouldn't let her." + +"For God's sake, don't let her," said Dan, with a shudder, his Southern +instincts recoiling from the thought of service for the woman he loved. +"There are a plenty of them in the hospitals and it's no place for Betty, +anyway." + +"I'll tell her you think so," returned Virginia, gayly. "I'll tell her +that--and what else?" + +He met her eyes smiling. + +"Tell her I wait my time," he answered, and began to talk lightly of other +things. Virginia followed his lead with her old shy merriment. Her marriage +had changed her but little, though she had grown a trifle stately, he +thought, and her coquetry had dropped from her like a veil. As she stood +there in her delicate lace cap and soft gray silk, the likeness to her +mother was very marked, and looking into the future, Dan seemed to see her +beauty ripen and expand with her growing womanhood. How many of her race +had there been, he wondered, shaped after the same pure and formal plan. + +"And it is all just the same," he said, his eyes delighting in her beauty. +"There is no change--don't tell me there is any change, for I'll not +believe it. You bring it all back to me,--the lawn and the lilacs and the +white pillars, and Miss Lydia's garden, with the rose leaves in the paths. +Why are there always rose leaves in Miss Lydia's paths, Virginia?" + +Virginia shook her head, puzzled by his whimsical tone. + +"Because there are so many roses," she answered seriously. + +"No, you're wrong, there's another reason, but I shan't tell you." + +"My boxes are filled with rose leaves now," said Virginia. "Betty gathered +them for me." + +The smile leaped to his eyes. "Oh, but it makes me homesick," he returned +lightly. "If I tell you a secret, don't betray me, Virginia--I am downright +homesick for Betty." + +Virginia patted his hand. + +"So am I," she confessed, "and so is Mammy Riah--she's with me now, you +know--and she says that I might have been married without Jack, but never +without Betty. Betty made my dress and iced my cake and pinned on my veil." + +"Ah, is that so?" exclaimed Dan, absent-mindedly. He was thinking of Betty, +and he could almost see her hands as she pinned on the wedding veil--those +small white hands with the strong fingers that had closed about his own. + +"When you get your furlough you must go home, Dan," Virginia was saying; +"the Major is very feeble and--and he quarrels with almost everyone." + +"My furlough," repeated Dan, with a laugh. "Why, the war may end to-morrow +and then we'll all go home together and kill the fatted calf among us. Yes, +I'd like to see the old man again before I die." + +"I pray every night that the war may end tomorrow," said Virginia, "but it +never does." Then she turned eagerly to the Governor, who was coming toward +them under the leafless trees along the street. + +"Here's Dan, papa, do make him come in and be good." + +The Governor, holding himself erect in his trim gray uniform, insisted, +with his hand upon Dan's shoulder, that Virginia should be obeyed; and the +younger man, yielding easily, followed him through the iron gate and into +the yellow house. + +"I don't see you every day, my boy, sit down, sit down," began the +Governor, as he took his stand upon the hearth-rug. "Daughter, haven't you +learned the way to the pantry yet? Dan looks as if he'd been on starvation +rations since he joined the army. They aren't living high at Romney, eh?" +and then, as Virginia went out, he fell to discussing the questions on all +men's lips--the prospect of peace in the near future; hopes of intervention +from England; the attitude of other foreign powers; and the reasons for the +latest appointments by the President. When the girl came in again they let +such topics go, and talked of home while she poured the coffee and helped +Dan to fried chicken. She belonged to the order of women who delight in +feeding a hungry man, and her eyes did not leave his face as she sat behind +the tray and pressed the food upon him. + +"Dan thinks the war will be over before he gets his furlough," she said a +little wistfully. + +A shadow crossed the Governor's face. + +"Then I may hope to get back in time to watch the cradles in the wheat +field," he remarked. "There's little doing on the farm I'm afraid while I'm +away." + +"If they hold out six months longer--well, I'll be surprised," exclaimed +Dan, slapping the arm of his chair with a gesture like the Major's. +"They've found out we won't give in so long as there's a musket left; and +that's enough for them." + +"Maybe so, maybe so," returned the Governor, for it was a part of his +philosophy to cast his conversational lines in the pleasant places. "Please +God, we'll drink our next Christmas glass at Chericoke." + +"In the panelled parlour," added Dan, his eyes lighting. + +"With Aunt Emmeline's portrait," finished Virginia, smiling. + +For a time they were all silent, each looking happily into the far-off +room, and each seeing a distinct and different vision. To the Governor the +peaceful hearth grew warm again--he saw his wife and children gathered +there, and a few friendly neighbours with their long-lived, genial jokes +upon their lips. To Virginia it was her own bridal over again with the fear +of war gone from her, and the quiet happiness she wanted stretching out +into the future. To Dan there was first his own honour to be won, and then +only Betty and himself--Betty and himself under next year's mistletoe +together. + +"Well, well," sighed the Governor, and came back regretfully to the +present. "It's a good place we're thinking of, and I reckon you're sorry +enough you left it before you were obliged to. We all make mistakes, my +boy, and the fortunate ones are those who live long enough to unmake them." + +His warm smile shone out suddenly, and without waiting for a reply, he +began to ask for news of Jack Powell and his comrades, all of whom he knew +by name. "I was talking to Colonel Burwell about you the other day," he +added presently, "and he gave you a fighting record that would do honour to +the Major." + +"He's a nice old chap," responded Dan, easily, for in the first years of +the Army of Northern Virginia the question of rank presented itself only +upon the parade ground, and beyond the borders of the camp a private had +been known to condescend to his own Colonel. "A gentleman fights for his +country as he pleases, a plebeian as he must," the Governor would have +explained with a touch of his old oratory. "He's a nice old chap himself, +but, by George, the discipline fits like a straight-jacket," pursued Dan, +as he finished his coffee. "Why, here we are three miles below Winchester +in a few threadbare tents, and they make as much fuss about our coming into +town as if we were the Yankees themselves. Talk about Romney! Why, it's no +colder at Romney than it was here last week, and yet Loring's men are +living in huts like princes." + +"Show me a volunteer and I'll show you a grumbler," put in the Governor, +laughing. + +"Oh, I'm not grumbling, I'm merely pointing out the facts," protested Dan; +then he rose and stood holding Virginia's hand as he met her upward glance +with his unflinching admiration. "Come again! Why, I should say so," he +declared. "I'll come as long as I have a collar left, and then--well, then +I'll pass the time of day with you over the hedge. Good-by, Colonel, +remember I'm not a grumbler, I'm merely a man of facts." + +The door closed after him and a moment later they heard his clear whistle +in the street. + +"The boy is like his father," said the Governor, thoughtfully, "like his +father with the devil broken to harness. The Montjoy blood may be bad +blood, but it makes big men, daughter." He sighed and drew his small figure +to its full height. + +Virginia was looking into the fire. "I hope he will come again," she +returned softly, thinking of Betty. + +But when he called again a week later Virginia did not see him. It was a +cold starlit night, and the big yellow house, as he drew near it, glowed +like a lamp amid the leafless trees. Beside the porch a number of cavalry +horses were fastened to the pillars, and through the long windows there +came the sound of laughter and of gay "good-bys." + +The "fringe of the army," as Dan had once jeeringly called it, was merrily +making ready for a raid. + +As he listened he leaned nearer the window and watched, half enviously, the +men he had once known. His old life had been a part of theirs and now, +looking in from the outside, it seemed very far away--the poetry of war +beside which the other was mere dull history in which no names were +written. He thought of Prince Rupert, and of his own joy in the saddle, and +the longing for the raid seized him like a heartache. Oh, to feel again the +edge of the keen wind in his teeth and to hear the silver ring of the hoofs +on the frozen road. + + + "Jine the cavalry, + Jine the cavalry, + If you want to have a good time jine the cavalry." + +The words floated out to him, and he laughed aloud as if he had awakened +from a comic dream. + +That was the romance of war, but, after all, he was only the man who bore +the musket. + + + + +VIII + +THE ALTAR OF THE WAR GOD + + +With the opening spring Virginia went down to Richmond, where Jack Morson +had taken rooms for her in the house of an invalid widow whose three sons +were at the front. The town was filled to overflowing with refugees from +the North and representatives from the South, and as the girl drove through +the crowded streets, she exclaimed wonderingly at the festive air the +houses wore. + +"Why, the doors are all open," she observed. "It looks like one big +family." + +"That's about what it is," replied Jack. "The whole South is here and +there's not a room to be had for love or money. Food is getting dear, too, +they say, and the stranger within the gates has the best of everything." He +stopped short and laughed from sheer surprise at Virginia's loveliness. + +"Well, I'm glad I'm here, anyway," said the girl, pressing his arm, "and +Mammy Riah's glad, too, though she won't confess it.--Aren't you just +delighted to see Jack again, Mammy?" + +The old negress grunted in her corner of the carriage. "I ain' seed no use +in all dis yer fittin'," she responded. "W'at's de use er fittin' ef dar +ain' sumpen' ter fit fer dat you ain' got a'ready?" + +"That's it, Mammy," replied Jack, gayly, "we're fighting for freedom, and +we haven't had it yet, you see." + +"Is dat ar freedom vittles?" scornfully retorted the old woman. "Is it +close? is it wood ter bu'n?" + +"Oh, it will soon be here and you'll find out," said Virginia, cheerfully, +and when a little later she settled herself in her pleasant rooms, she +returned to her assurances. + +"Aren't you glad you're here, Mammy, aren't you glad?" she insisted, with +her arm about the old woman's neck. + +"I'd des like ter git a good look at ole Miss agin," returned Mammy Riah, +softening, "caze ef you en ole Miss ain' des like two peas in a pod, my +eyes hev done crack wid de sight er you. Dar ain' been nuttin' so pretty es +you sence de day I dressed ole Miss in 'er weddin' veil." + +"You're right," exclaimed Jack, heartily. "But look at this, Virginia, +here's a regular corn field at the back. Mrs. Minor tells me that +vegetables have grown so scarce she has been obliged to turn her flower +beds into garden patches." He threw open the window, and they went out upon +the wide piazza which hung above the young corn rows. + +During the next few weeks, when Jack was often in the city, an almost +feverish gayety possessed the girl. In the war-time parties, where the +women wore last year's dresses, and the wit served for refreshment, her +gentle beauty became, for a little while, the fashion. The smooth bands of +her hair were copied, the curve of her eyelashes was made the subject of +some verses which _The Examiner_ printed and the English papers quoted +later on. It was a bright and stately society that filled the capital that +year; and on pleasant Sundays when Virginia walked from church, in her +Leghorn bonnet and white ruffles flaring over crinoline as they neared the +ground, men, who had bled on fields of honour for the famous beauties of +the South, would drop their talk to follow her with warming eyes. Cities +might fall and battles might be lost and won, but their joy in a beautiful +woman would endure until a great age. + +At last Jack Morson rode away to service, and the girl kept to the quiet +house and worked on the little garments which the child would need in the +summer. She was much alone, but the delicate widow, who had left her couch +to care for the sick and wounded soldiers, would sometimes come and sit +near her while she sewed. + +"This is the happiest time--before the child comes," she said one day, and +added, with the observant eye of mothers, "it will be a boy; there is a +pink lining to the basket." + +"Yes, it will be a boy," replied Virginia, wistfully. + +"I have had six," pursued the woman, "six sons, and yet I am alone now. +Three are dead, and three are in the army. I am always listening for the +summons that means another grave." She clasped her thin hands and smiled +the patient smile that chilled Virginia's blood. + +"Couldn't you have kept one back?" asked the girl in a whisper. + +The woman shook her head. Much brooding had darkened her mind, but there +was a peculiar fervour in her face--an inward light that shone through her +faded eyes. + +"Not one--not one," she answered. "When the South called, I sent the first +two, and when they fell, I sent the others--only the youngest I kept back +at first--he is just seventeen. Then another call came and he begged so +hard I let him go. No, I gave them all gladly--I have kept none back." + +She lowered her eyes and sat smiling at her folded hands. Weakened in body +and broken by many sorrows as she was, with few years before her and those +filled with inevitable suffering, the fire of the South still burned in her +veins, and she gave herself as ardently as she gave her sons. The pity of +it touched Virginia suddenly, and in the midst of her own enthusiasm she +felt the tears upon her lashes. Was not an army invincible, she asked, into +which the women sent their dearest with a smile? + +Through the warm spring weather she sat beside the long window that gave on +the street, or walked slowly up and down among the vegetable rows in the +garden. The growing of the crops became an unending interest to her and she +watched them, day by day, until she learned to know each separate plant and +to look for its unfolding. When the drought came she carried water from the +hydrant, and assisted by Mammy Riah sprinkled the young tomatoes until they +shot up like weeds. "It is so much better than war," she would say to Jack +when he rode through the city. "Why will men kill one another when they +might make things live instead?" + +Beside the piazza, there was a high magnolia tree, and under this she made +a little rustic bench and a bed of flowers. When the hollyhocks and the +sunflowers bloomed it would look like Uplands, she said, laughing. + +Under the magnolia there was quiet, but from her front window, while she +sat at work, she could see the whole overcrowded city passing through sun +and shadow. Sometimes distinguished strangers would go by, men from the far +South in black broadcloth and slouch hats; then the President, slim and +erect and very grave, riding his favourite horse to one of the encampments +near the city; and then a noted beauty from another state, her chin lifted +above the ribbons of her bonnet, a smile tucked in the red corners of her +lips. Following there would surge by the same eager, staring throng--men +too old to fight who had lost their work; women whose husbands fought in +the trenches for the money that would hardly buy a sack of flour; soldiers +from one of the many camps; noisy little boys with tin whistles; silent +little girls waving Confederate flags. Back and forth they passed on the +bright May afternoons, filling the street with a ceaseless murmur and the +blur of many colours. + +And again the crowd would part suddenly to make way for a battalion +marching to the front, or for a single soldier riding, with muffled drums, +to his grave in Hollywood. The quick step or the slow gait of the riderless +horse; the wild cheers or the silence on the pavement; the "Bonnie Blue +Flag" or the funeral dirge before the coffin; the eager faces of men +walking to where death was or the fallen ones of those who came back with +the dead; the bold flags taking the wind like sails or the banners furled +with crepe as they drooped forward--there was not a day when these things +did not go by near together. To Virginia, sitting at her window, it was as +if life and death walked on within each other's shadow. + +Then came the terrible days when the city saw McClellan sweeping toward it +from the Chickahominy, when senators and clergymen gathered with the slaves +to raise the breastworks, and men turned blankly to ask one another "Where +is the army?" With the girl the question meant only mystification; she felt +none of the white terror that showed in the faces round her. There was in +her heart an unquestioning, childlike trust in the God of battles--sooner +or later he would declare for the Confederacy and until then--well, there +was always General Lee to stand between. Her chief regret was that the +lines had closed and her mother could not come to her as she had promised. + +In the intense heat that hung above the town she sat at her southern +window, where the river breeze blew across the garden, and watched placidly +the palm-leaf fan which Mammy Riah waved before her face. The magnolia tree +had flowered in great white blossoms, and the heavy perfume mingled in +Virginia's thoughts with the yellow sunshine, the fretful clamour, and the +hot dust of the city. When at the end of May a rain storm burst overhead +and sent the wide white petals to the earth, it was almost a relief to see +them go. But by the morrow new ones had opened, and the perfume she had +sickened of still floated from the garden. + +That afternoon the sound of the guns rolled up the Williamsburg road, and +in the streets men shouted hoarsely of an engagement with the enemy at +Seven Pines. With the noise Virginia thrilled to her first feeling of +danger, starting from a repose which, in its unconsciousness, had been as +profound as sleep. The horror of war rushed in upon her at the moment, and +with a cry she leaned out into the street, and listened for the next roll +of the cannon. + +A woman, with a scared face, looked up, saw her, and spoke hysterically. + +"There's not a man left in the city," she cried. "They've taken my father +to defend the breastworks and he's near seventy. If you can sew or wash or +cook, there'll be work enough for you, God knows, to-morrow!" + +She hurried on and Virginia, turning from the window, buried herself in the +pillows upon the bed, trying in vain to shut out the noise of the +cannonading and the perfume of the magnolia blossoms which came in on the +southern breeze. With night the guns grew silent and the streets empty, but +still the girl lay sleepless, watching with frightened eyes the shadow of +Mammy Riah's palm-leaf fan. + +At dawn the restless murmur began again, and Virginia, looking out in the +hot sunrise, saw the crowd hastening back to the hospitals lower down. They +were all there, all as they had been the day before--old men limping out +for news or returning beside the wounded; women with trembling lips and +arms filled with linen; ambulances passing the corner at a walk, surrounded +by men who had staggered after them because there was no room left inside; +and following always the same curious, pallid throng, fresh upon the scent +of some new tragedy. Presently the ambulances gave out, and yet the wounded +came--some walking, and moaning as they walked, some borne on litters by +devoted servants, some drawn in market wagons pressed into use. The great +warehouses and the churches were thrown open to give them shelter, but +still they came and still the cry went up, "Room, more room!" + +Virginia watched it all, leaning out to follow the wagons as they passed +the corner. The sight sickened her, but something that was half a ghastly +fascination, and half the terror of missing a face she knew, kept her hour +after hour motionless upon her knees. At each roll of the guns she gave a +nervous shiver and grew still as stone. + +Then, as she knelt there, a man, in clerical dress, came down the pavement +and stopped before her window. "I hope your husband's wound was not +serious, Mrs. Morson," he said sympathetically. "If I can be of any +assistance, please don't hesitate to call on me." + +"Jack wounded!--oh, he is not wounded," replied Virginia. She rose and +stood wildly looking down upon him. + +He saw his mistake and promptly retracted what he could. + +"If you don't know of it, it can't be true," he urged kindly. "So many +rumours are afloat that half of them are without foundation. However, I +will make inquiries if you wish," and he passed on with a promise to return +at once. + +For a time Virginia stood blankly gazing after him; then she turned +steadily and took down her bonnet from the wardrobe. She even went to the +bureau and carefully tied the pink ribbon strings beneath her chin. + +"I am going out, Mammy Riah," she said when she had finished. "No, don't +tell me I mustn't--I am going out, I say." + +She stamped her foot impatiently, but Mammy Riah made no protest. + +"Des let's go den," she returned, smoothing her head handkerchief as she +prepared to follow. + +The sun was already high above, and the breeze, which had blown for three +days from the river, had dropped suddenly since dawn. Down the brick +pavement the relentless glare flashed back into the sky which hung hot blue +overhead. To Virginia, coming from the shade of her rooms, the city seemed +a furnace and the steady murmur a great discord in which every note was one +of pain. + +Other women looking for their wounded hurried by her--one stopped to ask if +she had been into the unused tobacco warehouse and if she had seen there a +boy she knew by name? Another, with lint bandages in her hand, begged her +to come into a church hard by and assist in ravelling linen for the +surgeons. Then she looked down, saw the girl's figure, and grew nervous. +"You are not fit, my dear, go home," she urged, but Virginia shook her head +and smiled. + +"I am looking for my husband," she answered in a cold voice and passed on. +Mammy Riah caught up with her, but she broke away. "Go home if you want +to--oh, go back," she cried irritably. "I am looking for Jack, you know." + +Into the rude hospitals, one after one, she went without shuddering, +passing up and down between the ghastly rows lying half clothed upon the +bare plank floors. Her eyes were strained and eager, and more than one +dying man turned to look after her as she went by, and carried the memory +of her face with him to death. Once she stopped and folded a blanket under +the head of a boy who moaned aloud, and then gave him water from a pitcher +close at hand. "You're so cool--so cool," he sobbed, clutching at her +dress, but she smiled like one asleep and passed on rapidly. + +When the long day had worn out at last, she came from an open store filled +with stretchers, and started homeward over the burning pavement. Her search +was useless, and the reaction from her terrible fear left her with a sudden +tremor in her heart. As she walked she leaned heavily upon Mammy Riah, and +her colour came and went in quick flashes. The heat had entered into her +brain and with it the memory of open wounds and the red hands of surgeons. +Reaching the house at last, she flung herself all dressed upon the bed and +fell into a sleep that was filled with changing dreams. + +At midnight she cried out in agony, believing herself to be still in the +street. When Mammy Riah bent over her she did not know her, but held out +shaking hands and asked for her mother, calling the name aloud in the +silent house, deserted for the sake of the hospitals lower down. She was +walking again on and on over the hot bricks, and the deep wounds were +opening before her eyes while the surgeons went by with dripping hands. +Once she started up and cried out that the terrible blue sky was crushing +her down to the pavement which burned her feet. Then the odour of the +magnolia filled her nostrils, and she talked of the scorching dust, of the +noise that would not stop, and of the feeble breeze that blew toward her +from the river. All night she wandered back and forth in the broad glare of +the noon, and all night Mammy Riah passed from the clinging hands to the +window where she looked for help in the empty street. And then, as the gray +dawn broke, Virginia put her simple services by, and spoke in a clear +voice. + +"Oh, how lovely," she said, as if well pleased. A moment more and she lay +smiling like a child, her chin pressed deep in her open palm. + + * * * * * + +In the full sunrise a physician, who had run in at the old woman's cry, +came from the house and stopped bareheaded in the breathless heat. For a +moment he stared over the moving city and then up into the cloudless blue +of the sky. + +"God damn war!" he said suddenly, and went back to his knife. + + + + +IX + +THE MONTJOY BLOOD AGAIN + + +A month later Dan heard of Virginia's death when, at the end of the Seven +Days, he was brought wounded into Richmond. As he lay upon church cushions +on the floor of an old warehouse on Main Street, with Big Abel shaking a +tattered palm-leaf fan at his side, a cavalryman came up to him and held +out a hand that trembled slightly from fatigue. + +"I heard you were here. Can I do anything for you, Beau?" he asked. + +For an instant Dan hesitated; then the other smiled, and he recognized Jack +Morson. + +"My God! You've been ill!" he exclaimed in horror. Jack laughed and let his +hand fall. The boyish colour was gone from his face, and he wore an +untrimmed beard which made him look twice his age. + +"Never better in my life," he answered shortly. "Some men are made of +india-rubber, Montjoy, and I'm one of them. I've managed to get into most +of these blessed fights about Richmond, and yet I haven't so much as a pin +prick to show for it. But what's wrong with you? Not much, I hope. I've +just seen Bland, and he told me he thought you were left at Malvern Hill +during that hard rain on Tuesday night. How did you get knocked over, +anyway?" + +"A rifle ball went through my leg," replied Dan impatiently. "I say, Big +Abel, can't you flirt that fan a little faster? These confounded flies +stick like molasses." Then he held up his left hand and looked at it with a +grim smile. "A nasty fragment of a shell took off a couple of my fingers," +he added. "At first I thought they had begun throwing hornets' nests from +their guns--it felt just like it. Yes, that's the worst with me so far; +I've still got a bone to my leg, and I'll be on the field again before +long, thank God." + +"Well, the worst thing about getting wounded is being stuffed into a hole +like this," returned Jack, glancing about contemptuously. "Whoever has had +the charge of our hospital arrangements may congratulate himself that he +has made a ghastly mess of them. Why, I found a man over there in the +corner whose leg had mortified from sheer neglect, and he told me that the +supplies for the sick had given out, and they'd offered him cornbread and +bacon for breakfast." + +Dan began to toss restlessly, grumbling beneath his breath. "If you ever +see a ball making in your direction," he advised, "dodge it clean or take +it square in the mouth; don't go in for any compromises with a gun, they +aren't worth it." He lay silent for a moment, and then spoke proudly. "Big +Abel hauled me off the field after I went down. How he found me, God only +knows, but find me he did, and under fire, too." + +"'Twuz des like pepper," remarked Big Abel, fanning briskly, "but soon es I +heah dat Marse Dan wuz right flat on de groun', I know dat dar warn' nobody +ter go atter 'im 'cep'n' me. Marse Bland he come crawlin' out er de bresh, +wuckin' 'long on his stomick same es er mole, wid his face like a rabbit +w'en de dawgs are 'mos' upon 'im, en he sez hard es flint, 'Beau he's down +over yonder, en I tried ter pull 'im out, Big Abel, 'fo' de Lawd I did!' +Den he drap right ter de yerth, en I des stop long enough ter put a tin +bucket on my haid 'fo' I began ter crawl atter Marse Dan. Whew! dat ar +bucket hit sutney wuz a he'p, dat 'twuz, case I des hyeard de cawn +a-poppin' all aroun' hit, en dey ain' never come thoo yit. + +"Well, suh, w'en I h'ist dat bucket ter git a good look out dar dey wuz +a-fittin' twel dey bus', a-dodgin' in en out er de shucks er wheat dat dey +done pile 'mos' up ter de haids. I ain' teck but one good look, suh, den I +drap de bucket down agin en keep a-crawlin' like Marse Bland tole me twel I +git 'mos' ter de cawn fiel' dat run right spang up de hill whar de big guns +wuz a-spittin' fire en smoke. En sho' 'nough dar wuz Marse Dan lyin' unner +a pine log dat Marse Bland hed roll up ter 'im ter keep de Yankees f'om +hittin' 'im; en w'en he ketch sight er me he des blink his eyes fur a +minute en laugh right peart. + +"'Wat dat you got on yo' haid, Big Abel?' he sez." + +"Big Abel's a hero, there's no mistake," put in Dan, delighted. "Do you +know he lifted me as if I were a baby and toted me out of that God-forsaken +corn field in the hottest fire I ever felt--and I tipped the scales at a +hundred and fifty pounds before I went to Romney." + +"Go way, Marse Dan, you ain' nuttin' but a rail," protested Big Abel, and +continued his story. "Atter I done tote him outer de cawn fiel' en thoo de +bresh, den I begin ter peer roun' fer one er dese yer ambushes, but dere +warn' nairy one un um dat warn' a-bulgin' a'ready. I d'clar dey des bulged +twel dey sides 'mos' split. I seed a hack drive long by wid two gemmen +a-settin' up in hit, en one un em des es well es I is,--but w'en I helt +Marse Dan up right high, he shake his haid en pint ter de udder like he +kinder skeered. 'Dis yer's my young brudder,' he sez, speakin' sof'; 'en +dis yer's my young Marster,' I holler back, but he shake his haid agin en +drive right on. Lawd, Lawd, my time's 'mos' up, I 'low den--yes, suh, I +do--but w'en I tu'n roun' squintin' my eyes caze de sun so hot--de sun he +wuz kinder shinin' thoo his back like he do w'en he hu't yo' eyes en you +cyan' see 'im--dar came a dump cyart a-joltin' up de road wid a speckled +mule hitch ter it. A lot er yuther w'ite folks made a bee line fer dat ar +dump cyart, but dey warn' 'fo' me, caze w'en dey git dar, dar I wuz +a-settin' wid Marse Dan laid out across my knees. Well, dey lemme go--dey +bleeged ter caze I 'uz gwine anyway--en de speckled mule she des laid back +'er years en let fly fer Richmon'. Yes, suh, I ain' never seed sech a mule +es dat. She 'uz des es full er sperit es a colt, en her name wuz Sally." + +"The worst of it was after getting here," finished Dan, who had lain +regarding Big Abel with a proud paternal eye, "they kept us trundling round +in that cart for three mortal hours, because they couldn't find a hole to +put us into. An uncovered wagon was just in front of us, filled with poor +fellows who had been half the day in the sweltering heat, and we made the +procession up and down the city, until at last some women rushed up with +their servants and cleared out this warehouse. One was not over sixteen and +as pretty as a picture. 'Don't talk to me about the proper authorities,' +she said, stamping her foot, 'I'll hang the proper authorities when they +turn up--and in the meantime we'll go to work!' By Jove, she was a trump, +that girl! If she didn't save my life, she did still better and saved my +leg." + +"Well, I'll try to get you moved by to-morrow," said Jack reassuringly. +"Every home in the city is filled with the wounded, they tell me, but I +know a little woman who had two funerals from her house to-day, so she may +be able to find room for you. This heat is something awful, isn't it?" + +"Damnable. I hope, by the way, that Virginia is out of it by now." + +Jack flinched as if the words struck him between the eyes. For a moment he +stood staring at the straw pallets along the wall; then he spoke in a queer +voice. + +"Yes, Virginia's out of it by now; Virginia's dead, you know." + +"Dead!" cried Dan, and raised himself upon his cushion. The room went black +before him, and he steadied himself by clutching at Big Abel's arm. At the +instant the horrors of the battle-field, where he had seen men fall like +grass before the scythe, became as nothing to the death of this one young +girl. He thought of her living beauty, of the bright glow of her flesh, and +it seemed to him that the earth could not hide a thing so fair. + +"I left her in Richmond in the spring," explained Jack, gripping himself +hard. "I was off with Stuart, you know, and I thought her mother would get +to her, but she couldn't pass the lines and then the fight came--the one at +Seven Pines and--well, she died and the child with her." + +Dan's eyes grew very tender; a look crept into them which only Betty and +his mother had seen there before. + +"I would have died for her if I could, Jack, you know that," he said +slowly. + +Jack walked off a few paces and then came back again. "I remember the +Governor's telling me once," he went on in the same hard voice, "that if a +man only rode boldly enough at death it would always get out of the way. I +didn't believe it at the time, but, by God, it's true. Why, I've gone +straight into the enemy's lines and heard the bullets whistling in my ears, +but I've always come out whole. When I rode with Stuart round McClellan's +army, I was side by side with poor Latane when he fell in the skirmish at +Old Church, and I sat stock still on my horse and waited for a fellow to +club me with his sabre, but he wouldn't; he looked at me as if he thought I +had gone crazy, and actually shook his head. Some men can't die, confound +it, and I'm one of them." + +He went out, his spurs striking the stone steps as he passed into the +street, and Dan fell back upon the narrow cushions to toss with fever and +the memory of Virginia--of Virginia in the days when she wore her rose-pink +gown and he believed he loved her. + +At the door an ambulance drew up and a stretcher was brought into the +building, and let down in one corner. The man on it was lying very still, +and when he was lifted off and placed upon the blood-soaked top of the long +pine table, he made no sound, either of fear or of pain. The close odours +of the place suddenly sickened Dan and he asked Big Abel to draw him nearer +the open window, where he might catch the least breeze from the river; but +outside the July sunlight lay white and hot upon the bricks, and when he +struggled up the reflected heat struck him down again. On the sidewalk he +saw several prisoners going by amid a hooting crowd, and with his old +instinct to fight upon the weaker side, he hurled an oath at the tormenters +of his enemies. + +"Go to the field, you crows, and be damned!" he called. + +One of the prisoners, a ruddy-cheeked young fellow in private's clothes, +looked up and touched his cap. + +"Thank you, sir, I hope we'll meet at the front," he said, in a rich Irish +brogue. Then he passed on to Libby prison, while Dan turned from the window +and lay watching the surgeon's faces as they probed for bullets. + +It was a long unceiled building, filled with bright daylight and the +buzzing of countless flies. Women, who had volunteered for the service, +passed swiftly over the creaking boards, or knelt beside the pallets as +they bathed the shattered limbs with steady fingers. Here and there a child +held a glass of water to a man who could not raise himself, or sat fanning +the flies from a pallid face. None was too old nor too young where there +was work for all. + +A stir passed through the group about the long pine table, and one of the +surgeons, wiping the sweat from his brow, came over to where Dan lay, and +stopped to take breath beside the window. + +"By Jove, that man died game," he said, shaking his handkerchief at the +flies. "We took both his legs off at the knee, and he just gripped the +table hard and never winked an eyelash. I told him it would kill him, but +he said he'd be hanged if he didn't take his chance--and he took it and +died. Talk to me about nerve, that fellow had the cleanest grit I ever +saw." + +Dan's pulses fluttered, as they always did at an example of pure pluck. + +"What's his regiment?" he asked, watching the two slaves who, followed by +their mistresses, were bringing the body back to the stretcher. + +"Oh, he was a scout, I believe, serving with Stuart when he was wounded. +His name is--by the way, his name is Montjoy. Any relative of yours, I +wonder?" + +Raising himself upon his elbow, Dan turned to look at the dead man beside +him. A heavy beard covered the mouth and chin, but he knew the sunken black +eyes and the hair that was like his own. + +"Yes," he answered after a long pause, "he is a relative of mine, I think;" +and then, while the man lay waiting for his coffin, he propped himself upon +his arm and followed curiously the changes made by death. + +At his first recognition there had come only a wave of repulsion--the old +disgust that had always dogged the memory of his father; then, with the +dead face before his eyes, he was aware of an unreasoning pride in the +blood he bore--in the fact that the soldier there had died pure game to the +last. It was as a braggart and a bully that he had always thought of him; +now he knew that at least he was not a craven--that he could take blows as +he dealt them, from the shoulder out. He had hated his father, he told +himself unflinchingly, and he did not love him now. Had the dead man opened +his eyes he could have struck him back again with his mother's memory for a +weapon. There had been war between them to the grave, and yet, despite +himself, he knew that he had lost his old boyish shame of the Montjoy +blood. With the instinct of his race to glorify physical courage, he had +seen the shadow of his boyhood loom from the petty into the gigantic. Jack +Montjoy may have been a scoundrel,--doubtless he was one,--but, with all +his misdeeds on his shoulders, he had lived pure game to the end. + +A fresh bleeding of Dan's wound brought on a sudden faintness, and he fell +heavily upon Big Abel's arm. With the pain a groan hovered an instant on +his lips, but, closing his eyes, he bit it back and lay silent. For the +first time in his life there had come to him, like an impulse, the +knowledge that he must not lower his father's name. + + + + +BOOK FOURTH + +THE RETURN OF THE VANQUISHED + + + + +I + +THE RAGGED ARMY + + +The brigade had halted to gather rations in a corn field beside the road, +and Dan, lying with his head in the shadow of a clump of sumach, hungrily +regarded the "roasting ears" which Pinetop had just rolled in the ashes. A +malarial fever, which he had contracted in the swamps of the Chickahominy, +had wasted his vitality until he had begun to look like the mere shadow of +himself; gaunt, unwashed, hollow-eyed, yet wearing his torn gray jacket and +brimless cap as jauntily as he had once worn his embroidered waistcoats. +His hand trembled as he reached out for his share of the green corn, but +weakened as he was by sickness and starvation, the defiant humour shone all +the clearer in his eyes. He had still the heart for a whistle, Bland had +said last night, looking at him a little wistfully. + +As he lay there, with the dusty sumach shrub above him, he saw the ragged +army pushing on into the turnpike that led to Maryland. Lean, sun-scorched, +half-clothed, dropping its stragglers like leaves upon the roadside, +marching in borrowed rags, and fighting with the weapons of its enemies, +dirty, fevered, choking with the hot dust of the turnpike--it still pressed +onward, bending like a blade beneath Lee's hand. For this army of the sick, +fighting slow agues, old wounds, and the sharp diseases that follow on +green food, was becoming suddenly an army of invasion. The road led into +Maryland, and the brigades swept into it, jesting like schoolboys on a +frolic. + +Dan, stretched exhausted beside the road, ate his ear of corn, and idly +watched the regiment that was marching by--marching, not with the even +tread of regular troops, but with scattered ranks and broken column, each +man limping in worn-out shoes, at his own pace. They were not fancy +soldiers, these men, he felt as he looked after them. They were not +imposing upon the road, but when their chance came to fight, they would be +very sure to take it. Here and there a man still carried his old squirrel +musket, with a rusted skillet handle stuck into the barrel, but when before +many days the skillet would be withdrawn, the load might be relied upon to +wing straight home a little later. On wet nights those muskets would stand +upright upon their bayonets, with muzzles in the earth, while the rain +dripped off, and on dry days they would carry aloft the full property of +the mess, which had dwindled to a frying pan and an old quart cup; though +seldom cleaned, they were always fit for service--or if they went foul what +was easier than to pick up a less trusty one upon the field. On the other +side hung the blankets, tied at the ends and worn like a sling from the +left shoulder. The haversack was gone and with it the knapsack and the +overcoat. When a man wanted a change of linen he knelt down and washed his +single shirt in the brook, sitting in the sun while it dried upon the bank. +If it was long in drying he put it on, wet as it was, and ran ahead to fall +in with his company. Where the discipline was easy, each infantryman might +become his own commissary. + +Dan finished his corn, threw the husks over his head, and sat up, looking +idly at the irregular ranks. He was tired and sick, and after a short rest +it seemed all the harder to get up and take the road again. As he sat there +he began to bandy words with the sergeant of a Maryland regiment that was +passing. + +"Hello! what brigade?" called the sergeant in friendly tones. He looked fat +and well fed, and Dan felt this to be good ground for resentment. + +"General Straggler's brigade, but it's none of your business," he promptly +retorted. + +"General Straggler has a pretty God-forsaken crew," taunted the sergeant, +looking back as he stepped on briskly. "I've seen his regiments lining the +road clear up from Chantilly." + +"If you'd kept your fat eyes open at Manassas the other day, you'd have +seen them lining the battle-field as well," pursued Dan pleasantly, chewing +a long green blade of corn. "Old Stonewall saw them, I'll be bound. If +General Straggler didn't win that battle I'd like to know who did." + +"Oh, shucks!" responded the sergeant, and was out of hearing. + +The regiment passed by and another took its place. "Was that General Lee +you were yelling at down there, boys?" inquired Dan politely, smiling the +smile of a man who sits by the roadside and sees another sweating on the +march. + +"Naw, that warn't Marse Robert," replied a private, limping with bare feet +over the border of dried grass. "'Twas a blamed, blank, bottomless well, +that's what 'twas. I let my canteen down on a string and it never came back +no mo'." + +Dan lowered his eyes, and critically regarded the tattered banner of the +regiment, covered with the names of the battles over which it had hung +unfurled. "Tennessee, aren't you?" he asked, following the flag. + +The private shook his head, and stooped to remove a pebble from between his +toes. + +"Naw, we ain't from Tennessee," he drawled. "We've had the measles--that's +what's the matter with us." + +"You show it, by Jove," said Dan, laughing. "Step quickly, if you +please--this is the cleanest brigade in the army." + +"Huh!" exclaimed the private, eying them with contempt. "You look like it, +don't you, sonny? Why, I'd ketch the mumps jest to look at sech a set o' +rag-a-muffins!" + +He went on, still grunting, while Dan rose to his feet and slung his +blanket from his shoulder. "Look here, does anybody know where we're going +anyway?" he asked of the blue sky. + +"I seed General Jackson about two miles up," replied a passing countryman, +who had led his horse into the corn field. "Whoopee! he was going at a +God-a'mighty pace, I tell you. If he keeps that up he'll be over the +Potomac before sunset." + +"Then we are going into Maryland!" cried Jack Powell, jumping to his feet. +"Hurrah for Maryland! We're going to Maryland, God bless her!" + +The shouts passed down the road and the Maryland regiment in front sent +back three rousing cheers. + +"By Jove, I hope I'll find some shoes there," said Dan, shaking the sand +from his ragged boots, and twisting the shreds of his stockings about his +feet. "I've had to punch holes in my soles and lace them with shoe strings +to the upper leather, or they'd have dropped off long ago." + +"Well, I'll begin by making love to a seamstress when I'm over the +Potomac," remarked Welch, getting upon his feet. "I'm decidedly in need of +a couple of patches." + +"You make love! You!" roared Jack Powell. "Why, you're the kind of thing +they set up in Maryland to keep the crows away. Now if it were Beau, there, +I see some sense in it--for, I'll be bound, he's slain more hearts than +Yankees in this campaign. The women always drain out their last drop of +buttermilk when he goes on a forage." + +"Oh, I don't set up to be a popinjay," retorted Welch witheringly. + +"Popinjay, the devil!" scowled Dan, "who's a popinjay?" + +"Wall, I'd like a pair of good stout breeches," peacefully interposed +Pinetop. "I've been backin' up agin the fence when I seed a lady comin' for +the last three weeks, an' whenever I set down, I'm plum feared to git up +agin. What with all the other things,--the Yankees, and the chills, and the +measles,--it's downright hard on a man to have to be a-feared of his own +breeches." + +Dan looked round with sympathy. "That's true; it's a shame," he admitted +smiling. "Look here, boys, has anybody got an extra pair of breeches?" + +A howl of derision went up from the regiment as it fell into ranks. + +"Has anybody got a few grape-leaves to spare?" it demanded in a high +chorus. + +"Oh, shut up," responded Dan promptly. "Come on, Pinetop, we'll clothe +ourselves to-morrow." + +The brigade formed and swung off rapidly along the road, where the dust lay +like gauze upon the sunshine. At the end of a mile somebody stopped and +cried out excitedly. "Look here, boys, the persimmons on that tree over +thar are gittin' 'mos fit to eat. I can see 'em turnin'," and with the +words the column scattered like chaff across the field. But the first man +to reach the tree came back with a wry face, and fell to swearing at "the +darn fool who could eat persimmons before frost." + +"Thar's a tree in my yard that gits ripe about September," remarked +Pinetop, as he returned dejectedly across the waste. "Ma she begins to dry +'em 'fo' the frost sets in." + +"Oh, well, we'll get a square meal in the morning," responded Dan, growing +cheerful as he dreamed of hospitable Maryland. + +Some hours later, in the warm dusk, they went into bivouac among the trees, +and, in a little while, the campfires made a red glow upon the twilight. + +Pinetop, with a wooden bucket on his arm, had plunged off in search of +water, and Dan and Jack Powell were sent, in the interests of the mess, to +forage through the surrounding country. + +"There's a fat farmer about ten miles down, I saw him," remarked a lazy +smoker, by way of polite suggestion. + +"Ten miles? Well, of all the confounded impudence," retorted Jack, as he +strolled off with Dan into the darkness. + +For a time they walked in silence, depressed by hunger and the exhaustion +of the march; then Dan broke into a whistle, and presently they found +themselves walking in step with the merry air. + +"Where are your thoughts, Beau?" asked Jack suddenly, turning to look at +him by the faint starlight. + +Dan's whistle stopped abruptly. + +"On a dish of fried chicken and a pot of coffee," he replied at once. + +"What's become of the waffles?" demanded Jack indignantly. "I say, old man, +do you remember the sinful waste on those blessed Christmas Eves at +Chericoke? I've been trying to count the different kinds of meat--roast +beef, roast pig, roast goose, roast turkey--" + +"Hold your tongue, won't you?" + +"Well, I was just thinking that if I ever reach home alive I'll deliver the +Major a lecture on his extravagance." + +"It isn't the Major; it's grandma," groaned Dan. + +"Oh, that queen among women!" exclaimed Jack fervently; "but the wines are +the Major's, I reckon,--it seems to me I recall some port of which he was +vastly proud." + +Dan delivered a blow that sent Jack on his knees in the stubble of an old +corn field. + +"If you want to make me eat you, you're going straight about it," he +declared. + +"Look out!" cried Jack, struggling to his feet, "there's a light over there +among the trees," and they walked on briskly up a narrow country lane which +led, after several turnings, to a large frame house well hidden from the +road. + +In the doorway a woman was standing, with a lamp held above her head, and +when she saw them she gave a little breathless call. + +"Is that you, Jim?" + +Dan went up the steps and stood, cap in hand, before her. The lamplight was +full upon his ragged clothes and upon his pallid face with its strong +high-bred lines of mouth and chin. + +"I thought you were my husband," said the woman, blushing at her mistake. +"If you want food you are welcome to the little that I have--it is very +little." She led the way into the house, and motioned, with a pitiable +gesture, to a table that was spread in the centre of the sitting room. + +"Will you sit down?" she asked, and at the words, a child in the corner of +the room set up a frightened cry. + +"It's my supper--I want my supper," wailed the child. + +"Hush, dear," said the woman, "they are our soldiers." + +"Our soldiers," repeated the child, staring, with its thumb in its mouth +and the tear-drops on its cheeks. + +For an instant Dan looked at them as they stood there, the woman holding +the child in her arms, and biting her thin lips from which hunger had +drained all the red. There was scant food on the table, and as his gaze +went back to it, it seemed to him that, for the first time, he grasped the +full meaning of a war for the people of the soil. This was the real +thing--not the waving banners, not the bayonets, not the fighting in the +ranks. + +His eyes were on the woman, and she smiled as all women did upon whom he +looked in kindness. + +"My dear madam, you have mistaken our purpose--we are not as hungry as we +look," he said, bowing in his ragged jacket. "We were sent merely to ask +you if you were in need of a guard for your smokehouse. My Colonel hopes +that you have not suffered at our hands." + +"There is nothing left," replied the woman mystified, yet relieved. "There +is nothing to guard except the children and myself, and we are safe, I +think. Your Colonel is very kind--I thank him;" and as they went out she +lighted them with her lamp from the front steps. + +An hour later they returned to camp with aching limbs and empty hands. + +"There's nothing above ground," they reported, flinging themselves beside +the fire, though the night was warm. "We've scoured the whole country and +the Federals have licked it as clean as a plate before us. Bless my soul! +what's that I smell? Is this heaven, boys?" + +"Licked it clean, have they?" jeered the mess. "Well, they left a sheep +anyhow loose somewhere. Beau's darky hadn't gone a hundred yards before he +found one." + +"Big Abel? You don't say so?" whistled Dan, in astonishment, regarding the +mutton suspended on ramrods above the coals. + +"Well, suh, 'twuz des like dis," explained Big Abel, poking the roast with +a small stick. "I know I ain' got a bit a bus'ness ter shoot dat ar sheep +wid my ole gun, but de sheep she ain' got no better bus'ness strayin' roun' +loose needer. She sutney wuz a dang'ous sheep, dat she wuz. I 'uz des +a-bleeged ter put a bullet in her haid er she'd er hed my blood sho'." + +As the shout went up he divided the legs of mutton into shares and went off +to eat his own on the dark edge of the wood. + +A little later he came back to hang Dan's cap and jacket on the branches of +a young pine tree. When he had arranged them with elaborate care, he raked +a bed of tags together, and covered them with an army blanket stamped in +the centre with the half obliterated letters U. S. + +"That's a good boy, Big Abel, go to sleep," said Dan, flinging himself down +upon the pine-tag bed. "Strange how much spirit a sheep can put into a man. +I wouldn't run now if I saw Pope's whole army coming." + +Turning over he lay sleepily gazing into the blue dusk illuminated with the +campfires which were slowly dying down. Around him he heard the subdued +murmur of the mess, deep and full, though rising now and then into a +clearer burst of laughter. The men were smoking their brier-root pipes +about the embers, leaning against the dim bodies of the pines, while they +discussed the incidents of the march with a touch of the unconquerable +humour of the Confederate soldier. Somebody had a fresh joke on the +quartermaster, and everybody hoped great things of the campaign into +Maryland. + +"I pray it may bring me a pair of shoes," muttered Dan, as he dropped off +into slumber. + +The next day, with bands playing "Maryland, My Maryland," and the Southern +Cross taking the September wind, the ragged army waded the Potomac, and +passed into other fields. + + + + +II + +A STRAGGLER FROM THE RANKS + + +In two weeks it swept back, wasted, stubborn, hungrier than ever. On a +sultry September afternoon, Dan, who had gone down with a sharp return of +fever, was brought, with a wagonful of the wounded, and placed on a heap of +straw on the brick pavement of Shepherdstown. For two days he had been +delirious, and Big Abel had held him to his bed during the long nights when +the terrible silence seemed filled with the noise of battle; but, as he was +lifted from the wagon and laid upon the sidewalk, he opened his eyes and +spoke in a natural voice. + +"What's all this fuss, Big Abel? Have I been out of my head?" + +"You sutney has, suh. You've been a-prayin' en shoutin' so loud dese las' +tree days dat I wunner de Lawd ain' done shet yo' mouf des ter git rid er +you." + +"Praying, have I?" said Dan. "Well, I declare. That reminds me of Mr. +Blake, Big Abel. I'd like to know what's become of him." + +Big Abel shook his head; he was in no pleasant humour, for the corners of +his mouth were drawn tightly down and there was a rut between his bushy +eyebrows. + +"I nuver seed no sich place es dis yer town in all my lifetime," he +grumbled. "Dey des let us lie roun' loose on de bricks same es ef we ain' +been fittin' fur 'em twel we ain' nuttin' but skin en bone. Dose two wagon +loads er cut-up sodgers hev done fill de houses so plum full dat dey sticks +spang thoo de cracks er de do's. Don' talk ter me, suh, I ain' got no use +fur dis wah, noways, caze hit's a low-lifeted one, dat's what 'tis; en ef +you'd a min' w'at I tell you, you'd be settin' up at home right dis minute +wid ole Miss a-feedin' you on br'ile chicken. You may fit all you wanter--I +ain' sayin' nuttin' agin yo' fittin ef yo' spleen hit's up--but you could +er foun' somebody ter fit wid back at home widout comin' out hyer ter git +yo'se'f a-jumbled up wid all de po' white trash in de county. Dis yer wah +ain' de kin' I'se use ter, caze hit jumbles de quality en de trash +tergedder des like dey wuz bo'n blood kin." + +"What are you muttering about now, Big Abel?" broke in Dan impatiently. +"For heaven's sake stop and find me a bed to lie on. Are they going to +leave me out here in the street on this pile of straw?" + +"De Lawd he knows," hopelessly responded Big Abel. "Dey's a-fixin' places, +dey sez, dat's why all dese folks is a-runnin' dis away en dat away like +chickens wid dere haids chopped off. 'Fo' you hed yo' sense back dey wanted +ter stick you over yonder in dat ole blue shanty wid all de skin peelin' +off hit, but I des put my foot right down en 'lowed dey 'ouldn't. W'at you +wan' ketch mo'n you got fur?" + +"But I can't stay here," weakly remonstrated Dan, "and I must have +something to eat--I tell you I could eat nails. Bring me anything on God's +earth except green corn." + +The street was filled with women, and one of them, passing with a bowl of +gruel in her hand, came back and held it to his lips. + +"You poor fellow!" she said impulsively, in a voice that was rich with +sympathy. "Why, I don't believe you've had a bite for a month." + +Dan smiled at her from his heap of straw--an unkempt haggard figure. + +"Not from so sweet a hand," he responded, his old spirit rising strong +above misfortune. + +His voice held her, and she regarded him with a pensive face. She had known +men in her day, which had declined long since toward its evening, and with +the unerring instinct of her race she knew that the one before her was well +worth the saving. Gallantry that could afford to jest in rags upon a pile +of straw appealed to her Southern blood as little short of the heroic. She +saw the pinch of hunger about the mouth, and she saw, too, the singular +beauty which lay, obscured to less keen eyes, beneath the fever and the +dirt. + +"The march must have been fearful--I couldn't have stood it," she said, +half to test the man. + +Rising to the challenge, he laughed outright. "Well, since you mention it, +it wasn't just the thing for a lady," he answered, true to his salt. + +For a moment she looked at him in silence, then turned regretfully to Big +Abel. + +"The houses have filled up already, I believe," she said, "but there is a +nice dry stable up the street which has just been cleaned out for a +hospital. Carry your master up the next square and then into the alley a +few steps where you will find a physician. I am going now for food and +bandages." + +She hurried on, and Big Abel, seizing Dan beneath the arms, dragged him +breathlessly along the street. + +"A stable! Huh! Hit's a wunner dey ain' ax us ter step right inter a nice +clean pig pen," he muttered as he walked on rapidly. + +"Oh, I don't mind the stable, but this pace will kill me," groaned Dan. +"Not so fast, Big Abel, not so fast." + +"Dis yer ain' no time to poke," replied Big Abel, sternly, and lifting the +young man in his arms, he carried him bodily into the stable and laid him +on a clean-smelling bed of straw. The place was large and well lighted, and +Dan, as he turned over, heaved a grateful sigh. + +"Let me sleep--only let me sleep," he implored weakly. + +And for two days he slept, despite the noise about him. Dressed in clean +clothes, brought by the lady of the morning, and shaved by the skilful hand +of Big Abel, he buried himself in the fresh straw and dreamed of Chericoke +and Betty. The coil of battle swept far from him; he heard none of the fret +and rumour that filled the little street; even the moans of the men beneath +the surgeons' knives did not penetrate to where he lay sunk in the stupor +of perfect contentment. It was not until the morning of the third day, when +the winds that blew over the Potomac brought the sounds of battle, that he +was shocked back into a troubled consciousness of his absence from the +army. Then he heard the voices of the guns calling to him from across the +river, and once or twice he struggled up to answer. + +"I must go, Big Abel--they are in need of me," he said. "Listen! don't you +hear them calling?" + +"Go way f'om yer, Marse Dan, dey's des a-firin' at one anurr," returned Big +Abel, but Dan still tossed impatiently, his strained eyes searching through +the door into the cloudy light of the alley. It was a sombre day, and the +oppressive atmosphere seemed heavy with the smoke of battle. + +"If I only knew how it was going," he murmured, in the anguish of +uncertainty. "Hush! isn't that a cheer, Big Abel?" + +"I don' heah nuttin' but de crowin' er a rooster on de fence." + +"There it is again!" cried Dan, starting up. "I can swear it is our side. +Listen--go to the door--by God, man, that's our yell! Ah, there comes the +rattle of the muskets--don't you hear it?" + +"Lawd, Marse Dan, I'se done hyern dat soun' twel I'm plum sick er it," +responded Big Abel, carefully measuring out a dose of arsenic, which had +taken the place of quinine in a country where medicine was becoming as +scarce as food. "You des swallow dis yer stuff right down en tu'n over en +go fas' asleep agin." + +Taking the glass with trembling hands, Dan drained it eagerly. + +"It's the artillery now," he said, quivering with excitement. "The +explosions come so fast I can hardly separate them. I never knew how long +shells could screech before--do you mean to say they are really across the +river? Go into the alley, Big Abel, and tell me if you see the smoke." + +Big Abel went out and returned, after a few moments, with the news that the +smoke could be plainly seen, he was told, from the upper stories. There was +such a crowd in the street, he added, that he could barely get +along--nobody knew anything, but the wounded, who were arriving in great +numbers, reported that General Lee could hold his ground "against Lucifer +and all his angels." + +"Hold his ground," groaned Dan, with feverish enthusiasm, "why, he could +hold a hencoop, for the matter of that, against the whole of North America! +Oh, but this is worse than fighting. I must get up!" + +"You don' wanter git out dar in dat mess er skeered rabbits," returned Big +Abel. "You cyarn see yo' han' befo' you fur de way dey's w'igglin' roun' de +street, en w'at's mo' you cyarn heah yo' own w'uds fur de racket dey's +a-kickin' up. Des lis'en ter 'em now, des lis'en!" + +"Oh, I wish I could tell our guns," murmured Dan at each quick explosion. +"Hush! there comes the cheer, now--somebody's charging! It may be our +brigade, Big Abel, and I not in it." + +He closed his eyes and fell back from sheer exhaustion, still following, as +he lay there, the battalion that had sprung forward with that charging +yell. Gray, obscured in smoke, curved in the centre, uneven as the +Confederate line of battle always was--he saw it sweep onward over the +September field. At the moment to have had his place in that charge beyond +the river, he would have cheerfully met his death when the day was over. + +Through the night he slept fitfully, awaking from time to time to ask +eagerly if it were not almost daybreak; then with the dawn the silence that +had fallen over the Potomac seemed to leave a greater blank to be filled +with the noises along the Virginia shore. The hurrying footsteps in the +street outside kept up ceaselessly until the dark again; mingled with the +cries of the wounded and the prayers of the frightened he heard always that +eager, tireless passing of many feet. So familiar it became, so constant an +accompaniment to his restless thoughts, that when at last the day wore out +and the streets grew empty, he found himself listening for the steps of a +passer-by as intently as he had listened in the morning for the renewed +clamour of the battle on the Maryland fields. + +The stir of the retreat did not reach the stable where he lay; all night +the army was recrossing the Potomac, but to Dan, tossing on his bed of +straw, it lighted the victor's watch-fires on the disputed ground. He had +not seen the shattered line of battle as it faced disease, exhaustion, and +an army stronger by double numbers, nor had he seen the gray soldiers lying +row on row where they had kept the "sunken road." Thick as the trampled +corn beneath them, with the dust covering them like powder, and the +scattered fence rails lying across their faces, the dead men of his own +brigade were stretched upon the hillside, but through the long night he lay +wakeful in the stable, watching with fevered eyes the tallow dips that +burned dimly on the wall. + +In the morning a nurse, coming with a bowl of soup, brought the news that +Lee's army was again on Virginia soil. + +"McClellan has opened a battery," she explained, "that's the meaning of +this fearful noise--did you ever hear such sounds in your life? Yes, the +shells are flying over the town, but they've done no harm as yet." + +She hastened off, and a little later a dishevelled straggler, with a cloth +about his forehead, burst in at the open door. + +"They're shelling the town," he cried, waving a dirty hand, "an' you'll be +prisoners in an hour if you don't git up and move. The Yankees are comin', +I seed 'em cross the river. Lee's cut up, I tell you, he's left half his +army dead in Maryland. Thar! they're shellin' the town, sho' 'nough!" + +With a last wave he disappeared into the alley, and Dan struggled from his +bed and to the door. "Give me your arm, Big Abel," he said, speaking in a +loud voice that he might be heard above the clamour. "I can't stay here. It +isn't being killed I mind, but, by God, they'll never take me prisoner so +long as I'm alive. Come here and give me your arm. You aren't afraid to go +out, are you?" + +"Lawd, Marse Dan, I'se mo' feared ter stay hyer," responded Big Abel, with +an ashen face. "Whar we gwine hide, anyhow?" + +"We won't hide, we'll run," returned Dan gravely, and with his arm on the +negro's shoulder, he passed through the alley out into the street. There +the noise bewildered him an instant, and his eyes went blind while he +grasped Big Abel's sleeve. + +"Wait a minute, I can't see," he said. "Now, that's right, go on. By +George, it's bedlam turned loose, let's get out of it!" + +"Dis away, Marse Dan, dis away, step right hyer," urged Big Abel, as he +slipped through the hurrying crowd of fugitives which packed the street. +White and black, men and women, sick and well, they swarmed up and down in +the dim sunshine beneath the flying shells, which skimmed the town to +explode in the open fields beyond. The wounded were there--all who could +stand upon their feet or walk with the aid of crutches--stumbling on in a +mad panic to the meadows where the shells burst or the hot sun poured upon +festering cuts. Streaming in noisy groups, the slaves fled after them, +praying, shrieking, calling out that the day of judgment was upon them, yet +bearing upon their heads whatever they could readily lay hands on--bundles, +baskets, babies, and even clucking fowls tied by the legs. Behind them went +a troop of dogs, piercing the tumult with excited barks. + +Dan, fevered, pallid, leaning heavily upon Big Abel, passed unnoticed amid +a throng which was, for the most part, worse off than himself. Men with old +wounds breaking out afresh, or new ones staining red the cloths they wore, +pushed wildly by him, making, as all made, for the country roads that led +from war to peace. It was as if the hospitals of the world had disgorged +themselves in the sunshine on the bright September fields. + +Once, as Dan moved slowly on, he came upon a soldier, with a bandage at his +throat sitting motionless upon a rock beside a clump of thistles, and moved +by the expression of supreme terror on the man's face, he stopped and laid +a hand upon his shoulder. + +"What's the trouble, friend--given up?" he asked, and then drew back +quickly for the man was dead. After this they went on more rapidly, flying +from the horrors along the road as from the screaming shells and the dread +of capture. + +At the hour of sunset, after many halts upon the way, they found themselves +alone and still facing the open road. Since midday they had stopped for +dinner with a hospitable farmer, and, some hours later, Big Abel had +feasted on wild grapes, which he had found hidden in the shelter of a +little wood. In the same wood a stream had tinkled over silver rocks, and +Dan, lying upon the bank of moss, had bathed his face and hands in the +clear water. Now, while the shadows fell in spires across the road, they +turned into a quiet country lane, and stood watching the sun as it dropped +beyond the gray stone wall. In the grass a small insect broke into a low +humming, and the silence, closing the next instant, struck upon Dan's ears +like a profound and solemn melody. He took off his cap, and still leaning +upon Big Abel, looked with rested eyes on the sloping meadow brushed with +the first gold of autumn. Something that was not unlike shame had fallen +over him--as if the horrors of the morning were a mere vulgar affront which +man had put upon the face of nature. The very anguish of the day obtruded +awkwardly upon his thoughts, and the wild clamour he had left behind him +showed with a savage crudeness against a landscape in which the dignity of +earth--of the fruitful life of seasons and of crops--produced in a solitary +observer a quiet that was not untouched by awe. Where nature was suggestive +of the long repose of ages, the brief passions of a single generation +became as the flicker of a candle or the glow of a firefly in the night. + +"Dat's a steep road ahead er us," remarked Big Abel suddenly, as he stared +into the shadows. + +Dan came back with a start. + +"Where shall we sleep?" he asked. "No, not in that field--the open sky +would keep me awake, I think. Let's bivouac in the woods as usual." + +They moved on a little way and entered a young pine forest, where Big Abel +gathered a handful of branches and kindled a light blaze. + +"You ain' never eat nigger food, is you, Marse Dan?" he inquired as he did +so. + +"Good Lord!" ejaculated Dan, "ask a man who has lived two months on +corn-field peas if he's eaten hog food, and he'll be pretty sure to answer +'yes.' Do you know we must have crawled about six miles to-day." He lay +back on the pine tags and stared straight above where the long green +needles were illuminated on a background of purple space. A few fireflies +made golden points among the tree-tops. + +"Well, I'se got a hunk er middlin'," pursued Big Abel thoughtfully, "a +strip er fat en a strip er lean des like hit oughter be--but a nigger +'ooman she gun hit ter me, en I 'low Ole Marster wouldn't tech hit wid a +ten-foot pole." He stuck the meat upon the end of Dan's bayonet and held it +before the flames. "Ole Marster wouldn't tech hit, but den he ain' never +had dese times." + +"You're right," replied Dan idly, filling his pipe and lighting it with a +small red ember, "and all things considered, I don't think I'll raise any +racket about that middling, Big Abel." + +"Hit ain' all nigger food, no how," added Big Abel reflectively, "caze de +'ooman she done steal it f'om w'ite folks sho's you bo'n." + +"I only wish she had been tempted to steal some bread along with it," +rejoined Dan. + +Big Abel's answer was to draw a hoecake wrapped in an old newspaper from +his pocket and place it on a short pine stump. Then he reached for his +jack-knife and carefully slit the hoecake down the centre, after which he +laid the bacon in slices between the crusts. + +"Did she steal that, too?" inquired Dan laughing. + +"Naw, suh, I stole dis." + +"Well, I never! You'll be ashamed to look the Major in the face when the +war is over." + +Big Abel nodded gloomily as he passed the sandwich to Dan, who divided it +into two equal portions. "Dar's somebody got ter do de stealin' in dis yer +worl'," he returned with rustic philosophy, "des es dar's somebody got ter +be w'ite folks en somebody got ter be nigger, caze de same pusson cyarn be +ner en ter dat's sho'. Dar ain' 'oom fer all de yerth ter strut roun' wid +dey han's in dey pockets en dey nose tu'nt up des caze dey's hones'. Lawd, +Lawd, ef I'd a-helt my han's back f'om pickin' en stealin' thoo dis yer +wah, whar 'ould you be now--I ax you dat?" + +Catching a dried branch the flame shot up suddenly, and he sat relieved +against the glow, like a gigantic statue in black basalt. + +"Well, all's fair in love and war," replied Dan, adjusting himself to +changed conditions. "If that wasn't as true as gospel, I should be dead +to-morrow from this fat bacon." + +Big Abel started up. + +"Lis'en ter dat ole hoot owl," he exclaimed excitedly, "he's a-settin' +right over dar on dat dead limb a-hootin' us plum in de mouf. Ain' dat like +'em, now? Is you ever seed sech airs as dey put on?" + +He strode off into the darkness, and Dan, seized with a sudden homesickness +for the army, lay down beside his musket and fell asleep. + + + + +III + +THE CABIN IN THE WOODS + + +At daybreak they took up the march again, Dan walking slowly, with his +musket striking the ground and his arm on Big Abel's shoulder. Where the +lane curved in the hollow, they came upon a white cottage, with a woman +milking a spotted cow in the barnyard. As she caught sight of them, she +waved wildly with her linsey apron, holding the milk pail carefully between +her feet as the spotted cow turned inquiringly. + +"Go 'way, I don't want no stragglers here," she cried, as one having +authority. + +Leaning upon the fence, Dan placidly regarded her. + +"My dear madam, you commit an error of judgment," he replied, pausing to +argue. + +With the cow's udder in her hand the woman looked up from the streaming +milk. + +"Well, ain't you stragglers?" she inquired. + +Dan shook his head reproachfully. + +"What air you, then?" + +"Beggars, madam." + +"I might ha' knowed it!" returned the woman, with a snort. "Well, whatever +you air, you kin jest as eas'ly keep on along that thar road. I ain't got +nothing on this place for you. Some of you broke into my smokehouse night +befo' last an' stole all the spar' ribs I'd been savin'. Was you the ones?" + +"No, ma'am." + +"Oh, you're all alike," protested the woman, scornfully, "an' a bigger set +o' rascals I never seed." + +"Huh! Who's a rascal?" exclaimed Big Abel, angrily. + +"This is the reward of doing your duty, Big Abel," remarked Dan, gravely. +"Never do it again, remember. The next time Virginia is invaded we'll sit +by the fire and warm our feet. Good morning, madam." + +"Why ain't you with the army?" inquired the woman sharply, slapping the cow +upon the side as she rose from her seat and took up the milk pail. "An +officer rode by this morning an' he told me part of the army was campin' +ten miles across on the other road." + +"Did he say whose division?" + +"Oh, I reckon you kin fight as well under one general as another, so long +as you've got a mind to fight at all. You jest follow this lane about three +miles and then keep straight along the turnpike. If you do that I reckon +you'll git yo' deserts befo' sundown." She came over to the fence and stood +fixing them with hard, bright eyes. "My! You do look used up," she admitted +after a moment. "You'd better come in an' git a glass of this milk befo' +you move on. Jest go roun' to the gate and I'll meet you at the po'ch. The +dog won't bite you if you don't touch nothin'." + +"All right, go ahead and hide the spoons," called Dan, as he swung open the +gate and went up a little path bordered by prince's feathers. + +The woman met them at the porch and led them into a clean kitchen, where +Dan sat down at the table and Big Abel stationed himself behind his chair. + +"Drink a glass of that milk the first thing," she said, bustling heavily +about the room, and browbeating them into submissive silence, while she +mixed the biscuits and broke the eggs into a frying-pan greased with bacon +gravy. Plump, hearty, with a full double chin and cheeks like winter +apples, she moved briskly from the wooden safe to the slow fire, which she +stirred with determined gestures. + +"It's time this war had stopped, anyhow," she remarked as she slapped the +eggs up into the air and back again into the pan. "An' if General Lee ever +rides along this way I mean to tell him that he ought to have one good +battle an' be done with it. Thar's no use piddlin' along like this twil +we're all worn out and thar ain't a corn-field pea left in Virginny. Look +here (to Big Abel), you set right down on that do' step an' I'll give you +something along with yo' marster. It's a good thing I happened to look +under the cow trough yestiddy or thar wouldn't have been an egg left in +this house. That's right, turn right in an' eat hearty--don't mince with +me." Big Abel, cowed by her energetic manner, seated himself upon the door +step, and for a half-hour the woman ceaselessly plied them with hot +biscuits and coffee made from sweet potatoes. + +"You mustn't think I mind doing for the soldiers," she said when they took +their leave a little later, "but I've a husban' with General Lee and I +can't bear to see able-bodied men stragglin' about the country. No, don't +give me nothin'--it ain't worth it. Lord, don't I know that you don't git +enough to buy a bag of flour." Then she pointed out the way again and they +set off with a well-filled paper of luncheon. + +"Beware of hasty judgments, Big Abel," advised Dan, as they strolled along +the road. "Now that woman there--she's the right sort, though she rather +took my breath away." + +"She 'uz downright ficy at fu'st," replied Big Abel, "but I d'clar dose +eggs des melted in my mouf like butter. Whew! don't I wish I had dat ole +speckled hen f'om home. I could hev toted her unner my arm thoo dis wah des +es well es not." + +The sun was well overhead, and across the landscape the heavy dew was +lifted like a veil. Here and there the autumn foliage tinted the woods in +splashes of red and yellow; and beyond the low stone wall an old sheep +pasture was ablaze in goldenrod. From a pointed aspen beside the road a +wild grapevine let down a fringe of purple clusters, but Big Abel, with a +full stomach, passed them by indifferently. A huge buzzard, rising suddenly +from the pasture, sailed slowly across the sky, its heavy shadow skimming +the field beneath. As yet the flames of war had not blown over this quiet +spot; in the early morning dew it lay as fresh as the world in its +beginning. + +At the end of the lane, when they came out upon the turnpike, they met an +old farmer riding a mule home from the market. + +"Can you tell me if McClellan has crossed the Potomac?" asked Dan, as he +came up with him. "I was in the hospital at Shepherdstown, and I left it +for fear of capture. No news has reached me, but I am on my way to rejoin +the army." + +"Naw, suh, you might as well have stayed whar you were," responded the old +man, eying him with the suspicion which always met a soldier out of ranks. +"McClellan didn't do no harm on this side of the river--he jest set up a +battery on Douglas hill and scolded General Lee for leaving Maryland so +soon. You needn't worry no mo' 'bout the Yankees gittin' on this side--thar +ain't none of 'em left to come, they're all dead. Why, General Lee cut 'em +all up into little pieces, that's what he did. Hooray! it was jest like +Bible times come back agin." + +Then, as Dan moved on, the farmer raised himself in his stirrups and called +loudly after him. "Keep to the Scriptures, young man, and remember Joshua, +Smite them hip an' thigh, as the Bible says." + +All day in the bright sunshine they crept slowly onward, halting at brief +intervals to rest in the short grass by the roadside, and stopping to ask +information of the countrymen or stragglers whom they met. At last in the +red glow of the sunset they entered a strip of thin woodland, and found an +old negro gathering resinous knots from the bodies of fallen pines. + +"Bless de Lawd!" he exclaimed as he faced them. "Is you done come fer de +sick sodger at my cabin?" + +"A sick soldier? Why, we are all sick soldiers," answered Dan. "Where did +he come from?" The old man shook his head, as he placed his heavy split +basket on the ground at his feet. + +"I dunno, marster, he ain' come, he des drapped. 'Twuz yestiddy en I 'uz +out hyer pickin' up dis yer lightwood des like I is doin' dis minute, w'en +I heah 'a-bookerty! bookerty! bookerty!' out dar in de road 'en a w'ite +hoss tu'n right inter de woods wid a sick sodger a-hangin' ter de saddle. +Yes, suh, de hoss he come right in des like he knowed me, en w'en I helt +out my han' he poke his nose spang inter it en w'innied like he moughty +glad ter see me--en he wuz, too, dat's sho'. Well, I ketch holt er his +bridle en lead 'im thoo de woods up ter my do' whar he tu'n right in en +begin ter nibble in de patch er kebbage. All dis time I 'uz 'lowin' dat de +sodger wuz stone dead, but w'en I took 'im down he opened his eyes en axed +fur water. Den I gun 'im a drink outer de goa'd en laid 'im flat on my bed, +en in a little w'ile a nigger come by dat sez he b'longed ter 'im, but +befo' day de nigger gone agin en de hoss he gone, too." + +"Well, we'll see about him, uncle, go ahead," said Dan, and as the old +negro went up the path among the trees, he followed closely on his +footsteps. When they had gone a little way the woods opened suddenly and +they came upon a small log cabin, with a yellow dog lying before the door. +The dog barked shrilly as they approached, and a voice from the dim room +beyond called out:-- + +"Hosea! Are you back so soon, Hosea?" + +At the words Dan stopped as if struck by lightning, midway of the vegetable +garden; then breaking from Big Abel, he ran forward and into the little +cabin. + +"Is the hurt bad, Governor?" he asked in a trembling voice. + +The Governor smiled and held out a steady hand above the ragged patchwork +quilt. His neat gray coat lay over him and as Dan caught the glitter and +the collar he remembered the promotion after Seven Pines. + +"Let me help you, General," he implored. "What is it that we can do?" + +"I have come to the end, my boy," replied the Governor, his rich voice +unshaken. "I have seen men struck like this before and I have lived twelve +hours longer than the strongest of them. When I could go no farther I sent +Hosea ahead to make things ready--and now I am keeping alive to hear from +home. Give me water." + +Dan held the glass to his lips, and looking up, the Governor thanked him +with his old warm glance that was so like Betty's. "There are some things +that are worth fighting for," said the older man as he fell back, "and the +sight of home is one of them. It was a hard ride, but every stab of pain +carried me nearer to Uplands--and there are poor fellows who endure worse +things and yet die in a strange land among strangers." He was silent a +moment and then spoke slowly, smiling a little sadly. + +"My memory has failed me," he said, "and when I lay here last night and +tried to recall the look of the lawn at home, I couldn't remember--I +couldn't remember. Are there elms or maples at the front, Dan?" + +"Maples, sir," replied Dan, with the deference of a boy. "The long walk +bordered by lilacs goes up from the road to the portico with the Doric +columns--you remember that?" + +"Yes, yes, go on." + +"The maples have grown thick upon the lawn and close beside the house there +is the mimosa tree that your father set out on his twenty-first birthday." + +"The branches touch the library window. I had them trimmed last year that +the shutters might swing back. What time is it, Dan?" + +Dan turned to the door. + +"What time is it, Big Abel?" he called to the negro outside. + +"Hit's goin' on eight o'clock, suh," replied Big Abel, staring at the west. +"De little star he shoots up moughty near eight, en dar he is a-comin'." + +"Hosea is there by now," said the Governor, turning his head on a pillow of +pine needles. "He started this morning, and I told him to change horses +upon the road and eat in the saddle. Yes, he is there by now and Julia is +on the way. Am I growing weaker, do you think? There is a little brandy on +the chair, give me a few drops--we must make it last all night." + +After taking the brandy he slept a little, and awaking quietly, looked at +Dan with dazed eyes. + +"Who is it?" he asked, stretching out his hand. "Why, I thought Dick Wythe +was dead." + +Dan bent over him, smoothing the hair from his brow with hands that were +gentle as a woman's. + +"Surely you haven't forgotten me," he said. + +"No--no, I remember, but it is dark, too dark. Why doesn't Shadrach bring +the candles? And we might as well have a blaze in the fireplace to-night. +It has grown chilly; there'll be a white frost before morning." + +There was a basket of resinous pine beside the hearth, and Dan kindled a +fire from a handful of rich knots. As the flames shot up, the rough little +cabin grew more cheerful, and the Governor laughed softly lying on his +pallet. + +"Why, I thought you were Dick Wythe, my boy," he said. "The light was so +dim I couldn't see, and, after all, it was no great harm, for there was not +a handsomer man in the state than my friend Dick--the ladies used to call +him 'Apollo Unarmed,' you know. Ah, I was jealous enough of Dick in my day, +though he never knew it. He rather took Julia's fancy when I first began +courting her, and, for a time, he pretended to reform and refused to touch +a drop even at the table. I've seen him sit for hours, too, in Julia's +Bible class of little negroes, with his eyes positively glued on her face +while she read the hymns aloud. Yes, he was over head and ears in love with +her, there's no doubt of that--though she has always denied it--and, I dare +say, he would have been a much better man if she had married him, and I a +much worse one. Somehow, I can't help feeling that it wasn't quite just, +and that I ought to square up things with Dick at Judgment Day. I shouldn't +like to reap any good from his mistakes, poor fellow." He broke off for an +instant, lay gazing at the lightwood blaze, and then took up the thread. +"He had his fall at last, and it's been on my conscience ever since that I +didn't toss that bowl of apple toddy through the window when I saw him +going towards it. We were at Chericoke on Christmas Eve in a big snowstorm, +and Dick couldn't resist his glass--he never could so long as there was a +drop at the bottom of it--the more he drank, the thirstier he got, he used +to say. Well, he took a good deal, more than he could stand, and when the +Major began toasting the ladies and called them the prettiest things God +ever made, Dick flew into a rage and tried to fight him. 'There are two +prettier sights than any woman that ever wore petticoats,' he thundered; +'and (here he ripped out an oath) I'll prove it to you at the sword's point +before sunrise. God made but one thing, sir, prettier than the cobwebs on a +bottle of wine, and that's the bottle of wine without the cobwebs!' Then he +went at the Major, and we had to hold him back and rub snow on his temples. +That night I drove home with Julia, and she accepted me before we passed +the wild cherry tree on the way to Uplands." + +As he fell silent the old negro, treading softly, came into the room and +made the preparations for his simple supper, which he carried outside +beneath the trees. In a little bared place amid charred wood, a fire was +started, and Dan watched through the open doorway the stooping figures of +the two negroes as they bent beside the flames. In a little while Big Abel +came into the room and beckoned him, but he shook his head impatiently and +turned away, sickened by the thought of food. + +"Go, my boy," said the Governor, as if he had seen it through closed eyes. +"I never saw a private yet that wasn't hungry--one told me last week that +his diet for a year had varied only three times--blackberries, chinquapins, +and persimmons had kept him alive, he said." + +Then his mind wandered again, and he talked in a low voice of the wheat +fields at Uplands and of the cradles swinging all day in the sunshine. Dan, +moving to the door, stared, with aching eyes, at the rich twilight which +crept like purple mist among the trees. The very quiet of the scene grated +as a discord upon his mood, and he would have welcomed with a feeling of +relief any violent manifestation of the savagery of nature. A storm, an +earthquake, even the thunder of battle he felt would be less tragic than +just this pleasant evening with the serene moon rising above the hills. + +Turning back into the room, he drew a split-bottomed chair beside the +hearth, and began his patient watch until the daybreak. Under the patchwork +quilt the Governor lay motionless, dead from the waist down, only the +desire in his eyes struggling to keep the spirit to the clay. Big Abel and +the old negro made themselves a bed beneath the trees, and as they raked +the dried leaves together the mournful rustling filled the little cabin. +Then they lay down, the yellow dog beside them, and gradually the silence +of the night closed in. + +After midnight, Dan, who had dozed in his chair from weariness, was +awakened by the excited tones of the Governor's voice. The desire was +vanquished at last and the dying man had gone back in delirium to the +battle he had fought beyond the river. On the hearth the resinous pine +still blazed and from somewhere among the stones came the short chirp of a +cricket. + +"Oh, it's nothing--a mere scratch. Lay me beneath that tree, and tell +Barnes to support D. H. Hill at the sunken road. Richardson is charging us +across the ploughed ground and we are fighting from behind the stacked +fence rails. Ah, they advance well, those Federals--not a man out of line, +and their fire has cut the corn down as with a sickle. If Richardson keeps +this up, he will sweep us from the wood and beyond the slope. No, don't +take me to the hospital. Please God, I'll die upon the field and hear the +cannon at the end. Look! they are charging again, but we still hold our +ground. What, Longstreet giving way? They are forcing him from the +ridge--the enemy hold it now! Ah, well, there is A. P. Hill to give the +counter stroke. If he falls upon their flank, the day is--" + +His voice ceased, and Dan, crossing the room, gave him brandy from the +glass upon the chair. The silence had grown suddenly oppressive, and as the +young man went back to his seat, he saw a little mouse gliding like a +shadow across the floor. Startled by his footsteps, it hesitated an instant +in the centre of the room, and then darted along the wall and disappeared +between the loose logs in the corner. Often during the night it crept out +from its hiding place, and at last Dan grew to look for it with a certain +wistful comfort in its shy companionship. + +Gradually the stars went out above the dim woods, and the dawn whitened +along the eastern sky. With the first light Dan went to the open door and +drew a deep breath of the refreshing air. A new day was coming, but he met +it with dulled eyes and a crippled will. The tragedy of life seemed to +overhang the pleasant prospect upon which he looked, and, as he stood +there, he saw in his vision of the future only an endless warfare and a +wasted land. With a start he turned, for the Governor was speaking in a +voice that filled the cabin and rang out into the woods. + +"Skirmishers, forward! Second the battalion of direction! Battalions, +forward!" + +He had risen upon his pallet and was pointing straight at the open door, +but when, with a single stride, Dan reached him, he was already dead. + + + + +IV + +IN THE SILENCE OF THE GUNS + + +At noon the next day, Dan, sitting beside the fireless hearth, with his +head resting on his clasped hands, saw a shadow fall suddenly upon the +floor, and, looking up, found Mrs. Ambler standing in the doorway. + +"I am too late?" she said quietly, and he bowed his head and motioned to +the pallet in the corner. + +Without seeing the arm he put out, she crossed the room like one bewildered +by a sudden blow, and went to where the Governor was lying beneath the +patchwork quilt. No sound came to her lips; she only stretched out her hand +with a protecting gesture and drew the dead man to her arms. Then it was +that Dan, turning to leave her alone with her grief, saw that Betty had +followed her mother and was coming toward him from the doorway. For an +instant their eyes met; then the girl went to her dead, and Dan passed out +into the sunlight with a new bitterness at his heart. + +A dozen yards from the cabin there was a golden beech spreading in wide +branches against the sky, and seating himself on a fallen log beneath it, +he looked over the soft hills that rose round and deep-bosomed from the dim +blue valley. He was still there an hour later when, hearing a rustle in the +grass, he turned and saw Betty coming to him over the yellowed leaves. His +first glance showed him that she had grown older and very pale; his second +that her kind brown eyes were full of tears. + +"Betty, is it this way?" he asked, and opened his arms. + +With a cry that was half a sob she ran toward him, her black skirt sweeping +the leaves about her feet. Then, as she reached him, she swayed forward as +if a strong wind blew over her, and as he caught her from the ground, he +kissed her lips. Her tears broke out afresh, but as they stood there in +each other's arms, neither found words to speak nor voice to utter them. +The silence between them had gone deeper than speech, for it had in it all +the dumb longing of the last two years--the unshaken trust, the bitterness +of the long separation, the griefs that had come to them apart, and the +sorrow that had brought them at last together. He held her so closely that +he felt the flutter of her breast with each rising sob, and an anguish that +was but a vibration from her own swept over him like a wave from head to +foot. Since he had put her from him on that last night at Chericoke their +passion had deepened by each throb of pain and broadened by each step that +had led them closer to the common world. Not one generous thought, not one +temptation overcome but had gone to the making of their love to-day--for +what united them now was not the mere prompting of young impulse, but the +strength out of many struggles and the fulness out of experiences that had +ripened the heart of each. + +"Let me look at you," said Betty, lifting her wet face. "It has been so +long, and I have wanted you so much--I have hungered sleeping and waking." + +"Don't look at me, Betty, I am a skeleton--a crippled skeleton, and I will +not be looked at by my love." + +"Your love can see you with shut eyes. Oh, my best and dearest, do you +think you could keep me from seeing you however hard you tried? Why, +there's a lamp in my heart that lets me look at you even in the night." + +"Your lamp flatters, I am afraid to face it. Has it shown you this?" + +He drew back and held up his maimed hand, his eyes fastened upon her face, +where the old fervour had returned. + +With a sob that thrilled through him, she caught his hand to her lips and +then held it to her bosom, crooning over it little broken sounds of love +and pity. Through the spreading beech above a clear gold light filtered +down upon her, and a single yellow leaf was caught in her loosened hair. He +saw her face, impassioned, glorified, amid a flood of sunshine. + +"And I did not know," she said breathlessly. "You were wounded and there +was no one to tell me. Whenever there has been a battle I have sat very +still and shut my eyes, and tried to make myself go straight to you. I have +seen the smoke and heard the shots, and yet when it came I did not know it. +I may even have laughed and talked and eaten a stupid dinner while you were +suffering. Now I shall never smile again until I have you safe." + +"But if I were dying I should want to see you smiling. Nobody ever smiled +before you, Betty." + +"If you are wounded, you will send for me. Promise me; I beg you on my +knees. You will send for me; say it or I shall be always wretched. Do you +want to kill me, Dan? Promise." + +"I shall send for you. There, will that do? It would be almost worth dying +to have you come to me. Would you kiss me then, I wonder?" + +"Then and now," she answered passionately. "Oh, I sometimes think that wars +are fought to torture women! Hold me in your arms again or my heart will +break. I have missed Virginia so--never a day passes that I do not see her +coming through the rooms and hear her laugh--such a baby laugh, do you +remember it?" + +"I remember everything that was near to you, beloved." + +"If you could have seen her on her wedding day, when she came down in her +pink crepe shawl and white bonnet that I had trimmed, and looked back, +smiling at us for the last time. I have almost died with wanting her +again--and now papa--papa! They loved life so, and yet both are dead, and +life goes on without them." + +"My poor love, poor Betty." + +"But not so poor as if I had lost you, too," she answered; "and if you are +wounded even a little remember that you have promised, and I shall come to +you. Prince Rupert and I will pass the lines together. Do you know that I +have Prince Rupert, Dan?" + +"Keep him, dear, don't let him get into the army." + +"He lives in the woods night and day, and when he comes to pasture I go +after him while Uncle Shadrach watches the turnpike. When the soldiers come +by, blue or gray, we hide him behind the willows in the brook. They may +take the chickens--and they do--but I should kill the man who touched +Prince Rupert's bridle." + +"You should have been a soldier, Betty." + +She shook her head. "Oh, I couldn't shoot any one in cold blood--as you +do--that's different. I'd have to hate him as much--as much as I love you." + +"How much is that?" + +"A whole world full and brimming over; is that enough?" + +"Only a little world?" he answered. "Is that all?" + +"If I told you truly, you would not believe me," she said earnestly. "You +would shake your head and say: 'Poor silly Betty, has she gone moon mad?'" + +Catching her in his arms again, he kissed her hair and mouth and hands and +the ruffle at her throat. "Poor silly Betty," he repeated, "where is your +wisdom now?" + +"You have turned it into folly, sad little wisdom that it was." + +"Well, I prefer your folly," he said gravely. "It was folly that made you +love me at the first; it was pure folly that brought you out to me that +night at Chericoke--but the greatest folly of all is just this, my dear." + +"But it will keep you safe." + +"Who knows? I may get shot to-morrow. There, there, I only said it to feel +your arms about me." + +Her hands clung to him and the tears, rising to her lashes, fell fast upon +his coat. + +"Oh, don't let me lose you," she begged. "I have lost so much--don't let me +lose you, too." + +"Living or dead, I am yours, that I swear." + +"But I don't want you dead. I want the feel of you. I want your hands, your +face. I want _you_." + +"Betty, Betty," he said softly. "Listen, for there is no word in the world +that means so much as just your name." + +"Except yours." + +"No interruptions, this is martial law. Dear, dearest, darling, are all +empty sounds; but when I say 'Betty,' it is full of life." + +"Say it again, then." + +"Betty, do you love me?" + +"Ask: 'Betty, is the sun shining?'" + +"It always shines about you." + +"Because my hair is red?" + +"Red? It is pure gold. Do you remember when I found that out on the hearth +in free Levi's cabin? The colour went to my head, but when I put out my +hand to touch a curl, you drew away and fastened them up again. Now I have +pulled them all down and you dare not move." + +"Shall I tell you why I drew away?" + +The tears were still on her lashes, but in the exaltation of a great +passion, life, death, the grave, and things beyond had dwindled like stars +before the rising sun. + +"You told me then--because I was 'a pampered poodle dog.' Well, I've +outgrown that objection certainly. Let us hope you have a fancy for lean +hounds." + +She put up her hands in protest. + +"I drew away partly because I knew you did not love me," she said, meeting +his eyes with her clear and ardent gaze, "but more because--I knew that I +loved you." + +"You loved me then? Oh, Betty, if I had only known!" + +"If you had known!" She covered her face. "Oh, it was terrible enough as it +was. I wanted to beat myself for shame." + +"Shame? In loving me, my darling?" + +"In loving you like that." + +"Nonsense. If you had only said to me: 'My good sir, I love you a little +bit,' I should have come to my senses on the spot. Even pampered poodle +dogs are not all fat, Betty, and, as it was, I did come to the years of +discretion that very night. I didn't sleep a wink." + +"Nor I." + +"I walked the floor till daybreak." + +"And I sat by the window." + +"I hurled every hard name at myself that I could think of. 'Dolt and idiot' +seemed to stick. By George, I can't get over it. To think that I might have +galloped down that turnpike and swept you off your feet. You wouldn't have +withstood me, Betty, you couldn't." + +"Yet I did," she said, smiling sadly. + +"Oh, I didn't have a fair chance, you see." + +"Perhaps not," she answered, "though sometimes I was afraid you would hear +my heart beating and know it all. Do you remember that morning in the +garden with the roses?--I wouldn't kiss you good-by, but if you had done it +against my will I'd have broken down. After you had gone I kissed the grass +where you had stood." + +"My God! I can't leave you, Betty." + +She met his passionate gaze with steady eyes. + +"If you were not to go I should never have told you," she answered; "but if +you die in battle you must remember it at the last." + +"It seems an awful waste of opportunities," he said, "but I'll make it up +on the day that I come back a Major-general. Then I shall say 'forward, +madam,' and you'll marry me on the spot." + +"Don't be too sure. I may grow coy again when the war is over." + +"When you do I'll find the remedy--for I'll be a Major-general, then, and +you a private. This war must make me, dear. I shan't stay in the ranks much +longer." + +"I like you there--it is so brave," she said. + +"But you'll like me anywhere, and I prefer the top--the very top. Oh, my +love, we'll wring our happiness from the world before we die!" + +With a shiver she came back to the earth. + +"I had almost forgotten him," she said in keen self-reproach, and went +quickly over the rustling leaves to the cabin door. As Dan followed her the +day seemed to grow suddenly darker to his eyes. + +On the threshold he met Mrs. Ambler, composed and tearless, wearing her +grief as a veil that hid her from the outside world. Before her calm gray +eyes he fell back with an emotion not unmixed with awe. + +"I did the best I could," he said bluntly, "but it was nothing." + +She thanked him quietly, asking a few questions in her grave and gentle +voice. Was he conscious to the end? Did he talk of home? Had he expressed +any wishes of which she was not aware? + +"They are bringing him to the wagon now," she finished steadily. "No, do +not go in--you are very weak and your strength must be saved to hold your +musket. Shadrach and Big Abel will carry him, I prefer it to be so. We left +the wagon at the end of the path; it is a long ride home, but we have +arranged to change horses, and we shall reach Uplands, I hope, by sunrise." + +"I wish to God I could go with you!" he exclaimed. + +"Your place is with the army," she answered. "I have no son to send, so you +must go in his stead. He would have it this way if he could choose." + +For a moment she was silent, and he looked at her placid face and the +smooth folds of her black silk with a wonder that checked his words. + +"Some one said of him once," she added presently, "that he was a man who +always took his duty as if it were a pleasure; and it was true--so true. I +alone saw how hard this was for him, for he hated war as heartily as he +dreaded death. Yet when both came he met them squarely and without looking +back." + +"He died as he had lived, the truest gentleman I have ever known," he said. + +A pleased smile hovered for an instant on her lips. + +"He fought hard against secession until it came," she pursued quietly, "for +he loved the Union, and he had given it the best years of his life--his +strong years, he used to say. I think if he ever felt any bitterness toward +any one, it was for the man or men who brought us into this; and at last he +used to leave the room because he could not speak of them without anger. He +threw all his strength against the tide, yet, when it rushed on in spite of +him, he knew where his duty guided him, and he followed it, as always, like +a pleasure. You thought him sanguine, I suppose, but he never was so--in +his heart, though the rest of us think differently, he always felt that he +was fighting for a hopeless cause, and he loved it the more for very pity +of its weakness. 'It is the spirit and not the bayonet that makes history,' +he used to say." + +Heavy steps crossed the cabin floor, and Uncle Shadrach and Big Abel came +out bringing the dead man between them. With her hand on the gray coat, +Mrs. Ambler walked steadily as she leaned on Betty's shoulder. Once or +twice she noticed rocks in the way, and cautioned the negroes to go +carefully down the descending grade. The bright leaves drifted upon them, +and through the thin woods, along the falling path, over the lacework of +lights and shadows, they went slowly out into the road where Hosea was +waiting with the open wagon. + +The Governor was laid upon the straw that filled the bottom, Mrs. Ambler +sat down beside him, and as Betty followed, Uncle Shadrach climbed upon the +seat above the wheel. + +"Good-by, my boy," said Mrs. Ambler, giving him her hand. + +"Good-by, my soldier," said Betty, taking both of his. Then Hosea cracked +the whip and the wagon rolled out into the road, scattering the gray dust +high into the sunlight. + +Dan, standing alone against the pines, looked after it with a gnawing +hunger at his heart, seeing first Betty's eyes, next the gleam of her hair, +then the dim figures fading into the straw, and at last the wagon caught up +in a cloud of dust. Down the curving road, round a green knoll, across a +little stream, and into the blue valley it passed as a speck upon the +landscape. Then the distance closed over it, the sand settled in the road, +and the blank purple hills crowded against the sky. + + + + +V + +"THE PLACE THEREOF" + + +In the full beams of the sun the wagon turned into the drive between the +lilacs and drew up before the Doric columns. Mr. Bill and the two old +ladies came out upon the portico, and the Governor was lifted down by Uncle +Shadrach and Hosea and laid upon the high tester bed in the room behind the +parlour. + +As Betty entered the hall, the familiar sights of every day struck her eyes +with the smart of a physical blow. The excitement of the shock had passed +from her; there was no longer need to tighten the nervous strain, and +henceforth she must face her grief where the struggle is always hardest--in +the place where each trivial object is attended by pleasant memories. While +there was something for her hands to do--or the danger of delay in the long +watch upon the road--it had not been so hard to brace her strength against +necessity, but here--what was there left that she must bring herself to +endure? The torturing round of daily things, the quiet house in which to +cherish new regrets, and outside the autumn sunshine on the long white +turnpike. The old waiting grown sadder, was begun again; she must put out +her hands to take up life where it had stopped, go up and down the shining +staircase and through the unchanged rooms, while her ears were always +straining for the sound of the cannon, or the beat of a horse's hoofs upon +the road. + +The brick wall around the little graveyard was torn down in one corner, +and, while the afternoon sun slanted between the aspens, the Governor was +laid away in the open grave beneath rank periwinkle. There was no minister +to read the service, but as the clods of earth fell on the coffin, Mrs. +Ambler opened her prayer book and Betty, kneeling upon the ground, heard +the low words with her eyes on the distant mountains. Overhead the aspens +stirred beneath a passing breeze, and a few withered leaves drifted slowly +down. Aunt Lydia wept softly, and the servants broke into a subdued +wailing, but Mrs. Ambler's gentle voice did not falter. + +"He, cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a +shadow, and never continueth in one stay." + +She read on quietly in the midst of the weeping slaves, who had closed +about her. Then, at the last words, her hands dropped to her sides, and she +drew back while Uncle Shadrach shovelled in the clay. + +"It is but a span," she repeated, looking out into the sunshine, with a +light that was almost unearthly upon her face. + +"Come away, mamma," said Betty, holding out her arms; and when the last +spray of life-everlasting was placed upon the finished mound, they went out +by the hollow in the wall, turning from time to time to look back at the +gray aspens. Down the little hill, through the orchard, and across the +meadows filled with waving golden-rod, the procession of white and black +filed slowly homeward. When the lawn was reached each went to his +accustomed task, and Aunt Lydia to her garden. + +An hour later the Major rode over in response to a message which had just +reached him. + +"I was in town all the morning," he explained in a trembling voice, "and I +didn't get the news until a half hour ago. The saddest day of my life, +madam, is the one upon which I learn that I have outlived him." + +"He loved you, Major," said Mrs. Ambler, meeting his swimming eyes. + +"Loved me!" repeated the old man, quivering in his chair, "I tell you, +madam, I would rather have been Peyton Ambler's friend than President of +the Confederacy! Do you remember the time he gave me his last keg of brandy +and went without for a month?" + +She nodded, smiling, and the Major, with red eyes and shaking hands, +wandered into endless reminiscences of the long friendship. To Betty these +trivial anecdotes were only a fresh torture, but Mrs. Ambler followed them +eagerly, comparing her recollections with the Major's, and repeating in a +low voice to herself characteristic stories which she had not heard before. + +"I remember that--we had been married six months then," she would say, with +the unearthly light upon her face. "It is almost like living again to hear +you, Major." + +"Well, madam, life is a sad affair, but it is the best we've got," +responded the old gentleman, gravely. + +"He loved it," returned Mrs. Ambler, and as the Major rose to go, she +followed him into the hall and inquired if Mrs. Lightfoot had been +successful with her weaving. "She told me that she intended to have her old +looms set up again," she added, "and I think that I shall follow her +example. Between us we might clothe a regiment of soldiers." + +"She has had the servants brushing off the cobwebs for a week," replied the +Major, "and to-day I actually found Car'line at a spinning wheel on the +back flagstones. There's not the faintest doubt in my mind that if Molly +had been placed in the Commissary department our soldiers would be living +to-day on the fat of the land. She has knitted thirty pairs of socks since +spring. Good-by, my dear lady, good-by, and may God sustain you in your +double affliction." + +He crossed the portico, bowed as he descended the steps, and, mounting in +the drive, rode slowly away upon his dappled mare. When he reached the +turnpike he lifted his hat again and passed on at an amble. + +During the next few months it seemed to Betty that she aged a year each +day. The lines closed and opened round them; troops of blue and gray +cavalrymen swept up and down the turnpike; the pastures were invaded by +each army in its turn, and the hen-house became the spoil of a regiment of +stragglers. Uncle Shadrach had buried the silver beneath the floor of his +cabin, and Aunt Floretta set her dough to rise each morning under a loose +pile of kindling wood. Once a deserter penetrated into Betty's chamber, and +the girl drove him out at the point of an old army pistol, which she kept +upon her bureau. + +"If you think I am afraid of you come a step nearer," she had said coolly, +and the man had turned to run into the arms of a Federal officer, who was +sweeping up the stragglers. He was a blue-eyed young Northerner, and for +three days after that he had set a guard upon the portico at Uplands. The +memory of the small white-faced girl, with her big army pistol and the +blazing eyes haunted him from that hour until Appomattox, when he heaved a +sigh of relief and dismissed it from his thoughts. "She would have shot the +rascal in another second," he said afterward, "and, by George, I wish she +had." + +The Governor's wine cellar was emptied long ago, the rare old wine flowing +from broken casks across the hall. + +"What does it matter?" Mrs. Ambler had asked wearily, watching the red +stream drip upon the portico. "What is wine when our soldiers are starving +for bread? And besides, war lives off the soil, as your father used to +say." + +Betty lifted her skirts and stepped over the bright puddles, glancing +disdainfully after the Hessian stragglers, who went singing down the drive. + +"I hope their officers will get them," she remarked vindictively, "and the +next time they offer us a guard, I shall accept him for good and all, if he +happens to have been born on American soil. I don't mind Yankees so +much--you can usually quiet them with the molasses jug--but these +foreigners are awful. From a Hessian or a renegade Virginian, good Lord +deliver us." + +"Some of them have kind hearts," remarked Mrs. Ambler, wonderingly. "I +don't see how they can bear to come down to fight us. The Major met General +McClellan, you know, and he admitted afterwards that he shouldn't have +known from his manner that he was not a Southern gentleman." + +"Well, I hope he has left us a shoulder of bacon in the smokehouse," +replied Betty, laughing. "You haven't eaten a mouthful for two days, +mamma." + +"I don't feel that I have a right to eat, my dear," said Mrs. Ambler. "It +seems a useless extravagance when every little bit helps the army." + +"Well, I can't support the army, but I mean to feed you," returned Betty +decisively, and she went out to ask Hosea if he had found a new hiding +place for the cattle. Except upon the rare mornings when Mr. Bill left his +fishing, the direction of the farm had fallen entirely upon Betty's +shoulders. Wilson, the overseer, was in the army, and Hosea had gradually +risen to take his place. "We must keep things up," the girl had insisted, +"don't let us go to rack and ruin--papa would have hated it so," and, with +the negro's aid, she had struggled to keep up the common tenor of the old +country life. + +Rising at daybreak, she went each morning to overlook the milking of the +cows, hidden in their retreat among the hills; and as the sun rose higher, +she came back to start the field hands to the ploughing and the women to +the looms in one of the detached wings. Then there was the big storehouse +to go into, the rations of the servants to be drawn from their secret +corners, the meal to be measured, and the bacon to be sliced with the care +which fretted her lavish hands. After this there came the shucking of the +corn, a negro frolic even in war years, so long as there was any corn to +shuck, and lastly the counting of the full bags of grain before the heavy +wagon was sent to the little mill beside the river. From sunrise to sunset +the girl's hands were not idle for an instant, and in the long evenings, by +the light of the home-made tallow dips, which served for candles, she would +draw out a gray yarn stocking and knit busily for the army, while she +tried, with an aching heart, to cheer her mother. Her sunny humour had made +play of a man's work as of a woman's anxiety. + +Sometimes, on bright mornings, Mr. Bill would stroll over with his rod upon +his shoulder and a string of silver perch in his hand. He had grown old and +very feeble, and his angling had become a passion mightier than an army +with bayonets. He took small interest in the war--at times he seemed almost +unconscious of the suffering around him--but he enjoyed his chats with +Union officers upon the road, who occasionally capped his stories of big +sport with tales of mountain trout which they had drawn from Northern +streams. He would sit for hours motionless under the willows by the river, +and once when his house was fired, during a raid up the valley, he was +heard to remark regretfully that the messenger had "scared away his first +bite in an hour." Placid, wide-girthed, dull-faced, innocent as a child, he +sat in the midst of war dangling his line above the silver perch. + + + + +VI + +THE PEACEFUL SIDE OF WAR + + +On a sparkling January morning, when Lee's army had gone into winter +quarters beside the Rappahannock, Dan stood in the doorway of his log hut +smoking the pipe of peace, while he watched a messmate putting up a chimney +of notched sticks across the little roadway through the pines. + +"You'd better get Pinetop to daub your chinks for you," he suggested. "He +can make a mixture of wet clay and sandstone that you couldn't tell from +mortar." + +"You jest wait till I git through these shoes an' I'll show you," remarked +Pinetop, from the woodpile, where he was making moccasins of untanned beef +hide laced with strips of willow. "I ain't goin' to set my bar' feet on +this frozen groun' agin, if I can help it. 'Tain't so bad in summer, but, I +d'clar it takes all the spirit out of a fight when you have to run +bar-footed over the icy stubble." + +"Jack Powell lost his shoes in the battle of Fredericksburg," said Baker, +as he carefully fitted his notched sticks together. "That's why he got +promoted, I reckon. He stepped into a mud puddle, and his feet came out but +his shoes didn't." + +"Well, I dare say, it was cheaper for the Government to give him a title +than a pair of shoes," observed Dan, cynically. "Why, you are going in for +luxury! Is that pile of oak shingles for your roof? We made ours of rails +covered with pine tags." + +"And the first storm that comes along sweeps them off--yes, I know. By the +way, can anybody tell me if there's a farmer with a haystack in these +parts?" + +"Pinetop got a load about three miles up," replied Dan, emptying his pipe +against the door sill. "I say, who is that cavalry peacock over yonder? By +George, it's Champe!" + +"Perhaps it's General Stuart," suggested Baker witheringly, as Champe came +composedly between the rows of huts, pursued by the frantic jeers of the +assembled infantry. + +"Take them earrings off yo' heels--take 'em off! Take 'em off!" yelled the +chorus, as his spurs rang on the stones. "My gal she wants 'em--take 'em +off!" + +"Take those tatters off your backs--take 'em off!" responded Champe, genial +and undismayed, swinging easily along in his worn gray uniform, his black +plume curling over his soft felt hat. + +As Dan watched him, standing in the doorway, he felt, with a sudden +melancholy, that a mental gulf had yawned between them. The last grim +months which had aged him with experiences as with years, had left Champe +apparently unchanged. All the deeper knowledge, which he had bought with +his youth for the price, had passed over his cousin like the clouds, +leaving him merely gay and kind as he had been of old. + +"Hello, Beau!" called Champe, stretching out his hand as he drew near. "I +just heard you were over here, so I thought I'd take a look. How goes the +war?" + +Dan refilled his pipe and borrowed a light from Pinetop. + +"To tell the truth," he replied, "I have come to the conclusion that the +fun and frolic of war consist in picket duty and guarding mule teams." + +"Well, these excessive dissipations have taken up so much of your time that +I've hardly laid eyes on you since you got routed by malaria. Any news from +home?" + +"Grandma sent me a Christmas box, which she smuggled through, heaven knows +how. We had a jolly dinner that day, and Pinetop and I put on our first +clean clothes for three months. Big Abel got a linsey suit made at +Chericoke--I hope he'll come along in it." + +"Oh, Beau, Beau!" lamented Champe. "How have the mighty fallen? You aren't +so particular now about wearing only white or black ties, I reckon." + +"Well, shoestrings are usually black, I believe," returned Dan, with a +laugh, raising his hand to his throat. + +Champe seated himself upon the end of an oak log, and taking off his hat, +ran his hand through his curling hair. "I was at home last summer on a +furlough," he remarked, "and I declare, I hardly knew the valley. If we +ever come out of this war it will take an army with ploughshares to bring +the soil up again. As for the woods--well, well, we'll never have them back +in our day." + +"Did you see Uplands?" asked Dan eagerly. + +"For a moment. It was hardly safe, you know, so I was at home only a day. +Grandpa told me that the place had lain under a shadow ever since +Virginia's death. She was buried in Hollywood--it was impossible to bring +her through the lines they said--and Betty and Mrs. Ambler have taken this +very hardly." + +"And the Governor," said Dan, with a tremor in his voice as he thought of +Betty. + +"And Jack Morson," added Champe, "he fell at Brandy Station when I was with +him. At first he was wounded only slightly, and we tried to get him to the +rear, but he laughed and went straight in again. It was a sabre cut that +finished him at the last." + +"He was a first-rate chap," commented Dan, "but I never knew exactly why +Virginia fell in love with him." + +"The other fellow never does. To be quite candid, it is beyond my +comprehension how a certain lady can prefer the infantry to the +cavalry--yet she does emphatically." + +Dan coloured. + +"Was grandpa well?" he inquired lamely. + +With a laugh Champe flung one leg over the other, and clasped his knee. + +"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," he responded. "Grandpa's +thoughts are so much given to the Yankees that he has become actually +angelic to the rest of us. By the way, do you know that Mr. Blake is in the +army?" + +"What?" cried Dan, aghast. + +"Oh, I don't mean that he really carries a rifle--though he swears he would +if he only had twenty years off his shoulders--but he has become our +chaplain in young Chrysty's place, and the boys say there is more gun +powder in his prayers than in our biggest battery." + +"Well, I never!" exclaimed Dan. + +"You ought to hear him--it's better than fighting on your own account. Last +Sunday he gave us a prayer in which he said: 'O Lord, thou knowest that we +are the greatest army thou hast ever seen; put forth thy hand then but a +very little and we will whip the earth.' By Jove, you look cosey here," he +added, glancing into the hut where Dan and Pinetop slept in bunks of straw. +"I hope the roads won't dry before you've warmed your house." He shook +hands again, and swung off amid the renewed jeers that issued from the open +doorways. + +Dan watched him until he vanished among the distant pines, and then, +turning, went into the little hut where he found Pinetop sitting before a +rude chimney, which he had constructed with much labour. A small book was +open on his knee, over which his yellow head drooped like a child's, and +Dan saw his calm face reddened by the glow of the great log fire. + +"Hello! What's that?" he inquired lightly. + +The mountaineer started from his abstraction, and the blood swept to his +forehead as he rose from the half of a flour barrel upon which he had been +sitting. + +"'Tain't nothin'," he responded, and as he towered to his great height his +fair curls brushed the ceiling of crossed rails. In his awkwardness the +book fell to the floor, and before he could reach it, Dan had stooped, with +a laugh, and picked it up. + +"I say, there are no secrets in this shebang," he said smiling. Then the +smile went out, and his face grew suddenly grave, for, as the book fell +open in his hand, he saw that it was the first primer of a child, and on +the thumbed and tattered page the word "RAT" stared at him in capital +letters. + +"By George, man!" he exclaimed beneath his breath, as he turned from +Pinetop to the blazing logs. + +For the first time in his life he was brought face to face with the tragedy +of hopeless ignorance for an inquiring mind, and the shock stunned him, at +the moment, past the power of speech. Until knowing Pinetop he had, in the +lofty isolation of his class, regarded the plebeian in the light of an +alien to the soil, not as a victim to the kindly society in which he +himself had moved--a society produced by that free labour which had +degraded the white workman to the level of the serf. At the instant the +truth pierced home to him, and he recognized it in all the grimness of its +pathos. Beside that genial plantation life which he had known he saw rising +the wistful figure of the poor man doomed to conditions which he could not +change--born, it may be, like Pinetop, self-poised, yet with an untaught +intellect, grasping, like him, after the primitive knowledge which should +be the birthright of every child. Even the spectre of slavery, which had +shadowed his thoughts, as it had those of many a generous mind around him, +faded abruptly before the very majesty of the problem that faced him now. +In his sympathy for the slave, whose bondage he and his race had striven to +make easy, he had overlooked the white sharer of the negro's wrong. To men +like Pinetop, slavery, stern or mild, could be but an equal menace, and yet +these were the men who, when Virginia called, came from their little cabins +in the mountains, who tied the flint-locks upon their muskets and fought +uncomplainingly until the end. Not the need to protect a decaying +institution, but the instinct in every free man to defend the soil, had +brought Pinetop, as it had brought Dan, into the army of the South. + +"Look here, old man, you haven't been quite fair to me," said Dan, after +the long silence. "Why didn't you ask me to help you with this stuff?" + +"Wall, I thought you'd joke," replied Pinetop blushing, "and I knew yo' +nigger would." + +"Joke? Good Lord!" exclaimed Dan. "Do you think I was born with so short a +memory, you scamp? Where are those nights on the way to Romney when you +covered me with your overcoat to keep me from freezing in the snow? Where, +for that matter, is that march in Maryland when Big Abel and you carried me +three miles in your arms after I had dropped delirious by the roadside? If +you thought I'd joke you about this, Pinetop, all I can say is that you've +turned into a confounded fool." + +Pinetop came back to the fire and seated himself upon the flour barrel in +the corner. "'Twas this way, you see," he said, breaking, for the first +time, through his strong mountain reserve. "I al'ays thought I'd like to +read a bit, 'specially on winter evenings at home, when the nights are long +and you don't have to git up so powerful early in the mornings, but when I +was leetle thar warn't nobody to teach me how to begin; maw she didn't know +nothin' an' paw he was dead, though he never got beyond the first reader +when he was 'live." + +He looked up and Dan nodded gravely over his pipe. + +"Then when I got bigger I had to work mighty hard to keep things goin'--an' +it seemed to me every time I took out that thar leetle book at night I got +so dead sleepy I couldn't tell one letter from another; A looked jest like +Z." + +"I see," said Dan quietly. "Well, there's time enough here anyhow. It will +be a good way to pass the evenings." He opened the primer and laid it on +his knee, running his fingers carelessly through its dog-eared pages. "Do +you know your letters?" he inquired in a professional tone. + +"Lordy, yes," responded Pinetop. "I've got about as fur as this here +place." He crossed to where Dan sat and pointed with a long forefinger to +the printed words, his mild blue eyes beaming with excitement. + +"I reckon I kin read that by myself," he added with an embarrassed laugh. +"T-h-e c-a-t c-a-u-g-h-t t-h-e r-a-t. Ain't that right?" + +"Perfectly. We'll pass on to the next." And they did so, sitting on the +halves of a divided flour barrel before the blazing chimney. + +From this time there were regular lessons in the little hut, Pinetop +drawling over the soiled primer, or crouching, with his long legs twisted +under him and his elbows awkwardly extended, while he filled a sheet of +paper with sprawling letters. + +"I'll be able to write to the old woman soon," he chuckled jubilantly, "an' +she'll have to walk all the way down the mounting to git it read." + +"You'll be a scholar yet if this keeps up," replied Dan, slapping him upon +the shoulder, as the mountaineer glanced up with a pleased and shining +face. "Why, you mastered that first reader there in no time." + +"A powerful heap of larnin' has to pass through yo' head to git a leetle to +stick thar," commented Pinetop, wrinkling his brows. "Air we goin' to have +the big book agin to-night?" + +"The big book" was a garbled version of "Les Miserables," which, after +running the blockade with a daring English sailor, had passed from regiment +to regiment in the resting army. At first Dan had begun to read with only +Pinetop for a listener, but gradually, as the tale unfolded, a group of +eager privates filled the little hut and even hung breathlessly about the +doorway in the winter nights. They were mostly gaunt, unwashed volunteers +from the hills or the low countries, to whom literature was only a vast +silence and life a courageous struggle against greater odds. To Dan the +picturesqueness of the scene lent itself with all the force of its strong +lights and shadows, and with the glow of the pine torches on the open page, +his eyes would sometimes wander from the words to rest upon the kindling +faces in the shaggy circle by the fire. Dirty, hollow-eyed, unshaven, it +sat spellbound by the magic of the tale it could not read. + +"By Gosh! that's a blamed good bishop," remarked an unkempt smoker one +evening from the threshold, where his beef-hide shoes were covered with +fine snow. "I don't reckon Marse Robert could ha' beat that." + +"Marse Robert ain't never tried," put in a companion by the fire. + +"Wall, I ain't sayin' he had," corrected the first speaker, through a cloud +of smoke. "Lord, I hope when my time comes I kin slip into heaven on Marse +Robert's coat-tails." + +"If you don't, you won't never git thar!" jeered the second. Then they +settled themselves again, and listened with sombre faces and twitching +lips. + +It was during this winter that Dan learned how one man's influence may fuse +individual and opposing wills into a single supreme endeavour. The Army of +Northern Virginia, as he saw it then, was moulded, sustained, and made +effective less by the authority of the Commander than by the simple power +of Lee over the hearts of the men who bore his muskets. For a time Dan had +sought to trace the groundspring of this impassioned loyalty, seeking a +reason that could not be found in generals less beloved. Surely it was not +the illuminated figure of the conqueror, for when had the Commander held +closer the affection of his troops than in that ill-starred campaign into +Maryland, which left the moral victory of a superb fight in McClellan's +hands? No, the charm lay deeper still, beyond all the fictitious aids of +fortune--somewhere in that serene and noble presence he had met one evening +as the gray dusk closed, riding alone on an old road between level fields. +After this it was always as a high figure against a low horizon that he had +seen the man who made his army. + +As the long winter passed away, he learned, not only much of the spirit of +his own side, but something that became almost a sunny tolerance, of the +great blue army across the Rappahannock. He had exchanged Virginian tobacco +for Northern coffee at the outposts, and when on picket duty along the cold +banks of the river he would sometimes shout questions and replies across +the stream. In these meetings there was only a wide curiosity with little +bitterness; and once a friendly New England picket had delivered a +religious homily from the opposite shore, as he leaned upon his rifle. + +"I didn't think much of you Rebs before I came down here," he had concluded +in a precise and energetic shout, "but I guess, after all, you've got souls +in your bodies like the rest of us." + +"I reckon we have. Any coffee over your side?" + +"Plenty. The war's interfered considerably with the tobacco crop, ain't +it?" + +"Well, rather; we've enough for ourselves, but none to offer our visitors." + +"Look here, are all these things about you in the papers gospel truth?" + +"Can't say. What things?" + +"Do you always carry bowie knives into battle?" + +"No, we use scissors--they're more convenient." + +"When you catch a runaway nigger do you chop him up in little pieces and +throw him to the hogs?" + +"Not exactly. We boil him down and grease our cartridges." + +"After Bull Run did you set up all the live Zouaves you got hold of as +targets for rifle practice?" + +"Can't remember about the Zouaves. Rather think we made them into flags." + +"Well, you Rebels take the breath out of me," commented the picket across +the river; and then, as the relief came, Dan hurried back to look for the +mail bag and a letter from Betty. For Betty wrote often these days--letters +sometimes practical, sometimes impassioned, always filled with cheer, and +often with bright gossip. Of her own struggle at Uplands and the long days +crowded with work, she wrote no word; all her sympathy, all her large +passion, and all her wise advice in little matters were for Dan from the +beginning to the end. She made him promise to keep warm if it were +possible, to read his Bible when he had the time, and to think of her at +all hours in every season. In a neat little package there came one day a +gray knitted waistcoat which he was to wear when on picket duty beside the +river, "and be very sure to fasten it," she had written. "I have sewed the +buttons on so tight they can't come off. Oh, if I had only papa and +Virginia and you back again I could be happy in a hovel. Dear mamma says +so, too." + +And after much calm advice there would come whole pages that warmed him +from head to foot. "Your kisses are still on my lips," she wrote one day. +"The Major said to me, 'Your mouth is very warm, my dear,' and I almost +answered, 'you feel Dan's kisses, sir.' What would he have said, do you +think? As it was I only smiled and turned away, and longed to run straight +to you to be caught up in your arms and held there forever. O my beloved, +when you need me only stretch out your hands and I will come." + + + + +VII + +THE SILENT BATTLE + + +Despite the cheerfulness of Betty's letters, there were times during the +next dark years when it seemed to her that starvation must be the only end. +The negroes had been freed by the Governor's will, but the girl could not +turn them from their homes, and, with the exception of the few field hands +who had followed the Union army, they still lived in their little cabins +and drew their daily rations from the storehouse. Betty herself shared +their rations of cornmeal and bacon, jealously guarding her small supplies +of milk and eggs for Mrs. Ambler and the two old ladies. "It makes no +difference what I eat," she would assure protesting Mammy Riah. "I am so +strong, you see, and besides I really like Aunt Floretta's ashcakes." + +Spring and summer passed, with the ripened vegetables which Hosea had +planted in the garden, and the long winter brought with it the old daily +struggle to make the slim barrels of meal last until the next harvesting. +It was in this year that the four women at Uplands followed the Major's +lead and invested their united fortune in Confederate bonds. "We will rise +or fall with the government," Mrs. Ambler had said with her gentle +authority. "Since we have given it our best, let it take all freely." + +"Surely money is of no matter," Betty had answered, lavishly disregardful +of worldly goods. "Do you think we might give our jewels, too? I have +grandma's pearls hidden beneath the floor, you know." + +"If need be--let us wait, dear," replied her mother, who, grave and pallid +as a ghost, would eat nothing that, by any chance, could be made to reach +the army. + +"I do not want it, my child, there are so many hungrier than I," she would +say when Betty brought her dainty little trays from the pantry. + +"But I am hungry for you, mamma--take it for my sake," the girl would beg, +on the point of tears. "You are starving, that is it--and yet it does not +feed the army." + +In these days it seemed to her that all the anguish of her life had centred +in the single fear of losing her mother. At times she almost reproached +herself with loving Dan too much, and for months she would resolutely keep +her thoughts from following him, while she laid her impassioned service at +her mother's feet. Day or night there was hardly a moment when she was not +beside her, trying, by very force of love, to hold her back from the death +to which she went with her slow and stately tread. + +For Mrs. Ambler, who had kept her strength for a year after the Governor's +death, seemed at last to be gently withdrawing from a place in which she +found herself a stranger. There was nothing to detain her now; she was too +heartsick to adapt herself to many changes; loss and approaching poverty +might be borne by one for whom the chief thing yet remained, but she had +seen this go, and so she waited, with her pensive smile, for the moment +when she too might follow. If Betty were not looking she would put her +untasted food aside; but the girl soon found this out, and watched her +every mouthful with imploring eyes. + +"Oh, mamma, do it to please me," she entreated. + +"Well, give it back, my dear," Mrs. Ambler answered, complaisant as always, +and when Betty triumphantly declared, "You feel better now--you know you +do, you dearest," she responded readily:-- + +"Much better, darling; give me some straw to plait--I have grown to like to +have my hands busy. Your old bonnet is almost gone, so I shall plait you +one of this and trim it with a piece of ribbon Aunt Lydia found yesterday +in the attic." + +"I don't mind going bareheaded, if you will only eat." + +"I was never a hearty eater. Your father used to say that I ate less than a +robin. It was the custom for ladies to have delicate appetites in my day, +you see; and I remember your grandma's amazement when Miss Pokey +Mickleborough was asked at our table what piece of chicken she preferred, +and answered quite aloud, 'Leg, if you please.' She was considered very +indelicate by your grandma, who had never so much as tasted any part except +the wing." + +She sat, gentle and upright, in her rosewood chair, her worn silk dress +rustling as she crossed her feet, her beautiful hands moving rapidly with +the straw plaiting. "I was brought up very carefully, my dear," she added, +turning her head with its shining bands of hair a little silvered since the +beginning of the war. "'A girl is like a flower,' your grandpa always said. +'If a rough wind blows near her, her bloom is faded.' Things are different +now--very different." + +"But this is war," said Betty. + +Mrs. Ambler nodded over the slender braid. + +"Yes, this is war," she added with her wistful smile, and a moment +afterward looked up again to ask in a dazed way:-- + +"What was the last battle, dear? I can't remember." + +Betty's glance sought the lawn outside where the warm May sunshine fell in +shafts of light upon the purple lilacs. + +"They are fighting now in the Wilderness," she answered, her thoughts +rushing to the famished army closed in the death grapple with its enemy. +"Dan got a letter to me and he says it is like fighting in a jungle, the +vines are so thick they can't see the other side. He has to aim by ear +instead of sight." + +Mrs. Ambler's fingers moved quickly. + +"He has become a very fine man," she said. "Your father always liked +him--and so did I--but at one time we were afraid that he was going to be +too much his father's son--he looked so like him on his wild days, +especially when he had taken wine and his colour went high." + +"But he has the Lightfoot eyes. The Major, Champe, even their Great-aunt +Emmeline have those same gray eyes that are always laughing." + +"Jane Lightfoot had them, too," added Mrs. Ambler. "She used to say that to +love hard went with them. 'The Lightfoot eyes are never disillusioned,' she +once told me. I wonder if she remembered that afterwards, poor girl." + +Betty was silent for a moment. + +"It sounds cruel," she confessed, "but you know, I have sometimes thought +that it may have been just a little bit her fault, mamma." + +Mrs. Ambler smiled. "Your grandpa used to say 'get a woman to judge a woman +and there comes a hanging.'" + +"Oh, I don't mean that," responded Betty, blushing. "Jack Montjoy was a +scoundrel, I suppose--but I think that even if Dan had been a scoundrel, +instead of so big and noble--I could have made his life so much better just +because I loved him; if love is only large enough it seems to me that all +such things as being good and bad are swallowed up." + +"I don't know--your father was very good, and I loved him because of it. He +was of the salt of the earth, as Mr. Blake wrote to me last year." + +"There has never been anybody like papa," said Betty, her eyes filling. +"Not even Dan--for I can't imagine papa being anything but what he was--and +yet I know even if Dan were as wild as the Major once believed him to be, I +could have gone with him not the least bit afraid. I was so sure of myself +that if he had beaten me he could not have broken my spirit. I should +always have known that some day he would need me and be sorry." + +Tender, pensive, bred in the ancient ways, Mrs. Ambler looked up at her and +shook her head. + +"You are very strong, my child," she answered, "and I think it makes us all +lean too much upon you." + +Taking her hand, Betty kissed each slender finger. "I lean on you for the +best in life, mamma," she answered, and then turned to the window. "It's +my working time," she said, "and there is poor Hosea trying to plough +without horses. I wonder how he'll manage it." + +"Are all the horses gone, dear?" + +"All except Prince Rupert and papa's mare. Peter keeps them hidden in the +mountains, and I carried them the last two apples yesterday. Prince Rupert +knew me in the distance and whinnied before Peter saw me. Now I'll send +Aunt Lydia to you, dearest, while I see about the weaving. Mammy Riah has +almost finished my linsey dress." She kissed her again and went out to +where the looms were working in one of the detached wings. + +The summer went by slowly. The famished army fell back inch by inch, and at +Uplands the battle grew more desperate with the days. Without horses it was +impossible to plant the crops and on the open turnpike swept by bands of +raiders as by armies, it was no less impossible to keep the little that was +planted. Betty, standing at her window in the early mornings, would glance +despairingly over the wasted fields and the quiet little cabins, where the +negroes were stirring about their work. Those little cabins, forming a +crescent against the green hill, caused her an anxiety before which her own +daily suffering was of less account. When the time came that was fast +approaching, and the secret places were emptied of their last supplies, +where could those faithful people turn in their distress? The question +stabbed her like a sword each morning before she put on her bonnet of +plaited straw and ran out to make her first round of the farm. Behind her +cheerful smile there was always the grim fear growing sharper every hour. + +Then on a golden summer afternoon, when the larder had been swept by a band +of raiders, she became suddenly aware that there was nothing in the house +for her mother's supper, and, with the army pistol in her hand, set out +across the fields for Chericoke. As she walked over the sunny meadows, the +shadow that was always lifted in Mrs. Ambler's presence fell heavily upon +her face and she choked back a rising sob. What would the end be? she asked +herself in sudden anguish, or was this the end? + +Reaching Chericoke she found Mrs. Lightfoot and Aunt Rhody drying sliced +sweet potatoes on boards along the garden fence, where the sunflowers and +hollyhocks flaunted in the face of want. + +"I've just gotten a new recipe for coffee, child," the old lady began in +mild excitement. "Last year I made it entirely of sweet potatoes, but Mrs. +Blake tells me that she mixes rye and a few roasted chestnuts. Mr. +Lightfoot took supper with her a week ago, and he actually congratulated +her upon still keeping her real old Mocha. Be sure to try it." + +"Indeed I shall--the very next time Hosea gets any sweet potatoes. Some +raiders have just dug up the last with their sabres and eaten them raw." + +"Well, they'll certainly have colic," remarked Mrs. Lightfoot, with +professional interest. + +"I hope so," said Betty, "but I've come over to beg something for mamma's +supper--eggs, chickens, anything except bacon. She can't touch that, she'd +starve first." + +Looking anxious, Mrs. Lightfoot appealed to Aunt Rhody, who was busily +spreading little squares of sweet potatoes on the clean boards. "Rhody, +can't you possibly find us some eggs?" she inquired. + +Aunt Rhody stopped her work and turned upon them all the dignity of two +hundred pounds of flesh. + +"How de hens gwine lay w'en dey's done been eaten up?" she demanded. + +"Isn't there a single chicken left?" hopelessly persisted the old lady. + +"Who gwine lef' 'em? Ain' dose low-lifeted sodgers dat rid by yestiddy done +stole de las' one un 'um off de nes'?" + +Mrs. Lightfoot sternly remonstrated. + +"They were our own soldiers, Rhody, and they don't steal--they merely +take." + +"I don' see de diffunce," sniffed Aunt Rhody. "All I know is dat dey pulled +de black hen plum off de nes' whar she wuz a-settin'. Den des now de +Yankees come a-prancin' up en de ducks tuck ter de water en de Yankees dey +went a-wadin' atter dem. Yes, Lawd, dey went a-wadin' wid dey shoes on." + +The old lady sighed. + +"I'm afraid there's nothing, Betty," she said, "though Congo has gone to +town to see if he can find any fowls, and I'll send some over if he brings +them. We had a Sherman pudding for dinner ourselves, and I know the sorghum +in it will give the Major gout for a month. Well, well, this is war, I +reckon, and I must say, for my part, I never expected it to be conducted +like a flirtation behind a fan." + +"I nuver seed no use a-fittin' unless you is gwine ter fit in de yuther +pusson's yawd," interpolated Aunt Rhody. "De way ter fit is ter keep +a-sidlin' furder f'om yo' own hen roos' en nigher ter de hen roos' er de +somebody dat's a-fittin' you." + +"Hold your tongue, Rhody," retorted Mrs. Lightfoot, and then drew Betty a +little to one side. "I have some port wine, my dear," she whispered, "which +Cupid buried under the old asparagus bed, and I'll tell him to dig up +several bottles and take them to you. The other servants don't know of it, +so I can't get it out till after dark. Poor Julia! how does she stand these +terrible days?" + +Betty's lips quivered. "I have to force her to eat," she replied, "and it +seems almost cruel--she is so tired of life." + +"I know, my dear," responded the old lady, wiping her eyes; "and we have +our troubles, too. Champe is in prison now, and Mr. Lightfoot is very much +upset. He says this General Grant is not like the others, that he knows +him--and he's the kind to hang on as long as he's alive." + +"But we must win in the end," said Betty, desperately; "we have sacrificed +so much, how can it all be lost?" + +"That's what Mr. Lightfoot says--we'll win in the end, but the end's a long +way off. By the way, did you know that Car'line had run off after the +Yankees? When I think how that girl had been spoiled!" + +"Oh, I wish they'd all go," returned Betty. "All except Mammy and Uncle +Shadrach and Hosea--and even they make starvation that much nearer." + +"Well, we shan't starve yet awhile, dear; I'm in hopes that Congo will +ransack the town. If you would only stay." + +But Betty shook her head and went back across the meadows, walking rapidly +through the lush grass of the deserted pastures. Her mind was so filled +with Mrs. Lightfoot's forebodings, that when, in climbing the low stone +wall, she saw the free negro, Levi, coming toward her, she turned to him +with a gesture that was almost an appeal for sympathy. + +"Uncle Levi, these are sad times now," she said. "I am looking for +something for mamma's supper and I can find nothing." + +The old negro, shabbier, lonelier, poorer than ever, shambled up to the +wall where she was standing and uncovered a split basket full of eggs. + +"I'se got a pa'cel er hens hid in de woods over yonder," he explained, "en +I keep de eggs behin' de j'ists in my cabin. Sis Floretty she tole me dat +de w'ite folks wuz wuss off den de niggers now, so I brung you dese." + +"Oh, Uncle Levi!" cried Betty, seizing his gnarled old hands. As she looked +at his stricken figure a compassion as acute as pain brought the quick +tears to her eyes. She remembered the isolation of his life, the scornful +suspicion he had met from white and black, and the injustice that had set +him free and sold Sarindy up the river. + +"You wuz moughty good ter me," muttered free Levi, shuffling his bare feet +in the long grass, "en Marse Dan, he wuz moughty good ter me, too, 'fo' he +went away on dat black night. I 'members de time w'en dat ole Rainy-day +Jones up de big road (we all call him Rainy-day caze he looked so sour) had +me right by de collar wid de hick'ry branch a sizzlin' in de a'r, en I des +'lowed de een had mos' come. Yes, Lawd, I did, but I warn' countin' on +Marse Dan. He warn' mo'n wais' high ter ole Rainy-day, but de furs' thing I +know dar wuz ole Rainy-day on de yerth wid Marse Dan a-lashin' 'im wid de +branch er hick'ry." + +"We shall never forget you--Dan and I," answered Betty, as she took the +basket, "and when the time comes we will repay you." + +The old negro smiled and turned from her, and Betty, quickening her pace, +ran on to Uplands, reaching the house a little breathless from the long +walk. + +In the chamber upstairs she found Mrs. Ambler sitting before the window +with her open Bible on the sill, where a spray of musk roses entered from +the outside wall. + +"All well, mamma?" she asked in a cheerful voice. + +Mrs. Ambler started and turned slowly from the window. + +"I see a great light on the road," she murmured wonderingly. + +Crossing to where she sat, Betty leaned out above the climbing roses and +glanced to the mountains huddled against the sky. + +"It is General Sheridan going up the valley," she said. + + + + +VIII + +THE LAST STAND + + +In the face of a damp April wind a remnant of Lee's army pushed forward +along an old road skirted by thin pine woods. As the column moved on +slowly, it threw out skirmishers on either flank, where the Federal cavalry +hovered in the distance. Once in an open clearing it formed into a hollow +square and marched in battle line to avoid capture. While the regiments +kept in motion the men walked steadily in the ranks, with their hollowed +eyes staring straight ahead from their gaunt, tanned faces; but at the +first halt they fell like logs upon the roadside, sleeping amid the sound +of shots and the stinging cavalry. With the cry of "Forward!" they +struggled to their feet again, and went stumbling on into the vast +uncertainty and the approaching night. Breathless, starving, with their +rags pinned together, and their mouths bleeding from three days' rations of +parched corn, they still kept onward, marching with determined eyes to +whatever and wherever the end might be. Petersburg had fallen, Richmond was +in flames behind them, the Confederacy was, perhaps, buried in the ruins of +its Capitol, but Lee was still somewhere to the front, so his army +followed. + +"How long have we been marching, boys? I can't remember," asked Dan, when, +after a short rest, they formed again and started forward over the old +road. In the tatters of his gray uniform, with his broken shoes tied on his +feet and his black hair hanging across his eyes, he might have been one of +the beggars who warm themselves in the sun of Southern countries. + +"Oh, I reckon we left the Garden of Eden about six thousand years ago," +responded a wag from somewhere--he was too tired to recognize the voice. +"There! the skirmishers have struck that blamed cavalry again. Plague them! +They're as bad as wasps!" + +"Has anybody some parched corn?" inquired Bland, plaintively. "I'll trade a +whole raw ear for it. It makes my gums bleed so, I can't chew it." + +Dan plunged his hand into his pocket, and drew out the corn which he had +shelled and parched at the last halt. As he exchanged it for the "whole raw +ear," he fell to wondering vaguely what had become of Big Abel since that +dim point in eternity when they had left the trenches that surrounded +Petersburg. Then time was divided into periods of nights and days, now +night and day alike were made up in breathless marching, in throwing out +skirmishers against those "wasps" of cavalrymen, and in trying to force +aching teeth to grind parched corn. Panting and sick with hunger, he +struggled on like a driven beast that sees the place ahead, where he must +turn and grapple for the end with the relentless hunter on his track. + +As the day ended the moist wind gathered strength and sang in his ears as +he crept forward--now sleeping, now waking, for a time filled with warm +memories of his college life, and again fighting over the last hopeless +campaign from the Wilderness to the trenches where Petersburg had fallen. +They had yielded step by step, but the great hunter had pressed on, and now +the thin brigades were gathering for the last stand together. + +Overhead he heard the soughing of the pines, and around him the steady +tramp of feet too tired to lift themselves from out the heavy mud. Straight +above in the muffled sky a star shone dimly, and for a time he watched it +in his effort to keep awake. Then he began on the raw corn in his pocket, +shelling it from the cob as he walked along; but when the taste of blood +rose to his lips, he put the ear away again, and stooped to rub his eyes +with a handful of damp earth. Then, at last, in sheer desperation, he +loosened the grip upon his thoughts, and stumbled on, between waking and +sleeping, into the darkness that lay ahead. + +In the road before him the door at Chericoke opened wide as on the old +Christmas Eves, and he saw the Major and the Governor draining their +glasses under the garlands of mistletoe and holly, while Betty and +Virginia, in dresses of white tarleton, stood against the ruddy glow that +filled the panelled parlour. The cheerful Christmas smell was in the +air--the smell of apple toddy, of roasted turkey, of plum pudding in a +blaze of alcohol. As he entered after his long ride from college, Betty +came up to him and slipped a warm white hand into his cold one, while he +met the hazel beams from beneath her lashes. + +"I hope you have brought Jack Morson," she said. "Virginia is waiting. See +how lovely she looks in her white flounces, with the string of coral about +her neck." + +"But the war, Betty?" he asked, with blinking eyes, and as he put out his +hand to touch the pearls upon her bosom, he saw that it was whole again--no +wound was there, only the snowflakes that fell from his sleeve upon her +breast. "What of the war, dear? I must go back to the army." + +Betty laughed long and merrily. + +"Why, you're dreaming, Dan," she said. "It all comes of those wicked +stories of the Major's. In a moment you will believe that this is really +1812, and you've gone without your rations." + +"Thank God!" he cried aloud, and the sound of his own voice woke him, as he +slipped and went down in a mudhole upon the road. The Christmas smell faded +from his nostrils; in its place came the smoke from Pinetop's pipe--a +faithful friend until the last. Overhead the star was still shining, and to +the front he heard a single shot from the hovering cavalry, withdrawing for +the night. + +"God damn this mud!" called a man behind him, as he lurched sideways from +the ranks. Farther away three hoarse voices, the remnant of a once famous +glee club, were singing in the endeavour to scare off sleep:-- + + "Rally round the flag, boys, rally once again!" + +And suddenly he was fighting in the tangles of the Wilderness, crouching +behind a charred oak stump, while he loaded and fired at the little puffs +of smoke that rose from the undergrowth beyond. He saw the low marshland, +the stunted oaks and pines, and the heavy creepers that were pushed aside +and trampled underfoot, and at his feet he saw a company officer with a +bullet hole through his forehead and a covering of pine needles upon his +face. About him the small twigs fell, as if a storm swept the forest, and +as he dodged, like a sharpshooter from tree to tree, he saw a rush of flame +and smoke in the distance where the woods were burning. Above the noise of +the battle, he heard the shrieks of the wounded men in the track of the +fire; and once he met a Union and a Confederate soldier, each shot through +the leg, drawing each other back from the approaching flames. Then, as he +passed on, tearing at the cartridges with his teeth, he came upon a +sergeant in Union clothes, sitting against a pine stump with his cocked +rifle in his hand, and his eyes on the wind-blown smoke. A moment before +the man may have gone down at his shot, he knew--and yet, as he looked, an +instinct stronger than the instinct to kill was alive within him, and he +rushed on, dragging his enemy with him from the terrible woods. "I hope you +are not much hurt," he said, as he placed him on the ground and ran back to +where the line was charging. "One life has been paid for," he thought, as +he rushed on to kill--and fell face downward on the wheel-ruts of the old +road. + + "Rally round the flag, boys, rally once again," + +sang the three hoarse voices, straining against the wind. + +Dan struggled to his feet, and the scene shifted. + +He was back in his childhood, and the Major had just brought in a slave he +had purchased from Rainy-day Jones--"the plague spot in the county," as the +angry old gentleman declared. + +Dan sat on the pile of kindling wood upon the kitchen hearth and stared at +the poor black creature shivering in the warmth, his face distorted with +the toothache, and a dirty rag about his jaw. He heard Aunt Rhody snorting +indignantly as she basted the turkeys, and he watched his grandmother +bustling back and forth with whiskey and hot plasters. + +"Who made slavery, sir?" asked the boy suddenly, his hands in his breeches +pockets and his head bent sideways. + +The Major started. + +"God, sir," he promptly replied. + +"Then I think it very strange of God," said the boy, "and when I grow up, I +shall set them all free, grandpa--I shall set them free even if I have to +fight to do it, sir." + +"What! like poor free Levi?" stormed the Major. + +"Wake up, confound you!" bawled somebody in his ear. "You've lurched +against my side until my ribs are sore. I say, are you going on forever, +anyhow? We've halted for the night." + +"I can't stop!" cried Dan, groping in the darkness, then he fell heavily +upon the damp ground, while a voice down the road began shouting, "Detail +for guard!" Half asleep and cursing, the men responded to their names and +hurried off, and as the silence closed in, the army slept like a child upon +the roadside. + +With the first glimmer of dawn they were on the march again, passing all +day through the desolate flat country, where the women ran weeping to the +doorways, and waved empty hands as they went by. Once a girl in a homespun +dress, with a spray of apple blossoms in her black hair, brought out a +wooden bucket filled with buttermilk and passed it along the line. + +"Fight to the end, boys," she cried defiantly, "and when the end comes, +keep on fighting. If you go back on Lee there's not a woman in Virginia +will touch your hand." + +"That's right, little gal!" shrieked a husky private. "Three cheers for +Marse Robert! an' we'll whip the earth in our bar' feet befo' breakfast." + +"All the same I wish old Stonewall was along," muttered Pinetop. "If I +could jest see old Stonewall or his ghost ahead, I'd know thar was an open +road somewhere that Sheridan ain't got his eye on." + +As the sun rose high, refugees from Richmond flocked after them to shout +that the town had been fired by the citizens, who had moved, with their +families, to the Capitol Square as the flames spread from the great tobacco +warehouses. Men who had wives and children in the city groaned as they +marched farther from the ashes of their homes, and more than one staggered +back into the ranks and went onward under a heavier burden. + +"Wall, I reckon things are fur the best--or they ain't." remarked Pinetop, +in a cheerful tone. "Thar's no goin' agin that, you bet. What's the row +back thar, I wonder?" + +The hovering enemy, grown bolder, had fallen upon the flank, and the +stragglers and the rear guard were beating off the cavalry, when a regiment +was sent back to relieve the pressure. Returning, Pinetop, who was of the +attacking party, fell gravely to moralizing upon the scarcity of food. + +"I've tasted every plagued thing that grows in this country except dirt," +he observed, "an' I'm goin' to kneel down presently and take a good square +mouthful of that." + +"That's one thing we shan't run short of," replied Dan, stepping round a +mud hole. "By George, we've got to march in a square again across this +open. I believe when I set out for heaven, I'll find some of those +confounded Yankee troopers watching the road." + +Forming in battle line they advanced cautiously across the clearing, while +the skirmishing grew brisker at the front. That night they halted but once +upon the way, standing to meet attack against a strip of pines, watching +with drawn breath while the enemy crept closer. They heard him in the +woods, felt him in the air, saw him in the darkness--like a gigantic coil +he approached inch by inch for the last struggle. Now and then a shot rang +out, and the little band thrilled to a soldier, and waited breathlessly for +the last charge that might end it all. + +"There's only one thing worse than starvation, and it's defeat!" cried Dan +aloud; then the column swung on and the cry of "Close up, there! close up!" +mingled in his ears with the steady tramp upon the road. + +In the early morning the shots grew faster, and as the column stopped in +the cover of a wood, the bullets came singing among the tree-tops, from the +left flank where the skirmishers had struck the enemy. During the short +rest Dan slept leaning against a twisted aspen, and when Pinetop shook him, +he awoke with a dizziness in his head that sent the flat earth slamming +against the sky. + +"I believe I'm starving, Pinetop," he said, and his voice rang like a bell +in his ears. "I can't see where to put my feet, the ground slips about so." + +For answer Pinetop felt in his pocket and brought out a slice of fat bacon, +which he gave to him uncooked. + +"Wait till I git a light," he commanded. "A woman up the road gave me a +hunk, and I've had my share." + +"You've had your share," repeated Dan, greedily, his eyes on the meat, +though he knew that Pinetop was lying. + +The mountaineer struck a match and lighted a bit of pine, holding the bacon +to the flame until it scorched. + +"You'd better git it all in yo' mouth quick," he advised, "for if the smell +once starts on the breeze the whole brigade will be on the scent in a +minute." + +Dan ate it to the last morsel and licked the warm juice from his fingers. + +"You lied, Pinetop," he said, "but, by God, you saved my life. What place +is this, I wonder. Isn't there any hope of our cutting through Grant's +lines to-day?" + +Pinetop glanced about him. + +"Somebody said we were comin' on to Sailor's Creek," he answered, "and it's +about as God-forsaken country as I care to see. Hello! what's that?" + +In the road there was an abandoned battery, cut down and left to rot into +the earth, and as they swept past it at "double quick," they heard the +sound of rapid firing across the little stream. + +"It's a fight, thank God!" yelled Pinetop, and at the words a tumultuous +joy urged Dan through the water and over the sharp stones. After all the +hunger and the intolerable waiting, a chance was come for him to use his +musket once again. + +As they passed through an open meadow, a rabbit, starting suddenly from a +clump of sumach, went bounding through the long grass before the thin gray +line. With ears erect and short white tail bobbing among the broom-sedge, +the little quivering creature darted straight toward the low brow of a +hill, where a squadron of cavalry made a blue patch on the green. + +"Geriminy! thar goes a good dinner," Pinetop gasped, smacking his lips. +"An' I've got to save this here load for a Yankee I can't eat." + +With a long flying leap the rabbit led the charge straight into the enemy's +ranks, and as the squirrel rifles rang out behind it, a blue horseman was +swept from every saddle upon the hill. + +"By God, I'm glad I didn't eat that rabbit!" yelled Pinetop, as he reloaded +and raised his musket to his shoulder. + +Back and forth before the line, the general of the brigade was riding +bareheaded and frantic with delight. As he passed he made sweeping gestures +with his left hand, and his long gray hair floated like a banner upon the +wind. + +"They're coming, men!" he cried. "Get behind that fence and have your +muskets ready to pick your man. When you see the whites of his eyes fire, +and give the bayonet. They're coming! Here they are!" + +The old "worm" fence went down, and as Dan piled up some loose rails before +him, a creeping brier tore his fingers until the blood spurted upon his +sleeve. Then, kneeling on the ground, he raised his musket and fired at one +of the skirmishers advancing briskly through the broom-sedge. In an instant +the meadow and the hill beyond were blue with swarming infantry, and the +little gray band fell back, step by step, loading and firing as it went +across the field. As the road behind it closed, Dan turned to battle on his +own account, and entering a thinned growth of pines, he dodged from tree to +tree and aimed above the brushwood. Near him the colour bearer of the +regiment was fighting with his flagstaff for a weapon, and out in the +meadow a member of the glee club, crouching behind a clump of sassafras as +he loaded, was singing in a cracked voice:-- + + "Rally round the flag, boys, rally once again!" + +Then a bullet went with a soft thud into the singer's breast, and the +cracked voice was choked out beneath the bushes. + +Gripped by a sudden pity for the helpless flag he had loved and followed +for four years, Dan made an impetuous dash from out the pines, and tearing +the colours from the pole, tossed them over his arm as he retreated rapidly +to cover. At the instant he held his life as nothing beside the faded strip +of silk that wrapped about his body. The cause for which he had fought, the +great captain he had followed, the devotion to a single end which had kept +him struggling in the ranks, the daily sacrifice, the very poverty and cold +and hunger, all these were bound up and made one with the tattered flag +upon his arm. Through the belt of pines, down the muddy road, across the +creek and up the long hill, he fell back breathlessly, loading and firing +as he went, with his face turned toward the enemy. At the end he became +like a fox before the hunters, dashing madly over the rough ground, with +the colours blown out behind him, and the quick shots ringing in his ears. + +Then, as if by a single stroke, Lee's army vanished from the trampled +broom-sedge and the strip of pines. The blue brigades closed upon the +landscape and when they opened there were only a group of sullen prisoners +and the sound of stray shots from the scattered soldiers who had fought +their way beyond the stream. + + + + +IX + +IN THE HOUR OF DEFEAT + + +As the dusk fell Dan found himself on the road with a little company of +stragglers, flying from the pursuing cavalry that drew off slowly as the +darkness gathered. He had lost his regiment, and, as he went on, he began +calling out familiar names, listening with strained ears for an answer that +would tell of a friend's escape. At last he caught the outlines of a +gigantic figure relieved on a hillock against the pale green west, and, +with a shout, he hurried through the swarm of fugitives, and overtook +Pinetop, who had stooped to tie his shoe on with a leather strap. + +"Thank God, old man!" he cried. "Where are the others?" + +Pinetop, panting yet imperturbable, held out a steady hand. + +"The Lord knows," he replied. "Some of 'em air here an' some ain't. I was +goin' back agin to git the flag, when I saw you chased like a fox across +the creek with it hangin' on yo' back. Then I kinder thought it wouldn't do +for none of the regiment to answer when Marse Robert called, so I came +along right fast and kep' hopin' you would follow." + +"Here I am," responded Dan, "and here are the colours." He twined the silk +more closely about his arm, gloating over his treasure in the twilight. + +Pinetop stretched out his great rough hand and touched the flag as gently +as if it were a woman. + +"I've fought under this here thing goin' on four years now," he said, "and +I reckon when they take it prisoner, they take me along with it." + +"And me," added Dan; "poor Granger went down, you know, just as I took it +from him. He fell fighting with the pole." + +"Wall, it's a better way than most," Pinetop replied, "an' when the angel +begins to foot up my account on Jedgment Day, I shouldn't mind his cappin' +the whole list with 'he lost his life, but he didn't lose his flag.' To +make a blamed good fight is what the Lord wants of us, I reckon, or he +wouldn't have made our hands itch so when they touch a musket." + +Then they trudged on silently, weak from hunger, sickened by defeat. When, +at last, the disorganized column halted, and the men fell to the ground +upon their rifles, Dan kindled a fire and parched his corn above the coals. +After it was eaten they lay down side by side and slept peacefully on the +edge of an old field. + +For three days they marched steadily onward, securing meagre rations in a +little town where they rested for a while, and pausing from time to time, +to beat off a feigned attack. Pinetop, cheerful, strong, undaunted by any +hardship, set his face unflinchingly toward the battle that must clear a +road for them through Grant's lines. Had he met alone a squadron of cavalry +in the field, he would, probably, have taken his stand against a pine, and +aimed his musket as coolly as if a squirrel were the mark. With his sunny +temper, and his gloomy gospel of predestination, his heart could swell with +hope even while he fought single-handed in the face of big battalions. What +concerned him, after all, was not so much the chance of an ultimate victory +for the cause, as the determination in his own mind to fight it out as long +as he had a cartridge remaining in his box. As his fathers had kept the +frontier, so he meant, on his own account, to keep Virginia. + +On the afternoon of the third day, as the little company drew near to +Appomattox Court House, it found the road blocked with abandoned guns, and +lined by exhausted stragglers, who had gone down at the last halting place. +As it filed into an open field beyond a wooded level, where a few campfires +glimmered, a group of Federal horsemen clattered across the front, and, as +if by instinct, the column formed into battle line, and the hand of every +man was on the trigger of his musket. + +"Don't fire, you fools!" called an officer behind them, in a voice sharp +with irritation. "The army has surrendered!" + +"What! Grant surrendered?" thundered the line, with muskets at a trail as +it rushed into the open. + +"No, you blasted fools--we've surrendered," shouted the voice, rising +hoarsely in a gasping indignation. + +"Surrendered, the deuce!" scoffed the men, as they fell back into ranks. +"I'd like to know what General Lee will think of your surrender?" + +A little Colonel, with his hand at his sword hilt, strutted up and down +before a tangle of dead thistles. + +"I don't know what he thinks of it, he did it," he shrieked, without +pausing in his walk. + +"It's a damn lie!" cried Dan, in a white heat. Then he threw his musket on +the ground, and fell to sobbing the dry tearless sobs of a man who feels +his heart crushed by a sudden blow. + +There were tears on all the faces round him, and Pinetop was digging his +great fists into his eyes, as a child does who has been punished before his +playmates. Beside him a man with an untrimmed shaggy beard hid his +distorted features in shaking hands. + +"I ain't blubberin' fur myself," he said defiantly, "but--O Lord, boys--I'm +cryin' fur Marse Robert." + +Over the field the beaten soldiers, in ragged gray uniforms, were lying +beneath little bushes of sassafras and sumach, and to the right a few +campfires were burning in a shady thicket. The struggle was over, and each +man had fallen where he stood, hopeless for the first time in four long +years. Up and down the road groups of Federal horsemen trotted with +cheerful unconcern, and now and then a private paused to make a remark in +friendly tones; but the men beneath the bushes only stared with hollow eyes +in answer--the blank stare of the defeated who have put their whole +strength into the fight. + +Taking out his jack-knife, Dan unfastened the flag from the hickory pole on +which he had placed it, and began cutting it into little pieces, which he +passed to each man who had fought beneath its folds. The last bit he put +into his own pocket, and trembling like one gone suddenly palsied, passed +from the midst of his silent comrades to a pine stump on the border of the +woods. Here he sat down and looked hopelessly upon the scene before +him--upon the littered roads and the great blue lines encircling the +horizon. + +So this was the end, he told himself, with a bitterness that choked him +like a grip upon the throat, this the end of his boyish ardour, his dream +of fame upon the battle-field, his four years of daily sacrifice and +suffering. This was the end of the flag for which he was ready to give his +life three days ago. With his youth, his strength, his very bread thrown +into the scale, he sat now with wrecked body and blighted mind, and saw his +future turn to decay before his manhood was well begun. Where was the old +buoyant spirit he had brought with him into the fight? Gone forever, and in +its place he found his maimed and trembling hands, and limbs weakened by +starvation as by long fever. His virile youth was wasted in the slow +struggle, his energy was sapped drop by drop; and at the last he saw +himself burned out like the battle-fields, where the armies had closed and +opened, leaving an impoverished and ruined soil. He had given himself for +four years, and yet when the end came he had not earned so much as an empty +title to take home for his reward. The consciousness of a hard-fought fight +was but the common portion of them all, from the greatest to the humblest +on either side. As for him he had but done his duty like his comrades in +the ranks, and by what right of merit should he have raised himself above +their heads? Yes, this was the end, and he meant to face it standing with +his back against the wall. + +Down the road a line of Federal privates came driving an ox before them, +and he eyed them gravely, wondering in a dazed way if the taste of victory +had gone to their heads. Then he turned slowly, for a voice was speaking at +his side, and a tall man in a long blue coat was building a little fire +hard by. + +"Your stomach's pretty empty, ain't it, Johnny?" he inquired, as he laid +the sticks crosswise with precise movements, as if he had measured the +length of each separate piece of wood. He was lean and rawboned, with a +shaggy red moustache and a wart on his left cheek. When he spoke he showed +an even row of strong white teeth. + +Dan looked at him with a kind of exhausted indignation. + +"Well, it's been emptier," he returned shortly. + +The man in blue struck a match and held it carefully to a dried pine +branch, watching, with a serious face, as the flame licked the rosin from +the crossed sticks. Then he placed a quart pot full of water on the coals, +and turned to meet Dan's eyes, which had grown ravenous as he caught the +scent of beef. + +"You see we somehow thought you Johnnies would be hard up," he said in an +offhand manner, "so we made up our minds we'd ask you to dinner and cut our +rations square. Some of us are driving over an ox from camp, but as I was +hanging round and saw you all by yourself on this old stump, I had a +feeling that you were in need of a cup of coffee. You haven't tasted real +coffee for some time, I guess." + +The water was bubbling over and he measured out the coffee and poured it +slowly into the quart cup. As the aroma filled the air, he opened his +haversack and drew out a generous supply of raw beef which he broiled on +little sticks, and laid on a spread of army biscuits. The larger share he +offered to Dan with the steaming pot of coffee. + +"I declare it'll do me downright good to see you eat," he said, with a +hospitable gesture. + +Dan sat down beside the bread and beef, and, for the next ten minutes, ate +like a famished wolf, while the man in blue placidly regarded him. When he +had finished he took out a little bag of Virginian tobacco and they smoked +together beside the waning fire. A natural light returned gradually to +Dan's eyes, and while the clouds of smoke rose high above the bushes, they +talked of the last great battles as quietly as of the Punic Wars. It was +all dead now, as dead as history, and the men who fought had left the +bitterness to the camp followers or to the ones who stayed at home. + +"You have fine tobacco down this way," observed the Union soldier, as he +refilled his pipe, and lighted it with an ember. Then his gaze followed +Dan's, which was resting on the long blue lines that stretched across the +landscape. + +"You're feeling right bad about us now," he pursued, as he crossed his legs +and leaned back against a pine, "and I guess it's natural, but the time +will come when you'll know that we weren't the worst you had to face." + +Dan held out his hand with something of a smile. + +"It was a fair fight and I can shake hands," he responded. + +"Well, I don't mean that," said the other thoughtfully. "What I mean is +just this, you mark my words--after the battle comes the vultures. After +the army of fighters comes the army of those who haven't smelled the +powder. And in time you'll learn that it isn't the man with the rifle that +does the most of the mischief. The damned coffee boilers will get their +hands in now--I know 'em." + +"Well, there's nothing left, I suppose, but to swallow it down without any +fuss," said Dan wearily, looking over the field where the slaughtered ox +was roasting on a hundred bayonets at a hundred fires. + +"You're right, that's the only thing," agreed the man in blue; then his +keen gray eyes were on Dan's face. + +"Have you got a wife?" he asked bluntly. + +Dan shook his head as he stared gravely at the embers. + +"A sweetheart, I guess? I never met a Johnnie who didn't have a +sweetheart." + +"Yes, I've a sweetheart--God bless her!" + +"Well, you take my advice and go home and tell her to cure you, now she's +got the chance. I like your face, young man, but if I ever saw a +half-starved and sickly one, it is yours. Why, I shouldn't have thought you +had the strength to raise your rifle." + +"Oh, it doesn't take much strength for that; and besides the coffee did me +good, I was only hungry." + +"Hungry, hump!" grunted the Union soldier. "It takes more than hunger to +give a man that blue look about the lips; it takes downright starvation." +He dived into his haversack and drew out a quinine pill and a little bottle +of whiskey. + +"If you'll just chuck this down it won't do you any harm," he went on, "and +if I were you, I'd find a shelter before I went to sleep to-night; you +can't trust April weather. Get into that cow shed over there or under a +wagon." + +Dan swallowed the quinine and the whiskey, and as the strong spirit fired +his veins, the utter hopelessness of his outlook muffled him into silence. +Dropping his head into his open palms, he sat dully staring at the +whitening ashes. + +After a moment the man in blue rose to his feet and fastened his haversack. + +"I live up by Bethlehem, New Hampshire," he remarked, "and if you ever come +that way, I hope you'll look me up; my name's Moriarty." + +"Your name's Moriarty, I shall remember," repeated Dan, trying, with a +terrible effort, to steady his quivering limbs. + +"Jim Moriarty, don't you forget it. Anybody at Bethlehem can tell you about +me; I keep the biggest store around there." He went off a few steps and +then came back to hold out an awkward hand in which there was a little heap +of silver. + +"You'd just better take this to start you on your way," he said, "it ain't +but ninety-five cents--I couldn't make out the dollar--and when you get it +in again you can send it to Jim Moriarty at Bethlehem, New Hampshire. +Good-by, and good luck to you this time." + +He strode off across the field, and Dan, with the silver held close in his +palm, flung himself back upon the ground and slept until Pinetop woke him +with a grasp upon his shoulder. + +"Marse Robert's passin' along the road," he said. "You'd better hurry." + +Struggling to his feet Dan rushed from the woods across the deserted field, +to the lines of conquered soldiers standing in battle ranks upon the +roadside. Between them the Commander had passed slowly on his dapple gray +horse, and when Dan joined the ranks it was only in time to see him ride +onward at a walk, with the bearded soldiers clinging like children to his +stirrups. A group of Federal cavalrymen, drawn up beneath a persimmon tree, +uncovered as he went by, and he returned the salute with a simple gesture. +Lonely, patient, confirmed in courtesy, he passed on his way, and his +little army returned to camp in the strip of pines. + +"'I've done my best for you,' that's what he said," sobbed Pinetop. "'I've +done my best for you,'--and I kissed old Traveller's mane." + +Without replying, Dan went back into the woods and flung himself down on +the spread of tags. Now that the fight was over all the exhaustion of the +last four years, the weakness after many battles, the weariness after the +long marches, had gathered with accumulated strength for the final +overthrow. + +For three days he remained in camp in the pine woods, and on the third, +after waiting six hours in a hard rain outside his General's tent, he +secured the little printed slip which signified to all whom it might +concern that he had become a prisoner upon his parole. Then, after a +sympathetic word to the rest of the division, shivering beneath the +sassafras bushes before the tent, he shook hands with his comrades under +arms, and started with Pinetop down the muddy road. The war was over, and +footsore, in rags and with aching limbs, he was returning to the little +valley where he had hoped to trail his glory. + +Down the long road the gray rain fell straight as a curtain, and on either +side tramped the lines of beaten soldiers who were marching, on their word +of honour, to their distant homes. The abandoned guns sunk deep in the mud, +the shivering men lying in rags beneath the bushes, and the charred remains +of campfires among the trees were the last memories Dan carried from the +four years' war. + +Some miles farther on, when the pickets had been passed, a man on a black +horse rode suddenly from a little thicket and stopped across their path. + +"You fellows haven't been such darn fools as to give your parole, have +you?" he asked in an angry voice, his hand on his horse's neck. "The fight +isn't over yet and we want your muskets on our side. I belong to the +partisan rangers, and we'll cut through to Johnston's army before daylight. +If not, we'll take to the mountains and keep up the war forever. The +country is ours, what's to hinder us?" + +He spoke passionately, and at each sharp exclamation the black horse rose +on his haunches and pawed the air. + +Dan shook his head. + +"I'm out on parole," he replied, "but as soon as I'm exchanged, I'll fight +if Virginia wants me. How about you, Pinetop?" + +The mountaineer shuffled his feet in the mud and stood solemnly surveying +the landscape. + +"Wall, I don't understand much about this here parole business," he +replied. "It seems to me that a slip of paper with printed words on it that +I have to spell out as I go, is a mighty poor way to keep a man from +fightin' if he can find a musket. I ain't steddyin' about this parole, but +Marse Robert told me to go home to plant my crop, and I am goin' home to +plant it." + +"It is all over, I think," said Dan with a quivering lip, as he stared at +the ruined meadows. The smart was still fresh, and it was too soon for him +to add, with the knowledge that would come to him from years,--"it is +better so." Despite the grim struggle and the wasted strength, despite the +impoverished land and the nameless graves that filled it, despite even his +own wrecked youth and the hard-fought fields where he had laid it +down--despite all these a shadow was lifted from his people and it was +worth the price. + +They passed on, while the black horse pawed the dust, and the rider hurled +oaths at their retreating figures. At a little house a few yards down the +road they stopped to ask for food, and found a woman weeping at the kitchen +table, with three small children clinging to her skirts. Her husband had +fallen at Five Forks, she said, the safe was empty, and the children were +crying for bread. Then Dan slipped into her hand the silver he had borrowed +from the Union soldier, and the two returned penniless to the road. + +"At least we are men," he said almost apologetically to Pinetop, and the +next instant turned squarely in the mud, for a voice from the other side +had called out shrilly:-- + +"Hi, Marse Dan, whar you gwine now?" + +"Bless my soul, it's Big Abel," he exclaimed. + +Black as a spade and beaming with delight, the negro emerged from the swarm +upon the roadside and grasped Dan's outstretched hands. + +"Whar you gwine dis away, Marse Dan?" he inquired again. + +"I'm going home, Big Abel," responded Dan, as they walked on in a row of +three. "No, don't shout, you scamp; I'd rather lie down and die upon the +roadside than go home like this." + +"Well, you ain' much to look at, dat's sho'," replied Big Abel, his face +shining like polished ebony, "en I ain' much to look at needer, but dey'll +have ter recollect de way we all wuz befo' we runned away; dey'll have ter +recollect you in yo' fine shuts en fancy waistcoats, en dey'll have ter +recollect me in yo' ole uns. Sakes alive! I kin see dat one er yourn wid de +little bit er flow'rs all over hit des es plain es ef 'twuz yestiddy." + +"The waistcoats are all gone now," said Dan gravely, "and so are the +shirts. The war is over and you are your own master, Big Abel. You don't +belong to me from this time on." + +Big Abel shook his head grinning. + +"I reckon hit's all de same," he remarked cheerfully, "en I reckon we'd es +well be gwine on home, Marse Dan." + +"I reckon we would," said Dan, and they pushed on in silence. + + + + +X + +ON THE MARCH AGAIN + + +That night they slept on the blood-stained floor of an old field hospital, +and the next morning Pinetop parted from them and joined an engineer who +had promised him a "lift" toward his mountains. + +As Dan stood in the sunny road holding his friend's rough hand, it seemed +to him that such a parting was the sharpest wrench the end had brought. + +"Whenever you need me, old fellow, remember that I am always ready," he +said in a husky voice. + +Pinetop looked past him to the distant woods, and his calm blue eyes were +dim. + +"I reckon you'll go yo' way an' I'll go mine," he replied, "for thar's one +thing sartain an' that is our ways don't run together. It'll never be the +same agin--that's natur--but if you ever want a good stout hand for any +uphill ploughing or shoot yo' man an' the police git on yo' track, jest +remember that I'm up thar in my little cabin. Why, if every officer in the +county was at yo' heels, I'd stand guard with my old squirrel gun and maw +would with her kettle." + +Then he shook hands with Big Abel and strode on across a field to a little +railway station, while Dan went slowly down the road with the negro at his +side. + +In the afternoon when they had trudged all the morning through the heavy +mud, they reached a small frame house set back from the road, with some +straggling ailanthus shoots at the front and a pile of newly cut hickory +logs near the kitchen steps. A woman, with a bucket of soapsuds at her +feet, was wringing out a homespun shirt in the yard, and as they entered +the little gate, she looked at them with a defiance which was evidently the +result of a late domestic wrangle. + +"I've got one man on my hands," she began in a shrill voice, "an' he's as +much as I can 'tend to, an' a long sight mo' than I care to 'tend to. He +never had the spunk to fight anythin' except his wife, but I reckon he's +better off now than them that had; it's the coward that gets the best of +things in these days." + +"Shut up thar, you hussy!" growled a voice from the kitchen, and a fat man +with bleared eyes slouched to the doorway. "I reckon if you want a supper +you can work for it," he remarked, taking a wad of tobacco from his mouth +and aiming it deliberately at one of the ailanthus shoots. "You split up +that thar pile of logs back thar an' Sally'll cook yo' supper. Thar ain't +another house inside of a good ten miles, so you'd better take your chance, +I reckon." + +"That's jest like you, Tom Bates," retorted the woman passionately. "Befo' +you'd do a lick of honest work you'd let the roof topple plum down upon our +heads." + +For an instant Dan's glance cut the man like a whip, then crossing to the +woodpile, he lifted the axe and sent it with a clean stroke into a hickory +log. + +"We can't starve, Big Abel," he said coolly, "but we are not beggars yet by +a long way." + +"Go 'way, Marse Dan," protested the negro in disgust. "Gimme dat ar axe en +set right down and wait twel supper. You're des es white es a sheet dis +minute." + +"I've got to begin some day," returned Dan, as the axe swung back across +his shoulder. "I'll pay for my supper and you'll pay for yours, that's +fair, isn't it?--for you're a free man now." + +Then he went feverishly to work, while Big Abel sat grumbling on the +doorstep, and the farmer, leaning against the lintel behind him, watched +the lessening pile with sluggish eyes. + +"You be real careful of this wood, Sally, an' it ought to last twel +summer," he observed, as he glanced to where his wife stood wringing out +the clothes. "If you warn't so wasteful that last pile would ha' held out +twice as long." + +Dan chopped steadily for an hour, and then giving the axe to Big Abel, went +into the little kitchen to eat his supper. The woman served him sullenly, +placing some sobby biscuits and a piece of cold bacon on his plate, and +pouring out a glass of buttermilk with a vicious thrust of the pitcher. +When he asked if there was a shelter close at hand where he might sleep, +she replied sourly that she reckoned the barn was good enough if he chose +to spend the night there. Then as Big Abel finished his job and took his +supper in his hand, they left the house and went across the darkening +cattle pen, to a rotting structure which they took to be the barn. Inside +the straw was warm and dry, and as Dan flung himself down upon it, he +gasped out something like a prayer of thanks. His first day's labour with +his hands had left him trembling like a nervous woman. An hour longer, he +told himself, and he should have gone down upon the roadside. + +For a time he slept profoundly, and then awaking in the night, he lay until +dawn listening to Big Abel's snores, and staring straight above where a +solitary star shone through a crack in the shingled roof. From the other +side of a thin partition came the soft breathing and the fresh smell of +cows, and, now and then, he heard the low bleating of a new-born calf. + +He had been dreaming of a battle, and the impression was so vivid that, as +he opened his eyes, he half imagined he still heard the sound of shots. In +his sleep he had saved the flag and won promotion after victory, and for a +moment the trampled straw seemed to him to be the battle-field, and the +thin boards against which he beat the enemy's resisting line. As he came +slowly to himself a sudden yearning for the army awoke within him. He +wanted the red campfires and his comrades smoking against the dim pines; +the peaceful bivouac where the long shadows crept among the trees and two +men lay wrapped together beneath every blanket; above all, he wanted to see +the Southern Cross wave in the sunlight, and to hear the charging yell as +the brigade dashed into the open. He was homesick for it all to-night, and +yet it was dead forever--dead as his own youth which he had given to the +cause. + +Sharp pains racked him from head to foot, and his pulses burned as if from +fever. It was like the weariness of old age, he thought, this utter +hopelessness, these strained and quivering muscles. As a boy he had been +hardy as an Indian and as fearless of fatigue. Now the long midnight +gallops on Prince Rupert over frozen roads returned to him like the dim +memories from some old romance. They belonged to the place of +half-forgotten stories, with the gay waistcoats and the Christmas +gatherings in the hall at Chericoke. For a country that was not he had +given himself as surely as the men who were buried where they fought, and +his future would be but one long struggle to adjust himself to conditions +in which he had no part. His proper nature was compacted of the old life +which was gone forever--of its ease, of its gayety, of its lavish +pleasures. For the sake of this life he had fought for four years in the +ranks, and now that it was swept away, he found himself like a man who +stumbles on over the graves of his familiar friends. He remembered the +words of the soldier in the long blue coat, and spoke them half aloud in +the darkness: "There'll come a time when you'll find out that the army +wasn't the worst you had to face." The army was not the worst, he knew this +now--the grapple with a courageous foe had served to quicken his pulses and +nerve his hand--the worst was what came afterward, this sense of utter +failure and the attempt to shape one's self to brutal necessity. In the +future that opened before him he saw only a terrible patience which would +perhaps grow into a second nature as the years went on. In place of the old +generous existence, he must from this day forth wring the daily bread of +those he loved, with maimed hands, from a wasted soil. + +The thought of Betty came to him, but it brought no consolation. For +himself he could meet the shipwreck standing, but Betty must be saved from +it if there was salvation to be found. She had loved him in the days of his +youth--in his strong days, as the Governor said--now that he was worn out, +suffering, gray before his time, there was mere madness in his thought of +her buoyant strength. "You may take ten--you may take twenty years to +rebuild yourself," a surgeon had said to him at parting; and he asked +himself bitterly, by what right of love dared he make her strong youth a +prop for his feeble life? She loved him he knew--in his blackest hour he +never doubted this--but because she loved him, did it follow that she must +be sacrificed? + +Then gradually the dark mood passed, and with his eyes on the star, his +mouth settled into the lines of smiling patience which suffering brings to +the brave. He had never been a coward and he was not one now. The years had +taught him nothing if they had not taught him the wisdom most needed by his +impulsive youth--that so long as there comes good to the meanest creature +from fate's hardest blow, it is the part of a man to stand up and take it +between the eyes. In the midst of his own despair, of the haunting memories +of that bland period which was over for his race, there arose suddenly the +figure of the slave the Major had rescued, in Dan's boyhood, from the power +of old Rainy-day Jones. He saw again the poor black wretch shivering in the +warmth, with the dirty rag about his jaw, and with the sight he drew a +breath that was almost of relief. That one memory had troubled his own +jovial ease; now in his approaching poverty he might put it away from him +forever. + +In the first light of a misty April sunrise they went out on the road +again, and when they had walked a mile or so, Big Abel found some young +pokeberry shoots, which he boiled in his old quart cup with a slice of +bacon he had saved from supper. At noon they came upon a little farm and +ploughed a strip of land in payment for a dinner that was lavishly pressed +upon them. The people were plain, poor, and kindly, and the farmer followed +Dan into the field with entreaties that he should leave the furrows and +come in to meet his family. "Let yo' darky do a bit of work if he wants +to," he urged, "but it makes me downright sick to see one of General Lee's +soldiers driving my plough. The gals are afraid it'll bring bad luck." + +With a laugh, Dan tossed the ropes to Big Abel, who had been breaking clods +of earth, and returned to the house, where he was placed in the seat of +honour and waited on by a troop of enthusiastic red-cheeked maidens, each +of whom cut one of the remaining buttons from his coat. Here he was asked +to stay the night, but with the memory of the blue valley before his eyes, +he shook his head and pushed on again in the early afternoon. The vision of +Chericoke hung like a star above his road, and he struggled a little nearer +day by day. + +Sometimes ploughing, sometimes chopping a pile of logs, and again lying for +hours in the warm grass by the way, they travelled slowly toward the valley +that held Dan's desire. The chill April dawns broke over them, and the +genial April sunshine warmed them through after a drenching in a pearly +shower. They watched the buds swell and the leaves open in the wood, the +wild violets bloom in sheltered places, and the dandelions troop in ranks +among the grasses by the road. Dan, halting to rest in the mild weather, +would fall often into a revery long and patient, like those of extreme old +age. With the sun shining upon his relaxed body and his eyes on the bright +dust that floated in the slanting beams, he would lie for hours speechless, +absorbed, filled with visions. One day he found a mountain laurel flowering +in the woods, and gathering a spray he sat with it in his hands and dreamed +of Betty. When Big Abel touched him on the arm he turned with a laugh and +struggled to his feet. "I was resting," he explained, as they walked on. +"It is good to rest like that in mind and body; to keep out thoughts and +let the dreams come as they will." + +"De bes' place ter res' is on yo' own do' step," Big Abel responded, and +quickening their pace, they went more rapidly over the rough clay roads. + +It was at the end of this day that they came, in the purple twilight, to a +big brick house and found there a woman who lived alone with the memories +of a son she had lost at Gettysburg. At their knock she came herself, with +a few old servants, prompt, tearful, and very sad; and when she saw Dan's +coat by the light of the lamp behind her, she put out her hands with a cry +of welcome and drew him in, weeping softly as her white head touched his +sleeve. + +"My mother is dead, thank God," he murmured, and at his words she looked up +at him a little startled. + +"Others have come," she said, "but they were not like you; they did not +have your voice. Have you been always poor like this?" + +He met her eyes smiling. + +"I have not always been a soldier," was his answer. + +For a moment she looked at him as if bewildered; then taking a lamp from an +old servant, she led the way upstairs to her son's room, and laid out the +dead man's clothes upon his bed. + +"We keep house for the soldiers now," she said, and went out to make things +ready. + +As he plunged into the warm water and dried himself upon the fresh linen +she had left, he heard the sound of passing feet in the broad hall, and +from the outside kitchen there floated a savoury smell that reminded him of +Chericoke at the supper hour. With the bath and the clean clothes his old +instincts revived within him, and as he looked into the glass he caught +something of the likeness of his college days. Beau Montjoy was not starved +out after all, he thought with a laugh, he was only plastered over with +malaria and dirt. + +For three days he remained in the big brick house lying at ease upon a sofa +in the library, or listening to the tragic voice of the mother who talked +of her only son. When she questioned him about Pickett's charge, he raised +himself on his pillows and talked excitedly, his face flushing as if from +fever. + +"Your son was with Armistead," he said, "and they all went down like +heroes. I can see old Armistead now with his hat on his sword's point as he +waved to us through the smoke. 'Who will follow me, boys?' he cried, and +the next instant dashed straight on the defences. When he got to the second +line there were only six men with him, beside Colonel Martin, and your son +was one of them. My God! it was worth living to die like that." + +"And it is worth living to have a son die like that," she added, and wept +softly in the stillness. + +The next morning he went on again despite her prayers. The rest was all too +pleasant, but the memory of his valley was before him, and he thirsted for +the pure winds that blew down the long white turnpike. + +"There is no peace for me until I see it again," he said at parting, and +with a lighter step went out upon the April roads once more. + +The way was easier now for his limbs were stronger, and he wore the dead +man's shoes upon his feet. For a time it almost seemed that the strength of +that other soldier, who lay in a strange soil, had entered into his veins +and made him hardier to endure. And so through the clear days they +travelled with few pauses, munching as they walked from the food Big Abel +carried in a basket on his arm. + +"We've been coming for three weeks, and we are getting nearer," said Dan +one evening, as he climbed the spur of a mountain range at the hour of +sunset. Then his glance swept the wide horizon, and the stick in his hand +fell suddenly to the ground; for faint and blue and bathed in the sunset +light he saw his own hills crowding against the sky. As he looked his heart +swelled with tears, and turning away he covered his quivering face. + + + + +XI + +THE RETURN + + +As they passed from the shadow of the tavern road, the afternoon sunlight +was slanting across the turnpike from the friendly hills, which alone of +all the landscape remained unchanged. Loyal, smiling, guarding the ruined +valley like peaceful sentinels, they had suffered not so much as an added +wrinkle upon their brows. As Dan had left them five long years ago, so he +found them now, and his heart leaped as he stood at last face to face. He +was like a man who, having hungered for many days, finds himself suddenly +satisfied again. + +Amid a blur of young foliage they saw first the smoking chimneys of +Uplands, and then the Doric columns beyond a lane of flowering lilacs. The +stone wall had crumbled in places, and strange weeds were springing up +among the high blue-grass; but here and there beneath the maples he caught +a glimpse of small darkies uprooting the intruders, and beyond the garden, +in the distant meadows, ploughmen were plodding back and forth in the +purple furrows. Peace had descended here at least, and, with a smile, he +detected Betty's abounding energy in the moving spirit of the place. He saw +her in the freshly swept walks, in the small negroes weeding the blue-grass +lawn, in the distant ploughs that made blots upon the meadows. For a moment +he hesitated, and laid his hand upon the iron gate; then, stifling the +temptation, he turned back into the white sand of the road. Before he met +Betty's eyes, he meant that his peace should be made with the old man at +Chericoke. + +Big Abel, tramping at his side, opened his mouth from time to time to let +out a rapturous exclamation. + +"Dar 'tis! des look at it!" he chuckled, when Uplands had been left far +behind them. "Dat's de ve'y same clump er cedars, en dat's de wil' cher'y +lyin' right flat on hit's back--dey's done cut it down ter git de +cher'ies." + +"And the locust! Look, the big locust tree is still there, and in full +bloom!" + +"Lawd, de 'simmons! Dar's de 'simmon tree way down yonder in the meadow, +whar we all use ter set ouah ole hyar traps. You ain' furgot dose ole hyar +traps, Marse Dan?" + +"Forgotten them! good Lord!" said Dan; "why I remember we caught five one +Christmas morning, and Betty fed them and set them free again." + +"Dat she did, suh, dat she did! Hit's de gospel trufe!" + +"We never could hide our traps from Betty," pursued Dan, in delight. "She +was a regular fox for scenting them out--I never saw such a nose for traps +as hers, and she always set the things loose and smashed the doors." + +"We hid 'em one time way way in de thicket by de ice pond," returned Big +Abel, "but she spied 'em out. Yes, Lawd, she spied 'em out fo' ouah backs +wuz turnt." + +He talked on rapidly while Dan listened with a faint smile about his mouth. +Since they had left the tavern road, Big Abel's onward march had been +accompanied by ceaseless ejaculations. His joy was childlike, unrestrained, +full of whimsical surprises--the flight of a bluebird or the recognition of +a shrub beside the way sent him with shining eyes and quickened steps along +the turnpike. + +From free Levi's cabin, which was still standing, though a battle had raged +in the fallen woods beyond it, and men had fought and been buried within a +stone's throw of the doorstep, they heard the steady falling of a hammer +and caught the red glow from the rude forge at which the old negro worked. +With the half-forgotten sound, Dan returned as if in a vision to his last +night at Chericoke, when he had run off in his boyish folly, with free +Levi's hammer beating in his ears. Then he had dreamed of coming back +again, but not like this. He had meant to ride proudly up the turnpike, +with his easily won honours on his head, and in his hands his magnanimous +forgiveness for all who had done him wrong. On that day he had pictured the +Governor hurrying to the turnpike as he passed, and he had seen his +grandfather, shy of apologies, eager to make amends. + +That was his dream, and to-day he came back footsore, penniless, and in a +dead man's clothes--a beggar as he had been at his first home-coming, when +he had stood panting on the threshold and clutched his little bundle in his +arms. + +Yet his pulses stirred, and he turned cheerfully to the negro at his side. + +"Do you see it, Big Abel? Tell me when you see it." + +"Dar's de cattle pastur'," cried Big Abel, "en dey's been a-fittin' +dar--des look." + +"It must have been a skirmish," replied Dan, glancing down the slope. "The +wall is all down, and see here," his foot struck on something hard and he +stooped and picked up a horse's skull. "I dare say a squad of cavalry met +Mosby's rangers," he added. "It looks as if they'd had a little frolic." + +He threw the skull into the pasture, and followed Big Abel, who was +hurrying along the road. + +"We're moughty near dar," cried the negro, breaking into a run. "Des wait +twel we pass de aspens, Marse Dan, des wait twel we pass de aspens, den +we'll be right dar, suh." + +Then, as Dan reached him, the aspens were passed, and where Chericoke had +stood they found a heap of ashes. + +At their feet lay the relics of a hot skirmish, and the old elms were +perforated with rifle balls, but for these things Dan had neither eyes nor +thoughts. He was standing before the place that he called home, and where +the hospitable doors had opened he found only a cold mound of charred and +crumbled bricks. + +For an instant the scene went black before his eyes, and as he staggered +forward, Big Abel caught his arm. + +"I'se hyer, Marse Dan, I'se hyer," groaned the negro in his ear. + +"But the others? Where are the others?" asked Dan, coming to himself. "Hold +me, Big Abel, I'm an utter fool. O Congo! Is that Congo?" + +A negro, coming with his hoe from the corn field, ran over the desolated +lawn, and began shouting hoarsely to the hands behind him:-- + +"Hi! Hit's Marse Dan, hit's Marse Dan come back agin!" he yelled, and at +the cry there flocked round him a little troop of faithful servants, +weeping, shouting, holding out eager arms. + +"Hi! hit's Marse Dan!" they shrieked in chorus. "Hit's Marse Dan en Brer +Abel! Brer Abel en Marse Dan is done come agin!" + +Dan wept with them--tears of weakness, of anguish, of faint hope amid the +dark. As their hands closed over his, he grasped them as if his eyes had +gone suddenly blind. + +"Where are the others? Congo, for God's sake, tell me where are the +others?" + +"We all's hyer, Marse Dan. We all's hyer," they protested, sobbing. "En Ole +Marster en Ole Miss dey's in de house er de overseer--dey's right over dar +behine de orchard whar you use ter projick wid de ploughs, en Brer Cupid +and Sis Rhody dey's a-gittin' dem dey supper." + +"Then let me go," cried Dan. "Let me go!" and he started at a run past the +gray ruins and the standing kitchen, past the flower garden and the big +woodpile, to the orchard and the small frame house of Harris the overseer. + +Big Abel kept at his heels, panting, grunting, calling upon his master to +halt and upon Congo to hurry after. + +"You'll skeer dem ter deaf--you'll skeer Ole Miss ter deaf," cried Congo +from the rear, and drawing a trembling breath, Dan slackened his pace and +went on at a walk. At last, when he reached the small frame house and put +his foot upon the step, he hesitated so long that Congo slipped ahead of +him and softly opened the door. Then his young master followed and stood +looking with blurred eyes into the room. + +Before a light blaze which burned on the hearth, the Major was sitting in +an arm chair of oak splits, his eyes on the blossoming apple trees outside, +and above his head, the radiant image of Aunt Emmeline, painted as Venus in +a gown of amber brocade. All else was plain and clean--the well-swept +floor, the burnished andirons, the cupboard filled with rows of blue and +white china--but that one glowing figure lent a festive air to the poorly +furnished room, and enriched with a certain pomp the tired old man, dozing, +with bowed white head, in the rude arm chair. It was the one thing saved +from the ashes--the one vestige of a former greatness that still remained. + +As Dan stood there, a clock on the mantel struck the hour, and the Major +turned slowly toward him. + +"Bring the lamps, Cupid," he said, though the daylight was still shining. +"I don't like the long shadows--bring the lamps." + +Choking back a sob, Dan crossed the floor and knelt down by the chair. + +"We have come back, grandpa," he said. "We beg your pardon, and we have +come back--Big Abel and I." + +For a moment the Major stared at him in silence; then he reached out and +felt him with shaking hands as if he mistrusted the vision of his eyes. + +"So you're back, Champe, my boy," he muttered. "My eyes are bad--I thought +at first that it was Dan--that it was Dan." + +"It is I, grandpa," said Dan, slowly. "It is I--and Big Abel, too. We are +sorry for it all--for everything, and we have come back poorer than we went +away." + +A light broke over the old man's face, and he stretched out his arms with a +great cry that filled the room as his head fell forward on his grandson's +breast. Then, when Mrs. Lightfoot appeared in the doorway, he controlled +himself with a gasp and struggled to his feet. + +"Welcome home, my son," he said ceremoniously, as he put out his quivering +hands, "and welcome home, Big Abel." + +The old lady went into Dan's arms as he turned, and looking over her head, +he saw Betty coming toward him with a lamp shining in her hand. + +"My child, here is one of our soldiers," cried the Major, in joyful tones, +and as the girl placed the lamp upon the table, she turned and met Dan's +eyes. + +"It is the second time I've come home like this, Betty," he said, "only I'm +a worse beggar now than I was at first." + +Betty shook his hand warmly and smiled into his serious face. + +"I dare say you're hungrier," she responded cheerfully, "but we'll soon +mend that, Mrs. Lightfoot and I. We are of one mind with Uncle Bill, who, +when Mr. Blake asked him the other day what we ought to do for our returned +soldiers, replied as quick as that, 'Feed 'em, sir.'" + +The Major laughed with misty eyes. + +"You can't get Betty to look on the dark side, my boy," he declared, though +Dan, watching the girl, saw that her face in repose had grown very sad. +Only the old beaming smile brought the brightness now. + +"Well, I hope she will turn up the cheerful part of this outlook," he said, +surrendering himself to the noisy welcome of Cupid and Aunt Rhody. + +"We may trust her--we may trust her," replied the old man as he settled +himself back into his chair. "If there isn't any sunshine, Betty will make +it for us herself." + +Dan met the girl's glance for an instant, and then looked at the old +negroes hanging upon his hands. + +"Yes, the prodigal is back," he admitted, laughing, "and I hope the fatted +calf is on the crane." + +"Dar's a roas' pig fur ter-morrow, sho's you bo'n," returned Aunt Rhody. +"En I'se gwine to stuff 'im full." Then she hurried away to her fire, and +Dan threw himself down upon the rug at the Major's feet. + +"Yes, we may trust Betty for the sunshine," repeated the Major, as if +striving to recall his wandering thoughts. "She's my overseer now, you +know, and she actually looks after both places in less time than poor +Harris took to worry along with one. Why, there's not a better farmer in +the county." + +"Oh, Major, don't," begged the girl, laughing and blushing beneath Dan's +eyes. "You mustn't believe him, Dan, he wears rose-coloured glasses when he +looks at me." + +"Well, my sight is dim enough for everything else, my dear," confessed the +old man sadly. "That's why I have the lamps lighted before the sun goes +down--eh, Molly?" + +Mrs. Lightfoot unwrapped her knitting and the ivory kneedles clicked in the +firelight. + +"I like to keep the shadows away myself," she responded. "The twilight used +to be my favourite hour, but I dread it now, and so does Mr. Lightfoot." + +"Well, the war's given us that in common," chuckled the Major, stretching +out his feet. "If I remember rightly you once complained that our tastes +were never alike, Molly." Then he glanced round with hospitable eyes. "Draw +up, my boy, draw up to the fire and tell your story," he added invitingly. +"By the time Champe comes home we'll have rich treats in store for the +summer evenings." + +Betty was looking at him as he bent over the thin flames, and Dan saw her +warm gaze cloud suddenly with tears. He put out his hand and touched hers +as it lay on the Major's chair, and when she turned to him she was smiling +brightly. + +"Here's Cupid with our supper," she said, going to the table, "and dear +Aunt Rhody has actually gotten out her brandied peaches that she kept +behind her 'jists.' If you ever doubted your welcome, Dan, this must banish +it forever." Then as they gathered about the fruits of Aunt Rhody's +labours, she talked on rapidly in her cheerful voice. "The silver has just +been drawn up from the bottom of the well," she laughed, "so you mustn't +wonder if it looks a little tarnished. There wasn't a piece missing, which +is something to be thankful for already, and the port--how many bottles of +port did you dig up from the asparagus bed, Uncle Cupid?" + +"I'se done hoed up 'mos' a dozen," answered Cupid, as he plied Dan with +waffles, "en dey ain' all un um up yit." + +"Well, well, we'll have a bottle after supper," remarked the Major, +heartily. + +"If there's anything that's been improved by this war it should be that +port, I reckon," said Mrs. Lightfoot, her muslin cap nodding over the high +old urns. + +"And Dan's appetite," finished Betty, merrily. + +When they rose from the table, the girl tied on her bonnet of plaited straw +and kissed Mrs. Lightfoot and the Major. + +"It is almost mamma's supper time," she said, "and I must hurry back. Why, +I've been away from her at least two hours." Then she looked at Dan and +shook her head. "Don't come," she added, "it is too far for you, and Congo +will see me safely home." + +"Well, I'm sorry for Congo, but his day is over," Dan returned, as he took +up his hat and followed her out into the orchard. With a last wave to the +Major, who watched them from the window, they passed under the blossoming +fruit trees and went slowly down the little path, while Betty talked +pleasantly of trivial things, cheerful, friendly, and composed. When she +had exhausted the spring ploughing, the crops still to be planted and the +bright May weather, Dan stopped beside the ashes of Chericoke, and looked +at her with sombre eyes. + +"Betty, we must have it out," he said abruptly. "I have thought over it +until I'm almost mad, and I see but one sensible thing for you to do--you +must give me up--my dearest." + +A smile flickered about Betty's mouth. "It has taken you a long time to +come to that conclusion," she responded. + +"I hoped until the end--even after I knew that hope was folly and that I +was a fool to cling to it. I always meant to come back to you when I got +the chance, but not like this--not like this." + +At the pain in his eyes the girl caught her breath with a sob that shook +her from head to foot. Pity moved her with a passion stronger than mere +love, and she put out her protecting arms with a gesture that would have +saved him from the world--or from himself. + +"No, like this, Dan," she answered, with her lips upon his coat. + +He kissed her once and drew back. + +"I never meant to come home this way, Betty," he said, in a voice that +trembled from its new humility. + +"My dear, my dear, I have grown to think that any way is a good way," she +murmured, her eyes on the blackened pile that had once been Chericoke. + +"It is not right," he went on; "it is not fair. You cannot marry me--you +must not." + +Again the humour quivered on the girl's lips. + +"I don't like to seem too urgent," she returned, "but will you tell me +why?" + +"Why?" he repeated bitterly. "There are a hundred why's if you want them, +and each one sufficient in itself. I am a beggar, a failure, a wreck, a +broken-down soldier from the ranks. Do you think if it were anything less +than pure madness on your part that I should stand here a moment and talk +like this?--but because I am in love with you, Betty, it doesn't follow +that I'm an utter ass." + +"That's flattering," responded Betty, "but it doesn't explain just what I +want to know. Look me straight in the eyes--no evading now--and answer what +I ask. Do you mean that we are to be neighbours and nothing more? Do you +mean that we are to shake hands when we meet and drop them afterward? Do +you mean that we are to stand alone together as we are standing now--that +you are never to take me in your arms again? Do you mean this, my dear?" + +"I mean--just that," he answered between his teeth. + +For a moment Betty looked at him with a laugh of disbelief. Then, biting +the smile upon her lips, she held out her hand with a friendly gesture. + +"I am quite content that it should be so," she said in a cordial voice. "We +shall be very good neighbours, I fancy, and if you have any trouble with +your crops, don't hesitate to ask for my advice. I've become an excellent +farmer, the Major says, you know." She caught up her long black skirt and +walked on, but when he would have followed, she motioned him back with a +decisive little wave. "You really mustn't--I can't think of allowing it," +she insisted. "It is putting my neighbours to unheard-of trouble to make +them see me home. Why, if I once begin the custom, I shall soon have old +Rainy-day Jones walking back with me when I go to buy his cows." Still +smiling she passed under the battle-scarred elms and stepped over the +ruined gate into the road. + +Leaning against a twisted tree in the old drive, Dan watched her until her +black dress fluttered beyond the crumbled wall. Then he gave a cry that +checked her hastening feet. + +"Betty!" he called, and at his voice she turned. + +"What is it, dear friend?" she asked, and, standing amid the scattered +stones, looked back at him with pleading eyes. + +"Betty!" he cried again, stretching out his arms; and as she ran toward +him, he went down beside the ashes of Chericoke, and lay with his face half +hidden against a broken urn. + +"I am coming," called Betty, softly, running over the fallen gate and along +the drive. Then, as she reached him, she knelt down and drew him to her +bosom, soothing him as a mother soothes a tired child. + +"It shall be as you wish--I shall be as you wish," she promised as she held +him close. + +But his strength had come back to him at her touch, and springing to his +feet, he caught her from the ground as he had done that day beside the +cabin in the woods, kissing her eyelids and her faithful hands. + +"I can't do it, Betty, it's no use. There's still some fight left in me--I +am not utterly beaten so long as I have you on my side." + +With a smile she lifted her face and he caught the strong courage of her +look. + +"We will begin again," she said, "and this time, my dear, we will begin +together." + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Battle Ground, by Ellen Glasgow + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BATTLE GROUND *** + +***** This file should be named 6872.txt or 6872.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/6/8/7/6872/ + +Produced by Wendy Crockett, Tiffany Vergon, Juliet +Sutherland, Charles Aldarondo, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + |