Kitabı oku: «Macaria», sayfa 14
CHAPTER XXVI
CIVIL WAR
The treacherous four year's lull was broken at last by the mutter of the storm which was so soon to sweep over the nation, prostrating all interests, and bearing desolation to almost every hearthstone in our once happy, smiling land of constitutional freedom. Aubrey was deeply impressed with the vital consequences of the impending election; and as the conviction forced itself upon his mind that, through the demoralization of the Northern wing of Democracy, Lincoln would be elected, he endeavoured to prepare the masses for that final separation which he foresaw was inevitable. Lincoln was elected. Abolitionism, so long adroitly cloaked, was triumphantly clad in robes of state – shameless now, and hideous, and while the North looked upon the loathsome face of its political Mokanna, the South prepared for resistance.
No surer indication of the purpose of the Southern people could have been furnished, than the temper in which the news was received. No noisy outbursts, expending resolve in empty words – no surface excitement – but a stern calm gloom, set lips, heavy bent brows, appropriate in men who realized that they had a revolution on their hands; not indignation meetings, with fruitless resolutions – that they stood as body-guard for the liberty of the Republic, and would preserve the trust at all hazards. It would seem that, for a time at least, party animosities would have been crushed; but bitter differences sprang up at the very threshold on the modus operandi of Southern release from Yankee-Egyptic bondage. Separate "State action" or "co-operation" divided the people, many of whom were earnestly impressed by the necessity and expediency of deliberate, concerted, simultaneous action on the part of all the Southern States, while others vehemently advocated this latter course solely because the former plan was advanced and supported by their old opponents. In this new issue, as if fate persistently fanned the flame of hate between Mr. Huntingdon and Russell Aubrey, they were again opposed as candidates for the State Convention.
W – was once more convulsed, and strenuous efforts were made by both sides. Russell was indefatigable in his labours for prompt, immediate State action, proclaiming his belief that co-operation was impracticable before secession; and it was now that his researches in the dusty regions of statistics came admirably into play, as he built up his arguments on solid foundations of indisputable calculation.
The contest was close and heated, and resulted somewhat singularly in the election of a mixed ticket – two Secessionists being returned, and one Co-operationist, Mr. Huntingdon, owing to personal popularity.
While the entire South was girding for the contest, South Carolina, ever the avant courier in the march of freedom, seceded; and if doubt had existed before, it vanished now from every mind – for all felt that the gallant State must be sustained. Soon after, Russell and Mr. Huntingdon stood face to face on the floor of their own State convention, and wrestled desperately. The latter headed the opposition, and so contumacious did it prove, that for some days the fate of the State lay in dangerous equilibrium. Finally, the vigilance of the Secessionists prevailed, and, late in the afternoon of a winter day, the ordinance was signed.
Electricity flashed the decree to every portion of the State, and the thunder of artillery and blaze of countless illuminations told that the people gratefully and joyfully accepted the verdict. W – was vociferous; and as Irene gazed from the colonnade on the distant but brilliant rows of lights flaming along the streets, she regretted that respect for her father's feelings kept the windows of her own home dark and cheerless.
The 12th and 13th of April were days of unexampled excitement throughout the Southern States. The discharge of the first gun from Fort Moultrie crushed the last lingering vestiges of "Unionism," and welded the entire Confederacy in one huge homogeneous mass of stubborn resistance to despotism. With the explosion of the first shell aimed by General Beauregard against Fort Sumter burst the frail painted bubble of "Reconstruction," which had danced alluringly upon the dark, surging billows of revolution. W – was almost wild with anxiety; and in the afternoon of the second day of the bombardment, as Irene watched the avenue, she saw her father driving rapidly homeward. Descending the steps, she met him at the buggy.
"Beauregard has taken Sumter. Anderson surrendered unconditionally. No lives lost."
"Thank God!"
They sat down on the steps, and a moment after the roar of guns shook the atmosphere, and cheer after cheer went up the evening sky.
"Act I, of a long and bloody civil war," said Mr. Huntingdon gravely. "To-day I have come to a determination which will doubtless surprise you."
He paused, and eyed her a moment.
"No, father; I am not surprised that you have determined to do your duty."
"How, Irene? What do you suppose that it is?"
"To use Nelson's words, the Confederacy 'expects that every man will do his duty'; and you are going into the army."
"Who told you that?"
"My own heart, father; which tells me what I should do were I in your place."
"Well, I have written to Montgomery, to Clapham, to tender my services. We were at West Point together; I served under him at Contreras and Chapultepec, and he will no doubt press matters through promptly. The fact is, I could not possibly stay at home now. My blood has been at boiling heat since yesterday morning, when I read Beauregard's first dispatch."
"Did you specify any branch of the service?"
"Yes; told him I preferred artillery. What is the matter? Your lips are as white as cotton. By the way what shall I do with you? It won't do to leave you here all alone."
"Why not, father? Home is certainly the proper place for me, if you cannot take me with you."
"What! with nobody but the servants?"
"They will take better care of me than anybody else. Nellie, and Andrew, and John are the only guardians I want in your absence. They have watched over me all my life, and they will do it to the end. Give yourself no trouble, sir, on my account."
"I suppose your Uncle Eric will be home before long; he can stay here till I come back – or – till the troubles are over. In the meantime, you could be with the Harrises, or Hendersons, or Mrs. Churchill."
"No, sir; I can stay here, which is infinitely preferable on many accounts. I will, with your permission, invite Mrs. Campbell to shut up the parsonage in her husband's absence, and remain with me till Uncle Eric returns. I have no doubt that she will be glad to make the change. Do you approve the plan?"
"Yes. That arrangement will answer for the present, and Arnold will be here to take care of you."
At the close of a week a telegraphic dispatch was received, informing Mr. Huntingdon of his appointment as major in the provisional army of the Confederacy and containing an order to report immediately for duty.
Having completed his arrangements, and ordered the carriage to be in readiness at daylight next morning to convey him to the depôt, he bade her good night much as usual, and retired to his own room.
But thought was too busy to admit of sleep. He turned restlessly on his pillow, rose, and smoked a second cigar, and returned, to find himself more wakeful than ever. The clock downstairs in the library struck one; his door opened softly, and, by the dim moonlight struggling through the window, he saw Irene glide to his bedside.
"Why don't you go to sleep, Irene?"
"Because I can't. I am too miserable."
Her voice was dry, but broken, faltering.
"Father, the future is dark and uncertain; and I feel that I want an assurance of your entire reconciliation and affection before you go. I came here to say to you that I deeply regret all the unfortunate circumstances of my life which caused you to treat me so coldly for a season – that if in anything I have ever seemed obstinate or undutiful, it was not because I failed in love for you, but from an unhappy difference of opinion as to my duty under very trying circumstances. Father, my heart ached very bitterly under your estrangement – the very memory is unutterably painful. I want your full, free forgiveness now, for all the trouble I have ever occasioned you. Oh, father! give it to me!"
He drew her close to him, and kissed her twice.
"You have my forgiveness, my daughter – though I must tell you that your treatment of poor Hugh has been a continual source of sorrow and keen disappointment to me. I never can forget your disobedience in that matter. I do not believe you will ever be happy, you have such a strange disposition; but since you took matters so completely in your own hands, you have only yourself to reproach. Irene, I very often wonder whether you have any heart – for it seems to me that if you have, it would have been won by the devotion which has been lavished on you more than once. You are the only woman I ever knew who appeared utterly incapable of love; and I sometimes wonder what will become of you when I am dead."
"God will protect me. I look continually to His guardianship. I won't keep you awake any longer, as you have a tedious journey before you. Good night, my dear father."
She kissed him tenderly and left him, closing the door softly behind her.
A spectral crescent moon flickered in the sky, and stars still burned in the violet East, when the carriage drove to the door, and Irene followed her father to the steps.
Even in that dim, uncertain grey light he could see that her face was rigid and haggard, and tears filled his cold, brilliant eyes as he folded her to his heart.
"Good-bye, Beauty. Cheer up, my brave child! and look on the bright side. After all, I may come back a brigadier-general, and make you one of my staff-officers! You shall be my adjutant, and light up my office with your golden head. Take care of yourself till Eric comes, and write to me often. Good-bye, my dear, my darling daughter."
She trembled convulsively, pressing her lips repeatedly to his.
"Oh, may God bless you, my father, and bring you safely back to me!"
He unwound her arms, put her gently aside, and stepped into the carriage.
William, the cook, who was to accompany him, stood sobbing near the door, and now advancing, grasped her hand.
"Good-bye, Miss Irene. May the Lord protect you all till we come back."
"William, I look to you to take care of father, and let me know at once if anything happens."
"I will, Miss Irene. I promise you I will take good care of master, and telegraph you if he is hurt."
He wrung her hand, the carriage rolled rapidly away, and the sorrow-stricken, tearless woman sat down on the steps and dropped her head in her hands.
CHAPTER XXVII
HOSPITAL STORES
To those who reside at the convulsed throbbing heart of a great revolution, a lifetime seems compressed into the compass of days and weeks; and men and women are conscious of growing prematurely old while watching the rushing, thundering tramp of events, portentous with the fate of nations. W – presented the appearance of a military camp, rather than the peaceful manufacturing town of yore. Every vacant lot was converted into a parade-ground – and the dash of cavalry, the low, sullen rumbling of artillery, and the slow, steady tread of infantry, echoed through its wide, handsome streets. Flag-staffs were erected from public buildings, private residences, and at the most frequent corners, and from these floated banners of all sizes, tossing proudly to the balmy breeze the new-born ensign of freedom – around which clustered the hopes of a people who felt that upon them, and them only, now devolved the sacred duty of proving to the world the capacity of a nation for self-government.
W – gave her young men liberally; company after company was equipped, furnished with ample funds by the munificence of citizens who remained, and sent forward to Virginia, to make their breasts a shield for the proud old "Mother of Presidents." The battle of Bethel was regarded as part of an overture to the opera of Blood, yclept "Subjugation," and people watched in silence for the crimson curtain to rise on the banks of the Potomac. Russell Aubrey had succeeded in raising a fine full company for the war, as contra-distinguished from twelve-months volunteers; and to properly drill and discipline it, he bent all the energy of his character. It was made the nucleus of a new regiment; recruits gathered rapidly, and when the regiment organized, preparatory to starting for Virginia, he was elected colonel, with Herbert Blackwell for lieutenant-colonel, and Charles Harris was appointed adjutant. They were temporarily encamped on the common between the railroad depôt and Mr. Huntingdon's residence, and from the observatory or colonnade Irene could look down on the gleaming tents and the flag-staff that stood before the officers' quarters. Reveille startled her at dawn, and tattoo regularly warned her of the shortness of summer nights. As the fiery carriage-horses would not brook the sight of the encampment, she discarded them for a time, and when compelled to leave home rode Erebus at no slight risk of her life – for he evinced the greatest repugnance to the sound of drum or fife.
One afternoon she went over to the Row, and thence to the factory. A new company had been named in honour of her father; uniforms and haversacks were to be furnished, and Mr. Huntingdon had entrusted her with the commission. Selecting the cloth and accomplishing her errand, she returned by way of the orphan asylum, whose brick walls were rapidly rising under her supervision. One of the workmen took her horse, and she went over the building, talking to the principal mechanic about some additional closets which she desired to have inserted. Dr. Arnold chanced to be passing, but saw Erebus at the gate, stopped, and came in.
"I was just going up the Hill to see you, Queen – glad I am saved the trouble. Here, sit down a minute; I will clear the shavings away. When did you hear from Leonard?"
"I had a letter yesterday. He was well, and on outpost duty near Manassas."
"Well, I shall join him very soon."
"Sir?"
"I say I shall join him very soon; don't you believe it? Why shouldn't I serve my country as well as younger men? The fact is, I am going as surgeon of Aubrey's regiment."
She looked at him, betraying neither surprise nor regret.
"When will you leave W – ?"
"Day after to-morrow morning; can't get transportation any sooner. Aubrey has received orders to report at once to General Beauregard. Child, have you been sick?"
"No, sir. I am glad you are going with the regiment; very glad. Every good surgeon in the Confederacy should hasten to the front line of our armies. Since you leave home, I am particularly glad that you are going to Manassas, where you can be near father."
He mused a moment, watching her furtively.
"I suppose you have heard of the performance for to-morrow?"
"No, sir. To what do you allude?"
"The daughter of Herodias is preparing to dance."
"I don't understand you, Doctor."
"Oh, don't you, indeed? Well, then, she intends to present a splendid regimental flag with her own brown hands; and as Aubrey is to receive it, the regiment will march to Mrs. Churchill's, where the speeches will be delivered. Will you attend?"
"Scarcely, I presume, as I am not invited. I knew that Salome was having an elegant flag made, but was not aware that to-morrow was appointed for the ceremony of presentation. When will you come to see me? I want you to take a parcel to father for me; and then I want to have a long talk."
"I know what the long talk amounts to. I am coming, of course, after the flag ceremonies, where I am expected. At one o'clock I will be at the Hill – perhaps earlier. Where now?"
"I must go by Mrs. Baker's, to see about giving out some sewing for the 'Huntingdon Rifles.' I can't do it all at home, and several families here require work. I shall expect you at one o'clock – shall have lunch ready for you. By the way, Doctor, is there anything I can do for you in the sewing line? It would give me genuine pleasure to make something for you, if you will only tell me what you need. Think over your wants."
She had caught up her reins, but paused, looking at him. He averted his head quickly.
"I will tell you to-morrow. Good evening."
As she went homeward a shadow fell upon her face – a shadow darker than that cast by the black plume in her riding-hat – and once or twice her lips writhed from their ordinary curves of beauty. Nearing the encampment she lowered her veil, but saw that dress parade had been dismissed, and as she shook the reins and Erebus quickened his gallop, she found herself face to face with the colonel, who had just mounted his horse and was riding toward town. She looked at him and bowed; but, in passing, he kept his eyes fixed on the road before him, and in the duskiness his face seemed colder and more inflexible than ever. Such had been the manner of their occasional meetings since the interview at the factory, and she was not surprised that this, her first greeting, was disregarded. The public believed that an engagement existed between him and Salome, and the attentions heaped upon him by the family of the latter certainly gave colour to the report. But Irene was not deceived; she had learned to understand his nature, and knew that his bitterness of feeling and studied avoidance of herself betokened that the old affection had not been crushed. Struggling with the dictates of her heart, and a sense of the respect due to her father's feelings, she passed a sleepless night in pacing the gallery of the observatory. It was a vigil of almost intolerable perplexity and anguish. Under all its painful aspects she patiently weighed the matter, and at sunrise next morning, throwing open the blinds of her room, she drew her rosewood desk to the window, and wrote these words —
"Col. Aubrey, —
"Before you leave W – allow me to see you for a few moments. If your departure is positively fixed for to-morrow, come to me this afternoon, at any hour which may be most convenient.
"Respectfully,
"Irene Huntingdon."
As the regiment prepared to march to Mrs. Churchill's residence, the note was received from Andrew's hands. Returning his sword to its scabbard, the colonel read the paper twice, three times – a heavy frown gathered on his forehead, his swarthy cheek fired, and, thrusting the note into his pocket, he turned toward his regiment, saying hastily to the servant —
"You need not wait. No answer is expected."
At the breakfast-table Irene opened a hasty missive from Salome, inviting her to be present at the presentation of the flag, and begging a few choice flowers for the occasion. Smiling quietly, she filled the accompanying basket with some of the rarest treasures of the greenhouse, added a bowl of raspberries which the gardener had just brought in, and sent all, with a brief line excusing herself from attending.
The morning was spent in writing to her father, preparing a parcel for him, and in superintending the making of a large quantity of blackberry jelly and cordial for the use of the hospitals.
About noon Dr. Arnold came, and found her engaged in sealing up a number of the jars, all neatly labelled. The day was warm; she had pushed back her hair from her brow, as she bent over her work; the full sleeves were pinned up above the elbow, and she wore a white check-muslin apron to protect her dress from the resin and beeswax.
"In the name of Medea and her Colchian cauldron! what are you about, Irene?"
"Fixing a box of hospital stores for you to take with you. I have finished, sir. Let me wash my hands, and I will give you some lunch in the dining-room."
"No; I lunched with the Israelites. Salome was brilliant as a Brazilian fire-fly, and presented her banner quite gracefully. Aubrey looked splendid in his uniform; was superbly happy in his speech – always is. Madam did the honours inimitably, and, in fine – give me that fan on the table – everything was decidedly comme il faut. You were expected, and you ought to have gone; it looked spiteful to stay away. I should absolutely like to see you subjected to 212° Fahrenheit, in order to mark the result. Here I am almost suffocating with the heat, which would be respectable in Soudan, and you sit there bolt upright, looking as cool as a west wind in March. Beauty, you should get yourself patented as a social refrigerator, 'Warranted proof against the dog-days.' What rigmarole do you want me to repeat to Leonard?"
"I wish, if you please, when you get to Manassa, that you would persuade father to allow me to come, at least, as far as Richmond. You have some influence with him; will you use it in my favour?"
"You are better off at home; you could possibly do no good."
"Still I want to go. Remember, my father is all I have in this world."
"And what have you elsewhere, Irene?"
"My mother, my Saviour, and my God."
"Are you, then, so very anxious to go to Virginia?" he repeated, after a pause.
"I am. I want to be near father."
"Well, I will see what I can do with him. If I fail, recollect that he is not proverbial for pliability. Look here – are you nervous? Your fingers twitch, and so do your eyelids, occasionally, and your pulse is twenty beats too quick."
"I believe I am rather nervous to-day."
"Why so?"
"I did not sleep last night; that is one cause, I suppose."
"And the reason why you did not sleep? Be honest with me."
"My thoughts, sir, were very painful. Do you wonder at it in the present state of the country?"
"Irene, answer me one question, dear child: what does the future contain for you? What hope have you? – what do you live for?"
"I have much to be grateful for – much that makes me happy, and I hope to do some good in the world while I live. I want to be useful – to feel that I have gladdened some hearts, strengthened some desponding spirits, carried balm to some hearth-stones, shed some happiness on the paths of those who walk near me through life."
"Have you, then, fully resolved to remain single?"
"Why do you ask me that, Dr. Arnold?"
"Because you are dear to me, Queen; and I should like to see you happily married before I am laid in my grave."
"You will never see it. Be sure I shall live and die Irene Huntingdon."
"What has induced you to doom yourself to a – "
"Ask me no more, Doctor. If I am content with my lot, who else has the right to question?"
He looked into that fair chiselled face, and wondered whether she could be truly "content"; and the purity and peace in her deep, calm eyes baffled him sorely. She rose, and laid her hand on his shoulder.
"Dr. Arnold, promise me that if there is a battle, and father should be hurt, you will telegraph me at once. Do not hesitate – let me know the truth immediately. Will you?"
"I promise."
"And now, sir, what can I make or have made for you which will conduce to your comfort?"
"Have you any old linen left about the house that could be useful among the wounded?"
"I have sent off a good deal, but have some left. In what form do you want it? As lint, or bandages?"
"Neither; pack it just as it is, and send it on by express. I can't carry the world on my shoulders."
"Anything else?"
"Write to the overseer's wife to sow all the mustard-seed she can lay her hands on, and save all the sage she can. And, Irene, be sure to send me every drop of honey you can spare. That is all, I believe. If I think of anything else, I will write you."
He stooped, kissed her forehead, and hurried out to his buggy.
