Erema; Or, My Father's Sin

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER LVII

  FEMALE SUFFRAGE

  All that could be done by skill and care and love, was done for Firm.Our lady manager and head nurse never left him when she could be spared,and all the other ladies vied in zeal for this young soldier, so thatI could scarcely get near him. His grandfather's sad and extraordinarytale was confirmed by a wounded prisoner. Poor Ephraim Gundry's rarepower of sight had been fatal perhaps to the cause he fought for, orat least to its greatest captain. Returning from desperate victory, thegeneral, wrapped in the folds of night, and perhaps in the gloom of hisown stern thoughts, while it seemed quite impossible that he should beseen, encountered the fire of his own troops; and the order to fire wasgiven by his favorite officer, Colonel Firm Gundry. When the young manlearned that he had destroyed, by a lingering death, the chief idol ofhis heart, he called for a rifle, but all refused him, knowing too wellwhat his purpose was. Then under the trees, without a word or sigh, heset the hilt of his sword upon the earth, and the point to his heart--aswell as he could find it. The blade passed through him, and then snappedoff--But I can not bear to speak of it.

  And now, few people might suppose it, but the substance of which he wasmade will be clear, when not only his own knowledge of his case butalso the purest scientific reasoning established a truth more franklyacknowledged in the New World than in the Old one. It was proved that,with a good constitution, it is safer to receive two wounds than one,even though they may not be at the same time taken. Firm had beenshot by the captain of Mexican robbers, as long ago related. He wasdreadfully pulled down at the time, and few people could have survivedit. But now that stood him in the very best stead, not only as a lessonof patience, but also in the question of cartilage. But not beingcertain what cartilage is, I can only refer inquirers to the note-bookof the hospital, which has been printed.

  For us it was enough to know that (shattered as he was and must be) thisbrave and single-minded warrior struggled for the time successfully withthat great enemy of the human race, to whom the human race so largelyconsign one another and themselves. But some did say, and emphaticallyUncle Sam, that Colonel Firm Gundry--for a colonel he was now, not bycourtesy, but commission--would never have held up his head to do it,but must have gone on with his ravings for death, if somebody had notarrived in the nick of time, and cried over him--a female somebody fromold England.

  And, even after that, they say that he never would have cared to be aman again, never would have calmed his conscience with the reflection,so commonplace and yet so high--that having done our best according toour lights, we must not dwell always on our darkness--if once again, andfor the residue of life, there had not been some one to console him--aconsolation that need not have, and is better without, pure reason,coming, as that would come, from a quarter whence it is never quitewelcome. Enough for me that he never laid hand to a weapon of war again,and never shall unless our own home is invaded.

  For after many months--each equal to a year of teaching and ofhumbling--there seemed to be a good time for me to get away and attendto my duties in England. Of these I had been reminded often by letters,and once by a messenger; but all money matters seemed dust in thebalance where life and death were swinging. But now Uncle Sam and hisgrandson, having their love knit afresh by disaster, were eager to startfor the Saw-mill, and trust all except their own business to Providence.

  I had told them that, when they went westward, my time would be come forstarting eastward; and being unlikely to see them again, I should hopefor good news frequently. And then I got dear Uncle Sam by himself, andbegged him, for the sake of Firm's happiness, to keep him as far as hecould from Pennsylvania Sylvester. At the same time I thought that thevery nice young lady who jumped upon his nose from the window, MissAnnie--I forgot her name, or at any rate I told him so--would make hima good straightforward wife, so far as one could tell from having seenher. And that seemed to have been settled in their infancy. And if hewould let me know when it was to be, I had seen a thing in London Ishould like to give them.

  When I asked the Sawyer to see to this, instead of being sorry, heseemed quite pleased, and nodded sagaciously, and put his hat on, as hegenerally did, to calculate.

  "Both of them gals have married long ago," he said, looking at me with afine soft gaze; "and bad handfuls their mates have got of them. Butwhat made you talk of them, missy--or 'my lady,' as now you are in oldcountry, I hear--what made you think of them like that, my dearie?"

  "I can't tell what made me think of them. How can I tell why I think ofevery thing?"

  "Still, it was an odd thing for your ladyship to say."

  "Uncle Sam, I am nobody's ladyship, least of all yours. What makes youspeak so? I am your own little wandering child, whose life you saved,and whose father you loved, and who loses all who love her. Even fromyou I am forced to go away. Oh, why is it always my fate--my fate?"

  "Hush!" said the old man; and I stopped my outburst at his whisper. "Totalk of fate, my dearie, shows either one thing or the other--that wehave no will of our own, or else that we know not how to guide it. Inever knew a good man talk of fate. The heathens and the pagans made it.The Lord in heaven is enough for me; and He always hath allowed me myown free-will, though I may not have handled 'un cleverly. And He givethyou your own will now, my missy--to go from us or to stop with us. Andbeing as you are a very grand young woman now, owning English land andincome paid in gold instead of greenbacks--the same as our nugget seemslikely--to my ideas it would be wrong if we was so much as to ask you."

  "Is that what you are full of, then, and what makes you so mysterious? Idid think that you knew me better, and I had a right to hope so."

  "Concerning of yourself alone is not what we must think of. You mightdo this, or you might do that, according to what you was told, or, evenmore, according to what was denied you. For poor honest people, likeFirm and me, to deal with such a case is out of knowledge. For us itis--go by the will of the Lord, and dead agin your own desires."

  "But, dear Uncle Sam," I cried, feeling that now I had him upon hisown tenterhooks, "you rebuked me as sharply as lies in your nature fordaring to talk about fate just now; but to what else comes your ownconduct, if you are bound to go against your own desire? If you havesuch a lot of freewill, why must you do what you do not like to do?"

  "Well, well, perhaps I was talking rather large. The will of the worldis upon us as well. And we must have respect for its settlements."

  "Now let me," I said, with a trembling wish to have every thing rightand maidenly. "I have seen so much harm from misunderstandings, and theyare so simple when it is too late--let me ask you one or two questions,Uncle Sam. You always answer every body. And to you a crooked answer isimpossible."

  "Business is business," the Sawyer said. "My dear, I contractaccordingly."

  "Very well. Then, in the first place, what do you wish to have done withme? Putting aside all the gossip, I mean, of people who have never evenheard of me."

  "Why, to take you back to Saw-mill with us, where you always was sonatural."

  "In the next place, what does your grandson wish?"

  "To take you back to Saw-mill with him, and keep you there till death doyou part, as chanceth to all mortal pairs."

  "And now, Uncle Sam, what do I wish? You say we all have so muchfree-will."

  "It is natural that you should wish, my dear, to go and be a greatlady, and marry a nobleman of your own rank, and have a lot of littlenoblemen."

  "Then I fly against nature; and the fault is yours for filling me sowith machinery."

  The Sawyer was beaten, and he never said again that a woman can notargue.

  CHAPTER LVIII

  BEYOND DESERT, AND DESERTS

  From all the carnage, havoc, ruin, hatred, and fury of that wicked warwe set our little convoy forth, with passes procured from either side.According to all rules of war, Firm was no doubt a prisoner; but havingsaved his life, and taken his word to serve no more against them,remembering also that he had done them more servi
ce than ten regiments,the Federal authorities were not sorry to be quit of him.

  He, for his part, being of a deep, retentive nature, bore in his woundedbreast a sorrow which would last his lifetime. To me he said not asingle word about his bitter fortune, and he could not bring himselfto ask me whether I would share it. Only from his eyes sometimes I knewwhat he was thinking; and having passed through so much grief, Iwas moved with deep compassion. Poor Firm had been trained by hisgrandfather to a strong, earnest faith in Providence, and now thiscompelled him almost to believe that he had been specially visited. Forflying in the face of his good grandfather, and selfishly indulging hisown stiff neck, his punishment had been hard, and almost heavier than hecould bear. Whatever might happen to him now, the spring and the flowerof his life were gone; he still might have some calm existence, butnever win another day of cloudless joy. And if he had only said this, orthought about it, we might have looked at him with less sadness of ourown.

  But he never said any thing about himself, nor gave any opening forour comfort to come to him. Only from day to day he behaved gently andlovingly to both of us, as if his own trouble must be fought out byhimself, and should dim no other happiness. And this kept us thinking ofhis sorrow all the more, so that I could not even look at him without aflutter of the heart, which was afraid to be a sigh.

  At last, upon the great mountain range, through which we now weretoiling, with the snow little more than a mantle for the peaks, and asparkling veil for sunrise, dear Uncle Sam, who had often shown signs ofimpatience, drew me apart from the rest. Straightforward and blunt as hegenerally was, he did not seem altogether ready to begin, but pulled offhis hat, and then put it on again, the weather being now cold and hotby turns. And while he did this he was thinking at his utmost, as everyfull vein of his forehead declared. And being at home with his ways, Iwaited.

  "Think you got ahead of me? No, not you," he exclaimed at last, inreply to some version of his own of my ideas, which I carefully made anonentity under the scrutiny of his keen blue eyes. "No, no, missy;you wait a bit. Uncle Sam was not hatched yesterday, and it takes fiftyyoung ladies to go round him."

  "Is that from your size, Uncle Sam, or your depth?"

  "Well, a mixture of both, I do believe. Now the last thing you everwould think of, if you lived to be older than Washington's nurse, is thevery thing I mean to put to you. Only you must please to take it well,according to my meaning. You see our Firm going to a shadow, don't you?Very well; the fault of that is all yourn. Why not up and speak to him?"

  "I speak to him every day, Uncle Sam, and I spare no efforts to fattenhim. I am sure I never dreamed of becoming such a cook. But soon he willhave Suan Isco."

  "Old Injun be darned! It's not the stomach, it's the heart as wantsnourishment with yon poor lad. He looketh that pitiful at you sometimes,my faith, I can hardly tell whether to laugh at his newings or cry atthe lean face that does it."

  "You are not talking like yourself, Uncle Sam. And he never does anything of the kind. I am sure there is nothing to laugh at."

  "No, no; to be sure not. I made a mistake. Heroic is the word, ofcourse--every thing is heroic."

  "It is heroic," I answered, with some vexation at his lightness. "If youcan not see it, I am sorry for you. I like large things; and I know ofnothing larger than the way poor Firm is going on."

  "You to stand up for him!" Colonel Gundry answered, as if he couldscarcely look at me. "You to talk large of him, my Lady Castlewood,while you are doing of his heart into small wittles! Well, I didbelieve, if no one else, that you were a straightforward one."

  "And what am I doing that is crooked now?"

  "Well, not to say crooked, Miss 'Rema; no, no. Only onconsistent, whensquared up."

  "Uncle Sam, you're a puzzle to me to-day. What is inconsistent? What isthere to square up?"

  He fetched a long breath, and looked wondrous wise. Then, as if hismain object was to irritate me, he made a long stride, and said, "Soup'sa-bilin now."

  "Let it boil over, then. You must say what you mean. Oh, Uncle Sam, Ionly want to do the right!"

  "I dessay. I dessay. But have you got the pluck, miss? Our little missywould 'a done more than that. But come to be great lady--why, they takeanother tune. With much mind, of course it might be otherwise. But noneof 'em have any much of that to spare."

  "Your view is a narrow one," I replied, knowing how that would astonishhim. "You judge by your own experience only; and to do that shows a sadwant of breadth, as the ladies in England express it."

  The Sawyer stared, and then took off his hat, and then felt all aboutfor his spectacles. The idea of being regarded by a "female" from alarger and loftier point of view, made a new sensation in his system.

  "Yes," I continued, with some enjoyment, "let us try to look largelyat all things, Uncle Sam. And supposing me capable of that, what is theproper and the lofty course to take?"

  He looked at me with a strange twinkle in his eyes, and with three wordsdiscomfited me--"Pop the question."

  Much as I had heard of woman's rights, equality of body and mindwith man, and superiority in morals, it did not appear to me that herprivilege could be driven to this extent. But I shook my head till allmy hair came down; and so if our constitutional right of voting by colorwas exercised, on this occasion it claimed the timid benefit of ballot.

  With us a suggestion, for the time discarded, has often double effectby-and-by; and though it was out of my power to dream of acting up tosuch directions, there could be no possible harm in reviewing such atheory theoretically.

  Now nothing beyond this was in my thoughts, nor even so much as that(safely may I say), when Firm and myself met face to face on the thirdday after Uncle Sam's ideas. Our little caravan, of which the Sawyerwas the captain, being bound for Blue River and its neighborhood, hadquitted the Sacramento track by a fork on the left not a league fromthe spot where my father had bidden adieu to mankind. And knowing everytwist and turn of rock, our drivers brought us at the camping-timealmost to the verge of chaparral.

  I knew not exactly how far we were come, but the dust-cloud of memorywas stirring, and though mountains looked smaller than they used tolook, the things done among them seemed larger. And wandering forth fromthe camp to think, when the evening meal was over, lo! there I stood inthat selfsame breach or portal of the desert in which I stood once bymy father's side, with scared and weary eyes, vainly seeking safety'sshattered landmark. The time of year was different, being the ripe endof October now; but though the view was changed in tint, it was evenmore impressive. Sombre memories, and deep sense of grandeur, which isalways sad, and solemn lights, and stealing shadows, compassed me withthoughtfulness. In the mouth of the gorge was a gray block of granite,whereupon I sat down to think.

  Old thoughts, dull thoughts, thoughts as common as the clouds that crossthe distant plain, and as vague as the wind that moves them--they pleaseand they pass, and they may have shed kindly influence, but what arethey? The life that lies before us is, in some way, too, below us, likeyon vast amplitude of plain; but it must be traversed foot by foot, andlaboriously travailed, without the cloudy vaporing or the high-flownmeditation. And all that must be done by me, alone, with none to loveme, and (which for a woman is so much worse) nobody ever to have for myown, to cherish, love, and cling to.

  Tier upon tier, and peak over peak, the finest mountains of the worldare soaring into the purple firmament. Like northern lights, they flash,or flush, or fade into a reclining gleam; like ladders of heaven, theybar themselves with cloudy air; and like heaven itself, they ranktheir white procession. Lonely, feeble, puny, I look up with awe andreverence; the mind pronounces all things small compared with thismagnificence. Yet what will all such grandeur do--the self-defensiveheart inquires--for puny, feeble, lonely me?

  Before another shadow deepened or another light grew pale, a slow,uncertain step drew near, and by the merest chance it happened to beEphraim Gundry's. I was quite surprised, and told him so; and he saidthat he also was surprised
at meeting me in this way. Remembering howlong I had been here, I thought this most irrational, but checked myselffrom saying so, because he looked so poorly. And more than that, I askedhim kindly how he was this evening, and smoothed my dress to please hiseye, and offered him a chair of rock. But he took no notice of all thesethings.

  I thought of the time when he would have behaved so very differentlyfrom this, and nothing but downright pride enabled me to repressvexation. However, I resolved to behave as kindly as if he were his owngrandfather.

  "How grand these mountains are!" I said. "It must do you good to seethem again. Even to me it is such a delight. And what must it be to you,a native?"

  "Yes, I shall wander from them no more. How I wish that I had never doneso?"

  "Have men less courage than women?" I asked, with one glance at his paleworn face. "I owe you the debt of life; and this is the place to thinkand speak of it. I used to talk freely of that, you know. You used tolike to hear me speak; but now you are tired of that, and tired of allthe world as well, I fear."

  "No, I am tired of nothing, except my own vile degradation. I am tiredof my want of spirit, that I can not cast my load. I am tired of my lackof reason, which should always guide a man. What is the use of mind orintellect, reasoning power, or whatever it is called, if the whole ofthem can not enable a man to hold out against a stupid heart?"

  "I think you should be proud," I said, while trembling to approach thesubject which never had been touched between us, "at having a natureso sensitive. Your evil chance might have been any body's, and must ofcourse have been somebody's. But nobody else would have taken it so--sodelightfully as you have done!"

  "Delightfully! Is that the word you use? May I ask who gets any delightfrom it?"

  "Why, all who hate the Southern cause," I replied, with a sudden turn ofthought, though I never had meant to use the word. "Surely that needs noexplanation."

  "They are delighted, are they? Yes, I can very well believe it.Narrow-minded bigots! Yes, they are sure to be delighted. They call it ajust visitation, of course, a righteous retribution. And they hope I maynever get over it."

  "I pray you to take it more gently," I said; "they are very goodmen, and wish you no harm. But they must have their own opinions; andnaturally they think them just."

  "Then all their opinions are just wrong. They hope to see me go down,to my grave. They shall not have that pleasure. I will outlive everyold John Brown of them. I did not care two cents to live just now.Henceforth I will make a point of it. If I cannot fight for true freedomany more, having ruined it perhaps already, the least I can do is togive no more triumph to its bitter enemies. I will eat and drink, andbegin this very night. I suppose you are one of them, as you put theirarguments so neatly. I suppose you consider me a vile slave-driver?"

  "You are very ill," I said, with my heart so full of pity that angercould not enter; "you are very ill, and very weak. How could you drivethe very best slave now--even such a marvel as Uncle Tom?"

  Firm Gundry smiled; on his lean dry face there shone a little flicker,which made me think of the time when he bought a jest-book, published atCincinnati, to make himself agreeable to my mind. And little as I meantit, I smiled also, thinking of the way he used to come out with hishard-fought jokes, and expect it.

  "I wish you were at all as you used to be," he said, looking at mesoftly through the courage of his smile, "instead of being such a grandlady."

  "And I wish you were a little more like yourself," I answered, withoutthinking; "you used to think always there was nobody like me."

  "Suppose that I am of the same opinion still? Tenfold, fiftyfold, amillionfold?"

  "To suppose a thing of that sort is a little too absurd, when you haveshown no sign of it."

  "For your own dear sake I have shown no sign. The reason of that is tooclear to explain."

  "Then how stupid I must be not to see an atom of it!"

  "Why, who would have any thing to say to me--a broken-down man, a fellowmarked out for curses, one who hates even the sight of himself? Thelowest of the low would shun me."

  He turned away from me, and gazed back toward the dismal, miserable,spectral desert; while I stood facing the fruitful, delicious, floweryParadise of all the world. I thought of the difference in our lots,and my heart was in misery about him. Then I conquered my pride and mylittleness and trumpery, and did what the gentle sweet Eve might havedone. And never have I grieved for that action since.

  With tears on my cheeks quite undissembled, and a breast not ashamed offluttering, I ran to Firm Gundry, and took his right hand, and allowedhim no refuge from tender wet eyes. Then before he could come to see themeaning of this haste--because of his very high discipline--I was outof his distance, and sitting on a rock, and I lifted my eyes, full ofeloquence, to his; then I dropped them, and pulled my hat forward, andsaid, as calmly as was possible, "I have done enough. The rest remainswith you, Firm Gundry."

  The rest remained with him. Enough that I was part of that rest; and ifnot the foundation or crown of it, something desirous to be both, andfailing (if fail it ever does) from no want of trial. Uncle Sam saysthat I never fail at all, and never did fail in any thing, unless it waswhen I found that blamed nugget, for which we got three wagon-loads ofgreenbacks; which (when prosperity at last revives) will pay perhaps forgreasing all twelve wheels.

  Jowler admits not that failure even. As soon as he recovered from caninedementia, approaching very closely to rabies, at seeing me in the fleshonce more (so that the Sierra Nevada rang with avalanches of barking),he tugged me to the place where his teeth were set in gold, and provedthat he had no hydrophobia. His teeth are scanty now, but he still cancatch a salmon, and the bright zeal and loyalty of his soft browneyes and the sprightly elevation of his tail are still among dogs aspre-eminent as they are to mankind inimitable.

  Now the war is past, and here we sit by the banks of the soft BlueRiver. The early storm and young conflict of a clouded life are over.Still out of sight there may be yet a sea of troubles to buffet with;but it is not merely a selfish thought that others will face it with me.Dark mysteries have been cleared away by being confronted bravely; andthe lesson has been learned that life (like California flowers) is ofinfinite variety. This little river, ten steps wide, on one side has alllupins, on the other side all larkspurs. Can I tell why? Can any body?Can even itself, so full of voice and light, unroll the reason?

  Behind us tower the stormy crags, before us spread soft tapestry ofearth and sweep of ocean. Below us lies my father's grave, whose sin wasnot his own, but fell on him, and found him loyal. To him was I loyalalso, as a daughter should be; and in my lap lies my reward--for I am nomore Erema.