CHAPTER XV.
LILLIE BIDS GOOD-BYE TO THE LOVER WHOM SHE HAS CHOSEN, AND TO THE LOVERWHOM SHE WOULD NOT CHOOSE.
Lillie left Mrs. Larue early, without a word as to the great event whichhad just changed the world for her, and retired to her own house and herown room. She was in a state of being, half stunned, half ecstatic;every faculty seemed to be suspended, except so far as it waselectrified to action by one idea; she sat by the window with foldedhands, motionless, seeing and hearing only through her memory; shesought to recollect him as he was when he took her hand and kissed it;she called to mind all that he had said and looked and done. She couldnot tell whether she had been thus occupied five minutes or half anhour, when she heard the tinkle of the door-bell, followed by herfather's entrance. Then suddenly a great terror and sense of guilt fellupon her spirit. From the moment when that confession of love had beenuttered down to this moment her mind had been occupied by but one humanbeing, and that was her lover. Now, for the first time during theevening, she recollected that the man of her choice was not the man ofher father's choice, but, more than almost any other person, the objectof his suspicion, if not of his aversion. Yet she loved them both; shecould not take sides with one against the other; it would kill her togive up the affection of either. All impulse, all passion, blood andbrain as tremulous as quicksilver, she ran down stairs, opened the doorinto the study where the doctor stood among his boxes, wavered backwardunder a momentary throb of fear, then sprang forward, threw her armsaround his neck and sobbed upon his shoulder,
"Oh, papa!--I am so happy!--so miserable!"
The doctor stared in astonishment and in some vague alarm. Hardly awareof how much energy he used, he detached her from him and held her out atarm's length, looking anxiously at her for an explanation.
"Oh, don't push me away," begged Lillie, and struggled back to him,trying to hide her face against his breast.
A suspicion of the truth fell across the Doctor, but he strove to flingit from him as one dashes off a disagreeable reptile. Still, he lookedquite nervous and apprehensive as he said, "What is it, my child?"
"Mr. Carter will tell you," she whispered; then, before he could speak,"Do love him for my sake."
He pushed her sobbing into a chair, and turned his back on her with agroan.
"Oh!--_That_ man!--I can't--I won't."
He walked several times rapidly up and down the room, and then broke outagain.
"I can _not_ consent. I will _not_ consent. It is _not_ my duty. Oh,Lillie! how could you choose the very man of all that--! I tell you thismust not be. It must stop here. I have _no_ confidence in him. He will_not_ make you happy. He will make you miserable. I tell you that youwill regret the day that you marry him to the last moment of your life.My child," (persuasively) "you _must_ believe me. You _must_ trust myjudgment. Will you not be persuaded? Will you not stop where you are?"
He ceased his walk and gazed eagerly at her, hoping for some affirmativesign. As may be supposed Lillie could not give it; she could make novery distinct signs just then, either one way or the other; she did notspeak, nor look at him, nor shake her head, nor nod it; she only coveredher face with her hands, and sobbed. Then the Doctor, feeling himself tobe forsaken, and acknowledging it by outward dumb show, after the mannerof men who are greatly moved, went to the other end of the room, satdown by himself and dropped his head into his hands, as if acceptingutter loneliness in the world. Lillie gave him one glance in hisacknowledged extremity of desertion, and, running to him, knelt at hisfeet and laid her head against his. She was certainly the most unhappyof the two, but her eagerness was even stronger than her misery.
"Oh papa! _Why_ do you hate him so?"
"I don't hate him. I dread him. I suspect him. I know he will not makeyou happy. I know he will make you miserable."
"But why?--_why?_ Perhaps he can explain it. Tell him what you think,papa. I am sure he can explain every thing."
But the Doctor only groaned, rose up, disentangled himself from hisdaughter, and leaving her there on the floor, continued his dolefulwalk.
Never having really feared what had come to pass, but only givenoccasional thought to it as a possible though improbable calamity, hehad not inquired strictly into Carter's manner of life, and so hadnothing definite to allege against him. At the same time he knewperfectly well from trifling circumstances, incidental remarks, generalair and bearing, that he was one of the class known in the world as "menabout town:" a class not only obnoxious to the Doctor's moral sentimentsas the antipodes of his own purity, but also as being a natural productof that slaveholding system which he regarded as a compendium ofinjustice and wickedness; a class the members of which were constantlycoming to grief and bringing sorrow upon those who held them inaffection. He knew them; he had watched and disliked them since hischildhood; he was familiar by unpleasant observation with theirlanguage, feelings, and doings; he knew where they began, how they wenton, and in what sort they ended. The calamities which they wrought forthemselves and all who were connected with them he had witnessed in ahundred similar, and, so to speak, reflected instances. He rememberedyoung Hammersley, who had sunk down in drunken paralysis and burned hisfeet to a crisp at his father's fire. Young Ellicot had dashed out hisbrains by leaping from a fourth story window in a fit of deliriumtremens. Tom Akers was shot dead while drunk by a negro whom he hadhorribly tortured. Fred Sanderson beat his wife until she left him,spent his property at bars and gaming-tables and died in Cuba withWalker. Others he recollected, by the dozen, it seemed to him, who hadfallen, wild with whiskey, in grog-shop broils or savage streetrencontres. Those who lived to grow old had slave-born children, whomthey either shamelessly acknowledged, or more shamelessly ignored, andperhaps sold at the auction-block. They were drunkards, gamblers,adulterers, murderers. Of such was the kingdom of Hell. And this man, towhom his only child, his Lillie, had entrusted her heart, was, hefeared, he almost knew, one of that same class, although not, it was tobe hoped, so deeply stained with the brutish forms of vice which flowdirectly from slavery. He could not entrust her to him; he could notaccept him as a son. At the same time he could not in this interviewmake any distinct charges against his life and character. Accordinglyhis talk was vague, incoherent, and sounded to Lillie like the frettingsof groundless prejudice. The painful interview lasted above an hour,and, so far as concerned a decision, ended precisely where it began.
"Go to your bed, my child," the Doctor said at last. "And go to sleep ifyou can. You will cry yourself sick."
She gave him a silent kiss, wet with tears, and went away with an achingheart and a wearied frame.
For two hours or more the Doctor continued his miserable walk up anddown the study, from the door to the window, from corner to corner,occasionally stopping to rest a tired body which yet had no longing forslumber. He went back over his daughter's life, beginning with theinfantile days when he used to send the servant away from the cradle inwhich she lay, and rock it himself for the pure pleasure of watchingher. He remembered how she had expanded into the whole of his heart whenher mother died. He thought how solely he had loved her since thatbereavement, and how her love for him had grown with her growth andstrengthened with every maturing power of her spirit. In the enthusiasm,the confidence of this recollection, he did not doubt at moments butthat he could win her back to himself from this misplaced affection. Shewas so young yet, her heart must be so pliable yet, that he could surelyinfluence her. As this comforting hope stole through him he felt adesire to look at her. Yes, he must see her again before he could getto sleep; he would go gently to her room and gaze at her without wakingher. Putting on his slippers, he crept softly up stairs and opened herdoor without noise. By the light of a dying candle he saw Lillie in hernight dress, sitting up in bed and wiping the tears from her cheeks withher hands.
"Papa!" she said in an eager gasp, tremulous with affection, grief andhope.
"Oh, my child! I thought you would be asleep," he answered, advancing tothe bedside.
"You are not very angry with me?" she asked, making him sit down by her.
"No; not angry. But so grieved!"
"Then may he not write to me?"
She looked so loving, so eager, so sorrowful that he could not say No.
"Yes; he may write."
She drew his head towards her with her wet hands, and gave him a kissthe very gratitude of which pained him.
"But not you," he added, trying to be stern. "You must not write. Youmust not entangle yourself farther. I want to make inquiries. I musthave time in this matter. I will not be hurried. You must not consideryourself engaged, Lillie. I cannot allow it."
"Oh, you _will_ inquire, papa?" implored the girl, confident thatCarter's character would come unharmed out of the furnace ofinvestigation.
"Yes, yes. But give me time. This is too important, too solemn a matterto be hurried over. I will see. I will decide hereafter. There. Now youmust go to sleep. Good night, my darling."
"Good night, dear papa," she murmured, with the sigh of a tired child."Forgive me."
It was near morning before either of them slept; and both came to thebreakfast table with pale, wearied faces. There were dark circles aroundLillie's eyes, and her head ached so that she could hardly hold it up,but still she put on a piteous, propitiating smile. She hoped andfeared unreasonable things every time that her father spoke or seemed toher to be about to speak. She thought he might say that he had given upall his opposition; and in the same breath she dreaded lest he mightdeclare that it must be all over forever. But the conversation of theevening was not resumed, and the meal passed in absorbed, anxious,embarrassing silence, neither being able to talk on any subject but theone which filled their thoughts. An hour later Lillie suddenly fled fromthe parlor to her own room. She had seen Carter approaching the house;she felt certain that he came to demand her of her father; and at suchan interview she could not have been present, she thought, withoutdying. The mere thought of it as she sat by her window, looking outwithout seeing anything, made her breath come so painfully that shewondered whether her lungs were not affected, and whether she were notdestined to die early. Her fatigue, and still more her troubles, madeher babyish, like an invalid. After half an hour had passed she heardthe outer door close upon the visitor, and could not resist thetemptation of peeping out to see him, if it were only his back. He waslooking, with those handsome and audacious eyes of his straight at herwindow. With a sudden throb of alarm, or shame, or some other womanishemotion, she hid herself behind the curtain, only to look out again whenhe had disappeared, and to grieve lest she had given him offence. Aftera while her father called her, and she went down trembling to theparlor.
"I have seen him," said the Doctor. "I told him what I told you. I toldhim that I must wait,--that I wanted time for reflection. I gave him tounderstand that it must not be considered an engagement. At the sametime I allowed him to write to you. God forgive me if I have done wrong.God pity us both."
Lillie did not think of asking if he had been civil to the Colonel; sheknew that he would not and could not be discourteous to any humanbeing. She made no answer to what he said except by going gently to himand kissing him.
"Come, you must dress yourself," he added. "The regiment goes on boardthe transport at twelve o'clock. I promised the Colonel that we would bethere to bid him--and Captain Colburne good-bye."
Dressing for the street was usually a long operation with Lillie, butnot this morning. Although she reached the station of the Carrolltonrailroad in a breathless condition, it seemed to her that her father hadnever walked so slowly; and on board the cars she really fatiguedherself with the nervous tension of an involuntary mental effort to pushforward the wheezy engine.
Carrollton is one the suburban offshoots of New Orleans, and containssome two thousand inhabitants, mostly of the poorer classes, and ofGermanic lineage. Around it stretches the tame, rich, dead level whichconstitutes southern Louisiana. The only raised ground is the levee; theonly grand feature of the landscape is the Mississippi; all the rest isgreenery, cypress groves, orange thickets, flowers, or bare flatness. AsLillie emerged from the brick and plaster railroad-station she saw theTenth and its companion regiments along the levee, the men sitting downin their ranks and waiting patiently, after the manner of soldiers. Thenarrow open place between the river and the dusty little suburb wasthronged with citizens;--German shopkeepers, silversmiths, &c., who wereout of custom, and Irish laborers who were out of work;--poor women,(whose husbands were in the rebel army) selling miserable cakes and beerto the enlisted men; all, white as well as black, ragged, dirty,lounging, listless hopeless; none of them hostile, at least not inmanner; a discouraged, subduced, stricken population. Against the bankwere moored six steamboats, their smoke-stacks, and even their upperdecks, overlooking the low landscape. They were not the famous floatingpalaces of the Mississippi, those had all been carried away by Lovell,or burnt at the wharves, or sunk in battle near the forts; these weresmaller craft, such as formerly brought cotton down the Red River, orthreaded the shallows between Lake Pontchartrain and Mobile. They lookedmore fragile even than northern steamboats; their boilers and machinerywere unenclosed, visible, neglected, ugly; the superstructure was acard-house of stanchions and clapboards.
The Doctor led Lillie through the crowd to a pile of lumber whichpromised a view of the scene. As she mounted the humble lookout shecaught sight of a manly equestrian figure, and heard a powerful bassvoice thunder out a sentence of command. It was so guttural as to beincomprehensible to her; but in obedience to it the lounging soldierssprang to their feet and resumed their ranks; the shining muskets rosestraight from the shoulder, and then took a uniform slope; there was abustle, a momentary mingling, and she saw knapsacks instead of faces.
"Battalion!" the Colonel had commanded. "Shoulder arms. Right shouldershift arms. Right face."
He now spoke a few words to the adjutant, who repeated the orders to thecaptains, and then signalled to the drum-major. To the sound of drum andfife the right company, followed successively by the others from rightto left, filed down the little slope with a regular, resounding tramp,and rapidly crowded one of the transports with blue uniforms and shiningrifles. How superb in Lillie's eyes was the Colonel, though his face wasgrim and his voice harsh with arbitrary power. She liked him for hisbronzed color, his monstrous mustache, his air of matured manhood; yes,how much better she liked him for being thirty-five years old than if hehad been only twenty-five! How much prouder of him was she because shewas a little afraid of him, than if he had seemed one whom she mightgovern! Presently a brilliant blush rose like a sunrise upon hercountenance. Carter had caught sight of them, and was approaching. Awave of his hand and a stare of his imperious eyes drove away the flockof negroes who had crowded their lookout. The interview was short, andto a listener would have been uninteresting, unless he had known thesentimental relations of the parties. The Doctor did nearly all of thatpart of the talking which was done in words; and his observations, ifthey were noted at all, probably seemed to the other two mere flatnessand irrelevancy. He prophecied success to the expedition; he wished theColonel success for the sake of the good cause; finally he warmed so faras to wish him personal success and safety. But what was even this tothat other question of union or separation for life?
Presently the Adjutant approached with a salute, and reported that thetransport would not accommodate the whole regiment.
"It must," said the Colonel. "The men are not properly stowed. I supposethey won't stow. They hav'n't learned yet that they can't have astate-room apiece. I will attend to it, Adjutant."
Turning to the Ravenels, he added, "I suppose I must bid you good-bye. Ishall have little more time to myself. I am so much obliged to you forcoming to see us off. God bless you! God bless you!"
When a man of the Colonel's nature utters this benediction seriously heis unquestionably much more moved than ordinarily. Lillie felt this: notthat she considered Carter wicked, but simply more masculine than mostmen: and she was so much sha
ken by his unusual emotion that she couldhardly forbear bursting into tears in public. When he was gone she wouldhave been glad to fly immediately, if only she could have found a placewhere she might be alone. Then she had to compose herself to meetColburne.
"The Colonel sent me to take care of you," he said, as he joined them.
"How good of him!" thought Lillie, meaning thereby Carter, and not theCaptain.
"Will they all get on board this boat?" she inquired.
"Yes. They are moving on now. The men of course hate to stow close, andit needed the Colonel to make them do it."
"It looks awfully crowded," she answered, searching the whole craft overfor a glimpse of Carter.
The Doctor had little to say, and seemed quite sad; he was actuallythinking how much easier he could have loved this one than the other.Colburne knew nothing of the great event of the previous evening, and sowas not miserable about it. He hoped to send back to this girl such agood report of himself from the field of impending battle as shouldexact her admiration, and perhaps force her heart to salute himImperator. He was elated and confident; boasted of the soldierly,determined look of the men; pointed out his own company with pride;prophesied brilliant success. When at last he bade them good-bye he didit in a light, kindly brave way which was meant to cheer up Miss Ravenelunder any possible cloud of foreboding.
"I won't say anything about being brought back on my shield. I won'tever promise that there shall be enough left to fill a table-spoon."
Yet the heart felt a pang of something like remorse for this counterfeitgayety of the lips.
The gangway plank was hauled in; a few stragglers leaped aboard at therisk of a ducking; the regimental band on the upper deck struck up anational air; the negroes on shore danced and cackled and screamed withchildish delight; the noisy high-pressure engine began to sob and groanlike a demon in pain,--the boat veered slowly into the stream andfollowed its consorts. Two gunboats and six transports steamed up theyellow river, trailing columns of black smoke athwart the blue sky, andaway over the green levels of Louisiana.
Now came nearly a week of anxiety to Lillie and trouble to her father.She was with him as much as possible, partly because that was her oldand loving habit, and partly because she wanted him continually at handto comfort her. She was not satisfied with seeing him morning andevening; she must visit him at the hospitals, and go back and forth withhim on the street cars; she must hear from him every half hour thatthere was no danger of evil tidings, as if he were a newspaper issued byextras; she must keep at him with questions that no man could answer.
"Papa, do you believe that Mouton has fifteen thousand men? Do youbelieve that there will be a great battle? Do you believe that our side"(she could call it _our_ side now) "will be beaten? Do you believe thatour loss will be very heavy? What is the usual proportion of killed in abattle? You don't know? Well, but what are the probabilities?"
If he took up a book or opened his cases of minerals, it was, "Oh,please don't read," or, "Please let those stones alone. I want you totalk to me. When do you suppose the battle will happen? When shall weget the first news? When shall we get the particulars?"
And so she kept questioning; she was enough to worry the life out ofpapa: but then he was accustomed to be thus worried. He was a mostpatient man, even in the bosom of his own family, which is not so commona trait as many persons suppose. One afternoon those sallow, black-eyedHectors at the corners of the streets, who looked so much like gamblersand talked so much like traitors, had an air of elation which scaredMiss Ravenel; and she accordingly hurried home to receive a confirmationof her fears from Mrs. Larue, who had heard that there had been a greatbattle near Thibodeaux, that Weitzel had been defeated and that Moutonwould certainly be in the city by next day afternoon. For an hour shewas in an agony of unalleviated terror, for her comforter had notreturned from the hospital. When he came she flew upon him andravenously demanded consolation.
"My dear, you must not be so childish," remonstrated the Doctor. "Youmust have more nerve, or you won't last the year out."
"But what will become of you? If Mouton comes here you will besacrificed--you and all the Union men. I wish you would take refuge onboard some of the ships of war. Do go and see if they will take you. Ishan't be hurt. I can get along."
Ravenel laughed.
"My dear, _have_ you gone back to your babyhood? I don't believe thisstory at all. When the time comes I will look out for the safety of bothof us."
"But do please go somewhere and see if you can't hear something."
And when the Doctor was thus driven to pick up his hat, she took hersalso and accompanied him, not being able to wait for the news until hisreturn. They could learn nothing; the journals had no bulletins out; theUnion banker, Mr. Barker, had nothing to communicate; they lookedwistfully at headquarters, but did not dare to intrude upon GeneralButler. As they went homeward the knots of well-dressed Catilines at thecorners carried their treasonable heads as high and stared at Federaluniforms as insolently as ever. Ravenel thought sadly how much theyresembled in air the well-descended gentleman to whom he feared that heshould have to trust the happiness of his only child. Those of them whoknew him did not speak nor bow, but glared at him as a Pawnee mightglare at the captive hunter around whose stake he expected to dance onthe morrow. Evidently his life would be in peril if Mouton should enterthe city; but he was a sanguine man and did not believe in the calamity.
Next morning, as the father set off for the hospital, the daughter said,"If you hear any thing, do come right straight and tell me."
Twenty minutes afterward Ravenel was back at the house, breathless andradiant. Weitzel had gained a victory; had taken cannon and hundreds ofprisoners; was in full march on the rebel capital, Thibodeaux.
"Oh! I am so happy!" cried the heretofore Secessionist. "But is there nolist of killed and wounded? Has our loss been heavy? What do you think?What do you think are the probabilities? How strange that there shouldbe no list of killed and wounded! Was that positively all that youheard? So little? Oh, papa, don't, please, go to the hospital to-day. Ican't bear to stay alone.--Well, if you must go, I will go with you."
And go she did, but left him in half an hour after she got there, crazyto be near the bulletin boards. During the day she bought all theextras, and read four descriptions of the battle, all precisely alike,because copied from the same official bulletin, and all unsatisfactorybecause they did not contain lists of killed and wounded. But at thepost-office, just before it closed, she was rewarded for that long dayof wearying inquiries. There was a letter from Carter to herself, andanother from Colburne to her father.
"My dear Lillie," began the first; and here she paused to kiss thewords, and wipe away the tears. "We have had a smart little fight, andwhipped the enemy handsomely. Weitzel managed matters in a way thatreally does him great credit, and the results are one cannon, threehundred prisoners, possession of the killed and wounded, and of thefield of battle. Our loss was trifling, and includes no one whom youknow. Life and limb being now doubly valuable to me for your sake, I amhappy to inform you that I did not get hurt. I am tired and have a greatdeal to do, so that I can only scratch you a line. But you must believeme, and I know that you will believe me, when I tell you that I have theheart to write you a dozen sheets instead of only a dozen sentences.Good bye, my dear one.
"Ever and altogether yours."
It was Lillie's first love letter; it was from a lover who had justcome unharmed out of the perils of battle; it was a blinding, thrillingpage to read. She would not let her father take it; no, that was not inthe agreement at all; it was too sacred even for his eyes. But she readit to him, all but those words of endearment; all but those very wordsthat to her were the most precious of all. In return he handed herColburne's epistle, which was also brief.
"MY DEAR DOCTOR,--I have had the greatest pleasure of my whole life; I have fought under the flag of my country, and seen it victorious. I have not time to write particulars, but you will of
course get them in the papers. Our regiment behaved most nobly, our Colonel proved himself a hero, and our General a genius. We are encamped for the night on the field of battle, cold and hungry, but brimming over with pride and happiness. There may be another battle to-morrow, but be sure that we shall conquer. Our men were greenhorns yesterday, but they are veterans to-day, and will face any thing. Ask Miss Ravenel if she will not turn loyal for the sake of our gallant little army. It deserves even that compliment.
"Truly yours."
"He doesn't say that he is unhurt," observed the Doctor.
"Of course he is," answered Lillie, not willing to suppose for him thehonor of a wound when her paragon had none. "Colonel Carter says thatthe loss includes no one whom we know."
"He is a noble fellow," pursued the Doctor, still dwelling on the youngman's magnanimity in not thinking to speak of himself. "He is the mosttruly heroic, chivalrous gentleman that I know. He is one of nature'snoblemen."
Lillie was piqued at these praises of Colburne, not considering him halfso fine a character as Carter, in eulogy of whom her father saidnothing. She thought of asking him if he had noticed how the Captainspoke of the Colonel as a hero--but concluded not to do it, for fear hemight reply that the latter ought to have paid the former the samecompliment. She felt that for the present, until her father's prejudicesshould wear away, she must be contented with deifying her Achillesalone. Notwithstanding this pettish annoyance, grievous as it was to amost loving spirit strongly desirous of sympathy, the rest of the daypassed delightfully, the time being divided between frequent readings ofCarter's letter, and intervals of meditation thereon. The epistle whichher father wrote to the Colonel was also thoroughly read, and was infact so emendated and enlarged by her suggestions that it might beconsidered her composition.
Miss Ravenel's conversion from secession to loyalty Page 18
