CHAPTER VI. GLENCOE
It was nearly noon when Stephen walked into the office the next day,dusty and travel-worn and perspiring. He had come straight from theferry, without going home. And he had visions of a quiet dinner withRichter under the trees at the beer-garden, where he could talk aboutAbraham Lincoln. Had Richter ever heard of Lincoln?
But the young German met him at the top of the stair--and his face wasmore serious than usual, although he showed his magnificent teeth in asmile of welcome.
"You are a little behind your time, my friend," said he, "What hashappened you?"
"Didn't the Judge get Mr. Lincoln's message?" asked Stephen, withanxiety.
The German shrugged his shoulders.
"Ah, I know not," he answered, "He has gone is Glencoe. The Judge isill, Stephen. Doctor Polk says that he has worked all his life too hard.The Doctor and Colonel Carvel tried to get him to go to Glencoe. Buthe would not budge until Miss Carvel herself comes all the way from thecountry yesterday, and orders him. Ach!" exclaimed Richter, impulsively,"what wonderful women you have in America! I could lose my head when Ithink of Miss Carvel."
"Miss Carvel was here, you say?" Stephen repeated, in a tone of inquiry.
"Donner!" said Richter, disgusted, "you don't care."
Stephen laughed, in spite of himself.
"Why should I?" he answered. And becoming grave again, added: "Except onJudge Whipple's account. Have you heard from him to-day, Carl?"
"This morning one of Colonel Carvel's servants came for his letters. Hemust be feeling better. I--I pray that he is better," said Richter, hisvoice breaking. "He has been very good to me."
Stephen said nothing. But he had been conscious all at once of anaffection for the Judge of which he had not suspected himself. Thatafternoon, on his way home, he stopped at Carvel & Company's to inquire.Mr. Whipple was better, so Mr. Hopper said, and added that he "presumedlikely the Colonel would not be in for a week." It was then Saturday.Eliphalet was actually in the Colonel's sanctum behind the partition,giving orders to several clerks at the time. He was so prosperous andimportant that he could scarce spare a moment to answer Stephen, whowent away wondering whether he had been wise to choose the law.
On Monday, when Stephen called at Carvel & Company's, Eliphalet was toobusy to see him. But Ephum, who went out to Glencoe every night withorders, told him that the "Jedge was wuss, suh." On Wednesday, therebeing little change, Mrs. Brice ventured to despatch a jelly by Ephum.On Friday afternoon, when Stephen was deep in Whittlesey and the NewCode, he became aware of Ephum standing beside him. In reply to hisanxious question Ephum answered:
"I reckon he better, suh. He an' de Colonel done commence wrastlin''bout a man name o' Linkum. De Colonel done wrote you dis note, suh."
It was a very polite note, containing the Colonel's compliments, askingMr. Brice to Glencoe that afternoon with whatever papers or letters theJudge might wish to see. And since there was no convenient train in theevening, Colonel Carvel would feel honored if Mr. Brice would spend thenight. The Colonel mentioned the train on which Mr. Brice was expected.
The Missouri side of the Mississippi is a very different country fromthe hot and treeless prairies of Illinois. As Stephen alighted at thelittle station at Glencoe and was driven away by Ned in the Colonel'sbuggy, he drew in deep breaths of the sweet air of the Meramec Valley.
There had been a shower, and the sun glistened on the drops on grass andflowers, and the great trees hung heavy over the clay road. At last theycame to a white gate in the picket fence, in sight of a rambling woodenhouse with a veranda in front covered with honeysuckle. And then he sawthe Colonel, in white marseilles, smoking a cigar. This, indeed, wasreal country.
As Stephen trod the rough flags between the high grass which led towardthe house, Colonel Carvel rose to his full height and greeted him.
"You are very welcome, sir," he said gravely. "The Judge is asleep now,"he added. "I regret to say that we had a little argument this morning,and my daughter tells me it will be well not to excite him again to-day.Jinny is reading to him now, or she would be here to entertain you, Mr.Brice. Jackson!" cried Mr. Carvel, "show Mr. Brice to his room."
Jackson appeared hurriedly, seized Stephen's bag, and led the wayupstairs through the cool and darkened house to a pretty little room onthe south side, with matting, and roses on the simple dressing-table.After he had sat awhile staring at these, and at the wet flower-gardenfrom between the slats of his shutters, he removed the signs of therailroad upon him, and descended. The Colonel was still on the porch, inhis easy-chair. He had lighted another, cigar, and on the stand besidehim stood two tall glasses, green with the fresh mint. Colonel Carvelrose, and with his own hand offered one to Stephen.
"Your health, Mr. Brice," he said, "and I hope you will feel at homehere, sir. Jackson will bring you anything you desire, and should youwish to drive, I shall be delighted to show you the country."
Stephen drank that julep with reverence, and then the Colonel gave hima cigar. He was quite overcome by this treatment of a penniless youngYankee. The Colonel did not talk politics--such was not his notion ofhospitality to a stranger. He talked horse, and no great discernment onStephen's part was needed to perceive that this was Mr. Carvel's hobby.
"I used to have a stable, Mr. Brice, before they ruined gentleman'ssport with these trotters ten years ago. Yes sir, we used to be atLexington one week, and Louisville the next, and over here on the Amestrack after that. Did you ever hear of Water Witch and Netty Boone?"
Yes, Stephen had, from Mr. Jack Brinsmade.
The Colonel's face beamed.
"Why, sir," he cried, "that very nigger, Ned, who drove you here fromthe cars-he used to ride Netty Boone. Would you believe that, Mr. Brice?He was the best jockey ever strode a horse on the Elleardsville trackhere. He wore my yellow and green, sir, until he got to weigh onehundred and a quarter. And I kept him down to that weight a whole year,Mr. Brice. Yes, sirree, a whole year."
"Kept him down!" said Stephen.
"Why, yes, sir. I had him wrapped in blankets and set in a chair withholes bored in the seat. Then we lighted a spirit lamp under him. Manya time I took off ten pounds that way. It needs fire to get flesh off anigger, sir."
He didn't notice his guest's amazement.
"Then, sir," he continued, "they introduced these damned trotting races;trotting races are for white trash, Mr. Brice."
"Pa!"
The Colonel stopped short. Stephen was already on his feet. I wish youcould have seen Miss Virginia Carvel as he saw her then. She wore awhite lawn dress. A tea-tray was in her hand, and her head was tiltedback, as women are apt to do when they carry a burden. It was so thatthese Southern families, who were so bitter against Abolitionists andYankees, entertained them when they were poor, and nursed them when theywere ill.
Stephen, for his life, could not utter a word. But Virginia turned tohim with perfect self-possession.
"He has been boring you with his horses, Mr. Brice," she said. "Has hetold you what a jockey Ned used to be before he weighed one hundred anda quarter?" (A laugh.) "Has he given you the points of Water Witch andNetty Boone?" (More laughter, increasing embarrassment for Stephen.)"Pa, I tell you once more that you will drive every guest from thishouse. Your jockey talk is intolerable."
O that you might have a notion of the way in which Virginia pronouncedintolerable.
Mr. Carvel reached for another cigar asked, "My dear," he asked, "how isthe Judge?"
"My dear," said Virginia, smiling, "he is asleep. Mammy Easter is withhim, trying to make out what he is saying. He talks in his sleep, justas you do--"
"And what is he saying?" demanded the Colonel, interested.
Virginia set down the tray.
"'A house divided against itself,'" said Miss Carvel, with a sweep ofher arm, "'cannot stand. I believe that this Government cannot endurepermanently, half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union todissolve--I do not expect the house to fall--but I do expect it willcease to b
e divided.' Would you like any more?" added Miss Virginia.
"No," cried the Colonel, and banged his fist down on the table. "Why,"said he, thoughtfully, stroking the white goatee on his chin, "cuss meif that ain't from the speech that country bumpkin, Lincoln, made inJune last before the Black Republican convention in Illinois."
Virginia broke again into laughter. And Stephen was very near it, forhe loved the Colonel. That gentleman suddenly checked himself in histirade, and turned to him.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said; "I reckon that you have the samepolitical sentiments as the Judge. Believe me, sir, I would notwillingly offend a guest."
Stephen smiled. "I am not offended, sir," he said. A speech which causedMr. Carvel to bestow a quick glance upon him. But Stephen did not seeit. He was looking at Virginia.
The Colonel rose.
"You will pardon my absence for a while, sir," he said.
"My daughter will entertain you."
In silence they watched him as he strode off under the trees throughtall grass, a yellow setter at his heels. A strange peace was overStephen. The shadows of the walnuts and hickories were growing long, anda rich country was giving up its scent to the evening air. From a cabinbehind the house was wafted the melody of a plantation song. Tothe young man, after the burnt city, this was paradise. And then heremembered his mother as she must be sitting on the tiny porch intown, and sighed. Only two years ago she had been at their own place atWestbury.
He looked up, and saw the girl watching him. He dared not think that theexpression he caught was one of sympathy, for it changed instantly.
"I am afraid you are the silent kind, Mr. Brice," said she; "I believeit is a Yankee trait."
Stephen laughed.
"I have known a great many who were not," said he, "When they aregarrulous, they are very much so."
"I should prefer a garrulous one," said Virginia.
"I should think a Yankee were bad enough, but a noisy Yankee not to beput up with," he ventured.
Virginia did not deign a direct reply to this, save by the corners ofher mouth.
"I wonder," said she, thoughtfully, "whether it is strength of mind or alack of ideas that makes them silent."
"It is mostly prudence," said Mr. Brice. "Prudence is our dominanttrait."
Virginia fidgeted. Usually she had an easier time.
"You have not always shown it," she said, with an innocence which inwomen is often charged with meaning.
Stephen started. Her antagonism was still there. He would have likedgreatly to know whether she referred to his hasty purchase of Hester, orto his rashness in dancing with her at her party the winter before.
"We have something left to be thankful for," he answered. "We are stillcapable of action."
"On occasions it is violence," said Virginia, desperately. This man mustnot get ahead of her.
"It is just as violent," said he, "as the repressed feeling whichprompts it."
This was a new kind of conversation to Virginia. Of all the young menshe knew, not one had ever ventured into anything of the sort. They wereeither flippant, or sentimental, or both. She was at once flatteredand annoyed, flattered, because, as a woman, Stephen had conceded hera mind. Many of the young men she knew had minds, but deemed that thesewere wasted on women, whose language was generally supposed to be a kindof childish twaddle. Even Jack Brinsmade rarely risked his dignityand reputation at an intellectual tilt. This was one of Virginia'sgrievances. She often argued with her father, and, if the truth weretold, had had more than one victory over Judge Whipple.
Virginia's annoyance came from the fact that she perceived in Stephena natural and merciless logic,--a faculty for getting at the bottomof things. His brain did not seem to be thrown out of gear by localmagnetic influences,--by beauty, for instance. He did not lose his head,as did some others she knew, at the approach of feminine charms. Herewas a grand subject, then, to try the mettle of any woman. One withless mettle would have given it up. But Virginia thought it would bedelightful to bring this particular Yankee to his knees; and--and leavehim there.
"Mr. Brice," she said, "I have not spoken to you since the night of myparty. I believe we danced together."
"Yes, we did," said he, "and I called, but was unfortunate."
"You called?"
Ah, Virginia!
"They did not tell you!" cried Stephen.
Now Miss Carvel was complacency itself.
"Jackson is so careless with cards," said she, "and very often I do nottake the trouble to read them."
"I am sorry," said he, "as I wished for the opportunity to tell you howmuch I enjoyed myself. I have found everybody in St. Louis very kind tostrangers."
Virginia was nearly disarmed. She remembered how, she had opposed hisconing. But honesty as well as something else prompted her to say: "Itwas my father who invited you."
Stephen did not reveal the shock his vanity had received.
"At least you were good enough to dance with me."
"I could scarcely refuse a guest," she replied.
He held up his head.
"Had I thought it would have given you annoyance," he said quietly, "Ishould not have asked you."
"Which would have been a lack of good manners," said Virginia, bitingher lips.
Stephen answered nothing, but wished himself in St. Louis. He could notcomprehend her cruelty. But, just then, the bell rang for supper, andthe Colonel appeared around the end of the house.
It was one of those suppers for which the South is renowned. And whenat length he could induce Stephen to eat no more, Colonel Carvel reachedfor his broad-brimmed felt hat, and sat smoking, with his feet againstthe mantle. Virginia, who had talked but little, disappeared with a trayon which she had placed with her own hands some dainties to tempt theJudge.
The Colonel regaled Stephen, when she was gone, with the pedigree andperformance of every horse he had had in his stable. And this was arelief, as it gave him an opportunity to think without interruption uponVirginia's pronounced attitude of dislike. To him it was inconceivablethat a young woman of such qualities as she appeared to have, shouldassail him so persistently for freeing a negress, and so depriving herof a maid she had set her heart upon. There were other New England youngmen in society. Mr. Weston and Mr. Carpenter, and more. They were nother particular friends, to be sure. But they called on her and dancedwith her, and she had shown them not the least antipathy. But it was toStephen's credit that he did not analyze her further.
He was reflecting on these things when he got to his room, when therecame a knock at the door. It was Mammy Easter, in bright turban andapron,--was hospitality and comfort in the flesh.
"Is you got all you need, suh?" she inquired.
Stephen replied that he had. But Mammy showed no inclination to go, andhe was too polite to shut the door:
"How you like Glencoe, Mistah Bride?"
He was charmed with it.
"We has some of de fust fam'lies out heah in de summer," said she. "Butde Colonel, he a'n't much on a gran' place laik in Kaintuck. Shucks, no,suh, dis ain't much of a 'stablishment! Young Massa won't have no lawns,no greenhouses, no nothin'. He say he laik it wil' and simple. He on'ycome out fo' two months, mebbe. But Miss Jinny, she make it lively. Las'week, until the Jedge come we hab dis house chuck full, two-three youngladies in a room, an' five young gemmen on trunnle beds."
"Until the Judge came?" echoed Stephen.
"Yassuh. Den Miss Jinny low dey all hatter go. She say she a'n'tgwineter have 'em noun' 'sturbin' a sick man. De Colonel 'monstrated. Hedone give the Judge his big room, and he say he and de young men gwineober to Mista, Catherwood's. You a'n't never seen Miss Jinny rise up,suh! She des swep' 'em all out" (Mammy emphasized this by rolling herhands) "an' declah she gwine ten' to the Jedge herself. She a'n't neverlet me bring up one of his meals, suh." And so she left Stephen withsome food for reflection.
Virginia was very gay at breakfast, and said that the Judge would seeStephen; so he and the Colonel, that
gentleman with his hat on, wentup to his room. The shutters were thrown open, and the morning sunlightfiltered through the leaves and fell on the four-poster where the Judgesat up, gaunt and grizzled as ever. He smiled at his host, and thentried to destroy immediately the effect of the smile.
"Well, Judge," cried the Colonel, taking his hand, "I reckon we talkedtoo much."
"No such thing, Carvel," said the Judge, forcibly, "if you hadn'tleft the room, your popular sovereignty would have been in rags in twominutes."
Stephen sat down in a corner, unobserved, in expectation of a renewal.But at this moment Miss Virginia swept into the room, very cool in apink muslin.
"Colonel Carvel," said she, sternly, "I am the doctor's deputy here. Iwas told to keep the peace at any cost. And if you answer back, out yougo, like that!" and she snapped her fingers.
The Colonel laughed. But the Judge, whose mind was on the argument,continued to mutter defiantly until his eye fell upon Stephen.
"Well, sir, well, sir," he said, "you've turned up at last, have you?I send you off with papers for a man, and I get back a piece of yellowpaper saying that he's borrowed you. What did he do with you, Mr.Brice?"
"He took me to Freeport, sir, where I listened to the most remarkablespeech I ever expect to hear."
"What!" cried the Judge, "so far from Boston?"
Stephen hesitated, uncertain whether to laugh, until he chanced to lookat Virginia. She had pursed her lips.
"I was very much surprised, sir," he said.
"Humph!" grunted Mr. Whipple, "and what did you chink of that ruffian,Lincoln?"
"He is the most remarkable man that I have ever met, sir," answeredStephen, with emphasis.
"Humph!"
It seemed as if the grunt this time had in it something of approval.Stephen had doubt as to the propriety of discussing Mr. Lincoln there,and he reddened. Virginia's expression bore a trace of defiance, and Mr.Carvel stood with his feet apart, thoughtfully stroking his goatee. ButMr. Whipple seemed to have no scruples.
"So you admired Lincoln, Mr. Brice?" he went on. "You must agree withthat laudatory estimation of him which I read in the Missouri Democrat."
Stephen fidgeted.
"I do, sir, most decidedly," he answered.
"I should hardly expect a conservative Bostonian, of the class whichrespects property, to have said that. It might possibly be a good thingif more from your town could hear those debates."
"They will read them, sir; I feel confident of it."
At this point the Colonel could contain himself no longer.
"I reckon I might tell the man who wrote that Democrat article a fewthings, if I could find out who he is," said he.
"Pa!" said Virginia, warningly.
But Stephen had turned a fiery red, "I wrote it, Colonel Carvel," hesaid.
For a dubious instant of silence Colonel Carvel stared. Then--then heslapped his knees, broke into a storm of laughter, and went out of theroom. He left Stephen in a moist state of discomfiture.
The Judge had bolted upright from the pillows.
"You have been neglecting your law, sir," he cried.
"I wrote the article at night," said Stephen, indignantly.
"Then it must have been Sunday night, Mr. Brice."
At this point Virginia hid her face in her handkerchief which trembledvisibly. Being a woman, whose ways are unaccountable, the older man tookno notice of her. But being a young woman, and a pretty one, Stephen wasangry.
"I don't see what right you have to ask me that sir," he said.
"The question is withdrawn, Mr. Brice," said the Judge, "Virginia, youmay strike it from the records. And now, sir, tell me something aboutyour trip."
Virginia departed.
An hour later Stephen descended to the veranda, and it was withapprehension that he discerned Mr. Carvel seated under the vines at thefar end. Virginia was perched on the railing.
To Stephen's surprise the Colonel rose, and, coming toward him, laid akindly hand on his shoulder.
"Stephen," said he, "there will be no law until Monday you must staywith us until then. A little rest will do you good."
Stephen was greatly touched.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "I should like to very much. But I can't."
"Nonsense," said the Colonel. "I won't let the Judge interfere."
"It isn't that, sir. I shall have to go by the two o'clock train, Ifear."
The Colonel turned to Virginia, who, meanwhile, had sat silently by.
"Jinny," he said, "we must contrive to keep him."
She slid off the railing.
"I'm afraid he is determined, Pa," she answered. "But perhaps Mr. Bricewould like to see a little of the place before he goes. It is veryprimitive," she explained, "not much like yours in the East."
Stephen thanked her, and bowed to the Colonel. And so she led him pastthe low, crooked outbuildings at the back, where he saw old UncleBen busy over the preparation of his dinner, and frisky Rosetta, hisdaughter, playing with one of the Colonel's setters. Then Virginia tooka well-worn path, on each side of which the high grass bent with itsload of seed, which entered the wood. Oaks and hickories and walnutsand persimmons spread out in a glade, and the wild grape twistedfantastically around the trunks. All this beauty seemed but a fitsetting to the strong girlish figure in the pink frock before him.So absorbed was he in contemplation of this, and in wondering whetherindeed she were to marry her cousin, Clarence Colfax, that he did notsee the wonders of view unrolling in front of him. She stopped at lengthbeside a great patch of wild race bushes. They were on the edge of thebluff, and in front of them a little rustic summer-house, with seats onits five sides. Here Virginia sat down. But Stephen, going to the edge,stood and marvelled. Far, far below him, down the wooded steep, shotthe crystal Meramec, chafing over the shallow gravel beds and tearingheadlong at the deep passes.
Beyond, the dimpled green hills rose and fell, and the stream ran indigoand silver. A hawk soared over the water, the only living creature inall that wilderness.
The glory of the place stirred his blood. And when at length he turned,he saw that the girl was watching him.
"It is very beautiful," he said.
Virginia had taken other young men here, and they had looked only uponher. And yet she was not offended. This sincerity now was as new to heras that with which he had surprised her in the Judge's room.
And she was not quite at her ease. A reply to those simple words of hiswas impossible. At honest Tom Catherwood in the same situation she wouldhave laughed, Clarence never so much as glanced at scenery. Her repliesto him were either flippant, or else maternal, as to a child.
A breeze laden with the sweet abundance of that valley stirred her hair.And with that womanly gesture which has been the same through the agesshe put up her hand; deftly tucking in the stray wisp behind.
She glanced at the New Englander, against whom she had been in strangerebellion since she had first seen him. His face, thinned by the summerin town, was of the sternness of the Puritan. Stephen's features weresharply marked for his age. The will to conquer was there. Yet justicewas in the mouth, and greatness of heart. Conscience was graven on thebroad forehead. The eyes were the blue gray of the flint, kindly yetimperishable. The face was not handsome.
Struggling, then yielding to the impulse, Virginia let herself be led oninto the years. Sanity was the word that best described him. She saw himtrusted of men, honored of women, feared by the false. She saw him inhigh places, simple, reserved, poised evenly as he was now.
"Why do you go in this afternoon?" she asked abruptly.
He started at the change in her tone.
"I wish that I might stay," he said regretfully. "But I cannot, MissCarvel."
He gave no reason. And she was too proud to ask it. Never before had shestooped to urge young men to stay. The difficulty had always been to getthem to go. It was natural, perhaps, that her vanity was wounded. But ithurt her to think that she had made the overture, had tried to conquerwhate
ver it was that set her against him, and had failed through him.
"You must find the city attractive. Perhaps," she added, with a littlelaugh, "perhaps it is Bellefontaine Road."
"No," he answered, smiling.
"Then" (with a touch of derision), "then it is because you cannot missan afternoon's work. You are that kind."
"I was not always that kind," he answered. "I did not work at Harvard.But now I have to or--or starve," he said.
For the second time his complete simplicity had disarmed her. He had notappealed to her sympathy, nor had he hinted at the luxury in which hewas brought up. She would have liked to question Stephen on this formerlife. But she changed the subject suddenly.
"What did you really think of Mr. Lincoln?" she asked.
"I thought him the ugliest man I ever saw, and the handsomest as well."
"But you admired him?"
"Yes," said Stephen, gravely.
"You believe with him that this government cannot exist half slave andhalf free. Then a day will come, Mr. Brice, when you and I shall beforeigners one to the other."
"You have forgotten," he said eagerly, "you have forgotten the restof the quotation. 'I do not expect the Union to be dissolved--I do notexpect the house to fall--but cease to be divided.' It will become allone thing or all the other."
Virginia laughed. "That seemed to me very equivocal," said she. "Yourrail-sputter is well named."
"Will you read the rest of that speech?" he asked
"Judge Whipple is very clever. He has made a convert of you," sheanswered.
"The Judge has had nothing to do with it," cried Stephen. "He is notgiven to discussion with me, and until I went to Springfield had nevermentioned Lincoln's name to me."
Glancing at her, he surprised a sparkle of amusement in her eyes. Thenshe laughed openly.
"Why do you suppose that you were sent to Springfield?" she asked.
"With an important communication for Mr. Lincoln," he answered.
"And that most important communication was--your self. There, now, Ihave told you," said Virginia.
"Was myself? I don't understand."
Virginia puckered her lips.
"Then you haven't the sense I thought you had," she replied impatiently."Do you know what was in that note? No? Well, a year ago last June thisBlack Republican lawyer whom you are all talking of made a speech beforea convention in Illinois. Judge Whipple has been crazy on the subjectever since--he talks of Lincoln in his sleep; he went to Springfield andspent two days with him, and now he can't rest until you have seen andknown and heard him. So he writes a note to Lincoln and asks him to takeyou to the debate--"
She paused again to laugh at his amazement.
"But he told me to go to Springfield!" he exclaimed.
"He told you to find Lincoln. He knew that you would obey his orders, Isuppose."
"But I didn't know--" Stephen began, trying to come pass within aninstant the memory of his year's experience with Mr. Whipple.
"You didn't know that he thought anything about you," said Virginia."That is his way, Mr. Brice. He has more private charities on his listthan any man in the city except Mr. Brinsmade. Very few know it. Hethinks a great deal of you. But there," she added, suddenly blushingcrimson, "I am sorry I told you."
"Why?" he asked.
She did not answer, but sat tapping the seat with her fingers. And whenshe ventured to look at him, he had fallen into thought.
"I think it must be time for dinner," said Virginia, "if you really wishto catch the train."
The coldness in her voice, rather than her words, aroused him. He rose,took one lingering look at the river, and followed her to the house.
At dinner, when not talking about his mare, the Colonel was tryingto persuade Stephen to remain. Virginia did not join in this, andher father thought the young man's refusal sprang from her lack ofcordiality. Colonel Carvel himself drove to the station.
When he returned, he found his daughter sitting idly on the porch.
"I like that young man, if he is a Yankee," he declared.
"I don't," said Virginia, promptly.
"My dear," said her father, voicing the hospitality of the Carvels,"I am surprised at you. One should never show one's feelings toward aguest. As mistress of this house it was your duty to press him to stay."
"He did not want to stay."
"Do you know why he went, my dear," asked the Colonel.
"No," said Virginia.
"I asked him," said the Colonel.
"Pa! I did not think it of you!" she cried. And then, "What was it?" shedemanded.
"He said that his mother was alone in town, and needed him."
Virginia got up without a word, and went into Judge Whipple's room.And there the Colonel found her some hours later, reading aloud from ascrap-book certain speeches of Mr. Lincoln's which Judge Whipple had cutfrom newspapers. And the Judge, lying back with his eyes half closed,was listening in pure delight. Little did he guess at Virginia'spenance!
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The Crisis — Complete Page 19
