Macaria

by Augusta J. Evans

  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 andwomen 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 peacefulmanufacturing town of yore. Every vacant lot was converted into aparade-ground--and the dash of cavalry, the low, sullen rumbling ofartillery, and the slow, steady tread of infantry, echoed through its wide,handsome streets. Flag-staffs were erected from public buildings, privateresidences, and at the most frequent corners, and from these floatedbanners of all sizes, tossing proudly to the balmy breeze the new-bornensign of freedom--around which clustered the hopes of a people who feltthat upon them, and them only, now devolved the sacred duty of proving tothe 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, andsent 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 anoverture to the opera of Blood, yclept "Subjugation," and people watched insilence 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, ascontra-distinguished from twelve-months volunteers; and to properly drilland discipline it, he bent all the energy of his character. It was made thenucleus of a new regiment; recruits gathered rapidly, and when the regimentorganized, preparatory to starting for Virginia, he was elected colonel,with Herbert Blackwell for lieutenant-colonel, and Charles Harris wasappointed adjutant. They were temporarily encamped on the common betweenthe railroad depot and Mr. Huntingdon's residence, and from the observatoryor colonnade Irene could look down on the gleaming tents and the flag-staffthat stood before the officers' quarters. _Reveille_ startled her at dawn,and _tattoo_ regularly warned her of the shortness of summer nights. As thefiery carriage-horses would not brook the sight of the encampment, shediscarded them for a time, and when compelled to leave home rode Erebus atno slight risk of her life--for he evinced the greatest repugnance to thesound of drum or fife.

  One afternoon she went over to the Row, and thence to the factory. A newcompany had been named in honour of her father; uniforms and haversackswere to be furnished, and Mr. Huntingdon had entrusted her with thecommission. Selecting the cloth and accomplishing her errand, she returnedby way of the orphan asylum, whose brick walls were rapidly rising underher supervision. One of the workmen took her horse, and she went over thebuilding, talking to the principal mechanic about some additional closetswhich she desired to have inserted. Dr. Arnold chanced to be passing, butsaw Erebus at the gate, stopped, and came in.

  "I was just going up the Hill to see you, Queen--glad I am saved thetrouble. Here, sit down a minute; I will clear the shavings away. When didyou 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 Iserve my country as well as younger men? The fact is, I am going as surgeonof 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. Aubreyhas received orders to report at once to General Beauregard. Child, haveyou been sick?"

  "No, sir. I am glad you are going with the regiment; very glad. Every goodsurgeon in the Confederacy should hasten to the front line of our armies.Since you leave home, I am particularly glad that you are going toManassas, 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 splendidregimental 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 bedelivered. Will you attend?"

  "Scarcely, I presume, as I am not invited. I knew that Salome was having anelegant flag made, but was not aware that to-morrow was appointed for theceremony of presentation. When will you come to see me? I want you to takea 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 theflag ceremonies, where I am expected. At one o'clock I will be at theHill--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 hererequire work. I shall expect you at one o'clock--shall have lunch ready foryou. By the way, Doctor, is there anything I can do for you in the sewingline? It would give me genuine pleasure to make something for you, if youwill only tell me what you need. Think over your wants."

  She had caught up her reins, but paused, looking at him. He averted hishead quickly.

  "I will tell you to-morrow. Good evening."

  As she went homeward a shadow fell upon her face--a shadow darker than thatcast by the black plume in her riding-hat--and once or twice her lipswrithed from their ordinary curves of beauty. Nearing the encampment shelowered her veil, but saw that dress parade had been dismissed, and as sheshook the reins and Erebus quickened his gallop, she found herself face toface with the colonel, who had just mounted his horse and was riding towardtown. She looked at him and bowed; but, in passing, he kept his eyes fixedon the road before him, and in the duskiness his face seemed colder andmore inflexible than ever. Such had been the manner of their occasionalmeetings since the interview at the factory, and she was not surprised thatthis, her first greeting, was disregarded. The public believed that anengagement existed between him and Salome, and the attentions heaped uponhim by the family of the latter certainly gave colour to the report. ButIrene was not deceived; she had learned to understand his nature, and knewthat his bitterness of feeling and studied avoidance of herself betokenedthat the old affection had not been crushed. Struggling with the dictatesof her heart, and a sense of the respect due to her father's feelings, shepassed a sleepless night in pacing the gallery of the observatory. It was avigil of almost intolerable perplexity and anguish. Under all its painfulaspects she patiently weighed the matter, and at sunrise next morning,throwing open the blinds of her room, she drew her rosewood desk to thewindow, and wrote these words--

  "COL. AUBREY,--

  "Before you leave W---- allow me to see you for a few moments. If yourdeparture is positively fixed for to-morrow, come to me this afternoon, atany hour which may be most convenient.

  "Respectfully,

  "IRENE HUNTINGDON."

  As the regiment prepared to march to Mrs. Churchill's residence, the notewas received from Andrew's hands. Returning his sword to its scabbard, thecolonel read the paper twice, three times--a heavy frown gathered on hisforehead, 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, invitingher to be present at the presentation of the flag, and begging a few choiceflowers for the occasion. Smiling quietly, she filled the accompanyingbasket with some of the rarest treasures of the greenhouse, added a bowl ofraspberries which the gardener had just brought in, and sent all, with abrief 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 jellyand cordial for the use of the hospitals.


  About noon Dr. Arnold came, and found her engaged in sealing up a number ofthe jars, all neatly labelled. The day was warm; she had pushed back herhair from her brow, as she bent over her work; the full sleeves werepinned up above the elbow, and she wore a white check-muslin apron toprotect 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 thedining-room."

  "No; I lunched with the Israelites. Salome was brilliant as a Brazilianfire-fly, and presented her banner quite gracefully. Aubrey looked splendidin his uniform; was superbly happy in his speech--always is. Madam did thehonours inimitably, and, in fine--give me that fan on the table--everythingwas decidedly _comme il faut_. You were expected, and you ought to havegone; it looked spiteful to stay away. I should absolutely like to see yousubjected to 212 deg. Fahrenheit, in order to mark the result. Here I amalmost 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 torepeat to Leonard?"

  "I wish, if you please, when you get to Manassa, that you would persuadefather to allow me to come, at least, as far as Richmond. You have someinfluence 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 apause.

  "I am. I want to be near father."

  "Well, I will see what I can do with him. If I fail, recollect that he isnot proverbial for pliability. Look here--are you nervous? Your fingerstwitch, and so do your eyelids, occasionally, and your pulse is twentybeats 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 presentstate of the country?"

  "Irene, answer me one question, dear child: what does the future containfor 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 dosome good in the world while I live. I want to be useful--to feel that Ihave gladdened some hearts, strengthened some desponding spirits, carriedbalm to some hearth-stones, shed some happiness on the paths of those whowalk 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 happilymarried 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 theright to question?"

  He looked into that fair chiselled face, and wondered whether she could betruly "content"; and the purity and peace in her deep, calm eyes baffledhim sorely. She rose, and laid her hand on his shoulder.

  "Dr. Arnold, promise me that if there is a battle, and father should behurt, you will telegraph me at once. Do not hesitate--let me know the truthimmediately. Will you?"

  "I promise."

  "And now, sir, what can I make or have made for you which will conduce toyour comfort?"

  "Have you any old linen left about the house that could be useful among thewounded?"

  "I have sent off a good deal, but have some left. In what form do you wantit? As lint, or bandages?"

  "Neither; pack it just as it is, and send it on by express. I can't carrythe world on my shoulders."

  "Anything else?"

  "Write to the overseer's wife to sow all the mustard-seed she can lay herhands on, and save all the sage she can. And, Irene, be sure to send meevery drop of honey you can spare. That is all, I believe. If I think ofanything else, I will write you."

  He stooped, kissed her forehead, and hurried out to his buggy.