An Original Belle

by Edward Payson Roe

  MERWYN had not been long in the city before he was waited uponand asked to do his share towards sustaining the opera, and he hadcarelessly taken a box which had seldom been occupied. On the eveningafter his interview with Mr. Vosburgh, his feeling of suspense wasso great that he thought he could beguile a few hours with music.He found, however, that the light throng, and even the harmonioussounds, irritated, rather than diverted, his perturbed mind, andhe returned to his lonely home, and restlessly paced apartmentsrendered all the more dreary by their magnificence.

  He proved his solicitude in a way that led Mr. Vosburgh to smileslightly, for when that gentleman entered his office, Merwyn wasawaiting him.

  "I have only to tell you," he said, in response to the young man'squestioning eyes, "that Miss Vosburgh accedes to your request asyou presented it to me;" and in parting he gave his hand with somesemblance of friendliness.

  Merwyn went away elated, feeling that he had gained all for whichhe had a right to hope. Eager as he was for the coming interviewwith Marian, he dreaded it and feared that he might be painfullyembarrassed. In this eagerness he started early for an eveningcall; but when he reached his destination, he hesitated, passingand repassing the dwelling before he could gather courage to enter.The young girl would have smiled, could she have seen her formersuitor, once so complacent and condescending. She certainly couldnot complain of lack of humility now.

  At last he perceived that two other callers had passed in, and hefollowed them, feeling that their presence would enable both himand the object of his thoughts to take refuge in conventionalities.

  He was right in this view, for with a scarcely perceptible increaseof color, and a polite bow, Marian received him as she would anyother mere calling acquaintance, introduced him to the two gentlemenpresent, and conversation at once became general. Merwyn did notremain long under constraint. Even Marian had to admit to herselfthat he acquitted himself well and promised better for the future.When topics relating to the war were broached, he not only talkedas loyally as the others, but also proved himself well informed.Mrs. Vosburgh soon appeared and greeted him cordially, for thelady was ready enough to entertain the hopes which his presenceagain inspired. He felt that his first call, to be in good taste,should be rather brief, and he took his departure before the others,Marian bowing with the same distant politeness that had characterizedher greeting. She made it evident that she had granted just what hehad asked and nothing more. Whether he could ever inspire anythinglike friendliness the future only would reveal. He had seriousdoubts, knowing that he suffered in contrast with even the guestsof the present evening. One was an officer home on sick-leave; theother exempted from military duty by reason of lameness, which didnot extend to his wit and conversational powers. Merwyn also knewthat he would ever be compared with those near friends now inVirginia.

  What did he hope? What could he hope? He scarcely knew, and wouldnot even entertain the questions. He was only too glad that the doorwas not closed to him, and, with the innate hopefulness of youth,he would leave the future to reveal its possibilities. He was sothoroughly his father's son that he would not be disheartened, andso thoroughly himself that the course he preferred would be theone followed, so far as was now possible.

  "Well?" said Mr. Vosburgh, when Marian came to the library to kisshim good-night.

  "What a big, long question that little word contains!" she cried,laughing, and there was a little exhilaration in her manner whichdid not escape him.

  "You may tell me much, little, or nothing."

  "I will tell you nothing, then, for there is nothing to tell.I received and parted with Mr. Merwyn on his terms, and those youknow all about. Mamma was quite gracious, and my guests were politeto him."

  "Are you willing to tell me what impression he made in respect tohis loyalty?"

  "Shrewd papa! You think this the key to the problem. Perhaps itis, if there is any problem. Well, so far as WORDS went he provedhis loyalty in an incidental way, and is evidently informing himselfconcerning events. If he has no better proof to offer than words,his probation will end unfavorably, even though he may not beimmediately aware of the fact. Of course, now that I have grantedhis request, I must be polite to him so long as he chooses to come."

  "Was he as complacent and superior as ever?"

  "Whither is your subtlety tending? Are you, as well as mamma, anally of Mr. Merwyn? You know he was not. Indeed, I must admit that,in manner, he carried out the spirit of his request."

  "Then, to use your own words, he was 'befittingly humble'? No, I amnot his ally. I am disposed to observe the results of your experiment."

  "There shall be no experimenting, papa. Circumstances have enabledhim to understand me as well as he ever can, and he must act inview of what he knows me to be. I shall not seek to influence him,except by being myself, nor shall I lower my standard in his favor."

  "Very well, I shall note his course with some interest. It isevident, however, that the uncertainties of his future action willnot keep either of us awake."

  When she left him, he fell into a long revery, and his concludingthoughts were: "I doubt whether Marian understands herself in respectto this young fellow. She is too resentful. She does not feel theindifference which she seeks to maintain. The subtle, and, as yet,unrecognized instinct of her womanhood leads her to stand aloof.This would be the natural course of a girl like Marian towards a manwho, for any cause, had gained an unusual hold upon her thoughts.I must inform myself thoroughly in regard to this Mr. Merwyn. Thusfar her friends have given me little solicitude; but here is one,towards whom she is inclined to be hostile, that it may be well toknow all about. Even before she is aware of it herself, she is onthe defensive against him, and this, to a student of human nature,is significant. She virtually said to-night that he must win hisway and make his own unaided advances toward manhood. Ah, my littlegirl! if it was not in him ever to have greater power over you thanMr. Strahan, you would take a kindlier interest in his efforts."

  If Marian idolized her father as she had said, it can readilybe guessed how much she was to him, and that he was not forgetfulof his purpose to learn more about one who manifested so deep aninterest in his daughter, and who possibly had the power to createa responsive interest. It so happened that he was acquainted withMr. Bodoin, and had employed the shrewd lawyer in some governmentaffairs. Another case had arisen in which legal counsel was required,and on the following day advice was sought.

  When this part of the interview was over, Mr. Vosburgh remarked,casually, "By the way, I believe you are acquainted with Mr. WillardMerwyn and his affairs."

  "Yes," replied the lawyer, at once on the alert.

  "Do your relations to Mr. Merwyn permit you to give me someinformation concerning him?"

  The attorney thought rapidly. His client had recently been inquiringabout Mr. Vosburgh, and, therefore, the interest was mutual.On general principles it was important that the latter should befriendly, for he was a secret and trusted agent of the government,and Mrs. Merwyn's course might render a friend at court essential.Although the son had not mentioned Marian's name, Mr. Bodoinshrewdly guessed that she was exerting the influence that had sogreatly changed the young man's views and plans. The calculatinglawyer had never imagined that he would play the role of match-maker,but he was at once convinced that, in the stormy and uncertaintimes, Merwyn could scarcely make a better alliance than the onehe meditated. Therefore with much apparent frankness the astutelawyer told Mr. Vosburgh all that was favorable to the young man.

  "I think he will prove an unusual character," concluded the lawyer,"for he is manifesting some of his father's most characteristictraits," and these were mentioned. "When, after attaining hismajority, the son returned from England, he was in many respectslittle better than a shrewd, self-indulgent boy, indifferentto everything but his own pleasure, but, for some reason, he hasgreatly changed. Responsibility has apparently sobered him and madehim thoughtful. I have also told him much about my old friend andclient, his father, and the
young fellow is bent on imitating him.While he is very considerate of his mother and sisters, he hasidentified himself with his father's views, and has become a Northernman to the backbone. Even to a degree contrary to my advice, heinsists on investing his means in government bonds."

  This information was eminently satisfactory, and even sagaciousMr. Vosburgh did not suspect the motives of the lawyer, whom heknew to be eager to retain his good-will, since it was in his powerto give much business to those he trusted.

  "I may become Merwyn's ally after all, if he makes good his ownand Mr. Bodoin's words," was his smiling thought, as he returnedto his office.

  He was too wise, however, to use open influence with his daughter,or to refer to the secret interview. Matters should take their owncourse for the present, while he remained a vigilant observer, forMarian's interest and happiness were dearer to him than his ownlife.

  Merwyn sought to use his privilege judiciously, and concentratedall his faculties on the question of his standing in Marian'sestimation. During the first few weeks, it was evident that hisprogress in her favor was slow, if any were made at all. She waspolite, she conversed with him naturally and vivaciously on topicsof general interest, but there appeared to be viewless and impassablebarriers between them. Not by word or sign did she seek to influencehis action.

  She was extremely reticent about herself, and took pains to seemindifferent in regard to his life and plans, but she was beginningto chafe under what she characterized as his "inaction." Givingto hospitals and military charities and buying United-States bondscounted for little in her eyes.

  "He parades his loyalty, and would have me think that he looks uponthe right to call on me as a great privilege, but he does not careenough about either me or the country to incur any risk or hardship."

  Thoughts like these were beginning not only to rekindle her oldresentment, but also to cause a vague sense of disappointment.Merwyn had at least accomplished one thing,--he confirmed herfather's opinion that he was not commonplace. Travel, residenceabroad, association with well-bred people, and a taste for reading,had given him a finish which a girl of Marian's culture could notfail to appreciate. Because he satisfied her taste and eye, shewas only the more irritated by his failure in what she deemed theessential elements of manhood. In spite of the passionate wordshe had once spoken, she was beginning to believe that a cold,calculating persistency was the corner-stone of his character, thateven if he were brave enough to fight, he had deliberately decidedto take no risks and enjoy his fortune. If this were true, sheassured herself, he might shoulder the national debt if he chose,but he could never become her friend.

  Then came the terrible and useless slaughter of Fredericksburg.With the fatuity that characterized the earlier years of the war,the heroic army of the Potomac, which might have annihilated Lee onprevious occasions, was hurled against heights and fortificationsthat, from the beginning, rendered the attack hopeless.

  Marian's friends were exposed to fearful perils, but passed throughthe conflict unscathed. Her heart went out to them in a deeper andstronger sympathy than ever, and Merwyn in contrast lost correspondingly.

  During the remaining weeks of December, she saw that her fatherwas almost haggard from care and anxiety, and he was compelled tomake trips to Washington and even to the front.

  "The end has not come yet," he had said to her, after one of theseflying visits. "Burnside has made an awful blunder, but he iseager to retrieve himself, and now has plans on foot that promisebetter. The disaffection among his commanding officers and troopsis what I am most afraid of--more, indeed, than of the rebel army.Unlike his predecessor, he is determined to move, to act, and Ithink we may soon hear of another great battle."

  Letters from her friends confirmed this view, especially a briefnote from Lane, in which the writer, fearing that it might be hislast, had not wholly veiled his deep affection. "I am on the eveof participating in an immense cavalry movement," it began, "andit may be some time before I can write to you again, if ever."

  The anxiety caused by this missive was somewhat relieved bya humorous account of the recall of the cavalry force. She thenlearned, through her father, that the entire army was again on themove, and that another terrific battle would be fought in a day ortwo.

  "Burnside should cross the Rappahannock to-day or to-morrow, atthe latest," Mr. Vosburgh had remarked at breakfast, to which hehad come from the Washington owl-train.

  It was the 20th of December, and when the shadows of the earlytwilight were gathering, Burnside had, in fact, massed his armyat the fords of the river, and his troops, "little Strahan" amongthem, were awaiting orders to enter the icy tide in the stealthyeffort to gain Lee's left flank. There are many veterans now livingwho remember the terrific "storm of wind, rain, sleet, and snow"that assailed the unsheltered army. It checked further advance moreeffectually than if all the rebel forces had been drawn up on thefarther shore. After a frightful night, the Union army was discoveredin the dawn by Lee.

  Even then Burnside would have crossed, and, in spite of his opponent'spreparations and every other obstacle, would have fought a battle,had he not been paralyzed by a foe with which no general couldcope,--Virginia mud. The army mired helplessly, supply trains couldnot reach it. With difficulty the troops were led back to theirold quarters, and so ended the disastrous campaigns of the year,so far as the army of the Potomac was concerned.

  The storm that drenched and benumbed the soldiers on the Rappahannockwas equally furious in the city of New York, and Mr. Vosburghsat down to dinner frowning and depressed. "It seems as if fate isagainst us," he said. "This storm is general, I fear, and may provemore of a defence to Lee than his fortifications at Fredericksburg.It's bad enough to have to cope with treachery and disaffection."

  "Treachery, papa?"

  "Yes, treachery," replied her father, sternly. "Scoundrels in ourown army informed Washington disunionists of the cavalry movementof which Captain Lane wrote you, and these unmolested enemiesat the capital are in constant communication with Lee. When willour authorities and the North awake to the truth that this is alife-and-death struggle, and that there must be no more nonsense?"

  "Would to Heaven I were a man!" said the young girl. "At this verymoment, no doubt, Mr. Merwyn is enjoying his sumptuous dinner, whilemy friends may be fording a dark, cold river to meet their death.Oh! I can't eat anything to-night."

  "Nonsense!" cried her mother, irritably.

  "Come, little girl, you are taking things too much to heart. I amvery glad you are not a man. In justice, I must also add that Mr.Merwyn is doing more for the cause than any of your friends. It sohappens that I have learned that he is doing a great deal of whichlittle is known."

  "Pardon me," cried the girl, almost passionately. "Any man whovoluntarily faces this storm, and crosses that river to-night orto-morrow, does infinitely more in my estimation."

  Her father smiled, but evidently his appetite was flagging also,and he soon went out to send and receive some cipher despatches.

  Merwyn was growing hungry for some evidence of greater friendlinessthan he had yet received. Hitherto, he had never seen Marian alonewhen calling, and the thought had occurred that if he braved thestorm in paying her a visit, the effort might be appreciated. Onepart of his hope was fulfilled, for he found her drawing-room empty.While he waited, that other stormy and memorable evening when hehad sought to find her alone flashed on his memory, and he fearedthat he had made a false step in coming.

  This impression was confirmed by her pale face and distant greeting.In vain he put forth his best efforts to interest her. She remainedcoldly polite, took but a languid part in the conversation, and attimes even permitted him to see that her thoughts were preoccupied.He had been humble and patient a long time, and now, in spite ofhimself, his anger began to rise.

  Feeling that he had better take his leave while still underself-control, and proposing also to hint that she had failed somewhatin courtesy, he arose abruptly and said: "You are not well thisevening, Miss V
osburgh? I should have perceived the fact earlier.I wish you good-night."

  She felt the slight sting of his words, and was in no mood toendure it. Moreover, if she had failed in such courtesy as he hada right to expect, he should know the reason, and she felt at themoment willing that he should receive the implied reproach.

  Therefore she said: "Pardon me, I am quite well. It is natural thatI should be a little distraite, for I have learned that my friendsare exposed to this storm, and will probably engage in anotherterrible battle to-morrow, or soon."

  Again the old desperate expression, that she remembered so well,came into his eyes as he exclaimed, bitterly: "You think me a cowardbecause I remain in the city? What is this storm, or that battle,compared with what I am facing! Good-night;" and, giving her nochance for further words, he hastened away.

  CHAPTER XXI.

  FEARS AND PERPLEXITIES.