An Original Belle

by Edward Payson Roe

  Shallow natures, like shallow waters, are easily agitated, and outwardmanifestations are in proportion to the shallowness. Superficialobservers are chiefly impressed by visible emotion and tumult.

  With all her faults, Marian had inherited from her father a strongnature. Her intuitions had become womanly and keen, and Merwyn'sdumb agony affected her more deeply than a torrent of impetuouswords or any outward evidence of distress. She went back to her chairand shed bitter tears; she scarcely knew why, until her father'svoice aroused her by saying, "Why, Marian dear, what IS the matter?"

  "Oh, I am glad you have come," she said. "I have caused so muchsuffering that I feel as if I had committed a crime;" and she gavean account of the recent interview.

  "Let me reassure you," said her father, gravely. "You did meankindly by Merwyn, and you gave him, without being unwomanly, thebest chance he could possibly have to throw off the incubus thatis burdening his life. If, with the opportunity he had to-night,and under the influence of his love, he did not speak, his secretis one of which he cannot speak. At least, I fear it is one ofwhich he dares not speak to you, lest it should be fatal to him andall his hopes. I cannot even guess what it is, but at all eventsit is of a serious nature, too grave to be regarded any longer assecondary in our estimate of Mr. Merwyn's character. The shadow ofthis mystery must not fall on you, and I am glad he is going away.I hoped that your greater kindness and mine might lead him to revealhis trouble, that we could help him, and that a character in manyrespects so unique and strong might be cleared of its shadows. Inthis case we might not only have rendered a fellow-being a greatservice, but also have secured a friend capable of adding much toour happiness. This mystery, however, proves so deep-rooted andinscrutable that I shall be glad to withdraw you from his influenceuntil time and circumstance make all plain, if they ever can.These old families often have dark secrets, and this young man,in attaining his majority and property, has evidently become thepossessor of one of them. In spite of all his efforts to do wellit is having a sinister influence over his life, and this influencemust not extend to yours. The mere fact that he does not take anactive part in the war is very subordinate in itself. Thousandswho might do this as well as he are very well content to stay athome. The true aspect of the affair is this: A chain of circumstances,unforeseen, and uncaused by any premeditated effort on our part, haspresented to his mind the most powerful motives to take a naturalpart in the conflict. It has gradually become evident that thesecret of his restraint is a mystery that affects his whole being.Therefore, whether it be infirmity, fault, or misfortune, he has noright to impose it on others, since it seems to be beyond remedy.Do you not agree with me?"

  "I could not do otherwise, papa. Yet, remembering how he lookedto-night, I cannot help being sorry for him, even though my mindinclines to the belief that constitutional timidity restrains him.I never saw a man tremble so, and he turned white to his very lips.Papa, have you read 'The Fair Maid of Perth'?"

  "Yes."

  "Don't you remember MacIan, the young chief of Clan Quhele? Thischaracter always made a deep impression on me, awakening at thesame time pity and the strongest repulsion. I could never understandhim. He was high-born, and lived at an age when courage was thecommonest of traits, while its absence was worse than crime. Forthe times he was endowed with every good quality except the powerto face danger. This from the very constitution of his being hecould not do, and he, beyond all others, understood his infirmity,suffering often almost mortal agony in view of it. For some reasonI have been led to reread this story, and, in spite of myself, thatwretched young Scottish chieftain has become associated in my mindwith Willard Merwyn. He said to-night that his imagination wasstronger than his will. I can believe it from his words. His deadfather and others have become distinct presences to him. In thesame way he calls up before his fancy the horrors of a battle-field,and he finds that he has not the power to face them, that he cannotdo it, no matter what the motives may be. He feels that he wouldbe simply overwhelmed with horror and faint-heartedness, and he istoo prudent to risk the shame of exposure."

  "Well," said her father, sighing, as if he were giving up a pleasingdream, "you have thought out an ingenious theory which, if true,explains Merwyn's course, perhaps. A woman's intuitions are subtle,and often true, but somehow it does not satisfy me, even though Ican recall some things which give color to your view. Still, whateverbe the explanation, all MUST be explained before we can give himmore than ordinary courtesy."

  It soon became evident that Merwyn had gone to his country place,for his visits ceased. The more Marian thought about him,--and shedid think a great deal,--the more she was inclined to believe thather theory explained everything. His very words, "You think me acoward," became a proof, in her mind, that he was morbidly sensitiveon this point, and ever conscious of his infirmity. He was tooready to resent a fancied imputation on his courage.

  She strove to dismiss him from her thoughts, but with only partialsuccess. He gave her the sense of being baffled, defeated. Whatcould be more natural than that a high-spirited young man shouldenter the army of his own free will? He had not entered it evenwith her favor, possibly her love, as a motive. Yet he sought herfavor as if it were the chief consideration of existence. With hertheory, and her ideal of manhood, he was but the mocking shadow ofa man, but so real, so nearly perfect, that she constantly chafedat the defect. Even her father had been deeply impressed by therare promise of his young life,--a promise which she now believedcould never be kept, although few might ever know it.

  "I must be right in my view," she said. "He proves his loyalty byan unflagging interest in our arms, by the gift of thousands. Heis here, his own master. He would not shun danger for the sake ofhis cold-hearted mother, from whom he seems almost estranged. Hissisters are well provided for, and do not need his care. He does notlive for the sake of pleasure, like many other young men. MercifulHeaven! I blush even to think the words, much more to speak them.Why does he not go, unless his fear is greater than his love for me?why is he not with Lane and Strahan, unless he has a constitutionaldread that paralyzes him? He is the Scottish chieftain, MacIan,over again. All I can do now is to pity him as one to whom Naturehas been exceedingly cruel, for every fibre in my being shrinksfrom such a man."

  And so he came to dwell in her mind as one crippled, from birth,in his very soul.

  Meanwhile events took place which soon absorbed her attention.Lane's letter announcing the opening of the campaign proved a falsealarm, although, from a subsequent letter, she learned that he hadhad experiences not trifling in their nature. On the rainy night,early in April, that would ever be memorable to her, she had saidto Merwyn, "The army is on the march."

  This was true of the cavalry corps, and part of it even crossed theupper waters of the Rappahannock; but the same storm which dashedthe thick drops against her windows also filled the river tooverflowing, and the brave troopers, recalled, had to swim theirhorses in returning. Lane was among these, and his humorous accountof the affair was signed, "Your loyal amphibian!"

  A young girl of Marian's temperament is a natural hero-worshipper,and he was becoming her hero. Circumstances soon occurred whichgave him a sure place in this character.

  By the last of April, not only the cavalry, but the whole army, moved,the infantry taking position on the fatal field of Chancellorsville.Then came the bloody battle, with its unspeakable horrors anddefeat. The icy Rappahannock proved the river of death to thousandsand thousands of brave men.

  Early in May the Union army, baffled, depleted, and discouraged, wasagain in its old quarters where it had spent the winter. Apparentlythe great forward movement had been a failure, but it was the causeof a loss to the Confederate cause from which it never recovered,--thatof "Stonewall" Jackson. So transcendent were this man's boldnessand ability in leading men that his death was almost equivalent tothe annihilation of a rebel army. He was a typical character, theembodiment of the genius, the dash, the earnest, pure, but mistakenpatriotism of the South. No ma
n at the North more surely believedhe was right than General Jackson, no man more reverently asked God'sblessing on efforts heroic in the highest degree. He representedthe sincere but misguided spirit which made every sacrifice possibleto a brave people, and his class should ever be distinguished fromthe early conspirators who were actuated chiefly by ambition andselfishness.

  His death also was typical, for he was wounded by a volley fired,through misapprehension, by his own men. The time will come whenNorth and South will honor the memory of Thomas J. Jackson, while,at the same time, recognizing that his stout heart, active brain,and fiery zeal were among the chief obstructions to the united andsublime destiny of America. The man's errors were due to causesover which he had little control; his noble character was due tohimself and his faith in God.

  Many days passed before Marian heard from Lane, and she then learnedthat the raid in which he had participated had brought him withintwo miles of Richmond, and that he had passed safely through greatdangers and hardships, but that the worst which he could say ofhimself was that he was "prone to go to sleep, even while writingto her."

  The tidings from her other friends were equally reassuring. Theirregiment had lost heavily, and Blauvelt had been made a captain almostin spite of himself, while Strahan was acting as lieutenant-colonel,since the officer holding that rank had been wounded. There was adash of sadness and tragedy in the journal which the two young menforwarded to her after they had been a few days in their old campat Falmouth, but Strahan's indomitable humor triumphed, and theircrude record ended in a droll sketch of a plucked cock tryingto crow. She wrote letters so full of sympathy and admiration oftheir spirit that three soldiers of the army of the Potomac soonrecovered their morale.

  The month of May was passing in mocking beauty to those whose hopesand happiness were bound up in the success of the Union armies. Notonly had deadly war depleted Hooker's grand army, but the expirationof enlistments would take away nearly thirty thousand more. Mr.Vosburgh was aware of this, and he also found the disloyal elementsby which he was surrounded passing into every form of hostileactivity possible within the bounds of safety. Men were beginning totalk of peace, at any cost, openly, and he knew that the Southernleaders were hoping for the beginning at any time of a counter-revolutionat the North. The city was full of threatening rumors, intrigues,and smouldering rebellion.

  Marian saw her father overwhelmed with labors and anxieties, andletters from her friends reflected the bitterness then felt by thearmy because the North appeared so half-hearted.

  "Mr. Merwyn, meanwhile," she thought, "is interesting himself inlandscape-gardening. If he has one spark of manhood or courage hewill show it now."

  The object of this reproach was living almost the life of a hermitat his country place, finding no better resource, in his desperateunrest and trouble, than long mountain rambles, which broughtphysical exhaustion and sleep.

  He had not misunderstood Marian's final words and manner. Delicately,yet clearly, she had indicated the steps he must take to vindicatehis character and win her friendship. He felt that he had becomepale, that he had trembled in her presence. What but cowardicecould explain his manner and account for his inability to confirmthe good impression he had made by following the example of herother friends? From both his parents he had inherited a naturesensitive to the last degree to any imputation of this kind. Toreceive it from the girl he loved was a hundred-fold more bitterthan death, yet he was bound by fetters which, though unseen byall, were eating into his very soul. The proud Mrs. Merwyn was aslave-holder herself, and the daughter of a long line of slave-owners;but never had a bondsman been so chained and crushed as was herson. For weeks he felt that he could not mingle with other men,much less meet the girl to whom manly courage was the corner-stoneof character.

  One evening in the latter part of May, as Mr. Vosburgh and hisfamily were sitting down to dinner, Barney Ghegan, the policeman,appeared at their door with a decent-looking, elderly coloredwoman and her lame son. They were refugees, or "contrabands," asthey were then called, from the South, and they bore a letter fromCaptain Lane.

  It was a scrap of paper with the following lines pencilled uponit:--

  "MR. VOSBURGH, No. -- -- ST.: I have only time for a line. MammyBorden will tell you her story and that of her son. Their actionand other circumstances have enlisted my interest. Provide thememployment, if convenient. At any rate, please see that they wantnothing, and draw on me. Sincere regard to you all.--In haste,

  "LANE, Captain.-- --U.S. Cav."

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  "DE HEAD LINKUM MAN WAS CAP'N LANE."