An Original Belle

by Edward Payson Roe

  Merwyn could scarcely have believed that he had sunk so lowin Marian's estimation as her words at the close of the previouschapter indicated, yet he guessed clearly the drift of her opinionin regard to him, and he saw no way of righting himself. In thesolitude of his country home he considered and dismissed severalplans of action. He thought of offering his services to the SanitaryCommission, but his pride prevented, for he knew that she and otherswould ask why a man of his youth and strength sought a service inwhich sisters of charity could be his equals in efficiency. He alsosaw that joining a regiment of the city militia was but a half-waymeasure that might soon lead to the violation of his oath, sincethese regiments could be ordered to the South in case of an emergency.

  The prospect before him was that of a thwarted, blighted life. Hemight live till he was gray, but in every waking moment he wouldremember that he had lost his chance for manly action, when suchaction would have brought him self-respect, very possibly happiness,and certainly the consciousness that he had served a cause whichnow enlisted all his sympathies.

  At last he wrote to his mother an impassioned appeal to be releasedfrom his oath, assuring her that he would never have any part inthe Southern empire that was the dream of her life. He cherishedthe hope that she, seeing how unalterable were his feelings andpurposes, would yield to him the right to follow his own convictions,and with this kindling hope his mind grew calmer.

  Then, as reason began to assert itself, he saw that he had been absentfrom the city too long already. His pride counselled: "The worldhas no concern with your affairs, disappointments, or sufferings.Be your father's son, and maintain your position with dignity. In afew short weeks you may be free. If not, your secret is your own,and no living soul can gossip about your family affairs, or saythat you betrayed your word or your family interests. Meanwhile,in following the example of thousands of other rich and patrioticcitizens, you can contribute more to the success of the Union causethan if you were in the field."

  He knew that this course might not secure him the favor of one forwhom he would face every danger in the world, but it might tend todisarm criticism and give him the best chances for the future.

  He at once carried out his new purposes, and early in June returnedto his city home. He now resolved no longer to shrink and hide, butto keep his own counsel, and face the situation like one who hada right to choose his own career. Mr. Bodoin, his legal adviser,received the impression that he had been quietly looking afterhis country property, and the lawyer rubbed his bloodless hands insatisfaction over a youthful client so entirely to his mind.

  Having learned more fully what his present resources were, Merwynnext called on Mr. Vosburgh at his office. That gentleman greetedthe young man courteously, disguising his surprise and curiosity.

  "I have just returned from my country place," Merwyn began, "andshall not have to go there very soon again, Can I call upon you asusual?"

  "Certainly," replied Mr. Vosburgh; but there was no warmth in histone.

  "I have also a favor to ask," resumed Merwyn, with a slightdeepening of color in his bronzed face. "I have not been able tofollow events very closely, but so far as I can judge there is aprospect of severe battles and of sudden emergencies. If there isneed of money, such means as I have are at your disposal."

  Even Mr. Vosburgh, at the moment, felt much of Marian's repulsionas he looked at the tall youth, with his superb physique, who spokeof severe battles and offered "money." "Truly," he thought, "shemust be right. This man will part with thousands rather than riskone drop of blood."

  But he was too good a patriot to reveal his impression, and said,earnestly: "You are right, Mr. Merwyn. There will be heavy fightingsoon, and all the aid that you can give the Sanitary and ChristianCommissions will tend to save life and relieve suffering."

  Under the circumstances he felt that he could not use any of theyoung man's money, even as a temporary loan, although at times theemployment of a few extra hundreds might aid him greatly in hiswork.

  Merwyn went away chilled and saddened anew, yet feeling that hisreception had been all that he had a right to expect.

  There had been no lack of politeness on Mr. Vosburgh's part, buthis manner had not been that of a friend.

  "He has recognized that I am under some secret restraint," Merwynthought, "and distrusts me at last. He probably thinks, with hisdaughter, that I am afraid to go. Oh that I had a chance to provethat I am, at least, not a coward! In some way I shall prove itbefore many weeks pass."

  At dinner, that evening, Mr. Vosburgh smiled significantly atMarian, and said, "Who do you think called on me to-day?"

  "Mr. Merwyn," she said, promptly.

  "You are right. He came to offer--"

  "Money," contemptuously completing her father's sentence.

  "You evidently think you understand him. Perhaps you do; and I admitthat I felt much as you do, to-day, when he offered his purse tothe cause. I fear, however, that we are growing a little morbid onthis subject, and inclined to judgments too severe. You and I havebecome like so many in the South. This conflict and its resultsare everything to us, and we forget that we are surrounded byhundreds of thousands who are loyal, but are not ready for verygreat sacrifices."

  "We are also surrounded by millions that are, and I cast in my lotwith these. If this is to be morbid, we have plenty of company."

  "What I mean is, that we may be too hard upon those who do notfeel, and perhaps are not capable of feeling, as we do."

  "O papa! you know the reason why Mr. Merwyn takes the course hedoes."

  "I know what you think to be the reason, and you may be right. Yourexplanation struck me with more force than ever to-day; and yet,looking into the young fellow's face, it seems impossible. Heimpresses me strangely, and awakens much curiosity as to his futurecourse. He asked if he could call as usual, and I, with ordinarypoliteness, said, 'Certainly.' Indeed, there was a dignity aboutthe fellow that almost compelled the word. I don't know that wehave any occasion to regret it. He has done nothing to forfeit merecourtesy on our part."

  "Oh, no," said Marian, discontentedly; "but he irritates me. I wishI had never known him, and that I might never meet him again. I ammore and more convinced that my theory about him is correct, andwhile I pity him sincerely, the ever-present consciousness of hisfatal defect is more distressing--perhaps I should say, annoying--than ifhe presented some strong physical deformity. He is such a superband mocking semblance of a man that I cannot even think of himwithout exasperation."

  "Well, my dear, perhaps this is one of the minor sacrifices thatwe must make for the cause. Until Merwyn can explain for himself,he has no right to expect from us more than politeness. While Iwould not take from him a loan for my individual work, I can inducehim to give much material help. In aiding Strahan, and in otherways, he has done a great deal, and he is willing to do more. Theprospects are that everything will be needed, and I do not feellike alienating one dollar or one bit of influence. According toyour theory his course is due to infirmity rather than to fault,and so he should be tolerated, since he is doing the best he can.Politeness to him will not compromise either our principles orourselves."

  "Well, papa, I will do my best; but if he had a particle of myintuition he would know how I feel. Indeed, I believe he does knowin some degree, and it seems to me that, if I were a man, I couldn'tface a woman while she entertained such an opinion."

  "Perhaps the knowledge that you are wrong enables him to face you."

  "If that were true he wouldn't be twenty-four hours in proving it."

  "Well," said her father, with a grim laugh, and in a low voice,"he may soon have a chance to show his mettle without going tothe front. Marian, I wish you would join your mother. The city isfairly trembling with suppressed disloyalty. If Lee marches northwardI shall fear an explosion at any time."

  "Leave the city!" said the young girl, hotly. "That would provethat I possess the same traits that repel me so strongly in Mr.Merwyn. No, I shall not leave your side this summer, un
less youcompel me to almost by force. Have we not recently heard of twoSouthern girls who cheered on their friends in battle with bulletsflying around them? After witnessing that scene, I should makea pitiable figure in Captain Lane's eyes should I seek safety inflight at the mere thought of danger. I should die with shame."

  "It is well Captain Lane does not hear you, or the surgeon wouldhave fever to contend with, as well as wounds."

  "O dear!" cried the girl. "I wish we could hear from him."

  Mr. Vosburgh had nearly reached the conclusion that if the captainsurvived the vicissitudes of the war he would not plead a secondtime in vain.

  A few evenings later Merwyn called. Mr. Vosburgh was out, and otherswere in the drawing-room. Marian did not have much to say to him,but treated him with her old, distant politeness. He felt her manner,and saw the gulf that lay between them, but no one unacquainted withthe past would have recognized any lack of courtesy on her part.

  Among the exciting topics broached was the possibilityof a counter-revolution at the North. Merwyn noticed that Marianwas reticent in regard to her father and his opinions, but he wasstartled to hear her say that she would not be surprised if violentoutbreaks of disloyalty took place any hour, and he recognized hercourage in remaining in the city. One of the callers, an officerin the Seventh Regiment, also spoke of the possibility of all themilitia being ordered away to aid in repelling invasion.

  Merwyn listened attentively, but did not take a very active part inthe conversation, and went away with the words "counter-revolution"and "invasion" ringing in his ears.

  He became a close student of the progress of events, and, with hissensitiveness in regard to the Vosburghs, adopted a measure thattaxed his courage. A day or two later he called on Mr. Vosburgh athis office, and asked him out to lunch, saying that he was desirousof obtaining some information.

  Mr. Vosburgh complied readily, for he wished to give the youngman every chance to right himself, and he could not disguise thefact that he felt a peculiar interest in the problem presented byhis daughter's unfortunate suitor. Merwyn was rather maladroit inaccounting for his questions in regard to the results of a counterrevolution, and gave the impression that he was solicitous abouthis property.

  Convinced that his entertainer was loyal from conviction andfeeling, as well as from the nature of his pecuniary interests,Mr. Vosburgh spoke quite freely of the dangerous elements rapidlydeveloping at the North, and warned his host that, in his opinion,the critical period of the struggle was approaching. Merwyn's grave,troubled face and extreme reticence in respect to his own coursemade an unfavorable impression, yet he was acting characteristically.Trammelled as he was, he could not speak according to his naturalimpulses. He felt that brave words, not enforced by correspondingaction, would be in wretched taste, and his hope was that by deedshe could soon redeem himself. If there was a counter-revolution hecould soon find a post of danger without wearing the uniform of asoldier or stepping on Southern soil, but he was not one to boastof what he would do should such and such events take place. Moreover,before the month elapsed he had reason to believe that he wouldreceive a letter from his mother giving him freedom. Therefore,Mr. Vosburgh was left with all his old doubts and perplexitiesunrelieved, and Marian's sinister theory was confirmed rather thanweakened.

  Merwyn, however, was no longer despondent. The swift march of eventsmight give him the opportunities he craved. He was too young not toseize on the faintest hope offered by the future, and the presentperiod was one of reaction from the deep dejection that, for atime, had almost paralyzed him in the country.

  Even as a boy he had been a sportsman, and a good shot with gun,rifle, and pistol, but now he began to perfect himself in the useof the last-named weapon. He arranged the basement of his house insuch a way that he could practise with his revolvers, and he soonbecame very proficient in the accuracy and quickness of his aim.

  According to the press despatches of the day, there was muchuncertainty in regard to General Lee's movements and plans. Mr.Vosburgh's means of information led him to believe that the rebelarmy was coming North, and many others shared the fear; but aslate as June 15, so skilfully had the Confederate leader maskedhis purposes, that, according to the latest published news, theindications were that he intended to cross the Rappahannock nearCulpepper and inaugurate a campaign similar to the one that hadproved so disastrous to the Union cause the preceding summer.

  On the morning of the 16th, however, the head-lines of the leadingjournals startled the people through the North. The rebel advancehad occupied Chambersburg, Pa. The invasion was an accomplishedfact. The same journals contained a call from the President for100,000 militia, of which the State of New York was to furnish20,000. The excitement in Pennsylvania was intense, for not onlyher capital, but her principal towns and cities were endangered.The thick-flying rumors of the past few days received terribleconfirmation, and, while Lee's plans were still shrouded in mystery,enough was known to awaken apprehension, while the very uncertaintyproved the prolific source of the most exaggerated and direfulstories. There was immense activity at the various armories, andmany regiments of the city militia expected orders to depart atany hour. The metropolis was rocking with excitement, and wherevermen congregated there were eager faces and excited tones.

  Behind his impassive manner, when he appeared in the street, noone disguised deeper feeling, more eager hope, more sickening fear,than Willard Merwyn. When would his mother's letter come? If thiscrisis should pass and he take no part in it he feared that hehimself would be lost.

  Since his last call upon Marian he felt that he could not see heragain until he could take some decided course; but if there wereblows to be struck by citizens at the North, or if his mother'sletter acceded to his wish, however grudgingly, he could act atonce, and on each new day he awoke with the hope that he might beunchained before its close.

  The 17th of June was a memorable day. The morning press broughtconfirmation of Lee's northward advance. The men of the QuakerCity were turning out en masse, either to carry the musket or forlabor on fortifications, and it was announced that twelve regimentsof the New-York militia were under marching orders. The invasionwas the one topic of conversation. There was an immense revivalof patriotism, and recruiting at the armories went on rapidly. Atthis outburst of popular feeling disloyalty shrunk out of sight fora time, and apparently the invaders who had come north as alliesof the peace party created an uprising, as they had expected, butit was hostile to them.

  The people were reminded of the threats of the Southern leaders.The speech of Jeff Davis in the winter of 1860-61 was quoted: "Ifwar should result from secession, it will not be our fields thatwill witness its ravages, but those of the North."

  The fact that this prediction was already fulfilled stung even thehalf-hearted into action, and nerved the loyalty of others, andwhen it became known that the gallant Seventh Regiment would marchdown Broadway en route for Pennsylvania at noon, multitudes linedthe thoroughfare and greeted their defenders with acclamations.

  Merwyn knew that Marian would witness the departure, and he watchedin the distance till he saw her emerge from her home and go to abuilding on Broadway in which her father had secured her a place.She was attended by an officer clad in the uniform of a serviceso dear to her, but which HE had sworn never to wear. He hastilysecured a point of observation in a building opposite, for whilethe vision of the young girl awakened almost desperate revolt athis lot, he could not resist a lover's impulse to see her. Pale,silent, absorbed, he saw her wave her handkerchief and smile ather friends as they passed; he saw a white-haired old lady reachout her hands in yearning love, an eloquent pantomime that indicatedthat her sons were marching under her eyes, and then she sank backinto Marian's arms.

  "Oh," groaned Merwyn, "if that were my mother I could give her alove that would be almost worship."

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  "I'VE LOST MY CHANCE."