THE next day Marian received a note from Strahan saying that somebad symptoms had developed in connection with his wound, but thathis physician had assured him that if he would keep absolutely quietin body and mind for a week or two they would pass away, concludingwith the words: "I have promised mother to obey orders, and shehas said that she would write you from time to time about me. I donot think I shall be very ill."
"O dear!" exclaimed Marian to her father at dinner, "what times theseare! You barely escape one cause of deep anxiety before there isanother. Now what is troubling you, that your brow also is clouded?"
"Is it not enough that your troubles trouble me?"
"There's something else, papa."
"Well, nothing definite. The draft, you know, begins on Saturdayof this week. I shall not have any rest of mind till this ordeal isover. Outwardly all is comparatively quiet. So is a powder magazinetill a spark ignites it. This unpopular measure of the draft is tobe enforced while all our militia regiments are away. I know enoughabout what is said and thought by thousands to fear the consequences.I wish you would spend a couple of weeks with your mother in thatquiet New-England village."
"No, papa, not till you tell me that all danger is past. How muchI should have missed during the past few days if I had been away!But for my feeling that my first duty is to you, I should haveentreated for your permission to become a hospital nurse. Papa,women should make sacrifices and take risks in these times as wellas men."
"Well, a few more days will tell the story. If the draft passesoff quietly and our regiments return, I shall breathe freely oncemore."
A letter was brought in, and she exclaimed, "Captain Lane'shandwriting!" She tore open the envelope and learned little moreat that time than that he had escaped, reached our lines, and goneto Washington, where he was under the care of a skilful surgeon."In escaping, my wound broke out again, but I shall soon be ableto travel, and therefore to see you."
In order to account for Lane's absence and silence we must takeup the thread of his story where Zeb had dropped it. The cavalryforce of which Captain Lane formed a part retired, taking with itthe prisoners and such of the wounded as could bear transportation;also the captured thief. Lane was prevented by his wound fromcarrying out his threat, which his position as chief officer ofan independent command would have entitled him to do. The tides ofwar swept away to the north, and he was left with the more seriouslywounded of both parties in charge of the assistant surgeon of hisregiment. As the shades of evening fell, the place that had resoundedwith war's loud alarms, and had been the scene of so much bustle andconfusion, resumed much of its old aspect of quiet and seclusion. Themarks of conflict, the evidence of changes, and the new conditionsunder which the family would be obliged to live, were only tooapparent. The grass on the lawn was trampled down, and there werenew-made graves in the edge of the grove. Fences were prostrate,and partly burned. Horses and live stock had disappeared. Thenegro quarters were nearly empty, the majority of the slaves havingfollowed the Union column. Confederate officers, who were welcome,honored guests but a few hours before, were on their way toWashington as prisoners. Desperately wounded and dying men werein the out-buildings, and a Union officer, the one who had led theattacking party and precipitated these events, had begun his longfight for life in the mansion itself,--a strange and unexpectedguest.
Mrs. Barkdale, the mistress of the house, could scarcely rally fromher nervous shock or maintain her courage, in view of the havoc madeby the iron heel of war. Miss Roberta's heart was full of bitternessand impotent revolt. She had the courage and spirit of her race,but she could not endure defeat, and she chafed in seclusion andanger while her mother moaned and wept. Miss Suwanee now becamethe leading spirit.
"We can't help what's happened, and I don't propose to sit downand wring my hands or pace my room in useless anger. We were allfor war, and now we know what war means. If I were a man I'd fight;being only a woman, I shall do what I can to retrieve our lossesand make the most of what's left. After all, we have not sufferedhalf so much as hundreds of other families. General Lee will soongive the Northerners some of their own medicine, and before thesummer is over will conquer a peace, and then we shall be proud ofour share in the sacrifices which so many of our people have made."
"I wouldn't mind any sacrifice,--no, not of our home itself,--ifwe had won the victory," Roberta replied. "But to have been madethe instrument of our friends' defeat! It's too cruel. And thento think that the man who wrought all this destruction, loss, anddisgrace is under this very roof, and must stay for weeks, perhaps!"
"Roberta, you are unjust," cried Suwanee. "Captain Lane provedhimself to be a gallant, considerate enemy, and you know it. Whatwould you have him do? Play into our hands and compass his owndefeat? He only did what our officers would have done. The factthat a Northern officer could be so brave and considerate was arevelation to me. We and all our property were in his power, andhis course was full of courtesy toward all except the armed foeswho were seeking to destroy him. The moment that even these becameunarmed prisoners he treated them with great leniency. Because wehad agreed to regard Northerners as cowards and boors evidentlydoesn't make them so."
"You seem wonderfully taken with this Captain Lane."
"No," cried the girl, with one of her irresistible laughs; "but ourofficer friends would have been taken with him if he had not beenwounded. I'm a genuine Southern girl, so much so that I appreciatea brave foe and true gentleman. He protected us and our home asfar as he could, and he shall have the best hospitality which thishome can now afford. Am I not right, mamma?"
"Yes, my dear, even our self-respect would not permit us to adoptany other course."
"You will feel as I do, Roberta, after your natural grief and angerpass;" and she left the room to see that their wounded guest hadas good a supper as she could produce from diminished resources.
The surgeon, whom she met in the hall, told her that his patient wasfeverish and a "little flighty" at times, but that he had expectedthis, adding: "The comfort of his room and good food will bring himaround in time. He will owe his life chiefly to your hospitality,Miss Barkdale, for a little thing would have turned the scale againsthim. Chicken broth is all that I wish him to have to-night, thanks."
And so the process of care and nursing began. The Union colonelhad left a good supply of coffee, sugar, and coarse rations forthe wounded men, and Suwanee did her best to supplement these,accomplishing even more by her kindness, cheerfulness, and winsomeways than by any other means. She became, in many respects, ahospital nurse, and visited the wounded men, carrying delicaciesto all alike. She wrote letters for the Confederates and readthe Bible to those willing to listen. Soon all were willing, andblessed her sweet, sunny face. The wounds of some were incurable,and, although her lovely face grew pale indeed in the presence ofdeath, she soothed their last moments with the gentlest ministrations.There was not a man of the survivors, Union or rebel, but wouldhave shed his last drop of blood for her. Roberta shared in thesetasks, but it was not in her nature to be so impartial. Even amongher own people she was less popular. Among the soldiers, on bothsides, who did the actual fighting, there was not half the bitternessthat existed generally among non-combatants and those Southernmen who never met the enemy in fair battle; and now there wasa good-natured truce between the brave Confederates and those whohad perhaps wounded them, while all fought a battle with the commonfoe,--death. Therefore the haggard faces of all lighted up withunfeigned pleasure when "Missy S'wanee," as they had learned fromthe negroes to call her, appeared among them.
But few slaves were left on the place, and these were old and feebleones who had not ventured upon the unknown waters of freedom. Theold cook remained at her post, and an old man and woman dividedtheir time between the house and the garden, Suwanee's light feetand quick hands relieving them of the easier labors of the mansion.
Surgeon McAllister was loud in his praises of her general goodnessand her courtesy at the table, to which he was admitted; and Lane
,already predisposed toward a favorable opinion, entertained for herthe deepest respect and gratitude, inspired more by her kindnessto his men than by favors to himself. Yet these were not few, forshe often prepared delicacies with her own hands and brought themto his door, while nearly every morning she arranged flowers andsent them to his table.
Thus a week passed away. The little gathering of prostrate men,left in war's trail, was apparently forgotten except as people fromthe surrounding region came to gratify their curiosity.
Lane's feverish symptoms had passed away, but he was exceedinglyweak, and the wound in his shoulder was of a nature to requirealmost absolute quiet. One evening, after the surgeon had told himof Suwanee's ministrations beside a dying Union soldier, he said,"I must see her and tell her of my gratitude."
On receiving his message she hesitated a single instant, thencame to his bedside. The rays of the setting sun illumined herreddish-brown hair as she stood before him, and enhanced her beautyin her simple muslin dress. Her expression towards him, her enemy,was gentle and sympathetic.
He looked at her a moment in silence, almost as if she were a vision,then began, slowly and gravely: "Miss Barkdale, what can I say toyou? I'm not strong enough to say very much, yet I could not resttill you knew. The surgeon here has told me all,--no, not all. Deedslike yours can be told adequately only in heaven. You are fanningthe spark of life in my own breast. I doubt whether I should havelived but for your kindness. Still more to me has been your kindnessto my men, the poor fellows that are too often neglected, evenby their friends. You have been like a good angel to them. Theseflowers, fragrant and beautiful, interpret you to me. You can'tknow what reverence--"
"Please stop, Captain Lane," said Suwanee, beginning to laugh, whiletears stood in her eyes. "Why, I'm only acting as any good-heartedSouthern girl would act. I shall not permit you to think me a saintwhen I am not one. I've a little temper of my own, which isn'talways sweet. I like attention and don't mind how many bestow it--inbrief, I am just like other girls, only more so, and if I becamewhat you say I shouldn't know myself. Now you must not talk anymore. You are still a little out of your head. You can only answerone question. Is there anything you would like,--anything we cando for you to help you get well?"
"No; I should be overwhelmed with gratitude if you did anythingmore. I am grieved enough now when I think of all the trouble andloss we have caused you."
"Oh, that's the fortune of war," she said, with a light, deprecatorygesture. "You couldn't help it any more than we could."
"You are a generous enemy, Miss Barkdale."
"I'm no wounded man's enemy, at least not till he is almost well.Were I one of my brothers, however, and you were on your horse againwith your old vigor--" and she gave him a little, significant nod.
He now laughed responsively, and said, "I like that." Then he added,gravely: "Heaven grant I may never meet one of your brothers inbattle. I could not knowingly harm him."
"Thank you for saying that," she said, gently. "Now, tell me truly,isn't there anything you wish?"
"Yes, I wish to get better, so that I may have a little of yoursociety. These days of inaction are so interminably long, and youknow I've been leading a very active life."
"I fear you wouldn't enjoy the society of such a hot little rebelas I am."
"We should differ, of course, on some things, but that wouldonly give zest to your words. I'm not so stupid and prejudiced,Miss Barkdale, as to fail to see that you are just as sincere andpatriotic as I am. I have envied the enlisted men when I have heardof your attentions to them."
"Now," she resumed, laughing, "I've found out that the 'good angel'is not treating you as well as the common soldiers. Men always letout the truth sooner or later. If Surgeon McAllister will permit,I'll read and talk to you also."
"I not only give my permission," said the surgeon, "but also assureyou that such kindness will hasten the captain's recovery, for timehangs so heavily on his hands that he chafes and worries."
"Very well," with a sprightly nod at the surgeon, "since we'veundertaken to cure the captain, the most sensible thing for us todo IS to cure him. You shall prescribe when and how the doses ofsociety are to be administered." Then to Lane, "Not another word;good-night;" and in a moment she was gone.
Suwanee never forgot that interview, for it was the beginningof a new and strange experience to her. From the first, her high,chivalric spirit had been compelled to admire her enemy. The unknownmanner in which he had foiled her sister's strategy showed thathis mind was equal to his courage, while his hot indignation, whenhe found them threatened by a midnight marauder, had revealed hisnature. Circumstances had swiftly disarmed her prejudices, and herwarm heart had been full of sympathy for him as he lay close tothe borders of death. All these things tended to throw down thebarriers which would naturally interpose between herself and aNorthern man. When, therefore, out of a full heart, he revealedhis gratitude and homage, she had no shield against the force ofhis words and manner, and was deeply touched. She had often receivedgallantry, admiration, and even words of love, but never before hada man looked and acted as if he reverenced her and the womanhoodshe represented. It was not a compliment that had been bestowed,but a recognition of what she herself had not suspected. By herfamily or acquaintances she had never been thought or spoken of asan especially good girl. Hoydenish in early girlhood, leading theyoung Southern gallants a chase in later years, ever full of frolicand mischief, as fond of the dance as a bird of flying, she wasliked by every one, but the graver members of the community wereaccustomed to shake their heads and remark, "She is a case; perhapsshe'll sober down some day." She had hailed the war with enthusiasm,knowing little of its meaning, and sharing abundantly in ruralVirginia's contempt for the North. She had proved even a betterrecruiting officer than her stately sister, and no young fellowdared to approach her until he had donned the gray. When the warcame she met it with her own laughing philosophy and unconquerablebuoyancy, going wild over Southern victories and shrugging her plumpshoulders over defeats, crying: "Better luck next time. The Yankeesprobably had a hundred to one. It won't take long for Southernersto teach Northern abolitionists the difference between us." Butnow she had seen Northern soldiers in conflict, had witnessed theutmost degree of bravery on her side, but had seen it confrontedby equal courage, inspired by a leader who appeared irresistible.
This Northern officer, whose eyes had flashed like his sabre inbattle, whose wit had penetrated and used for his own purpose thescheme of the enemy, and whose chivalric treatment of women plottingagainst him had been knightly,--this man who had won her respect bystorm, as it were, had followed her simple, natural course duringthe past week, and had metaphorically bowed his knee to her inhomage. What did it mean? What had she done? Only made the best ofthings, and shown a little humanity toward some poor fellows whosesufferings ought to soften hearts of flint.
Thus the girl reasoned and wondered. She did not belong to thatclass who keep an inventory of all their good traits and rate themhigh. Moulded in character by surrounding influences and circumstances,her natural, unperverted womanhood and her simple faith in Godfound unconscious expression in the sweet and gracious acts whichLane had recognized at their true worth. The most exquisite musicis but a little sound; the loveliest and most fragrant flower isbut organized matter. True, she had been engaged in homelyacts,--blessing her enemies as the Bible commanded and herwoman's heart dictated,--but how were those acts performed? In herunaffected manner and spirit consisted the charm which won the roughmen's adoration and Lane's homage. That which is simple, sincere,spontaneous, ever attains results beyond all art and calculation.
"Missy S'wanee" couldn't understand it. She had always thoughtof herself as "that child,", that hoyden, that frivolous girlwho couldn't help giggling even at a funeral, and now here comesa Northern man, defeats and captures her most ardent admirer, andbows down to her as if she were a saint!
"I wish I were what he thinks me to be," she laughed to herself."What kind of girls
have they in the North, anyway, that he goeson so? I declare, I've half a mind to try to be good, just for thenovelty of the thing. But what's the use? It wouldn't last with metill the dew was off the grass in the morning.
"Heigho! I suppose Major Denham is thinking of me and pining inprison, and I haven't thought so very much about him. That showswhat kind of an 'angel' I am. Now if there were only a chance ofgetting him out by tricking his jailers and pulling the wool overthe eyes of some pompous old official, I'd take as great a risk asany Southern--'Reverence,' indeed! Captain Lane must be cured ofhis reverence, whatever becomes of his wound."
CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE CURE OF CAPTAIN LANE.
An Original Belle Page 40
