After her father had left her on that eventful afternoon, Marianfelt as if alone in a beleaguered fortress. The familiar streetsin which she had trundled her hoop as a child, and until to-daywalked without fear, were now filled with nameless terrors. She whohad been so bent on going out in the morning would now as readilystroll in a tiger-infested jungle as to venture from her door. Whenmen like her father used such language and took such precautionsas she had anxiously noted, she knew that dangers were manifold andgreat, that she was in the midst of the most ruthless phase of war.
But her first excitement had passed, and it had brought her suchlessons that now her chief thought was to retrieve herself. Theone who had dwelt in her mind as so weak and unmanly as to be aconstant cause of irritation had shown himself to be her superior,and might even equal the friends with whom she had been scornfullycontrasting him. That she should have spoken to him and treatedhim as she had done produced boundless self-reproach, while heregregious error in estimating his character was humiliating in thelast degree.
"Fool! fool!" she said, aloud, "where was your woman's intuition?"
Marian had much warm blood in her veins and fire in her spirit, andon provocation could become deeply incensed at others, as we haveseen; but so devoid of petty vanity was she that she could be almostequally angry at herself. She did not share her father's confidencethat Merwyn would relent under a few smiles, for she knew how deeplyshe had wounded and wronged him, and she believed that he possessed awill as steadfast as fate. The desire to test her father's theory,the hope to atone for her wrong judgment, grew so strong and absorbingas to make the awful fact of the riot secondary in her thoughts.
To get through the hours she felt that she must keep incessantlybusy. She first went to her own room, packed valuables and jewelsin a convenient form to carry if there should be cause for a hastyexit, then concealed them. Going to her mother's and father's room,she acted in view of the same possible necessity, all the whilecarrying on the distinct process of thought in regard to Merwyn,dwelling on their past relations, but above all questioning hiscourse when they should meet again.
Suddenly she reproached herself with forgetfulness of Mammy Borden.True, not much time had passed; but the poor creature, after whatshe had heard, should be reassured frequently. She went to the atticroom, but it was empty. On inspection it became evident that thecolored woman had made up her little bundle and departed. Callingas she went down through the house, Marian reached the basementand saw that its door had been unfastened.
"She has gone to join her son," said the girl, as she hastilyrebolted and barred the door. "Oh what awful imprudence! Perhapsshe also wished to relieve us of the danger of her presence. Well,I am now alone in very truth. I could now give Mr. Merwyn a verydifferent reception. He and papa will be here soon perhaps. Oh, Iwish I knew how to make coffee, but I can't even kindle a fire inthe range. I have proved myself to-day a fine subject for a soldier.My role is to listen, in elegant costume, to heroic deeds, andto become almost hysterical in the first hour of battle. O 'MissyS'wanee,' I make a sorry figure beside you, facing actual war andcheering on your friends!"
Thus she passed the time in varied and bitter soliloquy whileputting the kitchen and closets in order, and in awkward attemptsto remove the debris of the last fire from the range. The gas gavelight for her efforts, for the closed shutters darkened the apartment.
She was startled by a tap at the door.
"Well?" she faltered, after a moment's hesitation.
"'Gettysburg and Little Round Top,'" was the response.
"Mr. Vosburgh is out, and left word that you should linger neartill he returned and then come again."
"I cannot do that. It would not be safe for either him or me. Hedoes not realize. Can you be trusted?"
"I am his daughter."
"Say, then, terrible work up town. The orphan asylum sacked andburned. Many private residences also. The mob having its own way.A crowd is coming, and I must not be seen here. Will be back to-nightif possible;" and the unseen communicator of dismal intelligencewent westward with hasty steps.
Marian trembled as she heard the confused, noisy tread of many feet.Hastening to the second story, she peeped through the blinds, andshuddered as she saw a fragment of the mob which had been defeatedon Broadway, returning to their haunts on the west side. Baffledand infuriated, they made the street echo with their obscene wordsand curses. Her heart almost stood still as they approached herdoor, and with white, compressed lips she grasped her revolver;but the rioters passed on like a flock of unclean birds, and thestreet became quiet again.
She was now so anxious about her father that she maintained herposition of observation. The coming storm lowering in the westoppressed her with its terrible symbolism. Already the street wasdarkening, while from other parts of the city came strange sounds.
"Oh, if papa should never come back,--if the mob should have itsown way everywhere! To think of staying here alone to-night! WouldHE come again after my treatment this morning?"
She was aroused from her deep and painful revery by a knocking onthe basement door. Hastening down she was overjoyed to hear herfather's voice, and when he entered she clung to him, and kissed himwith such energy that his heavy beard came off, and his disguisingwig was all awry.
"O papa!" she cried, "I'm so glad you are back safe! A body ofrioters passed through the street, and the thought of your fallinginto such hands sickened me with fear;" and then she breathlesslytold him of all that had occurred, and of Mammy Borden's disappearance.
He reassured her gently, yet strongly, and her quick ear caughtthe ring of truth in his words.
"I, too, have much to tell you," he said, "and much to do; so wemust talk as we work. First help me to unpack and put away theseprovisions. This evening I must get a stout German woman that Iknow of to help you. You must not be left alone again, and I haveanother plan in mind for our safety. I think the worst is over, butit is best not to entertain a sense of false security for a momentin these times. The mob has been thoroughly whipped on Broadway.I'll tell you all about it after we have had a good cup of coffeeand a little supper. Now that there is a respite I find I'm almostfaint myself from reaction and fatigue."
"Have you seen--do you think Mr. Merwyn will be here again?"
"I've seen him, and so have others, to their sorrow. 'Coward,'indeed!" He threw back his head and laughed. "I only wish I had aregiment of such cowards, and I could abolish the mob in twenty-fourhours. But I'll tell you the whole story after supper is ready, andwill show how quickly a soldier can get up a meal in an emergency.You must go into training as a commissary at once."
Her father seemed so genuinely hopeful and elated that Marian caughthis spirit and gave every faculty to the task of aiding him. Nowthat he was with her, all fears and forebodings passed; the nearerroll of the thunder was unheeded except as it called out the remark,"It will be too bad if Mr. Merwyn is out in the storm."
Again her father laughed, as he said, "All the thunder gusts thathave raged over the city are nothing to the storm which Merwyn hasjust faced."
"O papa, you make me half wild with curiosity and impatience. MustI wait until the coffee boils?"
"No," was the still laughing reply. "What is more, you shall haveanother surprising experience; you shall eat your supper--for thefirst time, I imagine--in the kitchen. It will save time and trouble,and some of my agents may appear soon. Well, well, all has turnedout, so far, better than I ever hoped. I have been able to keeptrack of all the most important movements; I have seen a decisivebattle, and have sent intelligence of everything to Washington.A certain man there cannot say that I have failed in my duty,unexpected and terrible as has been the emergency. By morning themilitary from the forts in the harbor will be on hand. One or twomore such victories, and this dragon of a mob will expire."
"Papa, should not something be done to find and protect MammyBorden?"
"Yes, as soon as possible; but we must make sure that the city'ssafe, and our own lives secu
re before looking after one poor creature.She has undoubtedly gone to her son, as you suggest. After such ascare as she has had she will keep herself and him out of sight.They are both shrewd and intelligent for their race, and will, nodoubt, either hide or escape from the city together. Rest assuredshe went out heavily veiled and disguised. She would have saidgood-by had she not feared you would detain her, and, as you say,her motive was probably twofold. She saw how she endangered us,and, mother-like, she was determined to be with her son."
"Come, papa, the coffee's boiled, and supper, such as it is, is onthe table. Hungry as I am, I cannot eat till you have told me all."
"All about the fight?"
"Yes, and--and--Well, what part did Mr. Merwyn take in it?"
"Ah, now I am to recite MY epic. How all is changed since Blauveltkindled your eyes and flushed your cheeks with the narration ofheroic deeds! Then we heard of armies whose tread shook the continent,and whose guns have echoed around the world. Men, already historicfor all time, were the leaders, and your soldier friends were cladin a uniform which distinguished them as the nation's defenders.My humble hero had merely an ill-fitting policeman's coat buttonedover his soiled, ragged blouse. Truly it is fit that I should recitehis deeds in a kitchen and not in a library. When was the heroicpoliceman sung in homeric verse before? When--"
"O papa, papa! don't tantalize me. You cannot belittle this struggleor its consequences. Our enemies are at our very doors, and theyare not soldiers. I would rather face scalping Indians than thewretches that I saw an hour since. If Merwyn will do a man's partto quell this mob I shall feel honored by his friendship. But henever will forgive me, never, never."
"We'll see about that," was Mr. Vosburgh's smiling reply. Then hisface became grave, and he said: "You are right, Marian. The ruffianswho filled the streets to-day, and who even now are plundering andburning in different parts of the city, are not soldiers. They areas brutal as they are unscrupulous and merciless. I can only tellyou what has occurred in brief outline, for the moment I am a littlerested and have satisfied hunger I must be at work."
He then rapidly narrated how Merwyn had been brought in at policeheadquarters with one of the leaders of the riot whom he had beguiledand helped to capture. A graphic account of the battle followed,closing with the fact that he had left the "coward" marching upBroadway to engage in another fight.
The girl listened with pale cheeks and drooping head.
"He will never forgive me," she murmured; "I've wronged him toodeeply."
"Be ready to give him a generous cup of coffee and a good supper,"her father replied. "Men are animals, even when heroes, and Merwynwill be in a condition to bless the hand that feeds him to-night.Now I must carry out my plans with despatch. Oh, there is therain. Good. Torrents, thunder, and lightning will keep away moredangerous elements. Although I have but a slight acquaintancewith the Erkmanns, whose yard abuts upon ours, I hope, before theevening is over, to have a door cut in the fence between us, anda wire stretched from our rear windows to theirs. It will be forour mutual safety. If attacked we can escape through their houseor they through ours. I'll put on my rubber suit and shall not begone long now at any one time. You can admit Merwyn or any of myagents who give the password. Keep plenty of coffee and your owncourage at boiling-point. You will next hear from me at our backdoor."
In less than half an hour she again admitted her father, who said:"It's all arranged. I have removed a couple of boards so that theycan be replaced by any one who passes through the opening. I havesome fine wire which I will now stretch from my library to Mr.Erkmann's sleeping-apartment."
When he again entered the house two of his agents whom Marian hadadmitted were present, dripping wet, hungry, and weary. They hadcome under cover of the storm and darkness. While they gave theirreports Mr. Vosburgh made them take a hearty supper, and Marianwaited on them with a grace that doubled their incentive to servetheir chief. But more than once she sighed, "Merwyn does not come."
Then the thought flashed upon her: "Perhaps he cannot come. He maybe battered and dying in the muddy streets."
The possibility of this made her so ill and faint that she hastilyleft the apartment and went up to the darkened drawing-room, whereher father found her a moment later seeking to stifle her sobs.
"Why, Marian, darling, you who have kept up so bravely are notgoing to give way now."
"I'm not afraid for myself," she faltered, "but Mr. Merwyn does notcome. You said he was marching to another fight. He may be wounded;he may be--" her voice fell to a whisper--"he may be dead."
"No, Marian," replied her father, confidently, "that young fellowhas a future. He is one of those rare spirits which a period likethis develops, and he'll take no common part in it. He has probablygone to see if his own home is safe. Now trust God and be a soldier,as you promised."
"I couldn't bear to have anything happen to him and I have no chanceto make amends, to show I am not so weak and silly as I appearedthis morning."
"Then let him find you strong and self-controlled when he appears.Come down now, for I must question my agents while they are yet atsupper; then I must go out, and I'll leave them for your protectiontill I return."
He put his arm about her, and led her to the stairway, meanwhilethinking, "A spell is working now which she soon will have torecognize."
By the time his agents had finished their meal, Mr. Vosburgh hadcompleted his examination of them and made his notes. He then placeda box of cigars on the table, instructed them about admitting Merwynshould he come, and with his daughter went up to the library, wherehe wrote another long despatch.
"After sending this," he said, "and getting the woman I spoke of,I will not leave you again to-night, unless there should be veryurgent necessity. You can sit in the darkened front room, and watchtill either I or Merwyn returns."
This she did and listened breathlessly.
The rain continued to pour in torrents, and the lightning wasstill so vivid as to blind her eyes at times, while the crashes ofthunder often drowned the roar of the unquiet city; but undaunted,tearless, motionless, she watched the deserted street and listenedfor the footfall of one whom she had long despised, as she hadassured herself.
An hour passed. The storm was dying away, and still he did notcome. "Alas!" she sighed, "he is wounded; if not by the rabble,certainly by me. I know now what it has cost him to be thought acoward for months, and must admit that I don't understand him atall. How vividly come back the words he spoke last December, 'Whatis the storm, and what the danger, to that which I am facing?'What was he facing? What secret and terrible burden has he carriedpatiently through all my coldness and scorn? Oh, why was I such anidiot as to offend him mortally just as he was about to retrievehimself and render papa valuable assistance,--worse still, when hecame to my protection!"
The gloomy musings were interrupted by the sound of a carriagedriven rapidly up town in a neighboring street. It stopped at thecorner to the east, and a man alighted and came towards the Vosburghresidence. A moment later Marian whispered, excitedly, "It's Mr.Merwyn."
He approached slowly and she thought warily, and began mountingthe steps.
"Is it Mr. Merwyn?" she called.
"Yes."
"I will admit you at the basement door;" and she hastened down.She meant to give her hand, to speak in warm eulogy of his action,but his pale face and cold glance as he entered chilled her. Shefelt tongue-tied in the presence of the strangers who sat near thetable smoking.
Merwyn started slightly on seeing them, and then she explained,hastily, "These gentlemen are assisting my father in a way youunderstand."
He bowed to them, then sank into a chair, as if too weary to stand.
"Mr. Merwyn," she began, eagerly, "let me make you some fresh coffee.That on the range is warm, but it has stood some little time."
"Please do not take the slightest trouble," he said, decidedly."That now ready will answer. Indeed, I would prefer it to waiting.I regret exceedingly that Mr. Vosburgh is not at home, for
I amtoo exhausted to wait for him. Can I not help myself?" and he roseand approached the range.
"Not with my permission," she replied, with a smile, but he didnot observe it. She stole shy glances at him as she prepared thecoffee. Truly, as he sat, drooping in his chair, wet, ragged, andbegrimed, he presented anything but the aspect of a hero. Yet assuch he appeared in her eyes beyond all other men whom she had everseen.
She said, gently: "Let me put the coffee on the table, and get yousome supper. You must need it sorely."
"No, I thank you. I could not eat anything to-night;" and he roseand took the coffee from her hand, and drank it eagerly. He thensaid, "I will thank you for a little more."
With sorrow she noted that he did not meet her eyes or relax hisdistant manner.
"I wish you could wait until papa returns," she said, almostentreatingly, as she handed him a second cup.
"I hope Mr. Vosburgh will pardon my seeming lack of courtesy, andthat you will also, gentlemen. It has been a rather long, hard day,and I find that I have nearly reached the limit of my powers." Witha short, grim laugh, he added: "I certainly am not fit to remainin the presence of a lady. I suppose, Miss Vosburgh, I may reportwhat little I have to say in the presence of these gentlemen? Iwould write it out if I could, but I cannot to-night."
"I certainly think you may speak freely before these gentlemen,"was her reply.
"Mr. Vosburgh trusts us implicitly, and I think we are deservingof it," said one of the agents.
"Why need you go out again when you are so weary?" Marian asked."I am expecting papa every moment, and I know he would like you tostay with him."
"That would be impossible. Besides, I have some curiosity to learnwhether I have a home left. My report in brief amounts to littlemore than this. Soon after our return from the mayor's residence onBroadway we were ordered down to Printing-House Square. Intelligencethat an immense mob was attacking the Tribune Office had beenreceived. Our hasty march thither, and the free use of the club onour arrival, must account for my present plight. You see, gentlemen,that I am not a veteran, only a raw recruit. In a day or twoI shall be more seasoned to the work. You may say to your father,Miss Vosburgh, that the mob had been broken before we arrived. Wemet them on their retreat across City-Hall Park, and nothing wasleft for us but the heavy, stupid work of knocking a good many ofthe poor wretches on the head. Such fighting makes me sick; yet itis imperative, no doubt. Inspector Carpenter is at City Hall witha large force, and the rioters are thoroughly dispersed. I thinkthe lower part of the city will be quiet for the night."
"You were wise, Mr. Merwyn, to ride up town," said Marian, gravely."I know well that you have been taxed to-day beyond the strengthof any veteran."
"How did you know that I rode up town?"
"I was watching for papa, and saw you leave your carriage."
"I could never have reached home had I not secured a cab, and thatreminds me that it is waiting around the corner; at least, thedriver promised to wait. I shall now say good-night. Oh, by theway, in the press of other things I forgot to say that Mrs. Gheganreached her husband, and that her good nursing, with surgical help,will probably save his life."
Bowing to the agents, who had been listening and watching him withgreat curiosity, he turned to the door.
Marian opened it for him, and, stepping out into the dusky area,said, "I see that you do not forgive me."
"And I have seen, to-day, Miss Vosburgh, that you detest me. Youshowed the truth plainly when off your guard. Your own pride andsense of justice may lead you to seek to make amends for an errorin your estimate of me. Having convinced you that I am not a coward,I have accomplished all that I can hope for, and I'm in no mood forhollow courtesies. I shall do everything in my power to aid yourfather until the trouble is over or I am disabled, and then willannoy you no more. Good-night;" and he strode away, with a firm,rapid step, proving that his pride for a moment had mastered hisalmost mortal weariness.
Marian returned to her post in the second story to watch for herfather, her ears tingling, and every faculty confused, while excited,by the words Merwyn had spoken. He had revealed his attitude towardsher clearly, and, as she grew calmer, she saw it was not a merequestion of the offence she had given him that morning which she hadto face, but rather a deep-rooted conviction that he was personallydetested.
"If he knew how far this is from the truth NOW!" she thought, witha smile.
Then the query presented itself: "How far is it from the truth? Whyam I thinking more of him than of the riot, our danger, yes, evenmy father?"
In the light of that lurid day much had been revealed to her, andbefore her revery ceased she understood her long months of irritationand anger at Merwyn's course; she saw why she had not dismissed himfrom her thoughts with contemptuous indifference and why she hadingeniously wrought the MacIan theory of constitutional timidity.When had she given so much thought to a man whom she had disliked?Even in her disapproval of him, even when her soldier friendsappeared at their best and she was contrasting him with them to hisfatal disadvantage as she believed, thoughts of him would pursueher constantly. Now that he had shown himself the peer of each andall in manhood and courage, it seemed as if feelings, long heldin check, were released and were sweeping irresistibly towards oneconclusion. Merwyn was more to her than any other man in the world.He had fulfilled her ideal, and was all the more attractive becausehe was capable of such deep, strong passion, and yet could be soresolute and cool.
"But how can I ever undeceive him?" was her most perplexing thought."I cannot make advances. Well, well, the future must disentangleitself."
Now that she was beginning to understand herself, every instinctof her being led towards reserve. In a misunderstanding with hersoldier friends she could easily and frankly effect a reconciliation,but she must be dumb with Merwyn, and distant in manner, to thedegree that she was self-conscious.
Suddenly she became aware that it was growing late, and that herfather had not returned, and for the next hour she suffered terriblyfrom anxiety, as did many women in those days of strange vicissitudes.
At last, a little before midnight, he came, looking stern andanxious. "I will soon explain," he said to her. "Take this womanto her room." Then, to his aroused and sleepy agents: "You have hadsome rest and respite. Go to the nearest hotel and take a littlemore, but be up with the dawn and do your best, for to-morrowpromises to be worse than to-day."
With a few further instructions he dismissed them.
Upon reaching the library he said to his daughter: "I've been ata conference in which the police, military, and state authoritiestook part, and things look gloomy. I have also sent furtherdespatches. My dear child, I wish you were with your mother, butI'm too weary to think any more to-night."
"Papa, the question of my remaining has been settled. Now rest.Mr. Merwyn came and brought good news."
"Yes, I know all about it. Why did he not stay?"
"He naturally wished to return and look after his own home."
"True enough. I hope he found it unharmed. He has proved himself agrand, brave fellow to-day, and I only wish it was my privilege tofight at his side. It would be far easier than to carry my burden."
"Not another perplexing thought to-night, papa."
"Well, Marian, I must have some sleep, to be equal to to-morrow. Youmust obey orders and sleep also. I shall not take off my clothes,and shall be ready for any emergency; and do you also sleep in yourwrapper."
He kissed her fondly, but with heavy eyes.
CHAPTER XLVII.
A FAIR FRIEND AND FOUL FOES.
An Original Belle Page 48
