Carolina Lee

by Lilian Bell

  Produced by Al Haines.

  Cover]

  Carolina Lee]

  CAROLINA LEE

  By

  LILIAN BELL

  Author of "Hope Loring," "Abroad with the Jimmies," "At Home with the Jardines," etc.

  With a frontispiece in colour by

  DORA WHEELER KEITH

  NEW YORK A. WESSELS COMPANY 1907

  _Copyright, 1906_ BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY (INCORPORATED)

  _All rights reserved_

  I DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO MY FRIEND

  Ella Berry Rideing

  AS AN AFFECTIONATE RECOGNITION OF THE EVIDENCES OF HER BEAUTIFUL WORK AND LOVE FOR ME AND MINE

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER

  I. Captain Winchester Lee II. The First Grief III. The Danger of Wishing IV. The Turn of the Wheel V. Brother and Sister VI. The Stranger VII. Mortal Mind VIII. Man's Extremity IX. The Trial of Faith X. Cross Purposes XI. In Which Truth Holds Her Own XII. Whitehall XIII. Guildford XIV. Kinfolk XV. The Blind Baby XVI. A Letter from Carolina XVII. In the Barnwells' Carryall XVIII. A Letter from Kate XIX. The Fear XX. Moultrie XXI. The Light Breaks XXII. In The Voodoo's Cave XXIII. Loose Threads XXIV. The House-party Arrives XXV. Bob Fitzhugh

  CAROLINA LEE

  CHAPTER I.

  CAPTAIN WINCHESTER LEE

  Having been born in Paris, Carolina tried to make the best of it, butbeing a very ardent little American girl, she always felt that herforeign birth was something which must be lived down, so when peopleasked her where she was born, her reply was likely to be:

  "Well, I was born in Paris, but I am named for an American State!"

  Then if, in a bantering manner, her interlocutor said:

  "Then, are you a Southerner, Carolina?" the child always replied:

  "My father says we are Americans first and Southerners second!"

  Colonel Yancey, himself from Savannah, upon hearing Carolina make thisreply commented upon it with unusual breadth of mind for a Southern man,with:

  "I wish more of my people felt as you do, little missy. Most of mykinfolk call themselves Southerners first and Americans second and areprouder of their State than of their country."

  "I don't see how they can be," said the child with a puzzled frownbetween her great blue eyes. "It would be just as if I liked one handbetter than my whole body!"

  Whereat the colonel slapped his leg and roared in huge enjoyment, andwent to Henry's to drink Carolina's health and to tell the Americansassembled there that he knew a little American girl that would be heardfrom some day.

  All this took place in Paris, when General Ravenel Lee, Carolina'sgrandfather, was ambassador to France, and when her father, CaptainWinchester Lee, was his first secretary.

  Many brilliant personages surrounded the child and influenced her moreor less, according to the fancy she took to them, for she was a magneticpersonality herself, and accepted or rejected an influence according tosome unknown inner guide.

  Her mother was a woman of refinement and breeding, and to her the childowed much of her good taste and charmingly modest demeanour. But it washer father who captured her imagination.

  One of her earliest recollections was of her father's voice and mannerwhen she looked up from her novel and asked him why he did not spell hisname Leigh as men in books spelled theirs.

  She had not known her father very well, so she was totally unpreparedfor his reply. Although she had been but a little child, she could seehis face and hear his voice as distinctly to-day as she did when hewhirled around on the hearth-rug and looked down at her as she sat on alow stool with a book on her knees.

  "Spell my name Leigh?" he had said, in a tone she never had heard himuse before. "Child, you little know what blood flows in your veins, oryou would thank God every night in your prayers that you inherit thename of Lee, spelled in its simplest way. Honest men, Carolina, purewomen, heroes in every sense of the word; statesmen, warriors, brave,with the bravery which risks more than life itself, are your ancestors.They date back to the Crusaders, and down the long line are men of titlein the old world, distinguished in ways you are too young to understand.Books, did you say? Your name appears in many a book, child, whichrecords heroic deeds. On both your dear Northern mother's side andmine, you come of blood which is your proudest heritage. Were you poorand forced to earn your daily bread, you would still be rich in thatwhich the world can never take away--good blood and a proud name. Andremember this, too, little daughter, although your life has been spentin foreign lands, I loved America so well that I gave you the name of mynative State, and my dearest wish is to restore Guildford and to passthe remainder of my life there."

  It was a long, long speech for a little girl to remember, but it burneditself into her memory and kindled her pride to such a degree that shecould hardly wait to tell some one of her newly discovered treasure.

  Fortunately her first auditor happened to be her governess, andfortunately, also, her father chanced to overhear her as she translatedhis remarks into shrill French. He immediately stopped her, and thesewords also were seared into her memory through poignant mortification.

  "I was wrong to tell you that, little daughter. I see that you are tooyoung to have understood it properly. I can only undo the mischief byreminding you never to boast of your old family to any one. If weSoutherners have one fault more than another, it is our tendency tomention the antiquity of our families--as if that counted where breedingwere absent. You will observe that your dear mother never mentionshers, though she is a De Clifford. Let others boast if they will.Speak you of their family and name and be silent concerning your own.It is sufficient to feed your pride in secret by the inward knowledge ofwho you are. Will you try to remember that, little daughter, and forgiveme for putting notions into that head of yours?"

  She flew into his arms, and in that moment was born the passionate loveand understanding which ever afterward existed between them.

  "Oh, father!" she cried. "Don't be sorry you told me! I am not tooyoung. I will show you that I am not. I will never speak of it again,and only in my heart I will always be proud that I am Carolina Lee!"

  In after years, Carolina dated her life--her most poignant happiness andher dearest anguish--from the moment when her father thus opened hisheart to her and she found how intensely they were akin. He became heridol, and she worshipped him not only with the abandonment of youth, butwith all the passion of her tempestuous nature. She set herself to beworthy of his love and companionship with such ardour that sheunwittingly broke the first commandment every day of her life.

  Her father realized it, perhaps because of his answering passion, for heoften sighed as he looked at her. He knew, as did no one else, what aninheritance was hers. He felt in his own bosom all the ardour andpassion and furious love of home which as yet his child only suspectedin herself. As long as he could remain at her side he felt that he couldcontrol it in both, but his heart sometimes stood still at the thoughtof what could happen were Carolina left defenceless. How could thechild battle with her own nature? He shook his head with his fine smileas he realized how more than compete
nt she was to fight her own battleswith an alien.

  They saw a good deal of Colonel Yancey in those days. He had somebusiness with the French government which kept him abroad or going backand forth, and because of his companionable qualities, his sympathy aswell as his brilliance, Captain Lee discussed his most intimate planswith him.

  Carolina always made it a point to be present when her father andColonel Yancey smoked their cigars in the library after dinner, forthere it was that conversations took place concerning the South andGuildford, of so breathless an interest that not one word would shewillingly have missed.

  She had a confused feeling concerning Colonel Yancey which she was tooyoung to analyze. He was only a little past forty, and had won histitle of colonel in the Spanish war. She knew that her father, likemost Southern men, trusted Colonel Yancey, simply because he also was aSouthern man, when he would have been cautious with a Northerner. Hespoke freely of the most intimate plans and dearest hopes of his life,with all the hearty, generous, open freedom of a great nature. Yet thewatchful child saw something in Colonel Yancey's eyes, especially whenher father spoke of Guildford, and his passionate hope of the part itwould play in Carolina's future, which reminded the little girl of thelook in the gray cat's eyes when she pretended to fall asleep by thehole of a mouse.

  This feeling was too intangible for her to realize at first, but asyears passed by, and Colonel Yancey's business brought him to Parisevery season while General Lee was ambassador, and when her father wastransferred to the Court of St. James, even oftener, she grew betterable to understand her childish fears.

  One day in London, when Carolina was about fifteen, Colonel Yancey madehis appearance, dressed in deep mourning. Carolina did not hear theexplanation made of his loss, but she resented vaguely yet consciouslythe glances he cast at her during dinner, and when her father whisperedto her that the colonel had lost his wife and no questions were to beasked, her lip curled and her delicate nostrils dilated. She listenedwith more than her usual attention to the conversation which followed,and in after years it often came to her mind, and never without givingher some help.

  Colonel Yancey opened the conversation with an inexplicable remark.

  "When I hear you talk, captain, I always feel sorry for you."

  Carolina lifted her head with instant hauteur, but her father onlysmiled and knocked the ashes from his cigar.

  "Yes, an enthusiast of my type is always to be pitied," he said, gently.

  "Not entirely that," responded Colonel Yancey. "In some strongcharacters, their enthusiasms only indicate their weak points, but it isnot so in your case. It is rather that you have idealized yourhomesickness."

  "I am homesick," said Captain Lee, "for what I never had."

  "Exactly. Now you left Guildford when you were a mere lad, so it islargely your father's opinion of the South--your father's love for theold place that you have inherited and made your own, just as, in MissCarolina's case, it is wholly vicarious. Have you any idea of thedeterioration your own little town of Enterprise has suffered?"

  "I suppose you are right," said Captain Lee.

  "I hope, then," said Colonel Yancey, slowly, "that you will never goback South to live, especially to Enterprise."

  Carolina's sensitive face flushed, but she was too well bred tointerrupt.

  "You mean," said Captain Lee, with a keen glance at his friend, "that Iwould find the South a disappointment?"

  "It would break your heart! It hurts me, tough as I am and little as Icare compared to an enthusiast like yourself. It would wound you,but"--and here he turned his magnetic glance on the young girl--"for anidealist like missy here, it would be death itself!"

  Captain Lee reached out and laid his hand, on his daughter's head.

  "I am afraid so! I am afraid so!" he said, with a sigh.

  "You understand me?" questioned Colonel Yancey. It was a pleasure,which Colonel Yancey seldom experienced, to converse with socomprehending a man as Captain Lee. He was accustomed to dazzlingpeople by his own brilliancy, but he seldom dived into the depths of hispenetrating mind for the edification of men, simply for the reason thatthe ordinary run of men seldom care to be edified. But in diplomaticcircles, Colonel Yancey was a welcome guest. He possessed an instinctso keen that it amounted almost to intuition in his understanding ofmen, a business ability amounting almost to genius, and a philosophicturn of mind which permitted him to apply his knowledge with almostunerring judgment. As a promoter, he had served governments with markedability, and had the reputation of having amassed fortunes for those ofhis friends who had followed his lead and advice.

  All this Carolina knew and yet--

  However, she had the good taste to listen further, without attempting todraw a hasty conclusion.

  "The South," said Colonel Yancey, with a sigh of regret, "is like abeautiful woman asleep--no, not asleep, but standing in the glorioussunlight of God, with her eyes deliberately shut. Shut to opportunity!Shut to advancement! Shut to progress! Her ears are closed also.Closed to advice! Closed to warning! Closed to truth! Her mind islocked. Locked against common sense! Locked against the bitter lessontaught by a jolly good licking. And the key which thus locks her mindis a key which no one but God Almighty could turn, and that isprejudice! Blind, bitter, unreasoning, stupid prejudice! That is whyher case is hopeless! That is why fifty or a hundred years from now theSouth will still be ignorant, stagnant, and indigent!"

  "But why? Why?" cried Carolina, carried quite out of herself by herexcitement.

  "I beg your pardon!" she added, flushing.

  Colonel Yancey whirled upon her, delighted to have moved her so that shespoke without thinking.

  "Why? My dear young lady--why? Because she spends half her days andall her evenings fighting over the lost battles of the Lost Cause.Because she still glories in her mistakes of judgment! Because, almostto a man, the South to-day believes in the days of '61!"

  "Do they still talk about it?" asked Captain Lee.

  "Talk about it?" cried Colonel Yancey. "Talk about it? They talk oflittle else! They dream about it! They absorb it in the food they eatand the air they breathe! Every anniversary which gives them the ghostof an excuse they get up on platforms and spout glorious nonsense, whichis so out-of-date--so prehistoric that it would be laughable, if it werenot pitiable--as pitiable as a beautiful woman would be who paradedherself on Fifth Avenue in hoop-skirts and a cashmere shawl. You losesight of even great beauty if it is clad in garments so old-fashionedthat they are ludicrous."

  As Colonel Yancey paused, Captain Lee said, with a quiet smile:

  "And yet, Wayne, haven't I heard you breathe fire and brimstone againstthe 'damned Yankees,' and when they come South to invest their capital,don't you feel that they are legitimate prey?"

  Colonel Yancey rose to his feet and strode around the room for a fewmoments before replying.

  "Well, Savannah has had her fill of them, I think. Perhaps I doconsider the most of them damned Yankees, but believe me, captain, inthe first place, we Southerners fully believe that they deserve thattitle, and in the second place, we don't want them! No, nor their moneyeither! Let them stay where they are wanted!"

  "Ah-h!" breathed Winchester Lee. "Who now has been talking beautifulnonsense which he didn't in the least subscribe to?"

  "There! There!" said Colonel Yancey. "It is a temptation to me tofollow the dictates of my brain, but my heart, Winchester, is asunreconstructed as ever! After all, I am no better than the rest ofthem!"

  "But why do they--do you all feel that way?" asked Captain Lee. "Iassure you from my soul that I do not."

  "I know you don't. But you have had strong meat to feed your brain uponduring all these years. The rest of us have had nothing to feed ourintelligence upon except the daily papers--and you know what they are.Our intellects are ingrowing, and have been for years.

  "It is difficult for you to believe this, captain, and almost impossiblefor missy. But let me explain a bit furth
er. For nearly forty yearsthe South has been poor, with a poverty you cannot understand, nor evenimagine. There has been no money to buy books--scarcely enough to buyfood and clothes. The libraries are wholly inadequate. Consequentlycurrent fiction--that ephemeral mass of part-rubbish, part-trash, whichmany of us despise, but which, nevertheless, mirrors, with more or lessfidelity, modern times, its business, politics, fashions, and trend ofthought--is wholly unknown to the great mass of Southern people. The fewwho can afford it keep up, in a desultory sort of way, with the names ofmodern novelists and a book or two of each. But compared to theomnivorous reading of the Northern public, the South reads nothing.Therefore, in most private libraries to-day, you find the novels whichwere current before the war.

  "Now take forty years out of a people's mind, and what do you find? Youfind a mental energy which must be utilized in some manner. Therefore,after a cursory knowledge of whatever of the classics their grandfathershad collected, and which the fortunes of war spared, you find acommunity, like the Indians, forced to confine themselves to narrativeshanded down from mouth to mouth. It creates an appalling lack in theirmental pabulum."

  "Are they conscious of this?" asked Captain Lee. He had been followingColonel Yancey with the closeness of a man accustomed to learn of allwho spoke. Carolina had hardly breathed.

  "In a way--yes! In a manner--no! The comparative few who are able totravel see it when they return, but years of parental training have breda blind loyalty to the mistakes of the South which paralyzes all outsideknowledge. Even those who see, dare not express it. They know theywould simply brand themselves as traitors."

  Carolina opened her lips to speak, then closed them again. She had beentrained as a child to have her opinions asked for before she venturedthem. Her father, who always saw her with his inner eye, whether he waslooking at her or not, said:

  "You were going to say something, little daughter?"

  "I was only going to ask Colonel Yancey if they would not welcomesuggestions from one of themselves?"

  "Welcome suggestions, missy? They would welcome them with a shotgun!Take myself, for instance. I have travelled. I am supposed to havelearned something. I and my family have been Georgians ever sinceGeorgia was a State. Yet when I notice things which my fellow citizenshave become accustomed to, and suggest remedying them, what do I get?Abuse from the press! Abuse from the pulpit! Abuse from friends andenemies alike!"

  "What did you say, colonel?" asked Captain Lee, smiling.

  "Why, I noticed the shabbiness of my little city--and a well-to-dolittle city she is. Yet half the residences in town need paint.Southern people let their property run down so, not from poverty, butfrom shiftlessness. _You_ know, captain! It is the Spanish word'_manana_' with them. The slats of a front blind break off. They stayoff! Paint peels off the brickwork. It hangs there. A window-panecracks. They paste paper over it. A board rots in the front porch.They leave it, or if they replace it, they don't paint it, and the newboard hits you in the eye every time you look at it. They decide to puton an electric door-bell. In taking the old one off they leave the holeand never think of the wildness of painting the door over! They justleave the hall-mark of untidiness, of shiftlessness, over everythingthey own. And if you tell them of it? Well!"

  "I see," said Captain Lee. "I have often wondered why Northernersalways spoke of the South as such a shabby place. They must have meantwhat you have just described--a lack of attention to detail."

  "You have noticed it yourself?" asked Colonel Yancey, eagerly.

  "You must remember that I have not been south of Washington for thirtyyears."

  "Ah, yes, I remember. You had the luck to be in the Civil War."

  "I was in it only the last two years before the surrender. I enlistedwhen I was fourteen, was a captain at sixteen, and was wounded in mylast engagement."

  "And you've never been back since?"

  "Never!"

  Colonel Yancey leaned back and sighed.

  "Never go, then!" he said. "Take my advice and never go. Remember yourbeautiful unspoiled South as you see her in your dreams!"

  "The South is like a petted woman who openly declares that she wouldrather be lied to agreeably than be told the truth to, objectionably,"said Captain Lee, with a regretful smile. Then he added, with amischievous glance at Carolina, "Do the ladies still--er--gossip,Colonel Yancey?"

  The colonel simply flung up his hands.

  "Gossip? My God!"

  It was Carolina who rebuked him. Her voice was grave, but her eyesflashed fire.

  "Do Southern ladies gossip more than Parisian or London ladies?"

  "Fairly hit, colonel!" said Captain Lee. "To answer that truthfully,you must admit that they do not, for nothing can equal the malice ofParis and London drawing-rooms."

  "Quite right, captain. No, missy," he answered, "it is only because weexpect so much more of Southern ladies that their gossip sounds moremalicious by way of contrast."

  Carolina smiled, well pleased by the brilliant tact with which he alwaysextricated himself from a dilemma.

  When Colonel Yancey had gone, Captain Lee put one arm around Carolina'sshoulder, and with the other hand tilted the girl's flowerlike face upto his, with a remark which, if he had made it to his son, would havechanged the whole current of the girl's life. He said:

  "Ah, little daughter, the colonel is like all the rest of theSoutherners. He can see the truth and can spout gloriously about her,but in a money transaction between himself and a Northern man, he wouldforget it all, and would consider it no more than honest to 'skin thedamned Yankee,' to quote his own language."

  And with that the subject was dropped.

  The Lee household at that time consisted of Captain and Mrs. Lee, thetwo children, Sherman and Carolina, and the widow of a cousin of CaptainLee, Rhett Winchester, whom they called Cousin Lois.

  Mrs. Winchester had abundant means of her own, which were all in thehands of the Lee family agents, and she was distinguished by heridolatry of Carolina. No temptation of travel, no wooing of elderlyfortune hunters, had power to move her. All the love which in her earlylife had been given to her husband, relations, and friends, she nowpoured out on the child of her husband's cousin. She had been deniedchildren of her own, which, perhaps, was just as well, as she would haveruined them with indulgence. Mrs. Winchester was a born aunt orgrandmother. She took up the spoiling just where a mother's firmnessceased.

  She cared very little for Sherman, who was three years older thanCarolina, and who resembled his Northern mother as closely as Carolinamodelled herself upon her father, except that Sherman was weak, whereasMrs. Lee, as a De Clifford of England, inherited great strength ofcharacter as well as a calm judgment and a governable quality, whichmade her an admirable helpmeet for the fiery, if controlled, nature ofher Southern husband.

  Never was there a happiness so complete as Carolina's seemed to be. Shegrew from a beautiful child into a still more beautiful young girl. Sheabsorbed her education without effort, learning languages from muchtravel and from hearing them constantly spoken, and breathing in thetruest culture from her daily surroundings. How could an intelligentgirl be ignorant of art and science and literature and diplomacy whenshe heard them discussed by some of the greatest minds of the day ascommonly as most children hear continual conversations about theshortcomings of the servants? She did not realize that she was unusuallyequipped because it had been absorbed as unconsciously as the air shebreathed, but other American girls who came into contact with her feltand resented it or admired it, according to their calibre.

  In religion Carolina was outwardly orthodox and conventional, but manywere the discussions she and her father held on the subject, in strictprivacy, and many were the questions she put to him which he could notanswer. He often ended these interrogations by gathering her up in hisarms and saying: "My little girl will need a new religion, madeespecially for her, if she continues to trouble her head about thingswhich no man knoweth!"
<
br />   "But why don't they know, dearest? And why does the Bible contradictitself so? And how can God be a 'father' if he sends pain and sicknessand death? Is He any worse than a real father would be? And why doesHe not answer prayers when He promises to? And when did the healingJesus taught His disciples disappear? Did He only let them possess thepower for a few years? Why are we commanded to be 'perfect' when Godknows we can't be? And how can you believe in a God who punishes youand sends all manner of evil on you while calling Himself a God ofLove?"

  "Carolina! Carolina! You make my head swim with your heresies! Idon't know, child! I don't know the answer to a single one of yourquestions. Such things do not trouble me. I believe in God, and thatsatisfies me."

  "No, it doesn't, daddy!" cried the girl, astutely, "but you try to makeyourself believe that it does."

  "Then try to make yourself believe it, dear. It has done me very wellfor nearly forty years."

  And as usual, such footless discussion ended in nothingness and a burstof human love which effectually put out of mind all gropings afterDivine Love!