Joscelyn Cheshire: A Story of Revolutionary Days in the Carolinas

by Sara Beaumont Kennedy

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  HOMECOMINGS.

  "The bugles sound the swift recall; Cling, clang! backward all! Home, and good night!" --E. C. STEDMAN.

  The war was over; the drums lay unbeaten, the snarling trumpets sangtheir songs no more upon the level plains or sloping sides of far bluehills; liberty had triumphed, and the scarlet insignia of kingly rulehad gone from the land forever. But peace did not bring the desiredorder of things. The unstable government of an untrained congress couldnot control the spirit of maraud and chaos that had so long dominatedcertain classes of people. Eight years of warfare had left its scar onthe whole country, but particularly in those portions where the fightinghad fallen. The sanguine among the triumphant contestants had looked foran immediate rehabilitation of affairs, thinking that the taps of warwould be the reveille of commerce and order and prosperity. But as yetAmericans were better soldiers than statesmen. They had to learn togovern themselves, learn to wield the mighty power they had won; and atfirst knowledge was slow in coming. Private wrongs were remembered,individual grievances were recalled. The spirit that refrained fromshouting over a fallen foe at Yorktown manifested itself at home in manypetty ways against the defeated Tories, so that among these latter was afeeling of unprotected helplessness that made them sullen and restive.

  "Joscelyn," Mary Singleton said, coming in one day when the winter wasat its fiercest, "father says he is going to Canada to stay until thingsget settled. We cannot stir from our gate without receiving somerudeness, and our property is threatened with confiscation, piece bypiece, on the ground that we used it to aid the king's cause. Will youcome with us? We would love to have you."

  "No, for my mother would not think of such a thing; and where she is,there will I stay."

  "Well, you had no man in the war; but against us the enmity is strong,because Eustace actually bore arms in the king's service."

  "Will Eustace go with you?"

  "No; he writes that as soon as he gets his discharge, he means to returnhere and accept whatever fate comes to him."

  "I am glad. That is the right way to take his defeat. Your father is oldand worn with annoyance, but Eustace is young enough to meet thestruggle and win his way. Trust me; all will be well with him in theend," and Joscelyn's eyes were on Betty's window over the way.

  "Edward Moore joins us in New York," Mary said, with a blush.

  "And I shall not be there to play the part of bridesmaid! Well, I shallcontent myself with putting a handful of rice and an old shoe into yourtrunk."

  After the Singletons were gone, Joscelyn was very lonely, for the onlyhouse at which a welcome always met her was Mistress Strudwick's.

  "You may say what you please, Amanda Bryce, but that girl comes herewhen she likes, and stays as long as she pleases; and if there isanybody I'm gladder to see, I do not know who it is," said the stanchold lady.

  Soundly she lectured Joscelyn at times, but the fault-finding alwaysbegan and ended with a caress, so there was no sting in it. Here thegirl sometimes met Betty; and the older woman, seeing the desire oftheir hearts shining in their faces, encouraged them to be friends.Here, too, Janet Cameron often came, and after the visit walked homeopenly with her arm in Joscelyn's, making merry little mouths atMistress Bryce as they passed her door. These visits and walks wereJoscelyn's chief pleasure, and she stood sorely in need of recreation,for of late she was thinner and more irritable than her mother had everseen her.

  "You need a course of bitters," Mistress Strudwick said, opening hermedicine-box one day.

  "I have been taking such a course for eight years."

  "Yes, Amanda Bryce's tongue drips not with honey! But I shall talk withyour mother, and between us we will take you in hand and get the edgeoff your nerves." So Joscelyn dutifully yielded herself to her twophysicians, who took much delight in the teas and tonics they brewed forher.

  During all these autumn and winter weeks, Richard Clevering had lain inthe field hospital at Yorktown, racked with pain and fever from thewound he got when--singing a song of the Carolina hills--his regimentstormed that gun-girt bastion on the British left, and the colonies werefree!

  Things would have gone better with him had he been content to lie stilland let the bones knit; but he could not stay away from that last sceneof the surrender, which made all the privations of the past worth while.To miss that was to miss the joy of life, the glory of the fight, thecrown of the conqueror; and so he had pretended to be much stronger thanhe was, and had gone to stand in his place when the British, with silentdrums and cased banners, marched from their surrendered fortifications,and stacked arms between the martial lines of French and Continentals.The sight compensated him for the pain the exertion entailed, so that henever complained when, afterwards, the surgeon shook his head gravelyover the fever that flushed his veins. He had had his heart's desire; hewould bear its results.

  But in the early part of January, seeing a tedious recovery still aheadof him, and the hospital facilities being so limited, he asked to besent home to be cared for by his own people. There would be no morefighting, and his stay was an unnecessary burden upon the armyofficials, whose hands were full trying to keep down the spirit ofinsurrection that was fermenting the camp over the delay in thesoldiers' pay. To relieve the strain upon the moneyless army coffers,many of the men who had been invalided were allowed to return to theirhomes. Thus it was, that Joscelyn, unconscious of the extent of the hurtthat had come to him--for he had written no particulars home--and alsoof his dismissal, answered a knock at her door one bleak January day,and gave a great cry at sight of the weary man leaning against theveranda railing, with an empty sleeve pinned helplessly to the bandagedarm beneath.

  "Richard Clevering!"

  "Ay, Richard come back with a crushed arm, but a sound heart to claimyou, unworthy though he now knows himself to be of such a prize,Joscelyn, Cornwallis has struck his martial colours, will you surrenderto me for love's dear sake?"

  He had come into the hall and closed the swaying door against the wind,while she retreated backward until she stood close to the wall, herhands behind her.

  "I owe you life and all the gratitude that means, but it is out of mylove for you, which has grown with every hour of my absence, that I askthis--will you come to me, Joscelyn?"

  She did not speak, but slowly she shook her head, her eyes meeting hiswith a curious compassion. For one long minute he looked at her,searchingly, yearningly; then his outstretched arm fell to his side.

  "Then is the war not over for me," he said sadly.

  He went with her into the sitting-room, and, with the luxurioushearth-glow brightening his face and taking that deathly pallor out ofit, the while her magnetic presence kindled a tempestuous fire in hisveins, he told her the story of that final surrender and of his hurt,softening the former narrative as best he might, remembering how she hadwished it otherwise. Then with a half-whimsical, half-pathetic touchupon his bandaged arm, he said:--

  "The surgeon said that with time and care this would heal, but theaccident has left me but one hand wherewith to begin that other campaignwhich means so much to me,--for if I win you not, I might as well haveperished at the hands of the Redcoats."

  As she listened, while the afternoon wore away, she was conscious ofsome change in him. Not that his tone showed less of resolution toachieve his purpose; it was rather an absence of the over-weeningself-confidence which had so offended her in the past. Five years ofwarfare and baffled wooing had taught him something of self-distrust,something of humility which became him well. The empty sleeve and theemaciated, listless figure touched her with a quick pity, in suchviolent contrast were they to his former robust activity and superbproportions, so that she sighed and turned her face aside.

  And he, on his part, was studying her, finding again, with a thrill ofjoy, the same saucy curves about her lips, the same glinting blue lightsin her eyes that had held his heart captive in the past; and noting,too, the touch of womanly dignity w
hich had in some wise supplanted theimpetuosity of the old days. The girl of eighteen had become a woman oftwenty-three since that day she had laughed down upon the Continentalsmarching away to Valley Forge. But there was not an attraction lost;rather was every charm ripened and perfected by the hallowing touches ofgrowth and development. If he had loved her in the past, a thousandtimes more did he love her now in her splendid womanhood. Had she caredfor Barry? Always the question was a stab; and with it now there camethe first quick doubt of the final healing of his arm. Could she everlove him if he should be maimed like this forever?

  Looking up suddenly, she found his eyes upon her face in such a wistfulgaze that she flushed involuntarily, and a painful silence fell betweenthem. Intuitively she felt that this was not the same Richard who hadgone away, this earnest, tender man with not a trace of arrogance in hismanner. Had he always been like this, they need not have quarrelled. Shehad been willing to overlook much had he only left her a right to herown opinions, and treated the views her father had taught her withrespect.

  "Do you know," she said, breaking the pause with a little nervous laugh,"that if you are to preserve the good will of your neighbours, you muststay away from me?"

  "Then do I this minute forswear their friendship, for to stay from youwould be to remain outside of Paradise. Only tell me one thing,--you didnot hate me for the news I wrote you of Barry?"

  "Nay, it was the one of your letters I felt drawn to answer."

  He took her unresisting hand and kissed it softly. "If you loved him, Iwould I had died in his place."

  And then again that silence fell between them, while at his heart wasbiting that most helpless of all jealousy--the jealousy of the dead.Against a living rival one may contend with hope; but when that on whichthe heart is set has come to be but a memory, incapable of blunder orcruelty, the contest becomes useless, or pitifully unequal. YearninglyRichard's eyes studied the face before him, and yet he would not ask herthe question that burned in his heart. Some day she would tell him thetruth of her own accord; until then he must wait and suffer.

  His return, she foresaw, was to be to her at once a relief and anembarrassment, for she would not consent to his making public her sharein his escape of the winter, lest it look like a plea on her part for acessation of hostilities.

  "I have held my own against them all these years; I will not ask for anyterms, now that the end has come, and my side has gone down in defeat,"she said.

  "But, Joscelyn, think how they would adore you for such a service totheir country! My information was most useful to General Greene."

  "I did it not for sake of their country."

  "Well, then, for sake of their countryman. They love me, if you do not."He leaned toward her laughing, yet pleading; and she noted how honestand pleasant were his eyes. But she held to her point against all of hisarguments; and so he was feign to yield except in regard to his mother;there he was firm.

  "I never dreamed but that she knew, for the quick movements of the lastcampaign left no time for letters to reach me from home. Had I notthought you would tell her as soon as the British were well out of town,I should have asked a furlough, and come home to set you right. To thinkwhat you have suffered for saving my poor life!"

  And so it was that half an hour later Mistress Clevering came hastilyin without the ceremony of knocking, and taking Joscelyn in herarms,--to Mistress Cheshire's amazement,--said many grateful andaffectionate things.

  "When I think of what you have done for us, I am bowed down withhumiliation for the cruelty with which I have requited you. Oh, my dear,my dear! had you only told me and your mother at the time, things wouldhave been very different."

  "Yes," answered the girl, demurely, "so different that MasterClevering's life would have paid the penalty of his daring. Nay, it wasa game at which only one could play with safety. You could have donenaught but share my anxiety, and that were no help."

  "And to think how I have scolded and blamed you for the quarrel betweenme and Ann," said her mother, tearfully; but Joscelyn's tender answercomforted her.

  "And here comes Betty to make her peace with you, too," Aunt Cleveringsaid, as the breathless girl entered.

  "Oh, Betty and I have been friends these many weeks, as dear MistressStrudwick can testify," Joscelyn said, putting her arm affectionatelyaround Betty, who with a grateful cry had sprung to her side. And fromthe doorway, Richard thought he had never seen a more beautiful picture.

  Thus was the breach that had yawned between the two families healed; andthe sorest ache in Joscelyn's heart was cured as she witnessed thehappiness of her mother who, with a firmness scarcely to be expected,had given up her old friend and held stanchly to her daughter, althoughshe held that daughter to blame. It was touching to see her childishdelight in the renewal of the old relations. A dozen times a day she wasin and out of the two houses, for Richard's wound afforded her manypretexts for kindly ministrations. He never left his bed except to lieon the sofa by the window, for his strength seemed suddenly to havefailed him after the sustained effort he had made to reach home. Oftenhe wished Joscelyn would come in her mother's stead; but for her ownreasons the girl kept her distance, so that sometimes he did not see herfor days together. And every day that she stayed away the jealous painbit deeper into his heart.

  But one day she came of her own accord. There had been a knock and thesound of a man's voice at the door, followed by the maid making someexcuse for Mistress Clevering; and presently, when all had grown silent,Betty came through the sitting-room with a face so white that Richardcalled out from where he lay to know what was the matter. But she didnot stop to answer, and so he waited in a troubled doubt while the clockticked off a slow twenty minutes. Then the door opened, and Joscelyncame straight up to his couch, a strange light of pleading in her eyes.

  "Richard," she said, and his face brightened, for she had taken tocalling him Master Clevering with a formality he hated. "Richard, if aman be true and honest and loves a woman, should he not have the chanceto tell her so and win her?"

  "Most assuredly."

  "And old feuds and differences of a former generation, with which he hadnothing to do, should have no weight to hold him back?"

  "Why--what mean you?"

  "This; that even as you love me," and a brilliant colour dyed her cheeksat mention of it, "so does Eustace Singleton love Betty."

  "I had half guessed as much--and I am sorry."

  "And Betty loves him. Nay, lie still and look not so angrily at me.There is no one to blame; a woman's heart, like a man's, asks nopermission in the giving of itself."

  "But Betty knew--"

  "Yes, she knew all the opposition in store for her, and she made her ownfight; but love takes no dictation."

  "Right well do I know that."

  "Then you have no room for a quarrel with her; rather should yoursympathy be on her side. All her happiness is set on Eustace; he is hertrue lover, has been for years,--and I have resolved so to aid her, thatyou and Aunt Clevering shall not break her heart by a cruel and uselessseparation." She stepped back and threw up her head; just so had shelooked a year ago, when she bade defiance to the short colonel while hehimself crouched in her shadowy garret. For a moment they gazed at eachother steadily, then she was again beside him, her eyes luminous with agentle entreaty:--

  "Richard, if--if I loved you with all my soul, would you let my mother'sdislike, if she did dislike you, stand between us?"

  "My God, no!"

  "Eustace is a man like you--and Betty loves him like that."

  He saw the drift of her meaning but he did not answer, and thus foranother minute they looked into each other's eyes unwaveringly; then hisgaze fell, and with a sudden delicious softening of manner, she stoopedand took his hand.

  "Richard, Eustace is yonder in my parlour,--come back like a brave manto begin life all over, and suffer anything to be near Betty. He hasbeen denied entrance at your door. Bid me bring him here to you. Ifnot--then will I take Betty to him, even though I should
thus lose yoursand Aunt Clevering's friendship forever."

  "You make hard terms."

  "I am dealing with a hard man."

  "Think you so, sweetheart? Methought I had ever been gentle to you.Betty's happiness is very dear to me--" he broke off, sighing. She stillheld his hand, or rather he held hers, for his was the stronger grasp.Suddenly, with that same enchanting gentleness, she bent close to him,and laid her cheek against his tingling fingers:--

  "Thank you, Richard, for yielding; I knew when once you understood, youcould not be so cruel as to refuse. I will bring Eustace at once."

  "But, Joscelyn, I did not say--"

  "Oh, but you looked your consent--and I never saw your eyes sobeautiful, such a tender gray." He flushed with pleasure, still,however, protesting; but she was already at the door, whence she lookedback at him with a roguish smile, "I shall give you half an hour to makeAunt Clevering see things as we do. At the end of that time I will behere with Eustace; and if you wish to go on being friends with me, besure to have on your very best manners and--and that beautiful light inyour eyes."

  She kept her word; no one ever knew what passed between Richard and hismother, but an hour later Mistress Clevering, stiff of lip, butcourteous of manner, bade Betty take Master Singleton from Richard'sroom to the parlour, and find him some refreshment. And when Betty hadobeyed, Joscelyn softly closed the door behind them, shutting them intoa rose-hued world of their own, where it were sacrilege for another tointrude. Upstairs she heard Richard calling her entreatingly, butremembering by what means her victory over his prejudice had been won,she pretended not to hear, but ran swiftly into the street, and reachedMistress Strudwick's door with such a glowing face that that ladyexclaimed:--

  "Hoity-toity, child! still letting your cheeks play the Royalist,although the war is done? Your sweetheart should see you now. In sooth,I think Amanda Bryce would even agree that you are pretty. Come here andtell an old woman what all these blushes mean."

  And Joscelyn's fibbing tongue said it was only the race she had run inthe wind from her door.