CHAPTER XIII
In these days the picket lines were seldom stationary; one or the otherfaction continually drew in close these outlying guards, as if bypresentiment,--an unexplained monition of caution, or perhaps because ofsome vague rumor of danger. Now and again, by a sudden belligerentimpulse, they were impetuously attacked and driven in; but apparently inpursuance of no definite plan of aggression emanating from the mainbody. A few days of surly silence and stillness would ensue, and thenthe opposing force would return the warlike compliment with interest,holding the enemy's ground and kindling bivouac fires from the embersthey had left. It seemed a sort of game of tag--a grim game; for theloss of life in these futile manoeuvres amounted to far more in the longrun than the few casualties in each skirmish might indicate. Sometimesthese feints were entirely relinquished, and intervals of absoluteinaction continued so long that it might seem a matter of doubt why thetwo lines were there at all, with so vague a similitude of war.Occasionally they lay so near that the individual soldiers, forgetful ofsectional enmity, gave rein to mere human interest in the opportunitiesafforded by a common tongue and an apprehended and familiar range offeeling. A lot of tobacco, thrown into a group about a bivouac fire byan unseen hand one night, brought the next night a package of "hardtack" from over the way. Now and again long-range conversations wereheld, full of kindly curiosity, or humorously abusive, the questionablewit of which mightily rejoiced the heart of the lonely sentinel, andupon his relief all the jokes were duly rehearsed when once more incamp, he himself, of course, represented as coming off winner in thewordy war, being able to appropriate all the good things said by theenemy. The loud, cheerful, "Say, air you the galoot ez wuz swapping lieswith Ben Smith day 'fore yestiddy?" and the response, "Smith, _Smith_,you say. I dis-remember the name. I guess I never heard it afore!" allwere much more commendable from a merely humanitarian point of view thanthe singing of the minie ball or the hissing shriek of a shell that hadbeen wont to intrude on the bland quietude of the sweet spring air.
Thus it was that Miss Mildred Fisher, accompanied by Lieutenant Seymourand one of her father's ancient friends, Colonel Monette, himselfattended by a very smart orderly, riding out of Roanoke City down thelong turnpike road, saw naught that might indicate active hostilities.The picturesque tents in the distance about the town, the outline ofthe forts against the blue sky, and afar off a gunboat in the river,were all still, all silent, all as suave as the painted incident of apicture on the wall. The turnpike itself bore heavy tokens of the war inthe deeply worn holes and wheel tracks of the great wagon and artillerytrains, wrought during the wet weather of the winter. It was hard goingon the horses, and precluded that brisk pace and easy motion which areessential to the pleasure of the equestrian. Mildred Fisher, indeed,delighted in a breakneck speed, and it may be doubted whether it wasaltogether a happy animal which had the honor of bearing her lightweight. As they reached a "cut off," where a "dirt road" had beenrecently repaired and put into fine condition to obviate the obstaclesof the main travelled way, Miss Fisher proposed that they should "letthe horses out" along this detour for a bit. Then she challenged the twoofficers for a race.
They could but accede, and indeed it would have been difficult to denyher aught. The elder looked at her with an almost paternal pride, theother with a sort of surly adoration, tempered by many a grievance andmany a realized imperfection in his idol, and a spirit of revolt againstthe sunny whims and again the cold caprice which he and others sustainedat her hands. Seymour had little to complain of just now; yet, if shesmiled on him and his heart warmed to the sunshine of her eyes, thenext moment he was saying to himself that it meant nothing, it was notfor his sake; for she was smiling with the same degree of brightness onthat whiskerando, the elderly colonel. Her face was exquisitely fair,and in horseback exercise--the luxury she loved--she tolerated no veilto protect the perfection of her complexion. Her fluffy red hair had asheen rather like gold, because of the contrast with her damson-tintedcloth riding-habit. The hat was of the low-crowned style then worn witha feather, and this was a long ostrich plume of the same damson tint,curling down over her hair, and shading to a lighter purple. Her hazeleyes were full of joy like a child's. Her mouth was not closed for amoment,--its red lips emitting disconnected exclamations, laughter, gaybanter, and sometimes just held apart, silently taking the swift rush ofthe air, showing the rows of even white teeth and a glimpse of thedeeper red of the interior, like the heart of a crimson flower.
She tore along like the wind itself. "Madcap," who had raced before,and, sooth to say, with more numerous spectators, had thrust his headforward, striking out a long stride, and the soft, elastic, dirt roadfairly flew beneath his compact hoofs. The skirt of theriding-habit--much longer than in the later fashions--floated out in thebreeze of the flight, and Colonel Monette, who did not really approveoutdoor sports for women, expected momently to see it catch in a thorntree of the thickets that lined the road, or on some stake of thefragments of a ridered rail fence, and tear her from the saddle. Then,her foot being held by the stirrup perhaps, she might be dragged byMadcap or brained by one blow of the ironshod hoofs. Thus his heart wasin his mouth, and he was eminently appreciative of the folly of theelderly wight who seeks to share the pleasures of the young.
The lieutenant, being young himself, was not so cautiously andaltruistically apprehensive. He admired Miss Fisher's dash and courageand buoyant spirit of enjoyment, and, having a good horse, he pressedMadcap to his best devoir. Colonel Monette, to keep them in sight atall, was compelled to make very good speed, and went galloping andplunging down the road in a wild and reckless manner.
It was the elder officer who was first visited by compunctions in behalfof the horses.
"Halt!" he cried. "Halt! Miss Fisher is the winner--as she always is!Halt! Lieutenant Seymour!" Then in a lower voice when he could be heardto speak, "We shall have the horses badly blown," he said with anadmonitory cadence, which reminded Seymour that a military man's wholeduty does not consist in scampering after a harum-scarum girl in a racewith two wild young horses.
Seeing that she was not followed, Miss Fisher reined in after severalwild plunges from Madcap, who felt that he had not had his run half out,and snorted with much surprise in his full bright eyes as, turning inthe road, he saw the two mounted officers far behind, stationary andwaiting. The victor should never be unduly elated, but Madcap expressedhis glee of triumph chiefly in his heels, curvetting and prancing,presently kicking up so uncontrollably, the excitement of the contest,the joy of racing, still surging in his veins and tense in his muscles,that the officers might well have feared some disaster to the girl. Theyat once put their steeds in motion to go to her assistance, but Madcap,with outstretched head, viewing their start, suddenly made a bounding_volte-face_ in the road, and with the bit between his teeth set out ata pace that discounted his former efforts and carried him out of sightin a few minutes.
Miss Fisher, with all the courage of the red-headed Fisher family,albeit she had become pale and breathless, settled herself firmly in thesaddle, held the reins in close, now and then essaying a sharp jerk,first with the right then quickly with the left hand--and it was as muchas she could do to keep the saddle at these moments--to displace thegrasp of his teeth on the bit. For a time these manoeuvres failed, but atlast the road became rougher, brambles appeared in its midst, theintention of repair had evidently ceased, and running at full tilt wasno longer any great fun. The horse voluntarily slowed his pace, and thesudden jerk right and left snatched the bit from his teeth. He mightstill have pranced and curvetted, for the spirit of speed was notsatiated, but his foot slipped on the uneven gullied ground, hestumbled, and being a town horse and seeing nowhere any promise of agood road, he resigned himself to the guidance of his rider, thinkingperhaps she knew more of the country than he.
While she breathed him for a time, she looked about her along the curvesof the road, seeing nothing of her companions, and realizing that shewas quite alone. This gave her a sentiment of un
easiness for a moment;then she reflected that her friends were doubtless riding forward toovertake her. She drew up the reins, intending to turn, and, retracingher way, to meet them.
The place was all unfamiliar. So swift had been her transit that she hadnot had a moment's contemplation of the surroundings. She stood at thesummit of a gentle slope and could look off toward stretches of forest,here and there interspersed with considerable acreage of cleared ground,evidently formerly farm land, now abandoned in the stress of war and thepresence of contending armies. The correctness of this conclusion wasconfirmed by the sight of two gaunt chimneys at no great distance,between which lay a mass of charred timbers,--once the dwelling, nowburned to the ground. The scene was an epitome of desolation, despitethe sunshine, which indeed here was but a lonely splendor; despite thebrilliance of the trumpet vine, tangled in remnants of the fence, inmany a bush, and swaying in long lengths, its scarlet bugles flaring,from the boughs of overshadowing trees; despite the appeal of the elderblossoms of creamy, lacelike delicacy, catching her eye in the thickets,which were so lush, so green, so favored by the rich earth and theprodigal season. She was sensible of a clutch of dread on that merryspirit of hers before she heard a sound--a significant sound thatstilled the pulsations of her heart and sent her blood cold. It was theunmistakable sinister sibilance of a shell. She saw the tiny white puffrise up above the forest, skim through the air, drop among the thickets,and then she heard the detonation of an explosion. Before she could drawher breath there came a sudden volley of musketry at a distance,--sheknew that for the demonstration of regular soldiers, firing at theword,--then ensued another, and again only a patter of dropping shots.She wondered that her companions did not overtake her--she must findthem--she must rejoin them,--when suddenly an object started up from theside of the road, the sight of which palsied her every muscle. A man itwas who had lain in the bushes on the hillside, a man so covered withblood that he had lost every semblance of humanity. The blood still camein a steady stream from his mouth, impelled in jets, as if it were underthe impulse of a pump, and he held his hand to his stomach, whence toothere came blood, dripping down from his fingers. In sickened, aghastdismay she watched his approach, and as he passed she found her voiceand called to him to stop,--might she not help him stanch his wounds?His staring eyes gazed vacantly forward with no recognition of themeaning of her words, and he walked deliriously on, every step sendingthe blood forward, draining the vital currents to exhaustion. Now shedared not turn, she could not pass that hideous apparition. Sheshuddered and trembled and rode irresolutely forward, just to bemoving--hardly with a realized intention. Suddenly the road curved, andthe scene of the conflict was before her.
The woods were dense on three sides of a wide stretch of fields thatwere springing green with new verdure; a portion had even been ploughedand bedded up for cotton; here and there lay strange objects in curiousattitudes, which she did not at once recognize as slain men. Among themwere scattered carbines, horses already dead, and more than one inscrambling agonies of dying. In the farthest vista field-guns wereevidently getting in battery, ready to sweep from the earth a littleforce of dismounted cavalrymen who had come to close quarters withinfantry and who were fighting on foot with carbines. The minie ballsnow and then sang sharply in the air, and in the excitement she did notrealize the danger. Suddenly a puff of smoke rose from the battery, theshell winging its way high above the infantry line and at last fallingamong the dismounted cavalrymen, who, perceiving the situation to behopeless, wavered, sought to rally, and at last broke and ran to thehorse-holders hidden in the thickets. Thither the shells pursued them,bursting all along the plain, and as Mildred Fisher gazed she saw threemen on the field, powerless to reach the shelter. One was wounded,--anofficer, evidently,--and the other two were seeking to support him tohis horse hard by. At this moment a fragment of shell killed the animalbefore their eyes.
"Ride out! Ride out!" cried Millie Fisher to a horse-holder that sheobserved close by in the woods. He was mounted himself, and he held thebridles of three horses. He looked half bewildered, pale, disabled. Ashell burst prematurely, out of range and wide of aim, high in the airabove their heads.
"I can't," he said; "I'm hit!"
"Give _me_ the line, then!" she cried.
He was past reasoning, beyond surprise, stunned by the clamors andsuccumbing to wounds.
The next moment, the three great horses in a leash, Madcap led hiswildest chase across that stricken plain, now shying aside as somewounded man lifted a ghastly face almost beneath his hoofs, or pitifullysought to crawl away like a maimed and dying beast. The thunder of thefrenzied gallop shook the ground; the group of men, for whom the rescuewas designed, turned a startled and amazed gaze as the horses came onabreast, snorting and neighing and with tossing manes and wild eyes,rushing like the steeds of Automedon.
"The gallant little game-cock!" exclaimed Jim Fisher, eying the supposedhorse-holder from beside the smoking guns of his battery in thedistance. "Now, I'm glad to spare him if never another man goes clear!"
For the Confederate cavalry were starting out in pursuit, and to let thesquadrons pass without danger the cannonade was discontinued. Thebugle's mandate, "Cease firing!" rose lilting into the air, and therewas sudden silence among the guns. As Captain Fisher disengaged thestrap of his field-glass seeking to adjust it, he noted that there wassomething continually flying out at the side of the young soldier'ssaddle. One glance through the magnifying lenses at the floating foldsof the riding-habit and the radiant face crowned by the purpleplume--and Jim Fisher almost fell under the wheel of the limber as itwas run up to the gun-carriage. "My God, Watt!" he exclaimed to hisfirst lieutenant who was also his brother, "that--that--cavalrymanis--is Sister Millie!"
When she was at last with them, for in tumultuous agitation they hadrushed forward to meet her, beckoning and shouting, and their kisses hadsmeared the gunpowder from their grim countenances to her lovely roseatecheeks, they began to experience the reactionary effects of their frightand scolded her with great rancor, declaring repeatedly they felt muchdisposed, even yet, to slap her. All of which had no effect at all onMillie Fisher. They tried aesthetic methods of reducing her to see herdeed from their standpoint.
"I thought you were a patriotic girl, Sister," one of them urged. "Andsee, now--you have helped three Yankees to escape!"
"I _am_ patriotic--more patriotic than anybody," she asseverated. "But Iforgot they were Yankees--they were just three men in great danger!"
"But _you_ were in great danger, Sister, I--I--might have shot you!"
"Didn't you feel funny when you found out who 'twas?" she queried with agiggle of great zest.
"I felt mighty funny," said Jim Fisher, grimly. "I suppose few men haveever felt so funny!"
Few men have ever looked less funny than he as he reflected on theepisode. He recovered his equanimity only gradually, but especiallyafter he had been able to make arrangements to convey intelligence tohis mother within the Federal lines as to his sister's safety. This wasrendered possible by a flag of truce sent out almost immediately byColonel Monette, who with Lieutenant Seymour was in the greatest anxietyas to her fate, feeling a sense of responsibility in the matter. Sheinsisted on adding a line addressed to the younger officer, bidding himsing daily with his hand on his heart:--
"'Would I were with thee!'--_In the Confederate lines!_"
if he expected her to conserve any faith in his constancy.
That evening Jim Fisher almost regained his wonted cheerfulness. Theother four brothers had gathered together to welcome the unexpectedguest, and as they sat around a great wood fire in an old desertedfarm-house, a primitive structure built of logs, with Millie and theyoungest, favorite brother, Walter, in the centre, it seemed so joyful areunion that he was almost tempted to forgive the manner in which it hadcome about.
Jim Fisher's body-servant, Caesar, cooked a supper for them, in a roomacross an open passage, consisting of corn-bread, bean-coffee, bacon,and a chicken, which la
st came as a miracle, as he mysteriouslyexpressed it, upon inquiry--"as de mussy ob Providence!" Caesar was abrisk young darkey, with a capacity for a sullen and lowering change,and with a great distaste for ridicule, induced by much suffering as thebutt of the practical jokes of his young masters, for among so manyFisher boys one or another must needs be always disposed for mirth.
"You needn't ax me so p'inted 'bout dat chicken's pedigree, Marse Watt,"Caesar was beguiled into retorting acrimoniously. "Naw, sah. I dunno. Idunno whedder hit's Dominicky or Shanghai. An' _ye_ have no call to knowwhedder hit's foreign or native! _I_ tell you hit's fried--an' dat's allI'm _gwine_ ter tell you!--fried ter a turn! An' if you bed ennyreligion, you'd say grace, an' give Miss Millie a piece while it's hot.Naw, sah! naw, Marse Watt! I _ain't_ no robber! Marse Jim--you hear whatMarse Watt done call me! Naw, sah! I don't expec' ter see Satan!--not_dis week_, nohow."
Caesar was glad to gather up the fragments and make off to the kitchenopposite, where he sat before the fire and crunched the last bone of theprecious fowl, and grinned over the adroit methods of its capture onthis great occasion, for such a luxury could hardly be bought at anyprice, in Confederate money or any other currency.
After supper was despatched something of a levee was held; so many ofMiss Millie Fisher's old friends--officers in the military force--calledto renew the acquaintance of happier times. And as she recognized themore intimate old playfellows or neighbors, with a gush of delightedlittle screams and a musical acclaim of their Christian names, sometimesan old half-forgotten nickname, other guests, later acquaintances, wereenvious and wistful, and sought to stem the tide of reminiscence, the"Don't you remembers" and "Oh-h-h, wasn't it funny?" and to impress thevalues of the present, despite the lures of the past.
She was delightfully gracious and gay with them all, and perhaps she hadnever seemed more lovely than the flicker of the firelight revealed her,for there were no other means of illumination. She stood to receive inthe centre of the floor, radiant in her dark purple riding-habit andhat, the military figures, all in full uniform, clustering about her,some resting on their swords, some half leaning on a comrade's shoulder,while jest and repartee went around, the laughter now and again makingthe rafters ring. It was with reluctance that they gradually torethemselves away in obedience to a realization that after so long aseparation the family might desire to spend the evening alone, for threeof the brothers must needs repair to their own command at some distanceat break of day, and it might be long before they could all be togetheronce more.
So at last, the visitors gone, the door barred, the night wearing on,the Fishers gathered round the replenished fire, for the air was chilland the warmth was as welcome as the light. The deserted house wasentirely bare of furniture, and as the force was a "flying column,"flung forward without the impediments of baggage trains or tents, therewas not even a camp-stool available. Millie and Watt sat side by side ona billet of wood, their arms around each other's waists to preserve theequilibrium, and the rest of the brothers half reclined on the saddleson the floor. And every face was smiling, and every head was red. Againand again a shout of laughter went up, as she detailed the news of thetown,--and some very queer things, indeed, she told,--and Watt, thelieutenant, responded with the news of the battery and the camp.
Perhaps he felt that his prestige as a wit was threatened, for once hesaid, "I'd give a hundred dollars, Sister, to be assured that all youare telling is the truth."
"I wouldn't give a brass thimble to be assured that all _you_ aretelling is the truth, for I know 'tisn't!" retorted Millie.
"Oh, I meant in Confederate money!" He lowered the face value of hisbid.
They kept late hours that night; but at last, when the fire was burninglow and great masses of coals had accumulated, they swung a militarycloak hammock-wise across a corner of a little inner room, hardly morethan a cupboard, and this Millie Fisher in her new role as a campaignerfound a comfortable bed enough. The restricted apartment had no window,and no door save the one opening into the larger room; and this she setajar, making Walter place a great solid shot against it lest it close,declaring that if that catastrophe should supervene, she should die ofsolitary fright. The five Fisher brothers were well within call andsight, as they clustered around the embers, talking for a time in lowvoices of what had chanced in the interval of their separation. For onlyJim and Watt were together in the same company. They commented on therelative cost and value of their _chaussure_, as they stretched outtheir long, booted legs, with their feet on the hearth, and compared thewearing qualities of the soles and upper leather. They looked kindlyinto each other's faces and laughed as they made a point, and betweenthe two younger brothers, Watt and Lucien, there was a disposition tohorse-play, manifested in unexpected tweaks, that each was glad toreceive as a compliment, so did separation and the sense of an imminentand ever environing danger soften and make tender their fraternalsentiment. But first one, then another, flung his cloak around him and,pillowing his head on his saddle, lay down to rest, the two youngerbrothers the last of all.
And now--silence. The dull red light of the embers gloomed on the daubedand chinked walls of the old log house, with its rude puncheon floor.The five prostrate, cloaked figures upon it were still, asleep. Here andthere from amongst the arms, placed ready to seize at a moment's notice,came a keen steely gleam. Mildred could hear the sentry's tread outsideup and down before the door. Once, far away, she noted the measuredtramp of marching feet, then a challenge, and anon, "Stand! GrandRounds! Advance, Sergeant, with the countersign!" and presently themarch was resumed in the distance. And again--silence! Only the windastir in the forest, only the rustle of the lush foliage. All--howdifferent from her dainty bedroom where she had spent last night, thedowny couch, the silken coverlet, the velvet carpet, the lace curtains,the tremulous flicker of the wind in the flower-stand on the balcony!
"Hugh!" she said suddenly.
Every red head on the floor had lifted at the sound, and every hand hadclutched a weapon.
"What's the matter, Sister?"
"I--I--believe there must be a flying squirrel or--or--something in thewall. Don't they build in old walls? I've seen that in some book."
Jim and Hugh arose and investigated the wall of the inner room by meansof a torch of light-wood.
"Why, Sister, it is as solid as a rock!" Jim asseverated. "There's noflying squirrel here."
He extinguished the flaming torch in the ashes banked in thechimney-place in the larger room, and again the two brothers laidthemselves down to rest, with their feet on the hearth.
Once more the silence of the night, the vague crumbling of the ash, themeasured sound of the sentry's tread. There was no echo of the passingof time--but how leaden-footed! How slowly fared the night! Howmotionless lay those cloaked figures, each with his head on his saddle!
"Watt," her voice came plaintively out of the gloom. "I'm scared!"
This time, though all stirred, they did not rise.
"Pshaw! Scared of what?"
She did not answer. Only after a time she queried irrelevantly, "Canmice climb?"
"Did you see that in a book, too?" asked Watt.
"They can only climb under certain conditions," opined Hugh, sleepily.
"But they'd scorn to intrude on a lady in a hammock, Sister," declaredGeorge.
"Oh, hush, George!" said Jim, authoritatively. "No mouse can get upthere, Sister. Why don't you go to sleep?"
"I can't," said Millie Fisher, plaintively. "I saw so many awful thingsto-day!"
"You had better think about mice," said Watt, quickly, to effect adiversion. "They are minute, but monstrous. Just imagine how one couldscale the wall, and taking its tail under its left arm spring across toyour hammock, and run along, say, the nape of your neck! Oh-h-h!wouldn't that be just _aw-w-wful_!"
"Oh, hush, Watt!" said Jim. "Just compose your mind, Sister. Shut youreyes and think about nothing."
"Think how nearly you scared a gallant captain of artillery out of hisseven sens
es to-day," suggested Watt, anew. "I thought Jim would get runover by the gun-carriages and the caissons, whether or no. He was soscatter-brained, and white, and wild-eyed, and blundering--nearly underthe horses' feet."
Millie Fisher gave a pleased little laugh.
"Was he? Was he, truly?"
"He was, for a fact. Few captains of artillery have the opportunity tomake their own sister a target in a regular knock-down-and-drag-outfight. I thought I was going to have to support the gentleman off thefield of battle. He couldn't stand up for a while."
"How funny!" exclaimed Millie Fisher, delightedly. "Just _too_ funny."
She shifted her position in the hammock, closed her eyes, and when sheopened them again the sun was flaring into the open door and window ofthe large room, and all the five Fisher brothers were up and fullyaccoutred for the duty of the service, and she was requested to get outof the hammock that it might again be turned into a cloak.
The details of her exploit were brought back to the main body of theFederal army and bruited abroad by the men whom she had rescued fromdeath or capture. One of these, the officer, was much disposed to vaunthis gratitude and sense of obligation, and as Miss Millie Fisher was aswell known as the river itself, the incident created no small stir inmany different circles. The girl was held to be a prodigy of courage.All the men of the family were known to be brave, eke to say, fractious.There had been seldom a row of any sort, in several generations, inwhich a Fisher's red head had not been in the thick of it, and heldhigh. There were several who were now men of mark, but never had aughtelse so appealed to their pulse of pride, their close bond of union infamily ties and clannish affection for which they were noted. Great werethe boastings of the Fisher brothers, each feeling that he shone byreflected light, and echoes of their vain-glorious brag were borne tothe storm centre by that mysterious means of communication known as theGrape-vine Telegraph.
One day Seymour detailed, with a touch of bitter sarcasm, the rumor thatJim Fisher had declared that Sister Millie could stampede the wholeYankee army if she had the chance. With his customary bluntness Seymourhad broached the subject on a hospitable occasion, in a group both ofofficers and civilians. The latter said nothing, leaving it to thecomrades of the men who had benefited by her hair-brained bravery anddashing equestrianism to controvert the hyperbole. But Ashley's tact wasso rooted in good nature that it was difficult to take him amiss. Hecould not say, he declared, whether she could stampede the army, but hecould testify that she had captured it.
The Grape-vine was shortly burdened with other rumors that were of farmore import to Seymour, who was of a serious mind, and of an exacting,not to say, petulant, temper. These traits had been intensified by hisrecent subjection to the whims and caprices of a coquette of exceptionalcapacity, for his feelings were deeply involved. He was truly in love,and all his dearest interests hung on the uncertain telegraphy of theGrape-vine. It was an unhappy time for him, when he doubted in a rush ofhope, and again believed sunk in the despondency of absolute despair,having almost as much foundation for the one as the other, the reportsof her marriage to Lawrence Lloyd.
This time the Grape-vine had proved a reliable medium of information.Colonel Lloyd had sought and secured leave of absence long enough toride fifty miles across country to greet her as soon as he had heard shewas within the Confederacy. When her father joined the family partyColonel Lloyd laid siege for his consent to an immediate marriage.
They had long been engaged, he urged.
"I had almost forgotten that," Millie interpolated. She had promised herassistance in the persuasion of her father, and thus she fulfilled herpledge.
"There is no reason for further delay," Lloyd insisted.
"I _have_ been a _debutante_ these--four--years!" she suggesteddemurely.
Lloyd submitted that he hoped there were no objections to him in ColonelFisher's estimation.
"Except such as are insuperable--you'll never be any better," suggestedMillie.
It would be undesirable, even dangerous, Lloyd argued, to send her backto her home in Roanoke City with a flag of truce in the present state ofconflict.
"But it is not at all dull there--" she interrupted vivaciously. "Somevery nice Yankee officers are in society there--several old friends ofyours, papa. Colonel Monette and Lieutenant-Colonel Blake of the regulararmy--old classmates of yours. And some others whom you don'tknow--Captain Baynell, who is _very_ handsome, and Colonel Ashley--hebelongs to the volunteers; he is most agreeable and highly thought of,and oh--of course Lieutenant Seymour--oh, it is _not_ dull there!"
Lloyd looked at her in blank dismay, and the blank dismay on the face ofher father was nearly as marked, but the latter's anxiety was due to adifferent cause--what would his wife decide if she were here!--forevery one who knew the Fishers was well aware that Guy Fisher, albeit aman of much force in his own domain of business or military life, "sungmighty small" in all matters in which his wife had concern.
Lloyd rallied to the attack and continued to explain that he had ordersdetaching him, showing that he would be stationary, in command of a fortin the far South for some time, and that Millie would be in a positionto be comfortable.
"But can I ride horseback there?" she stipulated. "I have just found outwhat I can do in that line!"
She liked to describe this conversation afterward. Her lover was themost serious and literal-minded of men, anxious and doubtful, and herfather the prey of vacillation and indecision. They looked alternatelyat her and at each other with an expression of startled bewilderment asshe spoke, seeking to adjust what she had said with their own knowledgeof the facts.
The flying column was once more in motion, and one evening, after aconsiderable distance southward had been accomplished, the leave both ofColonel Fisher and Colonel Lloyd being close upon expiration anddecision exigent, the doubting, anxious father gave his consent.
The young people were married like campaigners under a tree in abeautiful magnolia grove, the rhododendron blooming everywhere in thewoods and the mocking-birds in full song. Colonel Lloyd was in uniform,armed and spurred, Miss Fisher in her hat and riding-habit, which lastshe wore with peculiar elegance; as the skirts of the day were of greatlength, the superfluous folds were caught up and carried over one arm,and it was said she had attained her graceful proficiency in this art,which was esteemed of much difficulty, by constant practice before thelong mirror in her wardrobe at home. She used to tell afterward of thebeautiful site, the velvet turf, the magnolia blooms, the rhododendronblossoms, the singing mocking-birds. Then she would enumerate thebrilliant martial assemblage that witnessed the ceremony, the men ofhigh rank in full uniform; the wives of a number of them--refugees inthe Confederacy "seeking for a home," as the sardonically humorous songof that day phrased it--also graced the occasion. Her father andbrothers, all the six Fisher men, were present, and she used to say,with the tone of an after-thought, but with a glint of mischief in hereye, "_And_ Colonel Lloyd--_he_ was there, too!"
There, but hardly up to the standard. He was a man whose courage hadbeen of especial note, even in those days when bravery seemed the rule.He had had, too, exceptional opportunities to display his mettle. But onthis occasion his terror was so palpable that he trembled perceptibly;he was pale and agitated; he fumbled for the ring and occasioned ageneral fear that he might let it fall--altogether furnishing anadmirable exhibition of the stage fright usual with bridegrooms.
All these details did she observe and recollect and even his gravitywould relax as she rehearsed them in after years. It was considered oneof the evidences of her incurable frivolity that she seemed to carenothing for that momentous incident of her experience in those days,hardly to remember it,--the exploit by which she had saved the lives ofthree men, sore harassed and beset; but she found endless source ofinterest in the reminiscence of trifles such as the incongruous aspectof the chaplain who officiated at the wedding ceremony, with his spursshowing on his reverend heels beneath his surplice, and the brassbuttons on his sleeves as h
e lifted his hands in benediction,--whichafforded her a glee of retrospect.